Dis/inhibition

Chapter One

"Elizabeth Baldwin is a bitch."

Lisa recognized the brassy voice. It belonged to Valerie Running Deer, one of her mother's graduate students. Her acid tone made Lisa's stomach clench.

Keep your voice down, Sarah chided her with nervous laughter.

Lisa slunk forward into the kitchen doorway. This was the source of the heady scent of baked cherries.

"I don't give a crap who hears me! The woman stole my idea without batting an eye."

Lisa had never actually spoken to Valerie before, but she'd seen her around her mom's lab. How could anyone miss her? Her attitude blew through Doctor Baldwin's stuffy scientific space like a prickly Santa Ana wind.

The first time she'd laid eyes on her, Lisa had been making a quick exit out the door of her mother's office. She'd flaked on something the Professor couldn't chew her out about at work, and the measured tap, tap, tap of her mother's pen against her desk followed Lisa all the way across the Neurophysiology lab. The room reeked of disinfectant and rats. Esoteric equipment hummed steadily beneath the murmured conversations of lab assistants who stared at computer displays with welded-on frowns. Lisa tucked in her chin to avoid the jars of brain tissue that adorned the countertops.

Just then, Valerie strode in from the corridor in gym shorts, sweat beading where her long, disheveled raven hair met her skin. She jerked a white lab coat off the back of a chair, slipped it over her shoulders, and tied her hair up behind her head. Five minutes to spare, rat-boy, she announced to Ken, the lab manager. Lisa had to admit that she'd turned around and gaped. Hah! she'd thought, this girl is just too cool.

Tonight, though, Valerie simmered with agitation, and she'd traded the lab coat for a white tank-top tucked into black denim jeans and an unbuttoned Oxford shirt.

Lisa relaxed against the kitchen doorframe and observed her, glad to leave the boring party in the living room behind.

Elizabeth should have at least given me some experimental grunt-work, Valerie muttered, scowling over the beer bottle she had gripped by the neck. Her other hand grappled the edge of the countertop. Sarah crunched on a carrot stick. She'd been nodded attentively as if she understood every word Valerie said, but Lisa suspected she knew as much about Neurophysiology as Lisa did: zilch. "Instead, I'm down in the basement of the library searching online journal databases! Doing lit review!"

What do you expect? Sarah replied. Her thin, pale elbow was propped on the cutting board behind her amidst the scattered remains of scallions, carrots and red peppers. On the counter beyond, crumb-filled plates were stacked next to empty bottles of wine. "You are only in your first year of grad school."

"Carrie's running my fMRI protocols! Mousy little Carrie! She had to retake statistics twice!"

Valerie wasn't afraid to stand out and be noticed, Lisa decided, even if some people might think she looked, well... sort of gay. Not that Lisa thought she was. She wasn't one to judge how people looked. She always took the safe route herself–thick blond hair not too long, baggy corduroys and blouses. Another chameleon in the crowd.

So what? Valerie retorted, plunking her beer on the counter. "I've worked with Elizabeth Baldwin for six years. She held out a splayed hand and stabbed each finger in turn. I've sat through her lectures, tutored her students, assisted in her lab. She slammed her palm against the countertop. Lisa's knee twitched. And that damned grant proposal reads like the fMRI study was her idea! Valerie reached for her beer and brought it up to surly lips. Oh, I was pissed. I went to her office and told her so. That's why I was late getting here."

Lisa's mouth twisted to stifle a smile. It was like being in on a conspiracy.

Sarah had already noticed Lisa standing there. Now she finally let it be known. Valerie, you remember Lisa Baldwin.

Valerie twisted her head in mid-swig, then lowered the bottle. Lisa thought she might die. She threw an agonized stare at Sarah, knowing Valerie's eyes were on her and knowing just what she was thinking: Shit. The professor's kid'll go running back to mommy and tell her all the crap I just said.

No. Valerie wasn't afraid she'd tell. Everyone already knew what Valerie thought. She just came right out and said it. Lisa wished she had that kind of cool.

• • •

Yeah, hey, Valerie managed to choke.

The door-mouse took a few tentative steps into the glare of the kitchen lights, arms crossed tight beneath her breasts, and Valerie instantly felt like a pussy for panicking. Lisa was a lot prettier than she remembered–honey-blond hair and one of those tiny figures that was womanly without being fat. She gave Valerie a brief glance and almost smiled. Real pretty. Must resemble her dad.

Sarah, in the meantime, was one big, evil smirk. Lisa's here to learn all about life at Cal State San Lucas. A strand of blond bang stuck to her forehead, moist with sweat from the heat of the oven.

Saint Luke's, huh? Valerie commented, making an idle note of it. The more lucid part of her brain was still working on when she'd seen Lisa last. She'd been to Elizabeth's house about a half a dozen times in as many years, but her kids had been scarce, almost like she didn't have them. One year, though, this annoying brat had descended into the room on her mother's heels after Elizabeth had given her the hush-hush talk on the staircase. "But why?" she'd exclaimed, all nasal and whiney. Then the girl's eyes had dropped to the couch and loveseat filled with biology majors.

The undergrad Christmas party, Valerie said. Three years ago. A pair of ice-green eyes slid over to her. Two perfectly formed lips hung apart.

Huh?

Lisa had the brief, bug-eyed look of a caged animal at the zoo, then drifted over to Sarah. Valerie sipped her Tecate and took in the sight of the two blond nuggets side by side. Her roommate Rachel gave her a hard time about her cream puffs as she called them. Not that she cared what Rachel thought anymore.

Sarah, can you help me for a minute? All eyes turned to Debra in the doorway.

