I Found My Heart in San Francisco

Book 1: Awakenings

By: S X Meagher

Disclaimers: See Chapter 1

Feedback: I'm consumed by self-criticism; therefore only positive feedback will be read. If you enjoyed the story please stroke my fragile ego, if not, flush it from your memory bank and move on. You can email me at sx_meagher@mindspring.com

Chapter 7

Jamie rushed home after her morning classes and dove into her work. She didn't cook elaborate meals very often, but she really enjoyed doing so when she got the chance. She actually enjoyed making something difficult a lot more than just making an ordinary dinner, especially when she was feeding someone who really enjoyed food...and she didn't know a soul who enjoyed eating more than Ryan.

Methodically, she assembled all of the ingredients that she would need. She placed them on the counter neatly and then organized all of her utensils. Next she got out her stainless steel pasta machine and began to make dough. Her mother had taken her to a tiny little restaurant in Bologna where she had the most extraordinary lasagna imaginable. She was terribly pleased to find the recipe in an Italian cookbook and it was now the only kind of lasagna she would eat. Jamie remembered that they had used green noodles so she decided that she must also.

She began to clean the fresh spinach, and when she was finished she wilted it quickly. She took the wilted spinach and gently dried it as much as possible with a thin kitchen towel. After chopping it coarsely she set it aside.

Next she went to a small dedicated baking counter in the corner of the kitchen. The counter was made of a dark green marble and was set 4 inches lower than the rest of the counters. She mounded 1 1/2 cups of flour and scooped out a hollow in the center of it. She broke two eggs into the hollow and added the chopped spinach. She beat the eggs with a fork, as though making an omelet, for about a minute. She began to draw some of the flour over the eggs, just a little at a time, until the eggs were no longer runny. Discarding the fork she began to work the mass with her hands. She worked the dough until the ingredients felt fully integrated. After washing her hands again, she tested it by pressing her thumb firmly into the center of the mass. After her thumb came out clean, she put the dough aside and cleaned the work surface.

Now came her favorite part. Sprinkling a little flour on the marble she began to knead the dough. She pushed the mass forward with the palm of her right hand, then she folded it in half, gave it a half turn and repeated. She continued in this fashion, always turning in the same direction. After about 8 minutes of steady work the dough felt as smooth and supple as a babies' bottom.

Satisfied that the dough was perfect she clamped the heavy pasta machine to another part of the counter. After adjusting the rollers to their full width she inserted the handle. Then she cut the dough into 6 roughly equal parts. She rolled each little piece through the rollers, one piece at a time until all six had been slightly flattened. She then ran each strip through another two times, folding each in thirds after each pass through the machine.

She had cleared all of the counters and spread kitchen towels on them in preparation and now she lay each flattened strip on a separate towel. She closed the rollers a notch and repeated the entire operation until the towels were covered with very long very thin strips of green dough.

Now came the hard part. She stuck each strip into a large pot of boiling water for mere seconds, then scooped it out and dropped it into a bowl of ice water. After several strips were in the ice bath she removed them one at a time and ran cold water over them. Then she delicately wrung them dry, treating them rather like fine lingerie. She lay each strip back onto its respective towel to dry.

Well that was a quick 2 hours, she thought as she looked at her watch. Ryan was coming over at 5 and she felt like she just had enough time to finish the lasagna and the desert and wrap a few little presents. But first she ate an apple and a few pieces of cheddar cheese, just as Dr. O'Flaherty had ordered.

She began to prepare a Béchamel sauce, slowly stirring the milk, butter and flour together until it was smooth and luxuriantly creamy. Ohhh, that looks perfect!

Now she was ready to assemble. She took out a large enameled cast iron lasagna pan and smeared the bottom with the bÈchamel sauce. She lined the bottom of the pan with a single layer of green noodles, cutting them to fit, edge to edge with just a tiny overlap. She took the warmed Bolognese meat sauce that she had prepared on Wednesday and mixed it in with the béchamel She then spread this mixture in a thin layer over the first layer of noodles, sprinkling it with a bit of grated Reggiano Parmesan to complete the first layer. She repeated this process until she had 9 layers of pasta and sauce. She had just enough sauce left to spread a thin layer on the topmost noodles. She again sprinkled Parmesan on the top and added a few thin pats of butter at various strategic locations.

