Chapter 15: Flying Home

Dana

I woke shortly after midnight with the conviction that I’d forgotten to do something. Promptings of the Spirit aren’t always so unspecific, but this time at least there was an obvious reason to be worried: Teri.

Even sleep-mazed as I was, I realized that in my confusion last evening, I’d not been all I could for her—that I hadn’t made it clear that I was there for her.

I fumbled for my phone and texted, just to her, No matter what, we still love you.

My conviction faded, as did I into sleep.

I woke Sunday morning filled with longing, worry, and excitement. I was going home, back to my lovers and my mother. Not to mention my likely stepfather. And Teri’s family. And to job training, beginning Tuesday afternoon—with my job itself starting in a week—as did summer school, getting 10th-grade English out of the way so I can formally skip ahead to 11th grade. So yeah, busy summer, and I was looking forward to returning to it.

But mostly to returning to Teri and Mike and me. I was so giddy with anticipation I could have cried.

I didn’t, though, because I didn’t want to disturb Brie—who was trying to jill off silently, and failing. At the silent part, not the jilling—her soft, whimpery moans were way cute. If I hadn’t been over my crush on her, I’d’ve crushed all the harder, hearing them.

Okay, mostly over.

It helped to imagine it was me making those sounds—because, um, Teri and Mike were ganging up on me again. Mmm. My lovers. I came before Brie did and got to watch her muffled climax.

A half-minute after her release, she opened her eyes—and blushed. She shrank a little beneath her comforter, leaving but half her face exposed.

“No shame,” I reminded her.

After a moment, Brie’s eyes crinkled in a smile. “Right. No shame.”

That took care of the longing and excitement. Then there was the worry. As Brie showered, I sent a text, this time to both my lovers, Feel better, love, we’ll talk tonight.

There was no immediate answer. I tried not to worry about that.

After a quick breakfast, I found a sheltered table in the atrium garden, behind a stucco structure that seemed to be a closed snack bar. The overhead vines were matted thick enough to muffle the sounds of people.

I sat criss-cross in the cast-iron chair, closed my eyes, and centered, opening myself to the promptings of the Inner Light. It wasn’t the same without a Meeting around me, but it was still Worship. Though when I touched on Teri, my thoughts jumped to guilt over egging Cin into pursuing Brie. When I contemplated Cin, they swirled in worry over Teri. Had admitting to a crush on my new stepsister been a mistake, despite affirming my commitment to my lovers? Was displacing that crush wrong, instead of keeping it hidden in my heart? What could I have done better? What could I do now to help heal?

In other words, the peace I sought was elusive.

I became aware of someone nearby. Slowly, I uncentered, reminding myself that the Light of the Spirit was always here, always within me, within everyone—including Cin and Teri. This helped, some.

I wore a small smile when I opened my eyes to see Cin sitting in the chair across from me. She was backlit by the open atrium, making her seem as surrounded by light as I knew, then, she was filled with.

“Good morning, Friends,” I said—the greeting that marks the end of Worship.

Cin nodded in greeting. “Meditation?”

I shook my head softly, still peaceful. “Worship.” To her quizzical look, I explained, “The local, ah, branch of my church meets too late for me to attend today—I’d have to leave for the airport before it’s through.”

She blinked—my eyes had adjusted enough to see that—then shook her head to clear it. “That’s right, Brie mentioned you’re Quaker. I don’t think Jim is, is he?”

“No—I follow my mother in this.” I unfolded my legs and stretched them out, followed by my arms and back. I sat up and considered my stepsister. Back in baby-dyke uniform again, this time a peach tank-top and a pink-and-white checked shirt. “I owe you an apology.”

She cocked her head slightly. “For what?”

“For encouraging your interest in Brie. She talked with me last night and made it quite clear that she has no such interest beyond friendship.”

