Judy suggested her favorite coffee shop near the university. The conversation shifted to lighter topics as they drove there, Jaime remarking on the loveliness of the city. The memories she had from two vacations with her parents were reconfirmed - big bridges, a compact downtown, brick and wood buildings, lots of green - even in winter, steely grey skies and waters, the smell of the ocean. Judy said that she loved it and wouldn't live anywhere else. It was a young person's city – open-minded and optimistic. "Not like DC." she added.
"DC has its charms." Jaime replied, realizing as she said it that she meant it.
The coffee shop was dark and cavernous, grimy armchairs and couches occupied by sleepy students surrounded by text books and notes. Once they were seated, cups in hand, Jaime picked up where they left off, leaning forward in her chair and speaking with a quiet intensity.
"You've got to understand - the three years after my accident...that period you were hearing about in phone calls...was insane. Tennis had been the center of my life for years, and suddenly it was over - just like that. I had two new jobs, the first involving risking my life on a regular basis in service to my country - not something I'd ever planned on taking on - and then teaching seventh grade... which… also involved risking my life on a regular basis."
Judy, watching her with intent brown eyes, smiled subtly.
"It was hard. I had to completely relearn who I was - and I didn't even have the whole picture because I was still missing bits of my memory. And Oscar...to tell you the truth, he was a pain in the butt!"
Judy drew her chin in, surprised.
"That man worked me like a rented mule. Every time I put my feet up for five minutes, there he was." She dropped her voice to a baritone to imitate him. "'Jaime, I need you to go to Timbuktu - tonight!' - for crying out loud!"
Judy was smiling more broadly now, and her eyes were clear and curious.
"And I didn't know he loved me. I thought he was 'fond' of me. It's not like he was sending me roses every week. Don't get me wrong - I loved his company and we always had a great time together when we were off the clock, but those times were few and far between. Anyway, it all got to be too much and I finally just snapped... jumped off that carnival ride..." Jaime paused for a much needed breath, "and then...when the world stopped spinning, and I could tell up from down... there he was, right in front of me, where he'd always been - ol' brown eyes."
"Hmm." Judy nodded thoughtfully.
"It hit me like it was the most obvious thing in the world." Jaime shrugged and smiled. "I've always loved him - but sometimes when someone is that loyal, that patient, that quiet...and has been a big pain the butt too - you take them for granted. The minute I stopped taking him for granted - well, I was a goner." She sipped her coffee and wondered if she was explaining too much. She didn't owe anyone an explanation. "But I had to work on him. Kinda took him by surprise I think. He had a thousand reasons we couldn't be together."
"It must have taken you a full fifteen minutes." Judy said, deadpan.
"I think it was half an hour." Jaime returned. Though she joked, she was not feeling particularly humorous. "We had to jump through a lot of hoops to get here you know, getting everything straight at the OSI, reassuring the Secretary of State, breaking it to my ex - well, two exes...I didn't expect you to have a problem too. Acceptance...maybe even a little support, or enthusiasm...that would be nice!"
Judy nodded again and had the decency to look rueful.
"I'm no gold digger, if that's what is worrying you." It was a bald statement - almost an accusation, and by the look on her companion's face, Jaime could tell that she had indeed arrived at the core of her concern. Judy practically recoiled - embarrassed to hear the words spoken out loud.
"I'm proud of him and everything, but I don't care that he's a Washington big shot. In fact many days I could really live without the cocktail parties and state dinners. It's Oscar that interests me. He runs deep - much deeper than I ever knew," she shrugged as though she were stuck with it - that there was nothing that could be done, "and I love him."
Judy pressed her lips together and breathed heavily through her nose. Looking Jaime straight in the eye she said, "I'm sorry, I am - I've done you an injustice...and I'm glad you had the guts to bring it up with me. It's obviously my problem and not yours. I guess... I always feel like I need to defend him, whether he needs it or not - to the point of making myself ridiculous. I can't seem to help it."
"Well I appreciate the sentiment." Jaime replied, not sounding entirely appreciative. "It is nice for me to know he has had someone in his corner all these years - but I swear to you he doesn't need defending from me."
"It's just me, by the way. Bruce thinks you're the bee's knees."
"That's nice." Jaime smiled, and felt extra fond of Bruce. "Is this a big sister thing? Feeling protective towards one of the most powerful men in the country?"
Judy looked to the ceiling. "Oh sure. Bruce will tell you it's all because of Sam...and I guess he's right."