She stood back to look at her creation with satisfaction. Not bad for a WASP, she thought with pride.

Now comes the true test of my prowess, she thought. She put 6 egg yolks into the bowl of her Kitchen Aid mixer. She added 3/4 cup of granulated sugar and beat the yolks until they were a beautiful pale yellow and formed soft ribbons.

Next she put 2 cups of very fresh milk in a saucepan and added the peel of half of an orange. She heated the milk until it reached a slow simmer. She then added the hot milk to the eggs, running it through a fine strainer as she did so. She stopped periodically to run the mixer again, being careful to thoroughly beat the mixture together. Finally, she added a tablespoon of Grand Marnier, and stirred it well.

She put the whole mixture into a saucepan set on a medium flame and beat it with a whisk for a couple of minutes, making sure to not let it reach a boil. She took it off the heat and set it to chill in the refrigerator.

Her next task was to clean the enormous mess she had created. When she had done most of the dishes the custard was chilled. She put it into her electric ice cream maker to freeze and let the machine do all the work.

By now it was 4:45 and she knew Ryan would be on time. She flew around the house and assembled her wrapping paper, tape and scissors. The last little gift was just barely finished when the bell rang. As she dashed over to the door she quickly hid the small presents and ran her hands through her hair to order it.

She was greeted by a broadly smiling Ryan who leaned over to give her a hug. They had recently begun to hug each other when they hadn't seen each other for a few days. Jamie felt very comfortable with the increased intimacy, and found that she missed the contact on the rare occasions Ryan didn't offer it. She was a bit surprised today only because they had seen each other earlier at class.

"You certainly look happy," she told the beaming face.

"You are cooking, aren't you?" she asked logically.

"Yes, I most certainly am," she replied.

"Then I am most certainly happy," she stated with an even bigger grin. She leaned over again and gently brushed her thumb across Jamie's cheek a few times. Holding her hand up close to her eyes she nodded her head and thoughtfully said, "Flour."

"I get a little wild when I cook. God knows what's hiding in my hair!" God, one smile from her and I would cook like this every day. The world is lucky that she uses that smile for good, and not evil.

"It smells very good in here," Ryan stated as she twitched her nose reflectively. "I smell something sweet. Do I get dessert, too?"

"Yes, you get dessert, too. I don't believe in making a partial thank you dinner."

"Far be it from me to turn down a special meal, but you don't owe me any thanks, Jamie," she stated sincerely. "We're friends, and I take my friendships very seriously. You were really out of it on Tuesday and I felt responsible for you. I know you would do the same for me."

"Well, conceptually you are right, Ryan. But I was thinking about that night and I don't remember walking on my own volition at any time after that phone call."

"You walked to the car, but I had to carry you in."

"And did you not also carry me up that huge staircase?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yeah, I had to. You were about to go out again and I couldn't leave you on that little sofa. I was afraid you would fall and hurt yourself. I thought your bed would protect you better."

"Okay, now let's switch roles. Where would we be if you had passed out that night?"

"Um, still lying on the floor of the building, I guess," she admitted with a twinkle in her eyes. "It would take two men and a strong boy to pick me up."

"My point exactly. My spirit would be willing, but my flesh is weak. So the bottom line is that I'm very thankful not only for your friendship, but your big muscles are awfully nice to have around too."

"So you're just replenishing all of the calories I expended, huh? I guess that does seem fair," she grinned. "I will admit though, I wished we had the Range Rover that night."

"Why's that?" Jamie asked, a trifle confused.

"I had to power you up from a deep squat to get you out of the car. I'm gonna have to do some more work on my quads if I'm going to continue to pick you up off the floor," she teased as she slapped her ample thigh muscles.

"Maybe you shouldn't try to get my weight back up. It might be to your detriment."

"I think I would rather make sure you don't get that stressed out that badly again," she replied as she slipped her arm around Jamie, and they wandered into the kitchen together.