Her shoulders slumped slightly. “Oh,” she said—trying, I think, for lightness. “I guess that means—”

She stood up, as did I—and before she could walk away, I wrapped my arms around her. After a moment, she hugged me back. My cheek rested against her collar bone. My stomach fluttered as I breathed in her scent. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

When her arms loosened, I let her go—and with her the flutter.

“Not everything works out, does it,” she said. Her voice was admirably steady.

“No—it doesn’t.” So true on so many levels.

Behind her, voices called out her name and mine. Our parents, searching the atrium.

Right. Time to get this over with. I’d been avoiding it all weekend. The closest I’d come was the toast during the rehearsal dinner, and that had been aimed to wound.

I took Cin’s hand, which surprised her, and I led us out to the central fountain. Dad was in his usual pale linen suit and panama hat. His puce shirt was exactly the wrong shade to wear next to Sandi’s turquois pantsuit. My stepmother was, at least, looking happy anyway. Glad to see someone wanted him. I resisted the urge to say, ‘No take-backs.’ Mike has, yes, been rubbing off on me. Instead, I went with a simple, “Good morning.”

“There you are, Pumpkin, Cin. It’s time for our brunch.”

For—? I looked to Cin, who was just as confused. I asked, “Which ‘our’ brunch?”

“The family brunch,” Sandi said significantly, “planned for this morning—once Greg arrives.”

Cin drew herself up—she has enough height, she could do that better than I. “It would have been nice to hear about this before eating breakfast.”

“I put it on the family calendar—and Jim was supposed to tell you, Dana.”

Dad waved that off. “Oh, well, I knew Dana was free.”

“Dad,” I said firmly, to catch his attention, “It’s First Day—I almost went to worship at the local meeting house.”

“What? But we have brunch planned!”

“A brunch you didn’t tell me about.”

“Oh. Well. That’s.”

“Really now, Jim,” Sandi put in.

Cin looked up from her phone. “You do realize, Mom, that tossing this on a shared calendar without a reminder is the most passive-aggressive way to let me know?”

Sandi smiled weakly. Yup, she and Dad were indeed like each other, in some things.

Dad looked pointedly at my hand, still holding Cin’s. “Does Tina know about this?”

Of all the—! “First of all, she prefers to be called Teri. Second,” I turned to Cin, “isn’t there an appropriate song from a musical about the bonds of sisterly affection?”

She gave me a flat stare. “If you sing it, I will never, ever speak to you again.”

“Just as well I don’t know it, then,” I shot back.

Dad looked baffled. Sandi looked like she was about to burst into giggles.

“Hi,” Greg said, slightly breathless. “Sorry I’m late.”

Brunch was not a total disaster. Long and stressful, yes, but no more messed up than Teri’s grandmother’s birthday. I sat as far away from Dad as I could, which admittedly wasn’t far with a party of five, and Cin did the same with her mother. Yay for the bonds of sisterhood, I guess?

I deflected the conversation by pumping Greg about USC—on the grounds that Mike’s considering going there for its translation program, and both Teri and I could readily follow him—and then Sandi about who, exactly, were all the relatives I’d met yesterday and how they related. There were enough divorces and inter-remarriages I wanted to diagram it all out, or better yet build a relational database. Dad’s comments about a couple of her cousins were actually amusing, if mean-spirited.

When we all had either empty plates or were pushing food around them, I reached deep inside me for my courage. Sometimes I have to do that, to do the right thing. I have a reputation for being brave, but honestly, it’s moments like these that make me shake my head at my rep.

I sat forward and reached my hands to Sandi and Dad. Sandi held one, and after a moment Dad took the other.

I looked between them. “I just wanted to say that I am glad that I came and saw that you two are, indeed, well matched. I wish you both happiness and a long, loving life together.” All carefully worded truth. Just not all of it.

Sandi smiled. “Thank you, Dana.”

Dad smiled wryly. “I thought blessings were supposed to come from one’s parents, not one’s children.”

“They come from oneself,” I said lightly, “and anyone who touches the Light.”