Osmosis Page 7

  Now Mia gasped and smiled through their kiss. “Delicious,” she murmured. “Touch me just like that. All day.”

  “I promise,” Jordan said softly, even though she knew they only had a few minutes before she had to get ready for another day on the practice court.

  Even though her legs were wobbly, Mia got up and made Jordan’s breakfast while her lover was in the shower. She was humming to herself when Jill walked into the kitchen, and they both mumbled hellos. Jill looked like the cat that ate the canary, but Mia wasn’t about to ask her about the smirk she wasn’t hiding well. Jill started to concoct her normal breakfast drink and Mia had to look away. She knew that athletes had odd appetites, but she’d never figured out what Jill drank that was a vivid leaf-green, and she didn’t want to learn the secret today.

  Jordan came into the room, a bright smile affixed to her face. “I love having you get up to have breakfast with me,” she said, giving Mia a kiss on the cheek.

  Jill leaned against the counter, her smirk now bordering on ostentatious. She leaned forward and patted the top of Jordan’s head, saying, “Not you. Must be Mia.”

  Jordan reached up and felt her own head. “What?”

  “I was trying to figure out which one of you’d been banging you head into the wall last night. You don’t have a knot up there so it must be Mia.” She laughed at her joke, and slapped Jordan hard on the ass. “You don’t look like a wild woman, Ericsson, but you sure must be. It takes two to make that kinda noise.”

  Jordan looked a little embarrassed, but she shrugged off the comment. “Must’ve been next door. I think they’re remodeling.”

  Mia’s expression was a complete blank. “Be right back,” she said, patting Jordan on the hip as she passed. “Don’t eat all the granola.”

  Jordan watched her go, her brow slightly furrowed. “Did I piss her off?” Jill asked.

  “Don’t think so,” Jordan said. “She doesn’t mind being teased.”

  “Maybe she didn’t get enough sleep … with the neighbors remodeling.”

  “Yeah. That’s probably it,” Jordan said. She sat down and dug into her granola, patiently waiting for Mia to return.

  Part Three

  Catherine picked up the phone on Wednesday morning and was mildly surprised to hear her former husband. “Hi, Cat,” Jim said, sounding happy.

  “Good morning, Senator. How are things?”

  “Good. I’m thinking about going to my San Francisco office on Friday. Would you like to get together while I’m in town?”

  She almost pulled the phone away from her ear to inspect it. “Get together?” she asked.

  There was a pause, then he said, “I … thought we were going to stay friends. We’re still parents together.”

  “I … of course I want to be friends, Jim. But I suppose I haven’t given much thought to how that would play itself out.”

  “Friends see each other and talk, don’t they?” he asked, his good humor ebbing.

  “Of course. It’s not that I’m averse to seeing you. You just caught me by surprise.”

  He made a gruff little noise that she’d heard thousands of times. She knew it meant he was puzzled as to why he wasn’t getting his way, and she was a little pleased at the thought that she didn’t have to give in to his wishes any longer.

  “Maybe another time then.”

  “I’d be happy to see you this time, Jim, but I’m not going to be in town.”

  “Oh.” A pause. “Really?”

  “Mmm-hmm. I’m going to New York for the weekend.”

  “New York? Huh. What are you doing there?”

  She started to tell him that was a little personal, but she realized she’d tell a woman friend—and she should reveal as much to him as she would a casual friend. “I’m going to a few galleries and to the spring art show at The Armory.”

  “Oh … we did that together a few times.”

  “Yes, we did,” she said, thinking that they’d always had a good time in New York.

  “Well, I don’t have anything booked in San Francisco for this weekend. I could come up and meet you in New York … take in a play.”

  Now the warning bells went off. She didn’t know what he wanted, but he definitely wanted something. “That’s very thoughtful, Jim, but I’m meeting a friend.”

  “A … friend?”

  “Mmm-hmm.” She didn’t add another word.

  “So … you’re busy all weekend?”

  “Yes. I’m going for the art, but also to see my friend.”