Ryan offered to help with the last of the dinner preparations. Jamie set her to work on setting the table and choosing some music. Ryan bustled around the large kitchen, finding out for herself where everything was kept. She was just about finished when Jamie asked," How do you feel about anchovies?"

"I feel very kindly toward them, so long as they lie still while they're being eaten," she replied with a laugh. She walked up behind Jamie and enthused, "Ooooh, Caesar salad, my favorite."

"Ryan, I swear that almost everything you eat is your favorite," she admonished her.

"Well it is," Ryan gamely defended herself. "I have tons of favorites, but what I choose to eat at any particular time becomes my favorite. Caesar salad is my favorite Italian style salad, particularly when served with anchovies and followed by lasagna."

Jamie gave her a narrowed glance as she asked, "How much time do you spend thinking about food?"

"A lot," she admitted. "Okay, a whole lot," she amended when she caught Jamie's dubious glance. "Food really is the highlight of most of my days. An hour or so before lunch I start thinking about what I will have. I do the same at dinner. It really gives me a great deal of pleasure."

"I guess the pressure is really on me to perform then, huh?" Jamie asked.

"Nope. Not at all. You get tons of points for the effort even if the execution isn't perfect. Where do you get your recipe for lasagna, anyway? Is it a family secret?"

"I come from a family of diners, not cooks. My mother could probably make a peanut butter sandwich, but I've never actually seen her do so," she admitted. "And come to think of it, I'm certain she would never eat peanut butter, so it really would be a lost exercise."

"Are you really being serious?" Ryan asked as she stopped in the middle of the kitchen and stared, absolutely dumbfounded.

"Completely," Jamie replied. "I have never eaten a meal that my mother prepared for me. Come to think of it, I wasn't even breast fed," she laughed.

"Not even tea and toast when you were sick?" Ryan asked.

"Nope. I had a nanny who took care of me when I was sick. My mother didn't really get involved in the day to day caretaker stuff."

"God, Jamie, I find that so hard to believe!" Ryan was truly shocked.

"Well, it's true. Our relationship has always been friendly and pleasant enough, but distant. She traveled and spent time on her hobbies, but child rearing wasn't really one of them," she admitted.

Friendly?? Pleasant?? What kind of words are those to use for your relationship with your mother?! "So how did you learn to cook?" Ryan asked, trying to change the depressing subject.

"We had a great cook, named Marta. She's still with us as a matter of fact. She's from Spain but she can cook anything. She does a lot of Northern Italian cuisine because that's my mother's favorite. But she can also do classical French and some great spicy Spanish dishes for my father and me."

"Did you just watch and learn?"

"No, she was a really good teacher. She knew I was interested and she spent a lot of time with me, teaching me the fundamentals. My mother found it odd that I wanted to spend my time chopping vegetables into julienne, but she didn't mind much as long as I was entertained. Actually, Marta was one of the best teachers I ever had. She didn't have any children and we spent a ton of time together just talking and hanging out."

Ryan was enormously saddened to hear her friend speak of this emotionless upbringing. The thought of young Jamie having to get her parenting from the hired help was just too much to consider. She tried to change the subject again. "So, you know my favorite food, what's yours?"

Jamie turned thoughtful as she finished tossing the Caesar salad. "I think my favorite is a good steak and pomes frites from a French bistro. I have had some extraordinary meals at Chez Panisse," she named a local Berkeley institution. "Have you been there?"

"No, but Conor has. He said he liked it, but the portions weren't big enough. Not that that is surprising!" she laughed.

"I think we are ready to eat. Hungry?" she asked needlessly.

"I was hungry when I got here. But smelling that lasagna cook has put me into a whole new classification of hunger. It's beyond famished...bordering on starvation, I believe."

"Then have a seat and get ready. I'll take the lasagna out so it can cool for a minute." She went to the oven and pulled out the pan, using hot pads. Ryan did not sit down as instructed, but trotted right behind Jamie, looking over her shoulder, mouth watering.

"God, Ryan, you look like a hungry wolf with a wounded animal in its sights," she said of Ryan's intense gaze.

"That's exactly how I feel at the moment," she replied, never taking her eyes from their bubbling target. "I think I'm willing to risk the burns to my mouth to eat that right now," she threatened as she leaned over her prey.

