Minority Opinions 1 R

Continuation of Girl Racer:
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Clay had just gotten off of his shift as bartender at the London Underground, the club underneath Kelly's. He and Taryn were dancing.

"Your Mom go out with you all the time now?" Clay asked Taryn, as they were dancing, looking over at Patti.

"She's having a bad time of it," Taryn said. "Dad just left."

"You mean, he moved out?"

"Yes."

"Are they getting a divorce?"

"I don't know yet."

"That's too bad. I'm sorry."

She leaned her head against his shoulder. He held her a little closer.

"Who is she talking to?"

"A lawyer."

"Oh, that sounds like divorce."

"Yeah," Taryn said. "It's hard to believe. I never thought it would happen. I guess no one does."

"Yeah," Clay said. "My folks are solid, but whenever someone describes it, it sounds horrible."

"It is, believe me. My little brother and little sister ask questions. And you can't blame them. But it brings all the pain up."

"You're old enough to understand," he said. "Sort of, anyway."

"I can't understand what Mom's going through," Taryn said. "I know that men think they need variety, but I figured it stopped once they got married and had three children."

"Need variety?"

"Yes. They don't want to be tied down to one woman."

"How do you know this is true of all men?"

"My boyfriend. Jeremy. I thought we were in love. He wanted to date other girls. So I realized that falling in love is not the end of it. He expected to fall in love more than once, I guess."

"That's just him. He must be a real jerk."

"No one seemed to think he was a jerk. Just that I should understand."

"You didn't want to move on from him?"

"Not at first. Now I'm glad. Better than being married to him for ages and having his children."

"It doesn't always happen that way," Clay said. "My parents, it wouldn't."

"You never know. But after nine kids, I wouldn't blame your mom if she killed your dad."

Clay laughed. "She would."

"Maybe he knows that and it's what stops him."

"They'd say that, but it would be a joke. They love each other, but they love their family, the idea of their family, too, so much they couldn't let it go."

"That's what my dad must be missing then," Taryn said. "He took up with this woman at work, much younger. And his whole family is meaningless in the face of this supposed romance. Oh, they're so in love. Yuck."

"Sounds like a mid-life crisis," Clay said. "He'll be sorry one day."

"How do you know?" she tried to laugh.

"With a big family, I hear so many different stories, about relatives and their friends and their friends' friends."

"OK," Taryn said. "You made me feel better. I don't know why. You have so many brothers and sisters, I think I believe you can know a lot about people."

"What do you say we go to a party tomorrow night?" he asked. "One of my numerous brothers is having it at his apartment."

Kara received her first radiation treatments. They weren't so bad in themselves. Just weird. Usually either Dr. Quartermaine or Nurse Donovan showed up just to see how it was going. That was comforting.

But later, she'd begin to feel sick. Then the seriousness of her situation dawned on Kara in a way the headaches and the operation itself had not brought to the fore.

Peter came over and sat on her bed with her. She felt nauseous. She wanted him to go and not see her like this, and he did not take that well at first, then realized that he was fighting with her, which he didn't want to do when she was so ill. He tried to convince her it didn't matter what she looked like, with what she was going through, he was there for her. She didn't have to impress him by looking great when she was sick. He wasn't like that.

Then she'd feel guilty for the way she talked to him. Tears came to her eyes. He didn't want her to feel worse.

He tried explaining this to his mother, and she was sympathetic. One evening Jax was there and listened to Peter's description of what happened.

"Patience and toleration," Jax said. "It's hard on you. I can't imagine. But it must be. You want to be there for her and at the same time put up with her not wanting you to be there. If she were ideally mature, she'd know you love her no matter what she looks like or feels like. But she's 17. You're only 17, too. The only reason it might be fair to put more burden on you is you're not sick."

"I know what you're getting at," Peter said. "If I consider not going over, to make her happy because she doesn't want me there, it doesn't seem right."

"Means you're stuck with some of that negativity," Jax said. "It's not something many of us have to go through at your age."

"Is it one of those things that will make me stronger in the end?" Peter asked.