  “Oh. Uhm … that’s great. I hope you and … your friend have a good time.”

  “I’m sure we will. Now make sure you tell me the next time you’re coming to town. I’d like to show you my new house.”

  “Right … right. That’d be nice. Have a good time and …well, just have a good time. Bye.”

  “Bye, Jim. Take care.” She hung up and sat for a minute, trying to figure out what he wanted. But she couldn’t come up with a thing.

  Ryan walked into the waiting area of Ellen’s office and smiled tensely at Barb. They’d been unable to use the room when they were in group, since the building was locked prior to their early-morning session. But now that they were going to meet after the usual group, they could relax in the waiting room. But Ryan wasn’t able to relax, and she quickly wished they were outside again, since the silence was much more pronounced in the small, quiet room. She was going to pick up a magazine, but that seemed odd, so she laced her fingers around a knee and rocked a little bit, knowing she looked nervous and uncomfortable.

  “Do you wanna do this?” Barb asked.

  “No. You?”

  “No. I hate therapy.”

  “Me too,” Ryan said, feeling a little better at hearing Barb’s revelation. “I thought you were into it. You always talk in group.”

  Shrugging, Barb said, “I wanna feel better. Sometimes it helped. But not enough.”

  “Yeah,” Ryan said, her expression thoughtful. “Same for me. It helped a little, but it didn’t help enough to make me wanna keep coming.”

  “So … why do this?”

  “Mmm … I didn’t wanna find a new therapist. And I promised my girlfriend I’d keep trying.”

  “That’s not a very good reason,” Barb said.

  Even though her words were frank, she didn’t sound like she was scolding Ryan. “You’re probably right. But I hate this therapy stuff. It works great for some people, but I don’t like to talk about things that upset me.”

  “That’s kinda the entrance requirement,” Barb said, smirking.

  “I know. And I do try.”

  “Do you really? Doesn’t seem like it.”

  Ryan thought for a moment, then said, “You must be right. Ellen says the same thing. Maybe I’m an underachiever.”

  “You don’t look like it,” Barb said. “And the stuff I read about you in the papers made you sound like a super hero.”

  Ryan laughed. “They make an image for you. Whatever they think will make people buy the paper.”

  Ellen opened the door and beckoned them in. They made a few awkward moves to choose a place to sit, and finally wound up next to each other on the sofa. Ellen took her usual chair and said, “I heard you laughing in the waiting room. That’s a good sign.”

  Barb smiled and said, “We were talking about how neither of us really likes therapy. But we’re still gonna do our best.”

  “I didn’t say that,” Ryan corrected, giving her a grin.

  “I have confidence in you both,” Ellen said. “I was thinking about how to start, and it doesn’t make sense to have you tell your stories again. If you’re willing, I’d like to try something a little different. I think we all agree we want to get a little deeper than we did in the group.”

  “I don’t wanna, but I know I have to,” Ryan said.

  Barb nodded and Ellen continued, “Why don’t you each tell me what you know about the other. Why she’s here, what’s really stopping her from living life
to the fullest?”

  “You want me to tell you about Barb?” Ryan asked, looking puzzled.

  “Yes. I don’t want you to analyze her. Just say what you’ve learned about her. I think it’s a way to let you each see what you’re projecting.”

  “I’m willing,” Barb said. “I was kinda doing that in the waiting room.”

  Ryan smiled at her. “Go ahead.”

  “Okay.” Barb pursed her lips, her eyes narrowed. “I think Ryan feels angry. Mostly at herself. I think she’s got really high standards that she sets for herself, and when she doesn’t meet ‘em, she beats herself up.”

  “True,” Ryan said, nodding.

  “I think she’s also scared. Probably that she’s not able to take care of the people she loves. This whole thing probably made her realize how powerless she is. Nobody likes to face that.”

  Ryan didn’t nod this time. She folded her arms over her chest and leaned against the arm of the sofa.

