Wednesday April 7 2004
La Jolla
After school, Sarah changed clothes intending to take a walk to a nearby park, where she had been invited by a classmate to watch her play volleyball. Full of pleasant thoughts of Cory in a bikini getting physical on the hot sand, she stepped out the side door, and heard faint music coming from the front of the house, a girl's voice raised in song. She walked around house and garage, treading quietly, and rounded the corner.
Anna was on hands and knees in the planting bed near the front door, humming. A garden shovel was in her hand, and a watering can and a rectangular tray of multicolored flowers sat in the grass within reach. She was digging a row of holes in the dark soil, neatly scooping out the dirt and piling it by each little excavation.
Without looking up, Anna said, "Going somewhere?"
"Thinking about it. What's that song?"
"I'm not sure, just humming along with the radio. The DJ didn't mention the title." She went on, "I think it's a love song, but I'm not sure. The boy is singing about a girl, but he sounds kind of angry."
Sarah glanced at Anna's ears for buds, but there were none. Instead of the obvious question, she asked, "You're not wearing gloves?"
"I like the feel of the dirt," Anna said. "Do you garden back home, Sarah?"
"My mother does. Vegetables out back, flowers out front. No lawn. Grass is nearly impossible to grow."
"Not enough water?"
"Right." She watched the little robot lay the hand shovel aside and select a plant. "We put in flowers at my grandmother's place every spring, too."
Anna placed a plant into the first hole, using both hands as if afraid of hurting it, and pressed handfuls of dirt in around. "Would you like to help?"
She almost said yes, but stilled the impulse. "I'm sure you have your own way of doing things. I'd just be in the way."
"And besides," the little robot said, "you wouldn't want me to think you're getting friendly."
Taken back, Sarah said, "I don't hate you."
"No," Anna said, never looking up from her work. "But you don't like me, either."
Sarah crossed her arms. "What are you doing here, Anna?"
"I presume we're not talking about gardening." Anna placed another little root ball in its hole, refilling the sides and pressing dirt carefully around. "I'm helping Mr. Lynch, doing whatever he needs me to do. That's a lot of things, and the list gets a little longer every day, but that's fine with me. One of those things is seeing to the safety and comfort of the young people he's taken into his house – including you." She selected another plant. "I know I go a little heavy on the mom act, Sarah. We don't have to be friends. It just makes things easier."
"Why do you? Programming?"
"I suppose you could call it 'programming', if you're willing to call some of the things you do 'programming' too. It's not like in the movies, Sarah. It's not as if I can't imagine doing anything else. I'm sure I could quit and walk away anytime I want. But this is what I want to do."
Sarah watched silently while the little robot dropped in two more plants, then said, "Do you have anything else to do?"
Anna stopped and turned her head to look at her. "What do you mean?"
"If you have bread to bake or something, go do it. I'll finish this."
The little housekeeper regarded her another moment, then stood and brushed at her knees. "Don't forget to water them when you're done."
After Anna disappeared, Sarah dropped her bare knees into the thick grass in front of the planting bed, scooped up a double handful of the loose soil, and brought it to her face, inhaling deeply. Then she selected a plant and lowered it into a waiting hole. As she did, she imagined she felt her mother's hands over hers, guiding them. She remembered a time when she and her sister had been arguing while fertilizing Grandmother's planting bed, and Liz had showered her with dirt and run like a gazelle with Sarah in hot pursuit. Birdcalls came to her, ones strange to Southern California, that she hadn't heard in a year. She heard the wooden screen door on the porch slam as one of the brats rushed outside and jumped off the porch, felt a brief gust of hot dry wind penetrating the shade of the trees.
She felt her grandmother's arms around her, and her father's fingers in her hair.
By the time Sarah had tamped the soil around her fourth plant, her cheeks were smudged with dirt from wiping at her eyes. But she kept at the task until the tray was empty and the bed was a blanket of color. She rose and dusted her hands, wondering if there was a faucet nearby to fill the watering can.
