One Degree of Separation (8 page)

“Shit. Oh ... shit. Ellie has them. For crying out loud, what else?” Marian dropped the two bags she was carrying. “Not that I could even get in my fucking car with this gas-sucking monstrosity parked next to it!”

Then Marian kicked the Hummer’s rear bumper.

Liddy was so surprised she just stood there, blinking. It wasn’t as if Marian could hurt it. Marian kicked it again.

“Excuse me, but could you not do that—”

“Oh, hell!” They stared at each other, then Marian said, “I’m sorry. I can’t get in my car.”

Liddy saw that it was the truth. Damned Hummer. She’d been so jazzed from her workout that she hadn’t realized she was inches from the Beetle. “I’m sorry, too. I did park too close.”

“My friend has my keys. She’s halfway home now.”

“Can you call her on her cell? You could use mine if you need to.” She wondered if Marian remembered their earlier meetings.

Abruptly, it mattered that she did.

“She has a pathology about cell phones and brain tumors.” Liddy shrugged. “I’m sorry about your keys. Are you having a bad day?”

Marian nodded.

Liddy had only enough time to think, “This is what I get for talking to people, swear to freakin’ god,” before two enormous tears spilled down Marian’s face.

It was incredibly awkward, standing next to someone who was silently sobbing. Excusing herself would be heartless. Yet what could she do?

After a minute she dug in her pocket for a tissue. “Here. And I’ll take you to your friend’s house for your keys. I’m not late for anything.”

Marian covered her eyes with the tissue, and a small noise that belied the depth of her distress escaped her. It was the sound of a hurt dove.

Liddy felt empathetic tears start in her eyes. Hell, there was one thing she could do.

Marian didn’t resist her head being pulled to Liddy’s shoulder.

Her arms circled Liddy’s waist in complete surrender to human comfort.

“It’ll be okay. Eventually,” Liddy whispered. She wished she weren’t quite so sticky from her workout. She had to add “eventually” because this was how she’d cried over Robyn. She’d cried and cried while Mom told her it would be okay, and then she’d cried because it pissed her off that her mother didn’t understand that it would never be okay.

It was a few minutes before Marian stepped back abruptly, wiping her face. “I’m sorry—you must think me a fool.”

“No, really. I’ve had to cry like that. I’ll take you to your friend’s for the keys.”

Marian nodded and gathered her bags.

“You’ll have to climb in through my door. I’m sorry I blocked you.”

All Marian said, when Liddy activated the slide out step was,

“How useful.”

“It’s that or dislocate a shoulder climbing in.” Very quietly, Marian replied, “Dislocating a shoulder is not something I want to repeat, thank you.”

Liddy would have asked more about that, but Marian turned her face to the window.

After they were backed out of the parking space, Marian said,

“She’s in the Longfellow area.”

“You’ll have to point me the right way.”

“I’m sorry. Head toward the university.”

“That I can do. I have found even when I’m not looking for it, I always end up at the university.”

“You could actually drop me at work. That’s where I was going next. Ellie will drop off my keys if I leave her a message. I’m going to see her this evening, regardless.”

Marian had presumed Liddy knew where her work was, so she obviously remembered her. Liddy felt oddly relieved. “Are you sure?”

Marian nodded. “I’m so sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.”

“It’s a bad habit.”

Liddy turned toward the river and then stole a glance at her passenger. “Did you want to stop somewhere to tidy up?”

“Do I need to? Shit, I’m sorry. Of course I do. I look like a circus clown after I cry.”

“That’s a little harsh,” Liddy offered, though the comment was somewhat true. Marian’s eyes were puffy and red, and she had telltale blotches of pink across her forehead and cheeks. She looked unhappy, deeply unhappy. “You could dash into the Java House. Coffee and a face wash.”

Marian shrugged and Liddy had no idea what to make of that.

“Half the people I know hang out there, though it is early for the Friday meet.”

“Then where? Oh—look. I live a few blocks up on North Dodge, so it’s no bother.”

“I couldn’t impose.”

“Why not?”

Marian shrugged. “Thank you, then.”

Liddy turned toward the house, then realized her offer meant she’d have to repark the Hummer in the driveway twice. She gritted her teeth as she waited for traffic to clear before risking the Scylla and Charybdis guarding the narrow entrance.

“Does it fit in the drive?”

“It would be easier without those posts.”