What? Yeah, sure. Sarah's eyes darted from Lisa to Valerie. Lisa, can you watch the empanadas? Lisa nodded. Sarah's gypsy-skirts swirled out of the room.

The mouse parked herself beside the oven and watched Valerie out of the corner of her eye. Waiting for her to say something, maybe? Valerie mused. She decided Lisa wasn't a mouse after all. She was a cat–all eyes and hair, slinky, watchful. She caught Lisa's eyes and stared into them intently just to see when they'd bolt. Lisa's wary gaze was locked with hers in a game of chicken and didn't move. Yeah, definitely a cat. Valerie let Lisa give her the once-over, curious what was going on between those small, delicate ears. She might be Elizabeth's daughter, but Valerie wasn't getting a daughter-of-Satan vibe from her. Mostly, she was getting shy kid.

So you're going to Cal State Saint Luke. The cat jumped at her voice. When, this year? Next year? Valerie followed this up with her best lab-assistant-to-freshman smile, and Lisa let out the breath she'd been holding since Sarah left the room.

She grinned. This fall. Her eyes dipped away, then returned, giving Valerie a glance like a caress.

Well, Valerie thought, I'll be fucking damned. What's your major going to be? She couldn't help giving Lisa a line. She was asking for it.

Or not. Lisa's brow tightened in a perturbed wrinkle. I–I don't know. She had her hands buried in her jacket pockets now, and she stood as the dot in the center of a target stands, unable to move from her designated place in the universe, waiting for the dart. Valerie clutched her beer and shrugged.

Well, just make something up. It's a standard pick-up line at parties. She took a swig.

Lisa laughed softly. P–pick-up line?

Of course, Valerie went on, easing into the give and take of a familiar game. Lisa was pretending she didn't have a game going, but she gave it away with every downward tilt of her head, every nervous shuffle of her toes across the well-worn tile of Debra's kitchen. It was Wile E. Coyote and the Roadrunner. But who was the predator and who was the prey? You didn't know. That was what Rachel didn't understand about Valerie's so-called cream puffs. They had hard, nutty centers you could break your teeth on, and Valerie had learned not to underestimate them. Haven't the guys started in on you already?

Yeah, I guess. Lisa gazed at her for another, awkward beat, then turned towards the oven. Her face took on a look of intent self-importance as she opened the door a crack and peeked inside. She sprung back from the heat. Valerie chuckled and imagined her fur standing on end, slightly singed. Lisa glanced over as she stood tall, face pink and luminescent.

Valerie took a long, slow sip of her beer. "So why'd your college fact-finding mission bring you to this party?"

Well... you, you guys all go there.

Sure, but undergrads are the people to talk to about San Luc.

Like Sarah.

Yeah... like Sarah. Valerie nursed what was left of her Tecate, trying to keep herself from doing what she was sorely tempted to do, or maybe giving herself a few swigs of encouragement. She set the bottle down on the stove. So are you still waiting to talk to anyone?

Lisa shook her head. I was actually thinking of going home.

Valerie knew in that moment she was up to no good. Oh, she could tell herself she just wanted to walk a pretty girl home–to watch her tiny ass move under her pants, see the way her hair bounced on her shoulders and the little frowns she got on her face as she spoke, but Lisa wasn't just any sweet teenaged cream puff. She was Elizabeth's sweet teenaged cream puff, and the thought of strolling beside Lisa down the sidewalk with Elizabeth elsewhere, wondering if it would annoy Elizabeth if she found out–well, that just got her juiced. Of course, there was nothing for Elizabeth to be annoyed about; it was just a walk home. Valerie was being nice. And she wasn't stupid. She wasn't planning on shooting herself in the foot. That just happened naturally.

Yeah, these parties are pretty boring. I get enough biology talk during the day. Lisa grinned and nodded. You don't live too far from here, right? I'll walk you.

Lisa gave Valerie another skeptical once-over under her long lashes. No, she was no dumb cookie. Somewhere inside her, an alarm was going off. But it was an alarm she wasn't going to classify, characterize, or concede to. Okay, I guess.

• • •

It was dark outside Debra's house. The sidewalk followed a high, ivy-covered fence and passed under thick oak trees that blocked the street lamps. It was March and still cold, even without a wind. Lisa walked with her hands deep in her jacket pockets, aware of the itchiness of her wool sweater against the skin of her back and the jarring thud, thud, thud of her Nikes on the concrete. She felt edgy, wired from too much caffeine. So I guess you're not too happy with my mom.

Valerie's voice was disembodied in the darkness. Eh, no big deal. I can handle it. In the distance, a car engine roared. The two of them stopped at the corner. They'd have to wind around three blocks before they got to her cul-de-sac. Lisa stepped into the street and Valerie followed, her boots scraping the asphalt. It's so dark out here you can actually see the stars, she said.

Lisa looked up reflexively. Yeah, some. Actually, there wasn't much to see. San Lucas was in a valley, and even on clear nights like tonight, the stars took their time winking into view, as if each was waiting its turn. And for each one that showed its face, a hundred more stayed hidden, just behind the smog and city lights.

Valerie let out a throaty chuckle. "Well, a hell of a lot more than in my neighborhood."

Lisa wondered what Valerie's neighborhood was like. Most off-campus students ended up in the same three-square block of student apartment complexes that bordered the campus. It would be hard to see anything in the night sky from there, with the floodlights all over the place. When I used to go camping with my dad, Lisa offered, we'd see thousands of stars. Millions.

Did he teach you how to find the constellations? Valerie asked. She was pretty down to earth, once you were talking to her, Lisa decided.