"Hey." A Hispanic girl a little older than Sarah stood behind the hedge bordering the Sylvestri property. She unwrapped a stick of gum and popped it into her mouth, then proffered the pack, reaching over the bushy four-foot wall.
Sarah wasn't a gum chewer, but she strolled over to the hedge and reached for the pack. "Thanks." Not bad, she thought: a bit on the voluptuous side, with a full bust and hips, and a round face that dimpled when she smiled, dark hair and eyes, smooth complexion. The girl was dressed in black slacks and a button-front white shirt with string tie; Sarah presumed she was the neighbor's new domestic. She unwrapped a stick and placed it on her tongue. "You're new?"
"Yeah, bout a week. It's a revolving door at this place. I can see why, she follows you around all the time nitpicking. Don't know how much longer I'll be here either." She eyed Sarah's shorts and belly top. "Nice outfit. They really let you dress for work like that?"
Sarah quirked a smile. "They pretty much let me wear what I like."
"Looks a lot more comfortable than this getup." She offered a hand. "Esti. And you're Anne." At Sarah's raised eyebrows, she said, "I've only heard your name about fifty times since I came here. I think she's gonna keep hiring and firing till she gets somebody just like you."
That could take a while, Sarah thought. She took the girl's hand. "Sarah. Anna's inside."
"Oh." Esti's eyebrows flickered as she glanced over Sarah's shoulder to the planting bed. "I thought she was all alone over there."
"Oh, not quite."
"So the old lady's been yanking my chain the whole time, talking about how Anne does everything at the Lynches'." She scoffed. "Rich people, I swear. This old bird could hire three people to keep her house and never miss the money. She blows more on dog grooming than she wants to spend on somebody to cook and clean and fetch her drinks." Esti Studied Sarah's face. "I can usually tell where people come from, but I'm not getting you. You kind of look Korean, but I don't think that's a tan."
"Some of my ancestors probably lived in Korea, about the time mammoths roamed the earth. Native American," Sarah said. "Apache."
"Oh, cool. Mom and Pops are from Spain. I was born here." She leaned forward and said conspiratorially, "Have you seen that guy who drives around in the security car?"
"Ricardo," Sarah said, lowering her eyelids. "We've met."
"Sooo cute. My boyfriend's mom and dad are from Mexico. My parents turn their noses up at him – they say a real Mexican would speak better Spanish." Esti pulled her cell phone from her back pocket and glanced at the time display. "Hey, I'm getting off in about an hour. What about you?"
Sarah seldom had trouble telling if a female she had just met was gay or straight, but Esti was sending very mixed signals. Even if she wasn't looking for a date, Sarah decided, she was pretty and bright and outgoing, and was likely to be good company. "I won't be working in an hour, either."
"There's a pizza joint just a couple blocks from the grocery store. Wanna go grab a bite and a couple of beers?"
"Sarah," Anna said from the doorway at the side of the house, "how's it going out here?"
"Almost done," she answered. "Just need to find the faucet and water them."
The little robot crossed the sidewalk, the drive, and two narrow patches of grass to the hedge. "I can take care of that. Just watch where I get it from for next time." She dimpled and reached for Sarah's cheek. "Good grief, how did you get dirt in your hair that high up?"
Sarah refrained from rolling her eyes as Anna inserted her fingers into her hair and began to comb through it. She did a thorough job, working through it from temple to tips and spreading it out over Sarah's shoulder. Sarah blinked when the little housekeeper rubbed a thumb under the Apache girl's eye. "Makeup's a little smudged too," she said. "There. Beautiful again." Satisfied, Anna turned to examine their neighbor. "Hello."
"Hi," the girl said coolly. Sarah wondered at the sudden change seemingly brought on by Anna's appearance: was Esti surprised that Mrs. Sylvestri's paragon of domestic service was a skinny little white girl, perhaps? Or was she resentful of the intrusion?
