Ryan spent the next few minutes trying to hit sugar cubes with her chopstick, using the little wooden stick as a bat. She got a few good licks in, and Jamie had to dive for one so it didn't hit the waitress. The woman gave Ryan a stern look as she placed their entrees on the table. Jamie shook her head as she laughed at her chastised partner. "And the opposite is true, too."
As they walked home, hand in hand, Ryan said, "Since my travails have monopolized the evening, let's talk about you. Have you given much thought to grad school?"
"Yeah, I have. I know I could do English Lit and get a Ph. D. studying something that I really love. But I don't want to teach, so I don't know if it makes sense to spend the time. I used to think that I wanted to write, but I've been less interested in that since we’ve been together."
"Why do you think that is?" Ryan inquired, just then realizing that Jamie didn’t even seem to be writing in her journal.
"I’m not sure," she reflected. "I just don’t spend much time reflecting anymore. I've been spending too much time actually
living
my life," she said with a laugh.
"Maybe you needed your writing to help you work some things out before," Ryan guessed.
"You might say that," Jamie laughed. "I think every short story I've ever written has at least one really strong, sexually ambiguous woman in it. Could I
be
any more clueless?"
Ryan laughed at her characterization, but asked again, "So what else interests you? You don't have to stay in school if you don't want to, you know. You could start figuring out how to give money away."
"Yeah, that's true," she said slowly. "But there is something else I'm interested in."
"What?" Ryan said as she turned to her.
"Psychology," she said simply.
"Really?" she replied with a delighted grin on her face. "Did lesbianism 101 put that idea in your head?"
"No," she laughed. "Well, you know, being in therapy has shown me how neat it would be to help people solve their own problems. I've really learned a lot about myself in the months that I've been working on these issues, and I think I'd like to help other people do the same."
"Wow," Ryan said as a big smile lit up her face. "That would really be cool. And since you don't have to worry about money, you could work with people who can't normally afford therapy."
"Yeah, that would really be rewarding," she agreed. "So I think I'll apply to Berkeley and at least one other.
I
need a safe school," she said as she stuck out her tongue.
"Hey," Ryan warned. "Don't stick that out if you're not planning on using it."
"Who's gonna stop me?" she asked with an impish grin as she began to run down the street.
"Winner gets to go first!" Ryan declared as she loudly stomped for a few steps behind her racing lover. As soon as Jamie had a good head start she slowed down to a saunter.
I prefer to go last anyway,
she thought smugly as she watched her lover fly down the street.
On Thursday morning, Jordan and Ryan were shuffling down the halls of the Recreational Sports Facility, their legs so sore neither woman could lift them to walk normally. "The season’s gonna be a breeze compared with the workouts we’ve been doing," Jordan commented.
"Mmm…this isn’t all that much different from what I normally do," Ryan said nonchalantly, stretching the truth a few miles.
"Uh-huh," Jordan commented, poking her sharply in the gut. "And that’s why you can barely pick your feet up?" It was clear that Jordan had Ryan’s number, but their boasting and teasing had become an important element in the way they connected, with both women enjoying the playful dynamic.
"I always walk like this," Ryan insisted, stifling a laugh. "You’re just so self-involved that you barely notice me."
"The third element of your statement is the truth," Jordan chuckled. "The first two–total lies."
Rounding the corner, they continued their banter until a woman’s voice called out, "Ryan…Jordan…hold on a minute."
They stopped and waited as a middle-aged woman jogged down the hall to greet them both. "A word with you both?"
"Sure," Jordan said, giving Ryan a quick glance.
"Any chance I could convince either of you to consider being two-sport athletes this year? We’re just two players away from being a force in the PAC-10."
More like five players
, Ryan thought, considering the dismal showing of the basketball team for the last…well, forever.