Jax laughed and hit Peter in the shoulder. "You're already mature for your age, to say that," he said. "Maybe it's this. Maybe it's other things."

"Zander thinks we went through some bad stuff," Peter said. "But all that was nothing compared to this."

Alexis was slowly drifting into a knowledge of immigration law. It was half fascinating, half overly technical, bureaucratic and mysterious. It involved her close friends now, though, and became of interest to Alexis on that account.

Mikhail and Oksana were in her office, wondering if Tatiana could be convinced to let Irina stay if she was able to come over and visit, see the house, the school and the skating rink.

Alexis knew a visitor's visa was no easy thing for a Russian to get. It wasn't easy to get, period, from any other than certain European countries, or Canada or Australia.

"Tatiana has to convince the consul she will not going to stay in US longer," Alexis was telling them, in her best Russian. "Than the immigration will give her. It is very difficult to do modern days. The immigration will know it cannot catch every person who stays longer than immigration give them for a visit. Many people do and still illegal. The government no power except at consul. Where he will say no, because to grant the visa is to risk illegal alien staying. Staying too long."

"How do people manage, living in the US illegally?" Oksana asked. She had never spent a day in the U.S. illegally, unless it was the day she had defected.

"Work illegal, "under the table," Alexis used that English, hoping that would be a phrase Oksana knew in English. "Stay around until they can fix legal, marry a US citizen, or the like. Send money home. Think it all good."

"How can Tatiana try to prove she'll go home?" Mikhail asked. "She is married and she has a job."

"Two good facts," Alexis said. "If she comes to the US, without her husband, she might have chance. She is not a relative to anyone here. If consul would learn about Irina, he will not want Tatiana to have visa, though. Thinking Tatiana will stay to be near Irina. Tatiana knowing in less than ten years, Irina could make herself to be a US citizen, and then Irina will could file a petition for her mother that could fix her mother legal."

"But Tatiana would not leave her job or her husband for that," Oksana said, then, looking at Mikhail "or would she?"

"To stay with Irina, maybe," Mikhail said. "Maybe she can apply when Irina is there in Russia. Then when they ask her if she has relatives in the U.S., she can say no. Ex-husband doesn't count, does he?"

Alexis was amused. "I don't think so. Government live by technicalities against we, so it will be fine with me to use technicalities against it," she said. Damn the federal government, Alexis thought to herself. They made it so easy to feel right about messing with them. After her experience at the consulate in Yekaterinburg, she was in no mood to give them any quarter.

After meeting with Alexis at her office, Mikhail went to work.

"Well, Sean," Maureen sat down next to him at the London Underground bar. By this time, Mikhail knew what to pour for her. "Looks like you've got big girlfriend trouble."

"Why are you interested?" was Sean's first response.

It struck Mikhail that he understood Sean's entire sentence. He got Sean another beer on the house, just for being the first non-family American to utter a sentence in English completely comprehensible to Mikhail.

Maureen noticed how Sean did not engage in his usual friendly flattery. Not when this subject was under discussion. "I have reasons that I'll explain later," she said. "I care about Jason, and so I care about his sister."

"Great," Sean said. "Now the whole family and their girlfriends will be on my case."

"Aww," Maureen said, half mockingly.

"It's sandbagging," Sean complained. "Skye always talked as if she cared about me only for one thing and she still does, so I don't see what she's getting all hot and bothered about."

"So her suddenly caring about your side action seems inconsistent to you."

"Using it against me, it does. She only cares for her ego's sake. Or she claims she concerned about diseases, which if she really was, she could have brought it up before, without seeming like she gave a damn about me."

"Maybe she was hurt but didn't realize that she would be. Then she'll come around."

"Her ego was hurt, that's all."

"You don't want to move on, you care about Skye, that's why you want her to move in with you."

"So she goes around blabbing about that. But she refuses to move in."

"Why did you cheat on her?"

"It would be hopeless if I cared about her. She had repeatedly made it clear that it wouldn't be returned. So I see no reason to make myself miserable just on principle. I know that's OK with her. Not with me."

"Have you ever been in love?"