But Jamie grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her firmly around to face the kitchen table. She gave her a little push and said firmly, "Sit. Now."

Ryan complied, grumbling the whole time. "Would a Caesar salad placate you for a few minutes?" Jamie asked, taking pity on the poor creature.

"I suppose," she moaned as she let out an aggrieved sigh.

Jamie filled two salad bowls and deposited them on the table. Ryan dug in and in moments her face became a study of various levels of pleasure. She started at mere happiness and by the fourth bite had progressed to ecstasy. "My God, this is good," she moaned from her state of bliss. "You have ruined me for life, Jamie. All other Caesar salads will be but pale imitations. I'll never be satisfied with another!"

"Then you'll just have to come here when you need a fix," Jamie replied, terribly pleased at the effusive compliments.

Ryan mopped up every bit of dressing with a piece of crunchy Italian bread. "Is it considered rude to lick the salad bowl?" she asked.

"There is just a tiny bit left, but I don't want you to be too full for your entrée," Jamie warned.

"My physiology is just like a cow," Ryan informed her. "I have six stomachs, all in different stages of digestion. I'll just put the entree in another stomach." She was already on her feet, moving toward the salad bowl. As she passed the cooling lasagna, she leaned down and gave it a hearty sniff. "You're next," she growled.

Jamie laughed heartily at her antics. Ryan was so full of life, so immersed in the pleasure of whatever she was involved in that it was impossible not to enjoy being with her. Jamie thought of all the women that Ryan had been with and felt a little sorry for them. She knew how much they must crave further contact, and how few of them got that wish. She considered herself very lucky to be able to be close to Ryan and receive so much of her time.

Ryan was polishing off the remnants of the salad right from the serving bowl. She used more bread to capture every bit of dressing and every tiny green leaf that tried in vain to escape.

"I don't think I have ever met anyone who enjoys food as much as you do. You just seem so immersed in the whole experience. It's fun to watch!"

Ryan's face grew serious. "Honestly, that's my whole philosophy of life, Jamie. I try to be fully involved in whatever I'm doing. The simplest task is made beautiful if I'm fully in it. When I eat I try to feel it with every sense. I try to really taste and smell the food. That's why I love to eat with my hands. I love the feel and the texture of food. I love to look at food before I eat it. I love the colors and variety of textures. I even really enjoyed the crunch the croutons in the salad made." She grinned up at Jamie from a slightly embarrassed smile. "I know that sounds kinda nutty, but that's how I approach life."

"That is the least nutty thing I've ever heard," Jamie replied. "You're really teaching me a lot about savoring life, Ryan, and I want you to know how grateful I am for that," she said simply.

"I didn't realize that Jamie, but I'm glad it's helpful for you. I made up my mind when I was a teenager that I wasn't going to let life pass me by. I knew that every day we have is a gift and I intend to make the most of those gifts."

"Well, speaking of gifts," Jamie said as she rose and walked to the counter, "Happy Birthday, Ryan." She lit the candle that she had placed in the lasagna and carried the large pan to the table. She leaned over her shoulder and gave her a small kiss on her flushed cheek.

Ryan was truly stunned. "How did you know?" she asked delightedly. "I'm sure I didn't tell."

"No you didn't, you big dope. And I'm a little miffed I had to find out from Conor."

"You know, you're right Jamie. I should have told you. I usually spend the day with my family and sometimes I forget to include other people. I kind of hate to have a big deal made out of it, but I should have included you. I'm really glad that Conor told you."

Jamie served up a steaming plate of the lasagna and Ryan took a hearty bite. She was silent as she closed her eyes, deep in concentration. Jamie could just imagine each of her senses kicking in, feeling and tasting and smelling the delectable bite.

"If I didn't believe in God before today, I would now. This," she waved another forkful of the dish at Jamie, "is a clear sign that God loves us and wants us to be happy."

"I'm so glad I could make you something that you enjoy so much," Jamie replied as she tried to control her beaming smile.

"I have eaten lasagna at least 200 times in my life. I order it every time it's on the menu. But I can truly say, I've never tasted lasagna before today."