"You must be Mrs. Sylvestri's new girl. I'm Anne." Anna reached over the hedge for Esti's hand, which the girl gingerly placed in her grip. "And you're…."
"Esti."
"Esti," Anna said slowly, as if savoring the name, the girl's hand still in hers. "That's very pretty. Does it mean something?"
"It's, uh, Basque. Means 'sweet as honey'."
"I'll bet you are, too." The dimples appeared again. "I know Mrs. Sylvestri can be pretty demanding, but I've learned a thing or two about handling her. If you need help with something, Esti, just give a call." Anna turned away and surveyed the planting bed, hands on hips. "Clearly this isn't the first time you've filled a flower bed, Sarah. It's perfect." She walked past the flowers and busied herself behind a pair of arbor vitae next to the wall.
"Errrr," Esti said, mock-shivering as she stared at Anna's back. "Creepy."
"Oh?" Sarah didn't know whether to be amused or uneasy at the girl's expression. Do you see something that everyone in this house overlooks?
"Does she paw you like that all the time? How can you stand it?" The girl shook her head. "I suppose you have to overlook it some, her being the head housekeeper, but they couldn't pay me enough."
Sarah frowned, surprised. Her family's notions of personal space had gotten her used at a very young age to being touched frequently; she knew other people were sometimes uncomfortable with such contact, but …
"And the way she was looking us both over," the girl went on. "Like satellite mapping or something." Esti folded her arms, pushing up her breasts. "It's not like I care, as long as they keep it to themselves, but she's just so obvious about it."
Sarah studied Anna from a different mental perspective as the little cyber pulled the hose out into the yard, taking in the boy-short hair, baggy men's pants and plain work shirt. A smile touched the corner of her mouth. She flicked a glance at Esti's shirt front, seeing her nipples pressing against the fabric, which hadn't been evident before. Have you ever caught yourself looking down a girl's shirt, Esti? I'll bet you have, and I'll bet you came up with a quick excuse too, even if it wasn't very plausible. "She's not gay, Esti. She's just kind of different."
"If you say so," the girl said dubiously. Her attention returned to Sarah. "So. We were talking about pizza."
Sarah sighed inwardly. "Not today. I have an appointment. Maybe later in the week? Or next week, at the latest."
"Sure," the girl said brightly. Did Sarah see a hint of relief in the girl's eyes?
Sarah tilted her head toward the little robot. "Right now, I think I should be over there though. See you."
By the time she reached Anna, the little housekeeper was playing a fine mist over the newly-planted flowers. In a low voice, Anna said, "Do you really think she'll be working here next week?"
"No. You know, you might at least pretend you couldn't hear us."
"Talking just with you, it seems rather impolite. I'm sorry, Sarah. She seemed nice. It's too bad she's not more tolerant of gays. She's watching, by the way."
Sarah scoffed as she took the hose from Anna's hand. "She's as gay as I am." She adjusted the nozzle and sent a stream to wet the base of the trees beside the flowers. "She's just so terrified of coming out that she's in total denial about it. Her parents must be rabid homophobes. She says she has a boyfriend, and I don't doubt she treats him well, but he's just for cover, really."
"Mrs. Sylvestri is calling her into the house. So you're not thinking of helping her come out?"
"Not at all. She'd bring too much emotional baggage to the relationship." Sarah quirked a smile. "She might even blame me for making her gay."
"Why would a boy want to be with a girl who'll never love him? Can't he tell?"
Sarah felt her molars compress briefly. Thinking of someone besides Esti's boyfriend, Anna? She took a step away to reach some bushes further down. "I doubt many boys would notice, as long as they were getting laid." She played the stream over the brickwork. "Plenty of them would think they're in a perfect relationship – a hot girlfriend who's undemanding and affectionate in public, who seems almost afraid to refuse him sex, and mostly leaves him alone the rest of the time. Everything a man could want."