"Sam?"
"Sam my brother - not my son." She plucked a napkin from the dispenser and wiped a wet coffee ring from the table, and shoved it to one side. "When we lost him, Oscar went from being a happy boy to a very sad boy. He and I got lost in the shuffle - all our parents could think about was finding Sam, saving his reputation, battling with the Navy – and because we never found him, it never ended. I figured it was up to me to look after Oscar, and... it seems to be a hard habit to break."
"Who looked after you?"
"I was fourteen, and Iooked after myself all right - but Oscar did too, in his way. We got to be a real team, the two of us." She smiled, her eyes looking into the past. "We used to make godawful meals when we were on our own. Once, he made something so foul, using molasses and cornstarch and canned peas, that we threw the pot away rather than have to clean it."
Jaime laughed. "He never told me that." She propped her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her hands. "Can I ask you an odd question...since we're getting close to the bone this morning...did you ever... resent Sam?"
"Oh sure." Judy said without hesitation. "I don't know which was worse - the living version of the missing version. I was always in his shadow. No matter how well I did in school, he was always better. No matter how good I was at home, Sam was better. Not that we were held to with the same set of standards - me being a girl. Looking back on him, I do think he was an exceptional young man - maybe a touch self righteous... but I'm sure time would have knocked him down a peg...if he hadn't been knocked out entirely." She shook her head, reconsidering that ancient sadness. "He was so good to Oscar. Oscar worshipped him."
"Still does." Jaime added.
"Yeah." Judy agreed. "Sam is petrified in his perfection - he'll always be nineteen - a bright future in front of him. It's hard to be mere flesh and blood next to that. That's always been the hardest - especially for Oscar. I swear to God my father figured that if Oscar could make it to the directorship of the OSI then Sam most certainly would have been President."
"Really?"
"Oh yeah - the ghost of Sam hung over both of us. He was just a kid, Jaime - not that much different than my own Sam. I've had to tell myself that ten thousand times over the years. Just a boy. Not a mythology. If he were alive now, you might pass him on the street and not even take a second look at him."
"It's a sad story." Jaime said, contemplating the history that had acted on Oscar all these years.
"It's a long time ago." Judy replied. Then she frowned, opened her mouth to speak, went quiet for a moment, and added, "I don't want you to think our parents were bad – they were good people, and they did the best they could under very difficult circumstances."
"I know. They had to be good people. They raised two very fine children."
"Ah, go on." Judy flapped her wrist. She sighed. "You know what Bruce would say...he would tell me that I'm giving you the three-legged cat treatment."
"What?" Jaime laughed incredulously.
"When we met, I had a three legged cat - one I'd found in a back alley dumpster. He always tells me I'm a sucker for the strays, and mistrustful of the people I peg as the winners in life. I'm surprised he didn't tell you that on the way home from the airport. He loves bringing it up - every available opportunity."
"He didn't say a thing." Jaime lied. "So, you pegged me as a winner?"
"Naturally!"
"You know," Jaime said, smiling secretively, "I might be more of a three legged cat than you think I am... and maybe one day I'll tell you all about it."
Judy nodded. She seemed relieved, and was definitely more relaxed. "I'm all ears. More coffee?"
"Sure." Jaime said.
When Judy returned with the refills she wore a new look of preoccupation. "Does it worry you..." she said, hesitatingly, " being a sixty year old woman with an eighty year old husband? I'm heading in the direction of sixty right now Jaime, and it's closer than you think."
"Well...it's not like I haven't thought about it, but we've got a lot of mileage to make before then. You know, I might not make it to sixty. That accident really messed me up. And then if I do make it to sixty, I don't know what kind of shape I'll be in. That's something he has to live with. We'll take what we can get."
Judy nodded soberly. "Gratitude, huh?"
"Exactly."
"What happened to you in that accident anyway? You don't look at all like someone who has been in a bad accident." Judy squinted. "You probably can't tell me."
Jaime shrugged and smiled, her mouth clamped shut.
"I thought not." She leaned forward, more serious than ever. "You do know what a knucklehead he can be, right?"
"A knucklehead?" Jaime gasped, in outsized astonishment. "Now why would you say a thing like that?"
"You do know, don't you." Judy confirmed, leaning back, a large, satisfied smile on her face. "I guess you are going to be all right."
Jaime returned what must have been almost exactly the same smile - they were finally on the same side. Maybe this relationship was going to work out after all.