Authors: Kelli Jae Baeli
17
TRU PUSHED THE DVD INTO THE PLAYER. She carried the remote control back to the sofa where Brittany waited with a large bowl of popcorn. “You’re sure you want to see this?”
“You said it used to be one of my favorites, maybe it’ll help spur my memory. What is it called again?”
“Desert Hearts,” Tru answered, fast-forwarding through the FBI warning. When a knock sounded at the door, she cursed and pressed the pause button.
“Hey, company!” Brittany enthused.
“I’ll get rid of them,” Tru grumbled, going to the front door.
“Hi. I’m Max. Thought I’d drop by to see how Brittany is doing—” Brit heard him say. Tru made some sort of sound and then prattled something about how being grateful to him, and that he had saved her life. She invited him in, and followed along behind him with a disturbed expression as he entered the living room.
“Hi, Brittany,” he said, smiling at her as she sat there.
“How did you know where we lived?” Tru asked.
“Well, the hospital, of course.”
Brittany sensed great discomfort in Tru. “So, Max—What brings you out to the frozen tundra?”
Tru interjected, “A tundra doesn’t have trees—”
“Whatever,” Brittany dismissed her remark, waiting on Max to answer.
“Well, I thought I should see for myself whether or not you’re recuperating.”
Tru released the pause button to reset it again. Max noticed her action and glanced at the frozen image of a train on the TV screen. “Oh, I guess I interrupted a movie.”
Brittany waved his concern away. “It’s okay. Would you like to j—”
“Uh, Max—” Tru interjected. “It’s a therapy thing that the psychiatrist wants us to watch together. It’s supposed to help her with her memory. You understand.”
Brittany looked at Tru, wide-eyed, while Max squirmed. “Oh, I’m sorry...
I guess I’ll go. I wanted to check on you, that’s all.”
“Thanks for stopping by.” Tru said. “It’s a bad time, that’s all.”
“I tried to call—”
“Really? We check the machine regularly. No messages.”
“Oh, I didn’t leave one.”
Tru started for the front door. “I’ll walk you out.”
He shifted and smiled at Brittany, clenching and unclenching his fingers. “I’m sorry for intruding. Please accept my apologies. Good to see you...
I...
hope the therapy-thing helps.” He backed away and followed Tru to the door, where she said goodbye abruptly and locked the door behind him, watching through the front window to see that he got into his old Ford Econoline and made it out of the driveway.
When Tru returned, Brittany had her arms folded as she leaned back, the bowl of popcorn in her lap. Tru settled on the couch and grabbed a handful of popcorn, cramming it in her mouth and picking up the remote control, pausing.
“That was about the rudest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Tru put the popcorn bowl between them on the sofa. “I’ll tell you what’s rude. The fact that he dropped by, unannounced. Besides, no one drops by up here. It’s too far out of the way. And I’ll tell you something else: the hospital did not give out our address.” She grabbed a handful of popcorn.
“Have you forgotten that he saved my life?”
She grimaced through the popcorn in her mouth. “I thanked him. You thanked him. How do you repay that? He’s taking advantage. He’s weird. He wants you to feel obligated. I think he feels like you owe him something in return. You don’t save someone’s life to get something in return.”
Brittany thought about this. “What’s your problem with him?”
Tru swallowed. “I’ve dealt with a lot of freaks because of the music. Let’s say I don’t want you to get chummy with him. He creeps me out.”
“Why?”
“Well, for one thing, the fact that he thought it was okay to show up at our house, way out here, without an invitation. I mean, you two have no relationship.”
“Okay, that is a little creepy. He said he was trying to be nice, but—”
“But nothing. That was way out of line.”
Brittany gave it a quick second of thought. “Yeah, I guess so.”
Tru pointed at the screen. “Can we watch this movie, please?”
“Whatever,” she surrendered.
Tru pressed the play button and sat back with their drinks, handed one to Brittany, and leaned back beside her. As the names flashed on the screen to the music of Patsy Cline, Brittany asked, “What is this about, anyway?”