“Why don’t you park in the back?”

For a long minute, Liddy was torn between not wanting to appear incredibly stupid because she had no idea what the hell Marian was talking about, and a fervent desire to learn
exactly
what Marian meant. Practicality won. “There’s a, uh, back parking space?”

“Didn’t they tell you? A friend of mine dated the old owner, Marsha, who lives on Brookside now with her partner, Julie. Julie Y., not Julie S. Go up to the next street and turn left.”

Liddy followed the instructions, then turned into the narrow alley that ran between the backyards of the houses. “I drove down here once, but there’s no gate. Climbing the fence wasn’t all that appealing, and I thought I might get towed.”

“The realtor should have showed you. Marsha had a party and everyone came in the back way because Dodge is so busy.” Liddy pulled into the cleared area behind her house. “This is my parking space?”

“Sure. Usually there’s room for two cars, but this one is, um, a bit large.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s a guilt gift from my biological father, heap big mountain macho man.”

Marian nodded as if that made perfect sense to her. “The gate’s buried under all that ivy. No wonder you didn’t see it.”

“Ah, the Hidden Gate. Sounds positively Jane Eyre.” Using bare hands, they stripped away a lot of the overgrowth.

Sure enough, there was a lovely gate. Now she realized that if she’d been out in the backyard she’d have seen the stepping stones embed-ded in the too-tall grass. Sheesh.

“Thank you so much—I was thinking of selling the damned car.”

“Everything works out for a reason.” Marian’s heavy sigh was at odds with her philosophical tone.

“Your friend has your keys so I can find out about this gate? The universe can be twisted.”

“Tell me about it.”

They tromped in the back door and Liddy remembered her manners. “Do you have time for some tea or coffee?”

“I don’t, actually, but thank you.” Marian headed unerringly in the direction of the bathroom. It was odd to think of her being familiar with a house Liddy didn’t yet feel comfortable in.

Liddy put away her purchases while she waited. Marian returned quickly, her face a uniform well-scrubbed pink. Liddy offered her the bottle of Murine she’d fished out of her still unpacked toiletries bag.

“It’s bad for your eyes, but it’s a special occasion.”

Marian hesitated, then took the bottle. She carefully squeezed in the drops and wiped her cheek. “I’m sorry to be such a bother.”

“It really is a bad habit.”

Marian cocked her head slightly. “Oh, yeah. It is. I’m sorry, I’ll ... Forget it.”

Relieved to see the glimmer of a smile, Liddy shepherded Marian back to the car. She realized then that the passenger-side steps didn’t seem as helpful as the ones on the driver’s side, and Marian had trouble reaching the overhead grab bar. She nearly helped, then thought she hardly knew Marian well enough for even a dispassionate hand on the backside.

They were halfway to the library when Marian broke the silence.

“I’m not usually like this, just so you know. Rough day, that’s all.”

“Friends’ moving can be traumatic.”

Marian gave her a surprised look and Liddy flushed.

“Sorry, I overheard you in the store. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.” The lie, she was sure, had tinted her ears red.

“I was worried you were a mind reader, that’s all.” Marian sighed.

“It’s hard not to have everyone know your business. It was a big adjustment when I first moved here.”

“Where are you from originally?”

“Chicago. You?”

“San Bernardino, but I grew up in Berkeley.” Marian nodded as if she understood the vast difference, but somehow Liddy doubted it. “You’ll get used to the close-knit com-munity. You lose some privacy, but there are compensations.”

“I’m only here for a research project. Until end of July.”

“Oh. Weatherwise it’s not the best time to see I.C.”

“I can’t imagine the dead of January being much better.”

“No, you’re right. April and September are lovely. The colors are beautiful.”

Liddy pulled into the loading zone at the library. Marian gathered her bags and opened the door.

“I really appreciate this. If I can head off the posse I will.”

Liddy laughed. “Okay, we’d be more than even. I’m not in the market. And I don’t want to be in the market.”

“Gotcha. Likewise.” Marian arched an eyebrow. For the first time her hazel eyes held a smile. “The universe is twisted.” Liddy watched her walk toward the library entrance, wishing she’d had a moment to realize that if Marian wasn’t interested in dating maybe they could, well, just be friendly. She had heard it was possible for two lesbians to hang out and not actually be dating.