Sure. Lisa had said that automatically, because there was a time when she'd memorized them all–or most of them, anyway–and marked each new pattern in a book her dad had bought her. But she'd been twelve the last time they'd lain in that dusty mountain clearing together, the Milky Way stretched out above them. Lisa remembered being awed by the enormity of it. In the silence of the mountains, the stars clamored to be seen. But the sweeping view had also left her forlorn, because no matter what she thought of them, the stars were indifferent to her.

The best lessons had come from a less complicated spot. You should see the view from our backyard, Lisa blurted out before she could stop herself.

Oh yeah? Valerie tilted her head. A strand of dark hair slid over her shoulder, catching the street light. Let's go see.

The bottom of Lisa's jacket had ridden above her hips and she tugged it back down. She hadn't meant the comment as an invitation. It's not that she didn't want to hang out in her backyard with Valerie, but if her mother saw them there, well, she didn't need the interrogation. Why were you hanging out with the most obnoxious student in my lab? Then it was guilt by association, and she had a status to maintain in her family–the good, if flighty, Lisa. If she were going to disobey her mother's direct orders, or even her meaningful glares, she wasn't going to throw it in her mom's face like Valerie did. She was going to find some way to do it that her mom would never know about. I don't know...

You don't know what? Valerie's voice had a mischievous tone that made Lisa feel like a wimp. I don't bite. There was a shrewd smile on her full lips. This was Valerie's Cool Test, she realized, and she was failing.

I just didn't think you'd want to see my mom again tonight.

Valerie shrugged. She's still at the lab. Valerie sounded pretty confident of that.

Yeah, probably.

Valerie turned her gaze away mercifully. Headlights arched across the street as a car pulled into the upcoming intersection. It rumbled on until its noise faded away. The shadowy shapes of the houses were eerie in the silence left behind. Lisa couldn't believe she was being such a baby. Her pulse was pounding like she'd never misbehaved a day in her life. And yet... how was this misbehaving?

They rounded the corner onto Lisa's cul-de-sac. All the action in her neighborhood–dads mowing lawns, kids on bikes–was over for the day. If it weren't for the glowing curtains and brightly-lit front porches, you'd have thought the place was deserted. Lisa watched Valerie study the houses, her jaw muscles tight on her angular face. She wondered what Valerie made of boring Prescott Lane. She and her friends talked about that a lot–being from suburbia was basically a one-way ticket to lame. The last thing you wanted to be seen as was a sheltered, naïve little white girl. Or boy.

I know we're close, but I can't remember which one it is.

Lisa eyed her house. Her family lived just to one side of where the street curved back on itself. The house hadn't changed in years—it was still the same brown wood and white stucco, with a bed of flowering shrubs along the outside and a neatly-trimmed lawn. When she was a kid, she'd skated down the driveway, done cartwheels on the grass. Imagined in the darkness of the garage that she was a queen or an alien and that her parent's cars were carriages or spaceships. That was back in the days when her parents were home a lot. She'd venture outside and her transport vehicles would be waiting there, two Toyota butts, side by side. Lisa pointed. That's it, the white one.

Valerie's eyes settled on it. Your parents don't leave a light on when nobody's home? Sure enough, the porch light was off (her fault; she'd been the only one home when she left) and the big living room window stood curtainless and dark. Her mother always shut the curtains at night like it was a righteous act—swap, swap, swap—each tug of her hand on the cord pulling privacy from the jaws of some interloper who would even care what went on in their house after dark.

I guess they just forgot. It meant her dad wasn't home yet, either. So she could invite Valerie in if she wanted to. But she knew she wouldn't. She was going to say goodnight, then close the curtains, turn on the porch light, and settle down in front of the TV.

After a moment, they arrived at the end of the front walk. Valerie slowed. Lisa pivoted towards her. Valerie stood relaxed, shoulders forward, the tips of her fingers nestled in her belt loops. Something wrong?

No. Lisa's pulse was still knocking furiously, and it was stupid. Valerie wasn't an ax murderer. And she wasn't going to steal her mom's biology tests and sell them. Probably. So maybe she just wanted to bitch about Elizabeth Baldwin with someone who'd understand. Lisa knew she shouldn't let Valerie in, in any case. But her parents weren't home to see it, and that's why she was going to do it anyway. Lisa turned and started up the concrete path to the front door. Valerie followed, then waited while Lisa dug in her pants for her keys. She could hear the faucet that fed the garden hose dripping nearby.

The air from the house was warm. Lisa flipped on the hall light and proceeded back to the family room. Valerie shut the door behind them. Her boots clomped across the tile. Lisa snapped on the lamp. Her cat Doyle winked at her from the back of the couch, then stood up, stretched for a second in that tall cat way, and hopped down on the couch cushion. The kitchen towel her dad had laid on his perch was glazed with gray fur.

Lisa sensed Valerie's presence in the doorway. She pointed. That's the backyard. She walked over to the patio door. You can see the stars pretty good. Then she added softly, Some of them, anyway. She turned away from the glass and inhaled sharply. Valerie was standing right behind her, staring intently outside. Lisa could feel the warmth of her in contrast to the glass at her back. It was weird, feeling that. Sort of comforting and scary at the same time. The laboratory hellion was just another human being—warm-blooded, alive. A human being Lisa barely knew. Standing in her house. Lisa circled slowly back around, opened the sliding glass door, and slipped out onto the patio.

The backyard was where her dad spent most of his time. In the daytime, you could see sturdy green bushes and ceramic Shinto lanterns spaced evenly along a gently curving trail of wood chips, and colorful sweet peas crawling up the fence on chicken wire. Right now, though, with only the security lamp on, it was just flower scents amid dark, indistinct shapes.

C'mon out, Lisa said once she'd cleared the doorway. Valerie stepped outside.