Jamie just grinned in response.

They ate in silence for a few minutes to allow Ryan to concentrate. Finally, she looked up from her plate. "I need to know how you made this. There is nothing about this that I recognize, not the noodles, not the sauce, nothing! Most of the time lasagna is heavy and overly rich. This is just so light and delicate tasting."

Jamie explained the entire process, while Ryan watched her in rapt fascination. Finally she shook her head and locked her clear blue eyes on her friend and asked, "You did that all just for my birthday?"

"Yep. And I'd do it again in a minute to see you enjoy yourself so much," she replied truthfully.

"Do you cook like this for Jack?" Ryan asked after a moment, a bit off topic.

"I do cook for him, but I don't think I've ever done anything very elaborate. He doesn't care about food a lot. He thanks me for cooking, but in the same way he thanks me for vacuuming. I think he eats to live, and that's about it."

"Well, anytime you need an enthusiastic taste tester, you know where to find me."

"I'll keep your name on file," Jamie replied with a grin

After Ryan had eaten much more than Jamie thought wise, they sat together in the living room with large cups of cappuccino. "Is there anything you don't cook well?" Ryan asked as she sipped her coffee.

"I'm sure I've screwed up my share of meals. I just had a good day," she replied. "But I must admit, cooking for an appreciate audience is really pleasurable."

"If I were any more appreciative I'd be on the phone to the Vatican petitioning you for early sainthood," Ryan said.

"I was thinking about the teen talk line," Jamie said after a few minutes. "Yvonne said you were the volunteer who logged the most hours. When did that happen, and how did you get involved?"

Ryan was silent for a few moments. She looked down at the floor as she said softly, "It's a long, sad story. Are you sure you want to hear it?"

"Only if you want to talk about it," Jamie replied.

"I like to reflect on my life on my birthday. It's a good way to appreciate all of the gifts I've been given. So I don't mind. But I guess I've got to go back to high school to make it make sense. Did I ever tell you about Sara?" When Jamie shook her head, Ryan continued. "She was my best friend all through grammar and high school. It was kind of like the caller you helped the other night. I was totally in love with her. She was my whole world. I have never felt like that about anyone--before or since," she admitted, her hooded eyes dark.

"I went to an all girls Catholic high school. I knew that I was different from my friends but it didn't bother me. I thought I was just unique," she said as she gave Jamie a crooked little grin. "I didn't ever have a crush on a guy or have any desire to go out with one. Luckily we didn't have the pressure of having guys around all the time, so the issue was never forced. I honestly never considered that I might be gay, though. I just thought I was...me I thought everyone had crushes on their girlfriends and teachers. I honestly thought everyone scheduled their week around 'Cagney and Lacey'," Ryan said with a small laugh at the memory.

Jamie didn't understand the reference but she nodded to encourage Ryan to continue.

"Anyway, as the years passed I began to feel more than close to Sara. I wanted to be 'with her', even though I didn't really know what that meant or how to go about it. I was really naive when it came to sex. That was one area that Da did a crummy job with. And the boys were certainly no help. It might have been different if I was a little worldlier but my whole universe was sports and Sara. I didn't watch TV very often or go to many movies or participate much in community events so I was just not clued into lesbianism."

"You must have been so confused," Jamie empathized.

"In a way I was, but in another way I assumed Sara felt just like I did. We were so close it was like we shared a soul." Ryan dropped her head a little, but continued. "I was finding the temptation overwhelming just to touch or kiss Sara. She was all that I thought about. I wanted to let her know how I felt, but I was so confused about what this thing was, that I didn't feel able to."

Jamie nodded to encourage Ryan to continue.

"One night I was staying over at Sara's. We did that a lot. It was the end of my junior year. She was a year older and she had already decided to accept a soccer scholarship at Cal. Her graduation was in a couple of weeks and she was going to go to a soccer camp in San Diego as soon as school was over. I was panicked at the thought of her going away and I let my fear of losing her override my fear of expressing myself."

Jamie cringed, knowing right where this was heading.