"Surely some boys would want something more."
Sarah handed the nozzle back to her companion. "Not in my experience."
"Romance is so confusing," said Anna, readjusting it to mist and returning to the new plantings. "I mean, I know it when I see it, I think, and I understand how important it is, but I'm not sure I really get it."
"Well, that's as it should be," Sarah replied. "You're certainly a clever machine, but love is something only real people could understand."
The little robot stared fixedly at the darkening patch of soil. "Are you really so sure, Sarah?"
"Absolutely." She turned down the terrazzo driveway toward the distant sidewalk.
"I still have so much to learn about people," Anna said.
That you do, Sarah thought, moving away at a brisk clip.
Anna misted the plants for a few seconds more, then turned off the water and began to wind up the hose on her shoulder. "Especially the lies they tell themselves."
The neighborhood's private security car intercepted Sarah before she had cleared the Sylvestri property. She watched it roll up beside her, and said, "Are you intending this become a habit?"
"Possibly," said Rico McCall through the open window. "Bus stop?"
"Sports park. Aren't you abandoning your post, passing the gate during working hours?"
"The contract language is a little ambiguous. And the company makes allowances for employees rendering extra service to residents." He hung an elbow over the window sill. "Especially the beachfront ones. They pay more."
Sarah looked down at Rico's upturned face. He didn't have the look of a man flirting with a girl. "I hope you're not looking for a date."
"Hmp. No. I don't do jailbait."
"At least," she said, "not once you know?"
His ears darkened. "I'm just offering. I'd do it for any of you."
But how often do you follow someone down the street to make your offer? Nevertheless, Sarah found herself softening at the appeal in his eyes. She stepped off the curb and rounded the front of the car; the door lock clicked as she reached for the handle, and she got in the front seat. But as she dropped in beside him, she couldn't help saying, by way of warning, "I've got your birthday present with me."
"It doesn't do you any good if it's not with you." The car rolled forward. "It's the real deal, by the way, not pepper spray. Go easy with it. Lot of places, it's considered a concealed weapon. Supposed to be non-lethal, but every once in a while someone has a heart attack or an allergic reaction."
"So why give it to me?"
"I thought you might need the extra stopping power. Don't worry, I doubt a cop would take it away from you. Some big hairy guy, but not you."
Sarah made sure he was looking at her, and fluttered her lashes. "Because I'm a helpless female in need of protection?"
He snorted. "If you don't think you'll ever need it, why are you carrying it?"
"Point. But I don't need another father, Mr. McCall." She went on, "Is this some form of atonement?"
"Something like." He stared out the windshield at the gate just beyond the car's bumper; he brushed a card against the pedestal-mounted reader, and the arm lifted. "What I did wasn't just a social offense. It was an insult to my profession too. I'd like to win your trust, Miss Sarah."
She sighed heavily. "Men and their pride." As the car turned off the community's private road onto the city street, she said, "You frightened me. That's harder to forgive than you simply acting like a pig."
"I know." He turned and met her eyes. "I would never have hurt you."
Sarah raised her eyebrows. "You surprised yourself once that day. Why not twice?"
Rico turned back to the road ahead. A block later, he said, "If you believe that," he said slowly, "it's pointless to try to convince you different."
"If I did," she said, "I'd never share a car with you. But we can't know, can we? Either of us."
"I suppose." The car turned into the drive that led to the park's vehicle lot; Rico brought the cruiser to the sidewalk and stopped. "But there are some things I can't believe I'm capable of. Raping a girl is one of them."
Sarah reached for the door handle. "I'm not sure any human being really knows what they're capable of. Thanks for the ride."