Lisa reached for the patio light and felt Valerie's fingers brush over her hand. A heaviness rippled down her body. Can't see the stars as well with the light on, Valerie explained. Casually, Lisa strolled across the patio and sat down at its edge.

• • •

Valerie patted the pocket of her Oxford shirt while the voice of reason nagged at her. There's a time and a place for doing your duty as the appointed emissary of Lesbos, she chided herself, and then there's fucking reality. With a little more mental coherence, she tried the back pocket of her jeans. Smoking cleared her head. Helped her think. Sure, she knew that was a bullshit excuse, but she'd done some of her best thinking while necrotizing her lung cells.

Lisa was perched on the edge of the patio. Quiet. Waiting. Valerie smoked, watching the girl's fingertips trace unknown forms onto the glossy patio planks. The longer she stood here, the greater the chance Daddy or Godforbidmommy would pull up in the driveway and send her hauling ass to the side gate. At least she thought there was a side gate; she hadn't been here in a year, and she'd been pretty drunk at that graduation party. It seemed like a lifetime ago, now. She'd been Elizabeth's star pupil, and just accepted into the graduate program. Life had made a kind of sense it hadn't since she was little and it was just her, her grandpa, and a shit-load of plants on the tables, countertops, and floor.

You probably shouldn't... Valerie paused. Lisa was giving her that wrinkle-browed, consternated expression again. I-I mean, my parents don't smoke. They might be able to smell it. And I really don't want to have to explain why—

Yeah, I getcha. Valerie took a few more puffs just to remind Lisa she'd put Valerie in charge. Not that she was. It was still Lisa's game; Valerie noticed she'd let her get at least a quarter of the way into her cigarette before she'd said anything. That was the sort of girl you had to watch out for, Valerie mused. They thought they were being nice, not grabbing the candy away altogether. But there was nothing nice about starting and not finishing.

Valerie took the cigarette out past the patio, crouched down, and crushed it in the dewy grass. Then, with the evidence tucked safely in her shirt pocket, she turned towards Lisa, still crouching. Lisa's eyes were contemplative. So. Can we look at the stars? Valerie asked.

Lisa grinned bashfully. It made Valerie wonder again what went on in that girly pink brain of hers. Valerie had known since she was eight that she liked girls better than boys, but she'd got the message loud and clear she wasn't supposed to admit it. So of course, when she was ten, she'd told her cousin about it anyway. René had gotten very goofy and fidgety, asking her if she put her hand down other girl's pants or up their shirts. His reaction had given her the crawlies all over her skin. Of course, he was twelve then, so what did you expect? He'd mellowed out over the years. Because he was like Valerie, a scientist. Capable of being cool, detached, and objective when need be. Tonight was one of those times—to be slow, methodical. To set up the experimental protocols, get them just so, put things in motion, then sit back and see what happened.

Valerie turned, plopped down on the ground, and stretched her legs out. Lisa waited a few carefully calculated seconds, then eased herself up off the patio in a slow, deliberate motion. She shuffled through the grass and sank down beside Valerie, keeping a discrete distance between them. Valerie squashed a smirk. It was simultaneously challenging and puzzling. Lisa had to know what she was up to, didn't she? How could she go through all these machinations and not know? Lisa took a deep, shaky breath and clasped her tiny hands together in her lap. Valerie was tempted to cut to the chase right then and there, but she feared the skittish kitten needed to play the game out to its not-so-bitter end.

Lisa studied the sky for a moment with a frown, then raised a hesitant finger. That's Orion. Valerie leaned towards her and glanced up. Lisa shifted closer almost unconsciously. Valerie's heart sped up like a goddamn fifteen-year old boy’s. She hadn't been this excited about being on the edge of business in a long time. Whether it was just Valerie-assholing-Elizabeth or what, she didn't know. And that's his belt. One of the stars on the belt is called Betelgeuse. Lisa frowned. I forget which one.

No, it wasn't that, not entirely. The fact was, for years now the girls she'd dated had been just recycled versions of the ones she'd dated the week before: the tediously high-maintenance Birkenstocks-and-politics dykes, the jocks whose tight-knit cliques had no place for a marginally athletic, ex-stoner scientist, the lipstick lesbians who looked like no straight girl Valerie had ever met in their feminine overcompensation. She'd played the butch game for them because they expected her to. But roles bored her. What happened to hot, wet sex that went all over the place and knew no boundaries? Honestly, lesbians were starting to bore her completely. Which is why, she supposed, she was sitting here in her dissertation advisor's backyard with a shivering teenager. What Lisa lacked in experience, she also lacked in the baggage the others carried around.

There's the Big Dipper. Everyone knows that one. It's actually Ursa Major, the Bear. Normally, if you follow the line formed by its handle...—her finger swept the sky—you'll find the North Star sitting out there at the end. It's called Polaris. But you can't really see it tonight... Lisa lapsed into silence. It hung heavily between them, compelling Valerie to glance over. Lisa was sitting with her hands propped on the grass beside her, gazing star-ward. Valerie had to keep her talking. Keep the steam rolling.

So your parents are pretty cool, huh? Or do they give you a hard time?

Lisa fidgeted again, stretching out her legs, then tucking them back in. My dad's great. Valerie could see her delicate face in the security lamp's dim light, all contemplative and broody. Lisa stretched her legs out again. We haven't gone camping together in years, though. A beat. And my mom... she's all right I guess. Pretty busy. Lisa glanced at Valerie as if to gauge her reaction to the mention of Mother. Valerie said nothing, and Lisa went on. All she wants to talk about is college, though, and where I'm going to go, and where I'm going to live once I get there. Her palms grazed the stiff tips of the grass. She wants me to live at home, I think. I don't know if I could stand that. Her jaw tightened. She already calls me from work all the time between meetings and classes, asking me to check the roast in the oven or clean the cat box or whatever.