“It’s about a professor who goes to Reno to get a divorce.” Tru pointed at the train chugging into the station on the film. “Just watch.”
As the film credits rolled, Tru pressed the stop button on the remote. “So...what did you think?”
“I think the professor lady looked a lot like me.”
“And?”
“And I think the cowgirl looked a lot like you.”
“And?”
“And I think you made me watch this because you hoped it would make me want to go to bed with you.”
Stunned, Tru stared at her. “Is that the only thing you got out of the movie?”
Brittany put her empty Coke can on the table. “You didn’t tell me it was going to be about a lesbian seducing a straight woman.”
“Brit—” Tru snorted. “That’s not what happened. Vivian was there to free herself from a loveless marriage, and Cay simply fell in love with her. Cay didn’t force her into anything. She had to decide whether being with Cay was what she really wanted.”
“Still,” Brittany defended. “That scenario was a little convenient for you, wasn’t it?”
“I don’t believe you! Can’t you admit that it was a good movie? I mean, it was one of your favorites, before.”
“It was a good movie. But don’t expect me to suddenly remember everything and fall into your arms.”
“That’s not why I showed it to you.”
“Then why did you?”
Tru took a drink of her Coke and shook her head. “Right now, I haven’t the foggiest idea.”
Brittany stood. “I think I’ll go to bed and read for awhile. Goodnight.” She headed for the master bedroom without another word.
Tru stared at the blue screen of the TV and thought about what had just happened. “Brittany Jabot, you are the most—” she swallowed the rest of the description and looked toward the doorway where she had gone. “Bitch.”
Screaming-who screamed?
Tru woke suddenly, sitting up.
Was I dreaming—?
She looked at the clock...
2 a.m.
The scream came again...
anguished, frightened, almost child-like. She looked toward the doorway, suddenly aware that the sound came from the master bedroom. Tru threw the blankets back and sprinted into the hall. When she swung the door open, a shard of moonlight split the darkness across Brittany’s bed, illuminating the woman’s tortured face. She screamed again, the shrillness of it coming off the walls and piercing Tru’s eardrums. Tru moved to the bed and sat down beside her, shaking her. “Brit! Brit, wake up!” Tears streamed over Brittany’s cheeks and pooled on the pillow as she writhed beneath the coverings, gasping for air and sobbing, “No! No...
please—”
Tru hoisted her up and held her tightly. “Shhh!” she soothed in the woman’s ear. “It’s okay, Baby...
shhh...
it’s okay. You’re dreaming, Brit...
it’s only a dream, wake up!” Tru leaned back to look at her and saw her eyes snap open as though an electrical charge had gone through her. Brittany’s lungs tried to catch up to her sudden ability to breathe, as if she were coming to the surface from a deep ocean dive. A moment later she became aware that Tru held her. Brittany swallowed dryly and nudged Tru away from her.
“Are you okay?” Tru’s eyes were soft, searching.
“I’m...
fine...” She dried her face with a pink flannel sleeve. “I guess I woke you up. I’m sorry.”
Tru touched the woman’s leg. “You must have been having a horrible nightmare. It scared me to death. Are you okay, now?”
Brittany nodded, glancing at the clock, and running her fingers through her hair.
“Would you like to talk about it?”
“No. I want to forget it.”
“Do you think that’s a good idea? I mean, you’ve been trying to get your memory back, maybe you shouldn’t shut out anything.”
Brittany kicked the covers off her legs and went to the window. She opened it, and inhaled the cold air.
“Brit, close the window. You’ll catch cold.”
“Don’t mother me, Tru.” Brittany continued to inhale the air, unable to quench the odd need for it in her lungs.
“I’m not mothering you. You could have a set-back.”
Brittany bulldozed the armchair over to the window and sat down. “That’s not how it works, Tru. Go back to bed,” she ordered.
Tru retied the string at the front of her sweat pants, and watched Brittany shiver by the window. Brittany did not answer, but began to rock back and forth, taking deep breaths. Tru left her alone, there, in front of the window, and returned to bed.
