Chapter 86: One ‘More’ Time

Saturday, January 25, 1986

No news was no news on Challenger. Tomorrow was still the plan of record. Tomorrow would be ‘safe,’ from my reading of the temperatures, but the weather forecast was bad enough that I imagined it might be delayed for that reason, thus placing it in the very cold days.

I occasionally fretted about having no way to contact Gene Thomas, but we had never come up with a way that I could do so safely. His line could be monitored and taped now, and any call might be traced. As I had before, there were some malls and other public places that would work for me to call from, but it wasn’t an acceptable risk, and I wasn’t going to pretend that it was.

So, we waited and fretted. There was nothing else to do.

Jas, Angie, Paige, and I spent a few hours on the phone with jewelers. Several were ruled out quickly. One was too expensive, comparatively, with little apparent reason. Two seemed too inexpensive, or at least too willing to low-ball a phone estimate. One really only wanted to make their custom designs.

We wound up with four solid candidates. Both of Anderson’s were still in the running, which didn’t surprise me. One of Dad’s was, which didn’t surprise me, either. The last was a favorite of Camille’s.

We would probably visit all four. It was possible that Angie and Paige would pick a different jeweler than Jas and I did. What they wanted was a different sort of redesign than what we wanted, and it might be that one was better for one design but not as good for the other. But we all felt it was more likely that we would pick just one, which meant all four of us would visit.

If they weren’t ready for two couples working together, too bad for them.

We had made it clear enough that one couple was gay. It seemed unlikely to be a stumbling block.

Later in the day, Amy called Jas. They were on the phone for quite a while, it felt like, and then Jas handed off the call to Angie. In some ways, I wondered if these were like the ‘pep talks’ they’d given me for Darla. Likely not, but there might be similarities. Amy was still feeling her way out, and talking to girls who she trusted not to mislead her would help.

Or, at least, I hoped it would. I still felt as if she was sometimes brittle when a situation turned out to be different than what she expected it to be. Perhaps less brittle, but that was a guess.

Prickly, too. The less comfortable she was, the more prickly she was likely to be.

That might be why I hadn’t seen as much of that side of her. I had focused on helping her remain comfortable. Others hadn’t, perhaps.

As usual with Amethyst, I confined myself to a more neutral palette. Light gray shirt, black pants, black shoes, and I repeated my cap from last time. I thought she might appreciate it.

Jas and I told each other to have fun as we parted. I imagined she would, and I certainly hoped to as well. ‘Fun’ was, after all, the primary point of all of this.

Not the only point, certainly, but a big one. I think it might have been the point for Camille and Francis. Perhaps not, though. Perhaps having others involved served as a contrast that highlighted how well they fit together. I didn’t see them as building the sort of relationships we were hoping to build, though. Katy was out of Jas’s romantic life, but was still a friend, just as Claire was for me. I hoped Darla would be a lifelong friend as well. And her husband, assuming she found one — which seemed like a good assumption.

But we were also hoping for the occasional person like Jess. People who became more than just friends. ‘Family,’ though some ‘family’ might not be as close as others in the future. Maybe Amy would be in that category. We hardly knew, but it was a possibility, and we would never find people like that without exploring promising relationships as they came along.

When I knocked on Amy’s door, there was a slightly uncharacteristic pause. She opened it after about a minute, looking slightly flustered. She looked ready to me, wearing a black blouse, a black skirt, the stockings and charms I’d bought her, and her usual collar and cuffs, along with her Dr. Martens shoes.

“I ... hello,” she said. “I was ... am ... trying to make a decision.”

Meg wasn’t in sight. I suspected that was a good thing. Amethyst probably didn’t want Meg seeing her in this sort of state.

“Oh?”

She opened her hand. In it were a purple leather collar and cuffs. They were unadorned, though.

“I ... have these. It is...”

She sighed.

“Wearing them ... signals something. I think. Not wearing them signals ... something else, perhaps. And I ... at times, I might...”

I took her hands and looked into her eyes.

“You can always change later, Amethyst. You don’t have to be the same person in every setting.”

She sighed and nodded.

“I am ... there is no rule for this! Not for me. I have not been in this situation before. I want to be me, both ... because I just do, but also because you want that. But ... you are right. I am more than one ‘me’ tonight.”

“Perhaps prickly Amethyst wants to go to see the play — while not being overly prickly...”

She smiled at that and nodded.

“And another Amethyst might want to do something more afterward?”

“I ... like that,” she said, nodding emphatically after a few seconds.

Then she said, “We will ... go to your house?”

“If you would like.”

“I ... would,” she said. “If it is not too ... forward ... I thought, perhaps, I should ... bring some things?”

“That might be wise.”

She smiled a bit and said, “Jasmine made ... suggestions. I think I would have thought of it, but ... she helped.”

“She’s very helpful.”

“I am almost past finding it strange. She is who she is, you are who you are, and you make sense being the people you are.”

“I’m glad,” I said.

She dropped my hands, fetched a small suitcase, then placed the collar and cuffs into it.

“Then ... we are ready, I think,” she said, taking one of my hands and closing the door.

“We are,” I said.

As we walked to the car, I said, “How was your meeting last night?”

“Oh! It was good,” she said. “I am ... apparently, I am a leader. That is new, for me.”

“You will do well with it.”

“Or I will injure someone!” she said, snorting slightly. “I am trying not to, though. One guy was ... annoying. He made suggestions that do not work. We cannot spend the semester trying ten different approaches to the problem and only settle on one in the last few weeks. Perhaps a few, now, but we must narrow it down sooner to produce a good answer.”

“And you won the argument?”

“It surprised me. This is ... new. I cannot compare it to any other class. But ... I am still used to being dismissed. They did not, and somehow I became the leader who will decide which approach to select.”

“I haven’t seen you in action, but it sounds like something you can do,” I said.

She squeezed my hand.

“I think two of them perhaps expect me to fail, and wanted me to lead so I will, but I will not give them the satisfaction.”

We got to my car, and I helped her in. Once we were in, I said, “From what you said you want, this will help you.”

“What are you thinking?” she asked, taking my hand again.