Well, she reasoned, it was inevitable that she’d be in the library again soon. She abruptly realized that the prospect of another trip to the Iowa City Public Library wasn’t the least bit unpleasant.

“Marian!”

Marian returned Jersey’s wave and made her way past the grow-ing line to drop off her backpack. Friday evenings at the Java House was a popular tradition for more than just dykes.

“Is it really true?” Jersey’s electrician’s belt was next to the lounge sofa, which meant she’d walked over from the freelance work she occasionally did in a couple of the restaurants. “The Rosings are moving to Hawaii?”

Marian nodded, trying to hide the surge of tears that welled up behind her dry, itching eyes. More salt, right, that would help.

“Cool, you snagged the lounge area for us. It’s easier on my butt than the chairs. Where’s Terry?”

“She had an emergency at the clinic. A shepherd swallowed a Barbie head, apparently, and it hasn’t made it out the other end.”

“Poor pooch.”

“That’s so gross.” Sandy settled into the easy chair next to Jersey and eased out of her loafers. “I have been on my feet all day. Last time I take someone else’s classes on Fridays.”

“It’s the way all creatures work.” Mary Jane, who had walked over from the library with Marian, dropped her satchel onto the chair across from Sandy. “What goes in must come out. Sit, Marian. I owe you from last week. Iced latte or mocha?”

“Swiss Chocolate Milk with a Costa Rican espresso shot. I’m going for the hard stuff.”

“You’ll be up all night,” Sandy predicted. She worried a thread along the hem of her crisp T-shirt. Marian thought irrelevantly that Sandy never looked anything but cool and comfortable. She tried not to resent it.

“Caffeine, near as I can tell, doesn’t keep me awake, but it sure makes me pee.” Marian shrugged.

“Thanks for sharing, Marian.” Mary Jane headed for the line.

Sandy dug a magazine out of her book bag. “Check this out, this month’s
Cosmo
. A student left it. ‘The Five Things That Turn Your Man Off.’ I saw that and had to bring it. It’s a scream.” Marian idly picked up the magazine, though heterosexual sex tips were as interesting to her as the science of pimples. Actually, since she had pimples, she was more interested in them. Maybe there was an article about hormones and skin eruptions.

“Heya, everybody!” Wen hooked the chair next to Marian.

“Patty’ll be here in a minute. She went over to Carrie’s to get some more symphytum. Thank you, whoever got us these seats.”

“Symphytum for your knee?” Marian couldn’t remember what that herb was good for.

“Yeah, it’s feeling lousy. I’m going to end up in a wheelchair, I think.” With the nonchalance of long practice, Marian and Jersey helped Wen wedge pillows behind her back and under her knee.

Severe arthritis had ended Wen’s field hockey days in her early thirties, and had gradually restricted her mobility over the last five years.

“Thanks, guys.”

Sandy took Wen’s proffered billfold. “The usual?”

“Have you heard about Hemma and Amy?” Jersey licked her stir stick.

“Yeah ... two decaf Classic Whites. Thank you.” Wen watched Sandy join Mary Jane at the end of the line before turning to Jersey.

“No, what?”

“Hawaii,” Jersey said. “Hemma got a tenured professorship.”

“Holy cow.” Wen stared at Jersey in disbelief. “She thought she’d never get it. The only people who care about American studies don’t live in America. Hawaii? How great is that? I’ll be lucky to get tenure in English lit in my lifetime, let alone at forty.”

“Cool, huh?”

Marian thumbed through the magazine, unable to share in everyone else’s delight at Hemma’s good news. Some day she might be able to. But not today. Not this year. Possibly not this decade.

She wasn’t the kind of person who told her friends every little thing in her life, but not being able to tell anyone about how unhappy she was made her realize she had never felt more alone in her life. How crappy was that? Surrounded by friends and none of them knew she was dying inside.

“Hard on you, though, huh?” Wen nudged Marian lightly.

“When do they leave?”

“A month, I think.” Marian swallowed hard and turned another page. Okay, she had to watch it with Wen, who could be as uncannily perceptive as Jersey was dense. “The house is going on the market.”

“Oh, if Patty and I could afford it, I’d buy it in a second. That garden is incredible. Think of picking a salad for dinner every night, and those beefsteaks are amazing. But we just put all that money into the ramps and kitchen changes for me. And we’d have to build Patty a workshop, which would mean tearing up part of the garden, which rather defeats the whole purpose.”