18
TRU CAME INTO THE LIVING ROOM, ZIPPING HER CAMOUFLAGE Army coat and donning gloves.
“Going on recon?” Brit asked, lowering the volume on CNN, which she continually watched of late.
“Gotta make sure Juts and Wheezie are okay.”
“Elderly neighbors?”
Tru laughed out loud. “Jeez, I keep forgetting that you keep forgetting. No, they’re our horses out back in the barn. The automatic feeder broke yesterday, I’ve got to feed them the old fashioned way—manually.” She waited for some flicker of recognition in Brit’s face but was not rewarded. “Never mind. I’ll be back in a bit.” Tru braced herself against the cold that came through the back door, and secured it behind her. On the screened back porch, she shoved on the cold rubber boots and stepped out into the crunchy snow.
The two Morgans were waiting for her, pawing the ground and snorting blasts of fog from their nostrils. Tru stroked their noses, and gave them each a generous scoop of oats. The small heating coil she had rigged beneath their water barrel had come unplugged again, probably due to a pawing hoof. She plugged it back in, and secured the plug onto the outlet with duct tape. That done, she began to chip away at the layer of ice over the water barrel.
“Why didn’t you bring me out here before, when we looked at the workshop?” Brittany was in the doorway. She sniffed, holding the neck of her coat closed.
“Oh—hey. I don’t know. I guess I thought you weren’t interested.” Tru went back to chipping the ice.
“I saw the barn from the kitchen window many times, but—I don’t know, I never quite made the trip.” Brittany stepped over and patted one of them on the neck. “What kind are they?”
“Morgans. Very strong and gentle.”
“Did you get them because they’re strong and gentle, or because their name was the same as yours?”
“Did you come out here to start something?” Tru wanted to know.
“What did you say their names were?”
“Juts and Wheezie.”
“Where’d you come up with that?”
“Actually it was your idea. After you started reading the old Rita Mae Brown books, you had to name them that.” Tru broke through the ice, lifted the sheet of it out of the barrel and tossed it into an empty feed bin.
“Who’s Rita Mae Brown?”
Tru chuckled. “Lord, if the sisters could hear you say such a thing! They’d ask for your N.O.W. card back.”
Brittany shook her head, as if to clear it. “What?”
Tru leaned against the wall. “You don’t remember ‘Six of One’, or ‘Bingo’?”
Brittany shook her head.
“They’re novels...” Brittany still looked puzzled. “What about ‘Rubyfruit Jungle’?”
“Rubyfruit Jungle? Sounds like a cookbook to me.”
Tru unfolded her arms to pet Wheezie. “Actually it refers to...never mind. Rita Mae appreciates the enthusiasm, I’m sure.”
“I don’t get it.”
“Let’s say that all new lesbians have to read Rubyfruit Jungle. It’s like an unwritten law.”
“Oh.” Brit zipped her jacket up higher and shivered. “So now you think I’m a new lesbian.”
Tru watched her, and merely chuckled. “So, what do you think?”
Brittany raised a brow. “About what?”
“The barn. The horses. Rita Mae.”
Brittany frowned. “You’re making fun of me. Stop it.”
“You’re being overly sensitive.”
Brittany looked down at Tru’s name on the BDU jacket’s green label. “Are there really that many gays in the military?”
Tru was too late to stop the laugh, and Brit glared at her again. “Put it this way: if Uncle Sam pissed them all off at the same time, and they quit, China would own apple pie, the flag and McDonald’s.”
“You’re exaggerating.”
“A little.” Tru gave Juts a pat on her formidable jaw.
“I keep forgetting I was one of them.”
Tru shot her a look. “Still are. Just a non-practicing one.”
Brittany shivered. “That remains to be seen.”
“It remains to be seen whether you’re a non-practicing lesbian?”
“I’m going back in, now.”
Tru watched her leave the barn, then turned back to the horses. “I think I’ll give her another twenty-four hours, and then if she isn’t herself again, I’ll toss her out on her snotty little ear, whataya think, Wheezie?” The Morgan snorted.