"Not me, Coach," Jordan said quickly. "With any luck I’ll be in Colorado Springs before the year’s out. I’m sure you could talk Ryan into joining you, though. She’s got energy to burn. Our little workouts hardly affect her at all." Jordan shot Ryan a demonic grin, patted her cheek, and announced, "I’ve got to run. Catch you in the morning, Ryan." Extending her hand, she shook the coach’s and shuffled down the hall, leaving Ryan to continue the conversation.
"Bye, Jordan," both women called after her. The coach made no move to repeat her question, and Ryan reminded herself that Mary Hayes was a woman of few words. The older woman just tilted her head slightly, waiting for Ryan to answer her query.
"I uh…." she hesitated, considering the proposal. "I might be interested," she finally said. "This is my last year…"
Before she could even finish her sentence, Coach Hayes slapped her on her very wet back and said, "Four o’clock today good for you?"
Looking slightly confused, Ryan nodded.
"Good. Meet me at the court. I want to see if your skills have eroded since I last saw you play."
Ryan recalled the trouncing that USF had delivered to Cal two years before when she buried them with a season high of 27 points. At the time, she'd been decidedly miffed by the double and triple team that the Bears had tried to smother her with, and she remembered feeling that the game was more of a mugging than a fair contest. "I’ll be there," she decided, unable to resist the challenge.
Walking home from the gym she came to her senses and thought,
I’d better think of a way to spin this with Jamie, or that last mugging I got will seem like a day at the beach!
"Jamie?" she called when she entered the house.
Receiving no answer, she went into the back yard, smiling to herself when she saw her partner stretched out on a chaise, sections of the newspaper spread around her and a large coffee mug resting on a table at her elbow. Her Walkman was also lying on the table, and Ryan checked her watch to confirm that "Morning Edition" was now over.
"Hi, Love," she said, walking to the foot of the chaise.
"What did you do?" her suspicious spouse immediately asked.
"Do?" she asked. "Why do you assume I’ve done something?" Her pure, innocent face was clear testament to her virtuousness, but Jamie wasn’t buying it for a minute.
"Dendrobium orchids are my favorite flower, Ryan, and the bunch you have in your hand must have cost you thirty bucks. For you to part with thirty bucks means that you think you have something very big to apologize for–so let’s cut to the chase and get it over with. Now…what did you do?" Her voice was serious, but the twinkling green eyes gave a clearer indication of her mental state.
"I didn’t
do
anything," Ryan insisted, sitting down on the end of the chaise. "I’m thinking of doing something…but I haven’t done it yet."
Grasping the flowers from her partner, Jamie played with the delicate blossoms with the tip of her finger, seemingly intent only on their form. "So these represent a peremptory apology?" she asked coyly.
"No, I wouldn’t say they’re an apology," Ryan insisted. "I just wanted to show you that I was thinking about you, and to tell you how important you are to me. I want you to know that I value our relationship more than anything, and that us having time together means a great deal to me."
Jamie head cocked and she stared deeply into Ryan’s eyes. "Are you moving out or something? This sounds bad, Ryan."
"Of course not!" she laughed. "We’re together for life, you goof, and don’t you forget it! I just got an offer today that I’m considering…"
"This better not be the type of offer you used to get." Now Jamie’s fierce gaze matched her tone of voice, and Ryan realized she’d better get to the point.
"Actually this was the type of offer I used to get, but it wasn’t sexual. The basketball coach approached me and asked if I might like to play this year."
"Play?" Jamie asked slowly. "This year?"
"Yeah. This year."
"But how would you…I mean you’ve already committed to Coach Placer, and …"
"Basketball is a winter sport, Babe. I’d finish the volleyball season and then start playing games. I did this at USF, too. It’s not that hard."
Shaking her flowers right in Ryan’s face Jamie mused, "Thirty bucks says something about this is hard. Now spill it!"
Ryan laughed gently, both pleased and chagrined that her partner knew her so well. "It will take a lot of my time, Honey," she admitted. "I might like to do this, but I don’t want you to feel neglected. Basketball has a longer, more grueling season than volleyball does, and there’s a lot more travel involved."
Jamie mulled that over for a few moments, finally asking Ryan, "Do you really believe that we’ll be together for the rest of our lives?"