"We got into bed and I started talking. I told her that I didn't think I could live without her. I told her everything--how much I wanted her, how I dreamed about her, how she meant everything to me. She was kind of quiet, but I thought she agreed. After a minute I reached for her and I kissed her. I had never kissed another person in my life and it was kind of overwhelming," here she shook her head and stared at the floor.

"I was shaking so hard she must have heard my teeth chattering but I could tell she was nervous too. But God, Jamie," here she took a deep breath and let her head drop back against her shoulders. "Nothing since has ever felt that good to me."

"I thought she was enjoying it as much as I was," she said with a rasp in her voice. "No, I know she was enjoying it. I know it," she said firmly as she closed her eyes tightly.

Jamie had moved closer to her for comfort. She didn't touch her, but she was so close she could feel the heat radiating off her body.

"In my fumbling, terrified way I continued on. I don't know where I got the courage but I got more and more aggressive. I guess all those years of yearning for her propelled me forward. I explored every inch of her body with my hands. After a long time of totally tender touches we began to get more passionate. And it wasn't just me. She didn't touch me intimately but she kissed me with so much emotion..." Ryan closed her eyes again stared up at the ceiling. "I can still taste her lips," she whispered as she shook her head and took in a deep breath. She seemed on the verge of tears but she gathered herself and continued on. "Eventually I discovered what she liked and brought her to orgasm. I cannot tell you how that made me feel, Jamie. I can honestly say that was the happiest moment of my young life. I felt closer to her than I thought possible. I had used my hands and my body to give her such pleasure. She seemed so satisfied, and a few moments later she kissed me with so much love in her eyes. As she fell asleep in my arms, I held on to her with all the strength and the tenderness that I possessed."

Ryan blew out a big breath and Jamie steeled herself for the inevitable.

"I didn't sleep much that night. It felt so wonderful to be that close to her. I can't describe it as anything other than feeling like I was finally home. I watched her sleep and occasionally would give her a light kiss. I was planning our lives together. I decided that night that when I followed her to Cal we would live together and start our lives together," she smiled sadly at the memory.

"In the morning, Mrs. Andrews came to wake us up. Sara acted very flustered when her mom was there and I figured she was uncomfortable about us getting caught. She came up with some lame excuse and told me she had to go somewhere with her mother. I felt a little funny about it, but I wasn't really worried. I should have been. That was the last conversation we ever had."

Jamie sat in the still room with her hand on Ryan's knee. She knew the depth of the hurt, could see it on Ryan's face, and hear it in her voice. But she had no words to heal the old pain. Instead, she just patted Ryan's knee in sympathy and understanding.

"She would not return my phone calls. On Monday at school she would not even make eye contact with me. I honestly almost lost my mind that day. After school I went to her house. Her mom told me that she didn't want to see me anymore. She asked me to never call their house again."

"How unspeakably cruel!" Jamie shouted in indignation. "How could she do that to you?"

"Actually that was what made it even harder. I was really close with her mom. She was one of my mother substitutes, but I never saw her again after that day. But I don't blame her." She gave Jamie a small grin as she admitted; "I can't say the same for Da or the boys though. Sara was obviously really upset and I guess her mom didn't want it to get any worse. Sara must have told her what had happened, because her mom told me that she hoped things worked out for me but that Sara wasn't like I was. I don't know," she said softly. "If my daughter was in the same situation I might have done the same thing."

"I don't believe that for a minute, Ryan," Jamie said firmly. "If you were her mother you would find a way to be supportive of a child that was going through a very difficult time. You would not turn your back on a child that needed you!" Jamie continued to stroke and pat her leg and Ryan finally gave her a small smile.

"It was a terrible time for me. After the loss of my mother this was the worst thing that ever happened to me. It screwed up the way I felt about myself for a very long time. It was the only time in my life that I felt bad about being gay. I believed every bad thing I had ever heard about gay people. If someone as wonderful as Sara and as great as her mother thought I was sick, I assumed that I must be. I started doing some crazy stuff. I started hanging out in The Castro and going to bed with older women. I was almost 17 but I looked older. I would be with anyone who wanted me. But I didn't really get anything out of the sex. I just wanted the contact. I wanted to be with other freaks like me. But that's what's so hard for so many gay kids. We don't get a chance to develop like straight kids do. Not many of us get to have normal dating relationships. We often go from a crush to having sex like I did. And I realize now how harmful that is for kids. It's too overwhelming to have your first kiss followed by your first time making love."