-0-
Sarah, sitting on Cory's blanket with her back against the multicolored trunk of a large sycamore tree, watched from behind her sunglasses as her girlfriend –not a lover, just a girl friend – sported in the bright hot sand just beyond its shade. The mid-afternoon sun, reflected back up by the white sand, was darkening the girl's skin as Sarah watched, giving it a nice glow, and the sheen of sweat coating her body highlighted her rippling abs and flexing thighs and glutes as she jumped and stretched and flexed. Cory was a beautiful creature, Sarah thought, vital and wonderfully physical, a delight to watch. The other players weren't bad either, both in talent and looks, and they had begun to draw a crowd of mostly-male onlookers as they smacked the ball back and forth across the net.
But Sarah found her thoughts drifting from the outdoor floor show. She couldn't help replaying in her mind her earlier conversation with Anna, and her stiff reaction to the little robot's commentary about boys and love. There was something about the little facsimile human's skewed perspective on humanity that made Sarah uncomfortable – and seemed to bring out the worst in her. Defensive reaction? Resentment? Or just bad memories?
"Surely there must be boys who want something more."
"Not in my experience."
Saturday July 6 2001
Globe Arizona
Sarah bent low over the bucket, reached into the warm soapy water, and pulled out an old towel dripping with suds. She twisted it, wringing out a huge dollop of white lather to drop back into the bucket. "Hey, you going to wet it down or not?"
From the other side of the old Mustang waiting under the carport for its bath, a slender blonde-haired boy stood grinning at her, a hose and pistol sprayer in his hand. "Whatever you say." He sent a stream onto the car's hood, the splashing water arcing over the opposite fender to wet the concrete – and his girlfriend's tee shirt.
"Hey!" Sarah threw the soapy rag at him, nailing him square in the chest. "My mother will kill me."
"It'll have time to dry." He eyed her with exaggerated interest – or perhaps not exaggerated. "Specially if you take it off."
Sarah smiled and shook her head. Randy was likeable, outgoing, and easy to be with, and normally as aggressive as a puppy. He was easy on the eyes too, she thought, with his slender physique and clear skin and long lashes, and eyes that changed from blue to green with his moods. Randy's use of sexual innuendo, like his more proprietary attitude toward her, was something new, begun since they had become intimate ten days before. She found it more amusing than irritating, partly because he was so sweet to her when he wasn't pretending to be a hormone-driven male, and partly because she was certain she was the nineteen-year-old boy's first. "First things first." She leaned over the hood for the washrag, and he slid it across the metal surface to her.
Randy began to rinse the dust off the rest of the car. "Sometimes I think you like my car more than you do me."
"Do not," she said, opening the driver's door to wipe the sill. "I like your car because it's just like you." The immaculate ten-year-old hatchback was a gift from his parents, who spoiled him beyond reason. It was economical yet sporty, a sensible transportation choice for a young man with an entry-level job at a building-supplies store, who wasn't a party animal and thus didn't need to haul a troop of friends around. She glanced into the tiny back seat, scarcely large enough for a pair of children to sit in, and paused, involuntarily comparing it to her previous boyfriend's car.
Jimmy's ride had been a Crown Victoria, a retired police cruiser purchased at auction, with a back seat as big as a couch. A handsome and popular boy, he had made good use of it with a number of girls – including Sarah. The loss of her virginity in that back seat seven months before had been a singularly uncomfortable experience, and what had happened afterward far worse. It had been their last time together.
Being with Randy was nothing like that.
Sarah shut the door, and dunked and wrung the rag again, then applied it to the top of the little car. "When do your parents get home?"
"Couple hours," he said, squatting to spray the fender wells. "Unless they stop somewhere." He rose. "If I call and tell them I already ate, they'll probably spend another two hours at Luigi's." He looked at her hopefully.
Sarah shook her head. "I have to be on the bus home by five-thirty."
"I could drive you instead, and drop you off at the bus stop."
She sighed.
"Okay, dumb idea." Randy head-shrugged. "We're really like Romeo and Juliet, aren't we?" He rubbed at a spot on the window glass with a thumb. "My folks would flip if they knew I was seeing a high school sophomore, but that's not the only thing. They think there's only one reason girls off the rez go with a white guy."