  “She’s said that she feels bad that she didn’t act earlier and kill the guy who was driving the car. But I don’t think that’s true,” Barb said, glancing at Ryan. “I think she feels guilty about having anything to do with a guy dying. Even though he deserved to. Twice.”

  It didn’t take long for Ryan’s reserve to shatter. Tears were rolling down her cheeks by the time Barb finished talking. Ellen held out a box of tissues and Ryan took the first of many she would use in the next forty minutes.

  A full hour hadn’t passed, but Ryan felt like she’d been on the sofa for a week. Her body felt so heavy and lethargic that she wasn’t sure she’d be able to stand up. Ellen escorted them out and they stood outside the door for a second before Ryan impulsively put her arms around Barb and hugged her. “You get it,” she whispered. “You’re the only person I’ve talked to who gets it.”

  “Yeah, I do,” Barb said, returning the hug. “It’s awful, isn’t it?”

  “The fucking worst.” Ryan laughed ruefully. “I used to feel like I’d been hit with a stick after a session. Now I feel like I’ve been beaten with a belt. I guess that’s progress.”

  Luckily, Jamie was at class when Ryan got home. Ryan had a long list of things she needed to accomplish, but she couldn’t bear to even look at her day-planner. She kicked off her shoes and lay down on the bed fully clothed, falling asleep in minutes.

  Jamie was walking across campus, headed for the library when her cell phone rang. “Hello?” she said after wrestling it out of her pocket.

  “Hi, Jamie?”

  “Yeah?”

  “It’s Ray Wisnewski. A couple of new properties came on the market this week and Niall said you might be able to come look at them.”

  “Oh, he did, did he?” She laughed, shaking her head.

  “Is … that okay? I don’t really know who I should be dealing with here.”

  “Oh, it’s fine that you call me, Ray. We’ve got a whole crew and everyone acts like the boss until it’s time to actually make a decision. But don’t let that put you off. We usually argue amongst ourselves and not in public.”

  “To be honest, I don’t recall ever working with a group as large as yours where there wasn't one or two decision makers.”

  “Hmm … maybe you should just call me. I’m not particularly knowledgeable about any of the rehab issues, but I think I know enough about the neighborhood to know if something is worth looking at. And, to be honest, my schedule is the most flexible.”

  “Great! That’s one hurdle down. Do you have time to come today?”

  “Sure. I was going to study, but that’s never any fun. I can be there in an hour. Is that okay?”

  The visit to San Francisco wasn’t very fruitful for Jamie, but it did give her a chance to help Ray understand what their goals were and how inflexible they were on price. They’d all agreed that they needed a property priced at least 30% under market to be able to make money off renovating it, and she wanted to make sure he didn’t call her to show her places that didn’t qualify.

  After a two-hour nap, Ryan woke up feeling better—lighter—than she had in days. She still felt emotionally bruised, but she had to admit that talking to someone who really, truly understood how she felt—and how guilt was consuming her—would eventually help. If it didn’t kill her first.

  That evening Jamie struggled down the stairs with her traveling bag, scowling at Ryan who was sitting placidly on the couch, reading a book. “Thanks for the help!”

  “I’m sorry,” Ryan said, looking anything but. “Did you ask for help? I must not have heard you.”

  “A really good girlfriend would have jumped to her feet the minute she heard me hit the first stair.”

  “See? I’ve been telling you I’m not a good girlfriend. I always know best.” She got up and took the bag from Jamie, helpfully relieving her of her burden for one step.

  Jamie stayed on the first step and grabbed Ryan’s collar, holding her still. “I’ve never criticized your kissing, so get busy.”

  Dutifully, Ryan put her hands on Jamie’s hips and spent a moment looking into her eyes. “Sometimes I wish you were taller. It’s nice being able to look at you without bending.”

  “Hey, you could be shorter. I’m not crazy about having to stretch to get a kiss.”

  A silly look settled on Ryan’s face. “We could work with what we have.” She stood next to Jamie on the step and started to kiss the top of her head, making ridiculously enthusiastic sounds while she rubbed against her. Jamie followed suit, making smacking noises against the point where Ryan’s clavicles met. They were both giggling when Ryan pulled away. “I’d rather bend,” she said, jumping back down to the floor.