Eyebrows shooting up dramatically, Ryan declared, "Of course I do! I made a vow to you, Jamie!"
Tickling her nose with the orchid blossoms Jamie agreed completely. "I do too, Honey. And given that we both believe that, there’s no reason to avoid things you want to do–even if they will keep us apart more than either of us would choose. I don’t want our relationship to keep you from doing anything, Ryan." Leaning forward to kiss her partner’s salty lips she added, "Well, other than that one thing, that is."
"No interest in doing that with anyone else," Ryan insisted. "You’re all that I can handle…and I’m still not sure I can handle you!"
"Come on, big talker," Jamie said, getting to her feet and extending a hand. "Let’s get you showered so you don’t stiffen up."
"Oh, I’m way past stiff," Ryan admitted. "And it’s gonna get worse. I told Coach Hayes I’d meet her this afternoon to demonstrate that I can still play."
"This afternoon?" Jamie was none too happy with the scheduling of this little demonstration, but she knew that complaining wouldn’t convince her hardheaded lover to put it off. "Grab a change of clothes, Hot Stuff. We’re going to the spa."
Two hours later, Ryan was simmering in the deep, herbal-scented spa, while Jamie lay on a chaise near the bubbling pool. The smaller woman had just had her nails done, so she couldn’t go into the spa until the polish dried. "I always thought you did your own nails," Ryan murmured, the deep relaxation of her sports massage combining with the 103-degree water to render her nearly unconscious.
"Not likely!" Jamie laughed. "I haven’t done my own nails since I was twelve!"
"Hmmm….I’ve never had a manicure. I don’t think I’d like it."
"I like the manicure," Jamie revealed. "But I loooove the pedicure."
"Hmmm…I’d love that too, but I don’t want a stranger to do it."
"You’re on, Tiger. I’ll be your own personal pedicurist. I think I’ll paint your nails hot pink…"
"No way, Babe. I want the nice, clear stuff you use on yours."
"You’re no fun," Jamie pouted.
"Let’s see if you think that after you play with my feet for a while," Ryan purred, suddenly shaking off her lethargy.
At four o'clock they were back at the Recreational Sports Facility. Jamie thought Ryan looked simply adorable in a black nylon sleeveless v-necked T-shirt and a pair of black nylon running shorts. She also wore thick white socks under black high-top basketball shoes, and to Jamie’s studied gaze she looked long and sleek and slightly dangerous, just the way she liked her.
As they entered the court, a woman of medium height and below-average weight strode over and extended her hand. "Good to see you again, Ryan," she said with a cool, intelligent-looking gaze.
"You too, Coach Hayes." Turning to her lover she made the introductions. "Coach, this is my partner, Jamie Evans."
The coach extended her hand and gave Jamie a smile that did not extend to her eyes. "Jamie, this is Mary Hayes." They shook hands but Jamie just nodded after getting no positive vibes from the woman. She didn’t look antagonistic, just looked very serious and businesslike.
"Well, Ryan," she said as she placed her hands on her hips and gazed at her long body, "Whether or not you play for us, it’s nice not to have you kicking our asses for USF." She made this statement with such a blank expression that Ryan was unable to tell if it was a compliment or a complaint.
"Yeah, I had a couple of good games when I played there," she admitted, looking a little uncomfortable.
"Well, let’s get to work," the coach said, clearly tired of what she considered excessive small talk.
Three assistant coaches took the floor as Ryan tightened her laces. Two were considerably younger than Coach Hayes, possibly as young as or younger than Ryan. They had all obviously been players at one time, given their height and their dexterity with the ball as they warmed up a little, but the third woman was a tall, middle aged, stocky black woman who looked like her playing days were long behind her. She walked up to Ryan and extended a hand, "Lynette Dix," she said with a big, friendly smile. "When I heard you had transferred to Cal, I thanked the Lord that we wouldn’t automatically have an ‘L’ on our schedule whenever we played USF!"