Tru closed up the barn, and trudged to the house. Brit had chosen a spot on the sofa facing the fireplace, and she was staring into the cold remnants of last night’s fire. Tru collapsed on the other “L” of the two sofas. The television volume was down, so she watched the crawler at the bottom of CNN. They sat in silence for some minutes before Brit asked, “Why don’t you make a fire?”
“I could, but it’s best after a horseback ride.”
“I don’t know,” she began with forced concern. “I could have a set-back.”
Tru sighed, caught in her own faulty rationale. “Okay, I was mothering you last night. I admit it. Do you want to go for a ride, or not?”
“Was I a good rider?”
Tru sat up. “Yes. Not as good as me, though.”
Brittany snorted. “Sure. Lie about it, I don’t remember it anyway, right?”
“We were about even.”
“That’s what I thought.” She toyed with a small pillow and stared at the empty grates, charred wood pieces nestled below. “Is there enough wood to have a fire?”
Tru grinned to herself. “Only if you go riding with me.”
“I don’t know if I’m in the mood—”
“Chicken.”
Brit lifted the pillow she held and bounced it atop Tru’s head. “Saddle up, cowgirl. I’ll show you who’s chicken.”
Tru checked the horse’s girth one more time before she handed the loose rein to Brittany. “Hop on. We’ll see how much comes naturally, and how much you used to fake.”
Brit scowled at her, studied the stirrup, decided on her left foot, and placed it correctly, grasping the saddle horn and swinging astride. Settling into the leather, she smirked down at Tru.
Tru only smiled. “That’s the easy part, chick.”
Brit swallowed her sudden fear and patted the animal on the neck. “Be nice, today, Wheezie —”
Tru overheard. “That’s Juts,” she said, swinging easily into the saddle. “This is Wheezie.”
Brittany gathered the reins roughly. “Do you think we can go now?”
Tru took her down the trails she knew were more treacherous than most; that prima donna attitude would have to go, and there was no other way to do it, but take her on a ride that would likely knock her from her throne. Low limbs would serve well.
“Hey,” Brittany complained. “Is this your idea of fun? If I’d known I would need a machete, I wouldn’t have come with you on this stupid little excursion.” She pushed a small limb away which came toward her face.
“You love this. Trust me.” Tru was thankful for being in the lead, otherwise her smile would have given her away.
“I do?” As Tru maneuvered around a tree, a green limb released itself from the rump of the mount, striking her on the knee. “Ow! Why don’t you watch what you’re doing, Morgan?”
“You talking to me or the horse?” Tru shot over her shoulder.
Brittany looked at the back of the animal. “Doesn’t matter. The view is the same.”
Tru shifted in the saddle to look back at her. “How’d you like me to take off and leave you here to freeze, smart girl?”
Brit’s nose went into the air defiantly. “I don’t need your help, wise-ass.”
Tru nudged her heels into the mount and loped down the remaining incline and disappeared into the woods beyond.
Brittany tugged on the reins to stop Juts. “What a royal bitch...” she growled. “She thinks I’m helpless without her. What an ego,” she told the horse. “I ought to turn around and go back. I could be sitting by that nice warm fireplace, enjoying a cup of coffee, while she’s out here playing hide and seek with herself.” She turned to examine the trail behind her. “I’ll follow our tracks right back to the barn. That little fat-headed know it all—” Brit reined the horse around in the opposite direction, mildly surprised that she remembered how. “She’ll probably be out here for hours looking for poor little ol’ helpless Brittany, while I’m getting toasty and sleepy by the fire.” She chuckled. “Two can play this game, Tru.” She urged the Morgan forward, satisfied that she had beaten Tru at her own sport.