The bite in her voice was jarring. Impotent fury brewed under that angelic surface so clearly that Valerie knew without a doubt that Lisa had latched onto her in that kitchen precisely because of what she'd said about her mother. She was so certain of this that she began to wonder if Lisa actually had any other motive besides solidarity against Elizabeth Baldwin. All those furtive looks and the nervous fidgeting could just be reticence around someone older and bolder. There was only one way to find out, and it was time to stop gauging body language and start speaking English.

Just then, Lisa lay back onto the grass. Her hair scattered out around her head like a disheveled golden halo, and Valerie almost choked.

• • •

Valerie stretched out on her side next to Lisa, propping her head up on one arm. I know how that is. Butterflies danced in Lisa's stomach.

Your mom's like that, too?

My mother? Valerie actually looked startled. I guess. Maybe. Then she grinned. "I was actually talking about your mother."

Lisa giggled. It wasn't so hard to imagine now—buddying around with a graduate school girl. It could be fun. As long as Valerie didn't lay all that neurophyseze on her. That weirded her out a little—that this girl was studying to be like her mom. Because Valerie was nothing like her mom. Once I start college, I'm living in the dorm. No way am I staying here. I'll be eighteen by then. Valerie blinked a few times. Well, how old are you? Lisa asked, feeling defensive.

Twenty-five.

Wow! Lisa thought. She suddenly felt like an interloper in Valerie's company. Like she should excuse herself politely and slink away. Of course, then Valerie would be alone in her backyard. Lisa took a deep breath. Once she thought about it, she realized it made sense. She was a high school senior and Valerie had already graduated from college; so of course she'd be—Lisa calculated quickly on invisible fingers—eight years older than her. It made her perspective shift. Up to that moment, she'd been thinking of Valerie as a girl. But Valerie was twenty-five. And twenty-five year-olds were adults. Women and men.

Lisa often watched adults her parents' age sitting around and tossing out opinions, and she'd felt the difference between herself and them as tangibly as if she'd walked into a wall. Becoming one of them, she'd decided, wasn't just a matter of moving through space and time. There was a quantum leap involved. And it sure as hell wasn't going happen magically on her eighteenth birthday. The law might see it that way, but the universe wouldn't. The universe would take its time, and then in a moment, or a day, or a year, it would transmute her through some strange alchemical means from the frizzy-haired kid she saw in the mirror into that breed of creature that lay next to her now. And she was not allowed to know when it would happen. These were not the sort of thoughts she'd ever tell her friends. She'd told her dad once and he'd laughed. Not at her. It had been more of an affectionate dad-chuckle. He'd said that deep inside, he still felt pretty much seventeen, just with twenty-five years of crap on top of it. And wrinkles.

That aggravatingly inquisitive smile returned to Valerie's lips. She shifted her head on her hand. What about boys? What does your mom think of that?

Sure, Lisa responded silently. Way to rub in that you're older and you don't have to answer to your mother. The truth was, Lisa hated the topic. That was why she put up with her mom talking about college—it gave Elizabeth something to wrap her worry around, a focus so she'd stop nagging Lisa about everything else. Like boys. Lisa never knew what to say about that. At least not to her mom. As if sensing her discomfort, Valerie stretched out flat beside her and shifted her attention to the starscape above them.

She doesn't say much, Lisa told her. Just that I... shouldn't dive right into something I'm not ready for, like she did when she was my age. She was eighteen when she had my brother.

Valerie was studying the sky thoughtfully. Lisa imagined cogs rotating in her head. She'd probably just told Valerie something about her mom that fell into the only among the family category. But anyone could figure that out if they did the math.

A light clicked on in the corner of her eye, followed by the murmur of indistinct voices. Lisa sat up, heart hammering. It was the next-door neighbors. She exhaled quietly and let the disappointment that had seized her gut seep out with it. She wasn't ready for the sudden appearance of parents. Still, she made a quick check of the side door leading out of the backyard. Yep. Still there as always.

So have you? Valerie asked as she laid back down.

Have I what?

Dove into something you're not ready for.

Not really. Which was the truth. Mostly. Okay, maybe it wasn't. Lisa had dove in with Chris, head first, splash. And then jumped right back out again. It wasn't that that the water had been cold; it had been more like lukewarm quicksand.

Valerie rolled back over on her side. Her head nestled into her hand. 'Not really?' What does that mean?

God! Lisa thought. What did she want? Torrid details? There were details, but they were more embarrassing than torrid. She felt a swell of exasperation. But there were ways to make things sound more impressive than they were. I guess it means... I haven't dated any one exclusively.

Valerie grinned. Is talking about this embarrassing you?

No. Lisa fumbled around for a cautious response. It's just that you sound like my mom. And that wasn't one.

But it was true. Valerie's questions sounded like Elizabeth Baldwin's prelude to the big speech: If you ever feel those feelings, Lisa—and I'm not saying that you should, yet—but if you ever feel even slightly tempted, please don't be embarrassed to talk to me about getting protection. Lisa had put her hand over her face and said, gawd mother. Then her mom had told her in exact, scientific detail how protection worked and even used the words penis and vagina once or twice to really make it fun. Lisa never, ever wanted her mom taking her to the doctor to get pills. She'd probably look at Lisa and imagining her doing it. As if. Chris had had condoms, and that had worked out just fine.

Valerie slid one booted foot up towards herself. Her upright knee swayed casually. "You are getting embarrassed."

"Have you?" Lisa snapped back.

Valerie's relaxed poise unnerved her. I've made a few mistakes in my day. But they never got me pregnant.