"Years ago, but I had to get over it. I don't plan on pining over those who don't want me, for life, when I gave it my best shot. Hey, I'm not that romantic. Would you do a thing like that? No."

"But you might have jumped the gun in Skye's case. Assumed too fast she didn't care."

"Hmm," he considered.

"I think there is something to salvage if you both would give up your pride. She's upset. She wouldn't be if she didn't care. You are upset. Same thing."

"Maybe."

"You wouldn't have asked her to move in with you and be exclusive if you weren't trying to save it."

"She says no," he reminded Maureen.

"I'm sure you're nothing if not persistent."

"Gee, thanks, Nurse Donovan."

"Give it your best shot, at least," she said, getting up and putting some money on the bar for Mikhail. "See you, lover boy," she said to Sean.

Mikhail thought her understood that, and was surprised that Maureen considered Sean to be her lover. Americans were strange. She showed Sean not the least bit of real affection.

"You're in hot water Sean," Sarah said, sitting down next to him, in fact in the very seat Maureen had vacated not five minutes earlier.

"Another counselor," he said, sarcastically. "Say, how about having dinner with me? The case is over. We're free to get to know each other better."

"Sounds like a dead end to me," Sarah said. "You're only trying to get over Skye. If not, you already have another woman, that's why Skye is so upset with you."

"What other woman?"

"The one you cheated on her with, dummy. As Skye calls her, Valerie 'The Slut' Edwards."

"Oh," he said. He'd forgotten all about his evening with Valerie, though it was at the root of his current problems. "Valerie went back to New York City. Which Skye knows. She called her that? Never mind. Why are you so interested?"

"Human nature."

"So what do you prescribe, doctor?"

"Turn on all your charm. What attracted Skye in the first place?"

"You don't want to know."

"What was it?"

"Talking to her about how she could do her new job, I must have been the only one close to having any sympathy for her against her family. No, Sergei did too. But I'm closer to Skye's age."

"So be supportive of her against her family now. There's always something, with them."

"Why are you so helpful?"

"I have parents who are doctors who volunteered to work in Bosnia for three years."

"A genetic do gooder, eh?"

"Sometimes."

"That must be it. You're not in love with one of Skye's brothers, are you?"

"Nope. Why would you say that?"

"It explains Nurse Donovan's interest in making Skye happy."

"Oh, I just like Skye. And I come from a do-gooder family."

"Your type causes all the trouble in the world," he said.

Ballina is a town best known for its fishing. Zander and Quinn quickly learned that its River Moy is internationally acknowledged as an exceptional salmon fishery and that Ridge Pool, the salmon anglers paradise, is located in the heart of the town. Lough Conn and Lough Cullin, just to the south of Ballina, are renowned for brown trout fishing.

"Let's go fishing, then," suggested Zander.

Quinn loved his impulsiveness when it showed up like this. Spontaneity. Fun. Sitting in a boat on Lake Conn fishing was where you ended up. A new experience.

"I like the Irish sayings," he was musing, casting a line. "Like the one: 'There are finer fish in the sea than have ever been caught.' Or: 'It takes a woman to outwit the devil.'"

"A woman in the house is a treasure, a woman with humor in the house is a blessing," Quinn quoted. "A man with humor will keep ten men working."

"The Irish always have that sense of humor to fall back on."

"I like: 'The best way to get an Irishman to refuse to do something is by ordering it,'" Quinn said.

"Now if that's true, I am an Irishman," Zander said. "That's one way to get on my nerves. I hate people telling me what to do. When they do it in that ordering tone, without suggesting, just acting like they get to order you around. I'd never make it in the military."

"Then you'd know what it was for," Quinn said. "The overall purpose. But day to day, I can bet. I wouldn't order you to do anything."

"See you don't," he said, grinning. "Well, you could get away with it."

"I love that you're not perfect," she said. "Remember that."

"Yeah, perfect is boring," he said. "I wonder if Maureen is fed up with Dr. Jason Perfect yet."

"Well, when it comes down to it," Quinn said. "I wonder if he's fed up with her? She's rather perfect herself."