  “And I’d rather stretch. Your mouth is much more responsive than your sternum.”

  Grasping her hips again, Ryan once more studied Jamie’s eyes. “It’s weird to be going to the same state, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah. This is a first, isn’t it?”

  “I think so. I’m glad we’ll only be apart one night. I don’t even know how far Tucson is from Tempe, but it’s too far.”

  “It must not be too far if you’re taking a bus after your game.”

  “Don’t be so sure. The athletic department doesn’t throw money away. I didn’t bother to check the schedule. For all I know it’s a twelve hour ride.”

  “You hate buses, don’t you?”

  “Yeah. It’s impossible for me to get comfortable. Buses were made for people your size.”

  Jamie put her arms around Ryan’s neck and clasped her hands. “This step was made for people my size to get a kiss. What’s with the holdout?”

  “Nothin’. I just like looking at you. I never have enough time to just look at you.” She brushed her fingers across Jamie’s forehead, fluffing her hair. “You’re such a beautiful woman.”

  Jamie smiled and looked into Ryan’s eyes, searching them for clues about her state of mind. She couldn’t read anything, so she asked, “How’re you feeling about going? Okay?”

  Ryan nodded. “Yeah. I’m fine. Really fine. See?” She smiled so brightly and artificially that Jamie had to laugh.

  “That’s a beauty.” She kissed Ryan’s smiling face. “When’s your flight?”

  “Not sure. I just know I have to be on the bus in two hours.”

  “You’ve gotten very laid-back about your travel plans, buddy. That’s not like you.”

  “Yeah, it is. When I’m on a team I just do what I’m told. It’s like the military. Don’t ask, ’cause they don’t tell ya much.”

  “Well, I’ve got to go now. Give me enough kisses to last until tomorrow.”

  Ryan gave her a dramatically lovesick look. “Not possible. No matter how many I give you, I’ll still want more.”

  “Then stop talking and start kissing!”

  Jordan came home on Thursday singing a little song. “I’m not going home. I’m not going home. I get to stay and pla-ay.”

  Mia came barreling out of their room and threw her arms around Jordan before she
’d stopped running. “I knew it! I knew it! You rule!”

  “I shouldn’t feel so good,” Jordan said. “I saw Rachel cleaning out her locker. She looked like someone just died.”

  “Ooo … that’s because you’re my sweet, generous girl. You don’t like to see someone else suffer.”

  “No, I really don’t. But at this point—it’s her or me. And I don’t want it to be me!”

  Bright and early the next morning, Mia set out to start looking for apartments. She’d used the Internet and the local free paper, and had a list of ten buildings to check out. Her list of “musts” was short, since her main goal was to be away from their roommates. But if they were going to move, it only made sense to live close to the Olympic Training Center. So Mia concentrated her search to a three mile circle around the Center.

  The first three buildings didn’t merit getting out of the car for. But the fourth one was decent enough, so Mia parked and went looking for the building manager. It took her a few minutes, since the place was fairly large, but she eventually found the office and buzzed. She entered an apartment turned office and smiled at the woman behind a desk. “Hi. I’m looking for an apartment.”

  The woman didn’t smile back. In fact, she didn’t look up. “Student?”

  “Uhm … no,” Mia said, figuring that was the correct answer given the tone in the woman’s voice.

  “How many bedrooms?”

  “Ahh … a one bedroom, I guess.”

  The woman idly looked through a large book, and said, “Interior, first floor, $450. And View, third floor, $650.” She finally lifted her head and met Mia’s eyes. “Interested?”

  “Uhm … sure. Can I see the cheaper one?”

  The woman chortled to herself and said, “Everybody wants the cheaper one.” But she hauled herself to her feet and grabbed a huge key ring before leading Mia to the apartment. It was, as advertised, on the interior. But the way the building was designed meant there wasn’t a hint of sun in the unit.