Well, neither have mine, Lisa retorted, and then realized what she'd implied.

Well, good, Valerie commented with humor in her voice.

Lisa couldn't believe she was having this conversation. Then the thought turned back on itself—what did she and her best friend Donna talk about, all the time? Sex—who was having it, what it was like doing it, and three billion variations on how it was done. But this was different. Lisa barely knew Valerie. And she was older. And she worked for her mother! Lisa stole a wary glance at her. Valerie was still grinning. But it wasn't a patronizing grin. She was looking at her as... well, maybe not an equal, but as someone she respected. This would never get back to her mother.

So what did you think of the mistakes? Or the non-mistakes.

The truth was, when Lisa had talked to Donna about sex, it was mostly her listening to Donna. Lisa and Chris had done it twice on his musty-smelling twin-sized bed after school, and both times it had been her idea, although Chris had put up no protest. It was Donna who wanted to talk about it, ask what it was like. Lisa hadn't known what to say. During those moments when it was happening, sex had made her feel noticed. Desirable. Even powerful. It was only later, in the darkness of her own bedroom that she realized she'd been watching the whole thing like a spectator at a movie. She'd decided that perhaps she really was rushing into sex and romance before she was ready. Moms were right about some things.

I guess, Lisa admitted to Valerie, "I'm really not ready for all that... stuff." Embarrassed at her childish confession, Lisa squashed her mouth closed and decided the stars were very interesting. There was stillness between them for a beat or two.

Maybe, Valerie suggested softly, you just weren't with the right person.

Donna had said the same thing after she'd told her about Chris. And so Lisa had gone out with Chris' friend James, who'd stuck a tongue like sandpaper between her lips in the front seat of his sister's car.

Maybe, Lisa echoed, just to let Valerie know she'd heard her.

Another moment of silence went by, and Lisa watched the sky. Finally, in the shadows next to her, Valerie asked, Have you ever kissed a girl?

The stars appeared to stretch themselves out ever so slightly, then return to normal. Lisa felt a prickling along her skin. It crept up out of the grass into her legs and up her back and settled like a stone in her gut. She realized she was shivering. Blood rushed through her ears in an effort to reach her brain. But it didn't matter. She knew she'd heard what Valerie had said just fine. She knew because she'd known. Or she'd suspected. She'd suspected so in the lab. She'd suspected so in the kitchen. And she'd let Valerie walk her home anyway.

Somehow, she managed to turn her head and look up at Valerie, whose gaze was intense and direct. No. Her eyes shifted to the darkness of the patio door. It persisted in its darkness.

Have you ever thought about it?

Lisa rubbed her hands up and down her arms. She had goose bumps under her sleeves. It felt as if the stars themselves would all come crashing down like splintering icicles. She wanted to bolt into the house and snap the locks and run upstairs. Then she'd be in her room with her magazines and her novels and her computer with Donna, Chris, and her mom on I.M.

Lisa could hear her own voice. It sounded far away, like a single stereo speaker on a long cord. A few times, I guess.

Now, on the grass under the stars, a strong slim hand reached out, and the tips of fingers caressed the edge of Lisa's brow, pushing her hair back gently. Lisa closed her eyes. A moment later, an eternity later, she felt a delicate, moist brush against her lips. The pressure increased. In a reflex action, Lisa slid her hand across the slim shoulder leaning over her. She felt herself pressing her lips against this woman's lips, unwilling to break the connection, or to breathe.

Chapter Two

The door slammed shut, hammering inside Felicia's head. She shuffled out of the bathroom and down the hallway, her wet hair dripping under the collar of her robe. Fleesh! Sarah exclaimed, tossing her purse on the couch. She bounded across the living room and wrapped her wiry arms around Felicia's neck.

How was Debra's party? Felicia asked, shifting Sarah's weight off with a gentle thrust of her hip. She was still reeling from the swing shift from hell. It started with the usual business—on her feet all afternoon monitoring vitals, administering medication, and helping patients to and from the bathroom. Then a kid recovering from abdominal surgery started spiking a fever.

Sarah ambled back a step, her hands sliding loosely off Felicia's shoulders. Boring. Her voice had that clipped, playful tone she got when she'd done something she knew Felicia wouldn't like—most recently, getting mud all over Felicia's Taurus and not washing it off.

Then why're you so hyper?

I'm always hyper.

"Okay, hyper-er."

Sarah stepped in close again and slipped her fingers through the loop on the side of Felicia's robe. She tilted her forehead against Felicia's and wrapped her other arm around Felicia's neck. Let's talk about it later, she whispered.

I'm not going to like this, am I?

Sarah drew her head back so that Felicia was looking right into those sky-blue eyes. They blinked behind the pale lashes of a strawberry blonde. Why do you say that?

Felicia shook her head. Sorry. I'm just really wiped. A patient almost died. It happened near the end of my shift. She tucked Sarah's hips against hers. Strong, slim fingers slithered down her back. Felicia forced a smile and gave Sarah's curvy lips a peck. They felt warm and soft and she didn't want to pull away. She slid her hand up Sarah's torso. You really are a handful, you know.

Yet somehow, you put up with it, Sarah murmured, her words bouncing off Felicia's skin. She took Felicia's hand and gently guided it under the hem of her T-shirt, up the soft skin of her belly, and over one lace-covered breast. Felicia caressed a patch of unbound flesh with her fingertips, and when that wasn't enough, unlatched Sarah's bra and took the full weight of Sarah's warmth into her hand. She felt, more than heard, Sarah's relenting breath against the corner of her mouth. They stood there for what seemed an eternity, mouths pressed together, not kissing exactly, just feeling the connection between mouth and mouth, hand and breast. Then Felicia pulled away, overwhelmed with desire. Without a word, she grasped Sarah's hand, and led her back to her bed.