Suddenly, the horse stopped—its ears perked—turned around and began walking in the other direction again. “What are you doing?” she asked the horse. Brit reined the beast back, but the Morgan continued to turn back and walk in the direction Tru had disappeared. The harder she tried to turn the animal around, the more vehemently the mare resisted. The Morgan’s ears moved forward and back at odd intervals, and Brittany could do nothing but sit there and be carried wherever the horse wanted to go. “Just peachy! My own horse doesn’t obey me.” Fighting low limbs and high bushes, Brittany cursed the animal soundly for the next fifteen minutes until the mare stopped in a small clearing and stared into the trees at something Brit could not find. “What the hell are you doing, now, you stupid—”
A crackling of dry branches took Brit’s attention to the edge of the clearing. Tru ambled out of the trees, with a crafty grin. She reined the horse to a halt beside Brit’s. “Fancy meeting you here.”
“Oh, stuff it. Did you know that my horse is retarded? She’s not very obedient. She came here without my permission.”
“Actually she’s very obedient. I trained her myself.”
“See, that’s where you’re wrong. I tried to go back to the barn and she refused.”
“I trained my horse to come when I blow this—” Tru produced a small oblong whistle. “It’s too high-pitched for us to hear, but horses hear it.”
“Well, my horse isn’t trained to that whistle, is she?”
Tru patted her mount’s neck. “Nope. Just mine.”
“But—” Brit looked down at her horse, then back up at Tru. “Are you telling me—”
“You’re on Wheezie, not Juts.”
“What happened to that five-second rule?”
“Oh I’m sorry, I forgot. Maybe your amnesia is contagious.”
Brittany huffed a cloud of fog. “You are insufferable, you know that?”
“I enjoy a good laugh,” she admitted shamelessly.
“Oh, ha, ha.” Brit sneered. “That’s very entertaining, Tru. Let’s do play another game!”
“Where’s your sense of humor?” Tru teased.
“I forgot it!” she shot back.
“Okay. I’m sorry. I was trying to lighten things up a little. You want to talk about something else?”
“Please.”
“How do you like my trained horse?”
Brit scowled at her. “Not that.”
“Okay, let’s talk about your boyfriend.”
“What?”
“Max.”
“He’s not my boyfriend. He wants to be, maybe.” Brittany loosed her feet from the stirrups and stretched her legs.
“Well, at least he’s got good taste.” Tru crooked a leg over the pommel.
“Don’t start getting fresh, Morgan. It will get you exactly nowhere.”
“How’re you going to get rid of him?”
“I don’t know. Any suggestions?”
Tru dug out a package of sunflower seeds, and plunged her fingers in the bag. “Tell him you’re gay.”
Brittany huffed. “No way.”
“Why not? If he thinks you are, he might give up.”
Brittany shook her head and held out her hand for some seeds. Tru gave her some. “It wouldn’t work. Besides, you have an ulterior motive for suggesting that.”
“Right. I’m such a lusty wench. All I’m after is your body.”
“Well aren’t you?”
She bit a shell and dug out the seed with her teeth, chewing the tiny morsel. “I thought you didn’t like this subject.”
“I don’t. But sooner or later, you’re going to get impatient and want some payback for all this time you’ve been without a bed-partner.”
“Sadly, sexual favors are not considered currency in Colorado.”
Brittany made a face. “Oh, like I’d hop into bed with you, anyway, because you’re frustrated.”
“You’ve done it for less than that.”
Brittany’s jaw went slack as she stared at Tru. “I’m liking this conversation less and less.”
“Me too. About Max. You’re right, you can’t pay some debts equally. Your thanks should be payment enough. And maybe your friendship later, if he proves to be a decent guy. But don’t let
him hold the guilt and obligation over your head like a big rock. You have to draw the line somewhere.” Tru dropped the barren shells she had been collecting into the snow.
Brittany put her feet back in the stirrups. “It’s not a question of whether to draw the line, it’s a question of how. I have no interest in him really. He does seem kinda creepy, now.”
“Then tell him you’re gay. What have you got to lose?” Tru saw her hesitancy. “Even if you don’t feel it, saying it might turn him off.”
Brittany reined Wheezie around. “Can we go back, now? I’m freezing.”
“Wait a second.” Tru guided Juts over beside Wheezie and reached into the saddle bag. “Here,” she held out the extra pair of leather gloves. “These will warm up your hands, at least.”