"No Irish temper? Shame on her!"

Quinn laughed. "Whoah!" she said suddenly. "I caught a fish!"

Duane Edwards called Sarah and took her over to Niagara Falls. They walked to a restaurant on the Canadian side. He was driving and wouldn't drink, but got her a bottle of wine.

"Trying to loosen me up," she said, sipping, looking at him over the rim of the glass. Her eyes were full of suggestion. Or at least, so he thought.

She was amused at how, for the second time, he took her out, but away from Port Charles. Trying not to be seen, she thought. She didn't mind. It was fun to have some air of secrecy about things.

After dinner, they walked onto the footbridge again. It was dark, but there were people milling about, tourists or others out on the town.

The falls roared in his ears. It filled his brain and cleared everything else out. Standing at the rail, they listened to the mesmerizing sound.

She turned slightly and put her hand on his arm. "I feel this slightest bit of a pull," she said. "Do you ever get that feeling?"

"Like you might jump?" he asked.

"Yes," she said. "I know I won't, but it pulls at you. Makes me want to grip the railing or you."

"I understand," he said. He knew she was using this to get to him. He didn't mind, really. He kissed her, gripping her firmly, supposedly, he thought, amused, to keep her from being pulled into the falls.

Why, he wondered, did kissing her automatically turn into something heated, was this the way younger women were, the way women were today, or just the way he was with her? He half felt like he was in bed with her already, so quickly everything turned into steam, he could feel her tongue, a fire started to burn inside.

He came up for air and had the same thought he always had. He could not seriously think of sleeping with a woman as young as she was, doctor or not.

"Mmmm," she said, her lips against his neck now, "hope you reserved us a room on this side of the border."

"No!" he protested. "What do you take me for?"

"A torturer," she groaned, mockingly, or so he heard it. "Now I need a cold shower."

"Very funny," he said, trying to minimize it when he knew there was some truth in it.

Then he sighed. "I have no idea what I'm doing," he said. "I haven't been on a date in a hundred years."

"No wonder your tremendous confidence fades when confronted with me," she said. "As a client I'm one thing, as a woman another. But what happened? Your divorce. You can tell me."

She sounded so confident and certain. How she could be more confident in herself than he was in himself was a mystery, but it seemed to be so.

"I only dated one person in my life and then married her, and we were married a very long, long time, and we had two grown daughters, and then one day, she told me, that, that." Sarah was looking up at him. She looked strong enough to hear. She was so young, though. "That she was in love with someone else and leaving to marry him."

"Oh," Sarah said, sympathetically. "I'm so sorry. That sounds like it was a shock. Like you didn't expect it."

"No, I didn't."

She took his hand. He felt her understanding and sympathy and wondered how she could have any, at her age. She seemed so mature, somehow. He wondered if he was fooling himself about this.

"I talked to a woman," he said, suddenly inspired. "A potential client. A common story. Her husband left her for a younger woman."

"That's got nothing to do with you."

"I felt a lot of sympathy for her."

"Because your wife left you like her husband left her. You were already divorced when you met a younger woman."

"I know."

"And he's guilty, but you're innocent, Duane. So don't take on the punishment for his sins. Just take him to court and take him for all he's worth."

He smiled at that.

"If Humphrey Bogart can do it, you can," she said, taking his hand. They walked on across the bridge, back towards the United States.

"Humphrey Bogart?"

"Look it up," she said. She liked walking, hand in hand, like high school kids, she thought. Maybe he'd relax. Other men would envy him. "It was Lauren Bacall," she added. "Find out about that."

Duane shrugged. When they got to the other end of the bridge, he let go of her hand. They went into the lit room of the U.S. Border Patrol. The agent wanted to see identification. Sarah had left her purse in the car.

"I'll have to live the rest of my life in Canada," she joked. "Are you going to stay with me, Duane?"

"I'll go and get your ID for you," Duane said.

"That's not your father?" the border agent asked her after Duane had walked away.

"Nope," she said. "You've heard of May-December romances? He's December."

"Lucky guy," the agent said.

Sarah smiled, and looked away at Duane, walking away.