Their love-making was more intense than it had been in weeks. Sarah's body was shadowy heat above and across her, until the curve of her hip or her milky white shoulder caught the light of the street lamp shining through a crack in the thick curtains. Felicia's pent up emotions and tension surged to the surface and spilt out over her lover like pollen from a ripening flower. She lay back against the pillow that was wet from her hair and sweat and stared at the invisible ceiling, waiting for her head to clear. You... are something else, she said huskily.

Sarah moved up Felicia's body in slow motion, breathing her in. Feel better now?

Felicia inhaled raggedly, nestling Sarah against her breasts. They lay silently for a moment, Sarah's head rising and falling on her chest. How do you always know exactly what I need?

It's my 'intuition', Sarah replied. She lifted her head and gazed down at her. The tips of her hair tickled Felicia's skin. That's what Valerie calls it.

Felicia let out a skeptical harrumph at the mention of that name. Valerie had been chasing after Sarah like a mangy dog in rut ever since Felicia had first introduced them two years ago. It was typical of Sarah that she'd be friends with someone like Valerie. They both looked at the world the same way—like it was a big playground put there for their amusement.

Sarah nestled her head back down. The streetlamp cast a ribbon of light across her face. You don't like Valerie very much, do you?

No, I don't, Felicia replied with irritation. "She's an arrogant, irresponsible asshole who somehow charms everyone into overlooking it for some inexplicable reason. Sarah chuckled. And my aunt thinks that she and I should be friends just because we're both lesbians."

You got along pretty well when she was your physiology lab partner, Sarah pointed out. Or so you said.

Felicia scoffed. Yeah, we all know what Valerie's interest in 'physiology' is. The woman was shameless. It's gonna get her in a lot of trouble one of these days.

Mmmm. Valerie doesn't need sex to get into trouble.

Felicia fought down resurging irritation. Christ all mighty. What'd she do this time? Not that she really wanted to know. Felicia wasn't nearly as fascinated as Sarah was by all the details of other people's lives.

Nothing. Yelled at her prof, I guess. Sarah sat up and stretched, smiling down at Felicia enigmatically. I could use a drink. You?

Felicia let her head sink into the damp pillow. You go ahead. I gotta get some sleep.

Okay. Sarah kissed her softly and rose from the bed.

Felicia awoke with a start. Groggily, she rolled over and checked the clock. 9:36 a.m. Her shift started in just over an hour. Damn. So much for cleaning up this pigsty, she thought. She ran a hand through her disarrayed micro braids and yawned. The scent of coffee wafted in from the hallway. She stood up and stumbled towards its source.

Sarah was leaning against the kitchen counter in her thin cotton night slip like a flamingo on one leg, her foot propped on her knee. She was doodling on the back of an envelope while she waited for the coffee machine to finish its slow, steady drip. Felicia sometimes found Sarah's doodles lying around. They were pencil sketches of friends, usually rough—although some were kind of good. Sarah, trying to be one of the artists she admired. God, she's beautiful, Felicia thought. A warm buzz coursed through her.

Algebra, her senior year. Sarah was a freshman. Felicia was a nursing student with a math deficiency—they wouldn't let her graduate without it, even though she'd passed all the chemistry courses that algebra was a prerequisite for. She was all set to grumble her way through the semester with passive-aggressive self-indulgence when Sarah had sat down at the desk beside her. Felicia hadn't simply noticed her; she'd been breathless. One morning, after two weeks of casual glances and ritual murmured exchanges, Sarah accidentally dropped her pen on the floor. When she reached down to pick it up, her low collar relaxed, revealing a firm line of cleavage. The blond head tilted up. A pair of pale blue eyes caught Felicia's stare. Felicia recovered, all business, but the point had been made.

Felicia had worked so hard the past few years to prove she could take care of herself that she sometimes thought she'd lost her sense of humor altogether. Sarah had stuck with her anyway. She wasn't sure why. The girl was full of energy—and not just the energy of someone unencumbered by eight-hour shifts doing the work of two people or three. Felicia liked to picture her as an elusive pixie in an alpine forest, untamed and tantalizing and a little mysterious.

Then there was reality, and in reality, Sarah was a bit of a flake. The girl was forgetful, rarely knew in advance where she would be and when, and other than cooking and making bitter gourmet coffee, she was close to useless around the house. She left clothes scattered everywhere and trashcans brimming over with scrunched up paper-balls, tissues, and half-eaten fruit. When Felicia had tried to get her to do more than pick up after herself, Sarah had exclaimed that dusting and vacuuming were pointless because it all came back the next day anyway. And when the house smelled of Pine-Sol, she wouldn't come over at all.

But making love—that was where Felicia had no doubts: when she was stripped bare and lying close to Sarah she knew—she and this woman were connected under the skin.

You're up early.

Sarah turned around, slinking against the counter. I didn't get a chance to tell you. Smith Gallery needs some extra help this morning. Sarah sometimes volunteered there—taking down and crating up previous shows, setting up new shows. She seemed to enjoy it. Sterile white galleries and pretentious finger-paintings weren't really Felicia's thing. On a Thursday? Felicia opened the refrigerator and pulled out a couple slices of bread. Toast. Blah. She wanted bacon and eggs. But she'd had a few glimpses of her hips in the bathroom mirror lately and hadn't liked what she'd seen. Good ol' Jackson-woman abundance, as her dad liked to say. Felicia had been fighting that abundance all her life. It helped being something of a jock, but she didn't have all those high school excuses for overeating anymore, like carbing up for the coming season, or this Friday's game, or all those laps her coach made the team jog up and down the basketball court that week.