Sarah's lips thinned. "A meal ticket. I know. But I'm sure the girls who play that game get played themselves, often as not." She wrung the rag a little tighter, dropping a bit of soap onto the windshield. "I understand your parents' caution, even if I can't help resenting it. You should hear my mother talk about indaa boys. If she found out about you, I wouldn't come into town without a chaperone ever again."
He huffed, opened the passenger door. "How did we ever end up together?"
She smiled across the car's top at him. "Maybe I was looking for someone different." When he ducked inside, she scrubbed her half of the car's windshield until she was stretched across it; she waited for Randy to get out of the car and take the rag, but he didn't come out. She looked through the windshield to see him staring up at her belly and chest pressed against the wet glass. "Enjoying the show?"
He started, as if from a dream, and got out. His cheeks and ears were red as he took the rag from her hand. "You know I respect your mind," he said as he ran the rag over the glass. "We met at the library, remember? I saw what you were reading."
Sarah quirked a smile as she pulled the damp fabric away from her front. "So, it was my interest in Nabokov that brought you to my table?"
"Partly," he said, grinning back. "I wanted to know what kind of girl would read Lolita." He tossed the rag back to her and readied the hose. "Now I do. A girl who is one."
"No," she said. "I'm nothing like Lolita."
They fit well together, Sarah thought, as they washed and polished, traded hose and rag, soaped and rinsed, chatted and horsed around. They talked about local news and politics, books they'd read, observations about life in general. Randy joked and made her smile. And, even though they both knew exactly how their time together today would end, he never once looked at her the way the boys on the reservation did.
In time, the job was done. For a moment Sarah admired the little car, which shone like a jewel, then carefully dumped the bucketful of dirty suds under the car to make its way to the drain. When she stood, Randy hugged her from behind, his forearms pressed against her hip and breast. Sarah smiled and laid a hand on his wrist and let herself be led into the house.
They made love in Randy's air-conditioned bed, with Sarah lying, at her insistence, on a towel to spare his sheets. As they rocked together, she held him tightly, as she knew he liked, but carefully, pressing only her palms and the pads of her fingers into his shoulder blades to avoid marking him.
He stopped. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing, why?"
"You just … you seem like you're not all here."
She smiled reassuringly and squeezed him with her thighs. "Just enjoying the moment."
"You're always so quiet."
"Should I grunt and moan? Maybe give the neighbors something to listen to?"
He scoffed. "Shut up," he said, smiling, and began moving again.
Shortly after they were done and she was lying in his arms, he said, "I love you."
"Love you too," she said automatically, stroking his bare shoulder; years later, she would look back on that moment and realize she had petted her boyfriend as if he was a dog.
-0-
"Hey." Cory stood over her. "You awake?" The game was continuing, with a couple of new players; Cory reached for a towel and began to blot her glistening skin.
Sarah smiled. "Just enjoying the moment."
Cory glanced toward the game. "Um, the two-tone blonde on the left, pretending not to look this way? She's interested, sort of, but only as a three-way with her boyfriend. Don't know if you're into that."
"Pass." Sarah caught the girl's eye and shook her head minutely, and she looked away.
"Kay," Cory said. She picked up her bag, an over-the-shoulder pack, and shouldered it. "Wasn't sure. Heard about the thing with those guys at school."
"Sounds like you might have heard it wrong." Sarah stood, brushed sand off her derriere, and bent for the blanket. "If it was just her, then maybe. But if she has a man, she should be fair to him."
Cory gave her a look that was half smile, half puzzlement. "I'm pretty sure he wouldn't mind."
"I don't care if he suggested it. If she agreed, it wasn't for his pleasure. If she wants to experiment with girls, she shouldn't use her boyfriend for cover. It's dishonest." Sarah finished folding the blanket and handed it over. "Where are we going for coffee?"