The coffeemaker crackled and popped as the last of the dark liquid finished its descent. Sarah carefully pushed her pencil and envelope to the back of the counter. Then she pulled the pot out of the machine and poured steaming coffee into a clear glass mug. A thin line of cream began to spread murkily up from the bottom. I might have to go in Friday morning, too. She shook the canister of sugar over the mug a few times, then stirred the mixture and handed the mug to Felicia.

Felicia sipped at the coffee, scrutinizing her shrewdly. She set the mug down and stepped over to the toaster. Sarah, don't you have class on Friday mornings? She slipped her bread slices inside and pressed down on the handle.

I'll get the notes. Felicia heard the rumble of her mug sliding across the counter. When she glanced over, Sarah was sitting in its place. The show that's coming in is supposed to have some interesting stuff. You should come see it.

Felicia sighed and picked up her mug. Fine, sure. She blew crankily on the liquid gold until it rippled. Sarah had never been the most dependable or predictable person, but lately she'd been worse—spending all her time with those hippie friends of hers, Misha and Marco. Ditching her classes. Not that Felicia couldn't understand why. Spring was in the air and senioritis was in full bloom. She remembered it well. But she'd been in the middle of her final clinical rotations at the time and couldn't give in to it herself. I just don't think it's a good idea to miss school as much as you do.

It'll be fine, Sarah insisted. You worry about me too much.

I'm a nurse. I can't help it. Felicia took a careful swallow of coffee. It was still too hot, but her time was running short. Speaking of which... I talked to that patient, Mr. Peterson. You know, the one who has his own software firm? Sarah crossed her arms and gave Felicia a sullen stare. Felicia wasn't going to let it dissuade her, not this time. I know you don't want my help with your job hunt, but he's looking for a qualified entry-level computer programmer.

Felicia...

It couldn't hurt to call him, Sarah, Felicia persisted. You graduate in June, for heaven's sake.

The toast snapped up. Sarah turned her eyes to it briefly. It's almost ten. She extended out one foot and jabbed Felicia's thigh gently with her big toe. You're gonna be late if you don't get in the shower.

Sarah, lecturing her on late? Felicia was being summarily dismissed in more sense than one, and she knew it. She closed in on Sarah and tenderly pushed aside a stray lock of Sarah's mussed-up morning hair. I still have a couple minutes to... She pressed her lips against Sarah's jaw. ... wish you a good day. Sarah eased Felicia's mug out of her other hand and set it on the counter. They kissed deeply for a lingering moment. Finally, Felicia pulled away. You'll be here tonight?

Sarah nodded glumly. Felicia returned to the refrigerator and pulled out the butter. "I hate this, Sarah whined. We never get to spend any time together."

Felicia fought back a surge of frustration. She'd been working her damnedest to find more time for Sarah, but there came a point when she had to take the hours they gave her or not have enough money to live on. If Sarah was still feeling neglected, what more could she possibly do?

She buttered her toast with broad strokes. "That's not fair. You know I've been trying. But I had to trade hours with Doreen so I could go back to Blue Springs and help my grandmother after her hip replacement."

The impatient curl on her lover's mouth told Felicia that the realities of life weren't going to stop Sarah from being disappointed. Sarah's pale eyelashes drooped. How's she doing?

She got out of the hospital on Tuesday. She'll be in the rehab facility for about ten days.

And then it's your turn.

Only for a week, baby. Sarah gave her an uncertain smile. We should plan a date, Felicia suggested. Just the two of us. Not this week, it's crazy... How about next Friday? I'm off Saturday, and my shift's over Friday at seven.

Friday's fine. Sarah kicked her legs aimlessly. I love you. You know that.

Of course I know that. Felicia gazed at her curiously for a moment. I love you, too. She gathered up her toast and started out of the kitchen.

Sarah's foot made a half-hearted jab at her butt. Have fun at work.

Oh, boy. Felicia took a bite of her toast and headed down the hallway. Put d'rest of that coffee in a thermos for me, w'you?

Chapter Three

Arthur.

Arthur Baldwin peered up over his reading glasses. His wife looked impeccable as always–auburn hair without a hint of gray falling neatly on the crisp shoulders of her gray-blue suit. And how she managed to walk around a laboratory all day in pumps was beyond him. Morning. I didn't hear you come in last night. He smoothed out the newspaper he'd spread over the table and started folding it up. I made some coffee.

Elizabeth strolled over to the counter. I was at school, reworking that grant proposal. She poured herself a mug–black, of course–then sat down opposite him. Did the optics contract come through?

Yeah. Arthur watched her sip her coffee. I actually started some preliminary guide specs yesterday.

Now that they were ensconced in their usual morning ritual, his skin had gone clammy. She'd be up and gone in a minute if he didn't open his mouth. But that was the problem, wasn't it? He never said his piece until he was pushed too far or drunk. No, his job was to nod and keep his mouth shut. All hail, the Czarina. Arthur's fingers drummed against the table. What are you doing this weekend? he blurted out suddenly.

Elizabeth was gazing at his fingers. He stopped tapping and stretched his hand out flat on the table. Why?

I dunno, I thought we might do something. He had her full attention now. God. Although it was really more a bewildered frown. You know, as a family.

She seemed at a loss. Well, it was a little out of nowhere, he realized. When Lisa and Stephen were little, they'd done a lot together–spend the day at the beach, drive down to Disneyland. Once, he and Elizabeth had sent the kids to their grandparents for a week and went to Hawaii for the honeymoon they'd never had. But that was a long time ago. Like what?

Arthur laughed. "I actually hadn't thought that