"How did you come out of it?"

"It took a while. The next school year things got quite a bit worse. I'll save the details for another day. Sara obviously told some people about what I did to her and everyone started to treat me like a freak. I spent the whole year just trying to survive. It was an unbelievably tough year."

"Didn't you talk to anyone?" Jamie inquired gently as she continued to run her hand up and down Ryan's leg.

"After my first semester grades came out over Christmas break Brendan sat me down and said he was worried about me. The boys didn't know what I was doing, but they knew that I had changed. I never came home drunk when Da was home but he was gone 3 or 4 nights out of the week. Brendan was away at school and Conor and Rory had their own things so they didn't keep a very close eye on me. Brendan told me that I could tell him anything, and after a good bit of prodding he pulled it out of me. "He was so wonderful, Jamie," Ryan smiled at the memory. "He was so completely understanding. He really reassured me that there was nothing wrong with me. He said that as I got older I would find lots of women who wanted to be with me. A little while after we talked I made myself tell Da and the other boys. I've never asked Brendan, but I think he told them first so they'd be prepared. They were all super. Da told me that I was precious to him no matter who I loved."

"I'm so glad they were all supportive of you, Ryan. That must have really helped."

"More than I could have imagined. I didn't feel like I was bad for being this way any more. My self image got a lot better and I stopped being with people just because they wanted me. Brendan did some research and he hooked me up with the Teen Talk Line. I talked to someone really nice who was very supportive. She told me about 'Daughters of Sappho' and some other places that young women could go. After a while I went to the talk line and got trained as a peer counselor. Talking to other kids helped me realize how good things really were for me. By second semester my grades were back up, but I had screwed up at the worst time. My scholarship to Cal was withdrawn and I had to come up with another plan."

"What did you do?" Jamie asked.

"Conor started taking me to the gym with him and I really got into it. After I graduated I spent the summer taking classes to become a trainer and I worked every possible minute that I could. I had been accepted at the University of San Francisco as my fallback school, but it was really expensive, so I had to work full time to be able to afford the tuition."

"But why go somewhere so expensive? Couldn't you have gotten in somewhere else?"

"Getting in places wasn't a problem," Ryan assured her. "But I had such a hard time during my senior year that I couldn't bear to live away from home. I really needed their support that year. Besides, after all of the problems I had in school that year taking a couple of years off seemed really appealing. So I worked for 2 years and I really enjoyed it. I could really focus on what was important to me. In retrospect it was a foolish decision to waste 2 years and have to pay my own way, but I was so heartbroken over not being given my scholarship that I just couldn't bear to attend Cal. And the thought of seeing Sara around campus was just something I couldn't risk. After I completed two years at USF I decided that I had sulked long enough and I transferred. It's where I'd always dreamed of going and I finally decided that I was only hurting myself by not going there."

"Wow, you sure have been through some hard times," Jamie said as she patted her back.

"Yeah, but I got through them. And I feel pretty darn good about myself now. I mean, I must be doing something right to merit a friend like you, don't I?" she said sincerely as she looked over at Jamie with those clear blue eyes.

Jamie just soaked in the words of friendship that Ryan so easily offered. I do not understand why she isn't in a relationship. It seems so easy for her to open up and show her feelings. Is she really that different when sex is involved?

* * * * * * * * * * * *

After Ryan had digested enough of her dinner to allow for dessert Jamie led her back into the kitchen. "I hope you like what I made for dessert. I know you say you like everything, but this is a little different," she said with a smile at Ryan's interested expression. "The last time my mother and I were in Bologna we had this at the same restaurant that made this style of lasagna. It's really the prototypical dessert of the region and I thought it would be a perfect compliment to dinner."

Ryan watched as Jamie took the frozen insert of the ice cream maker from the freezer. She removed two pale green milk glass bowls from the cabinet and scooped the frozen concoction into the bowls. Next she removed some delicate little orange and chocolate flavored cookies that she had purchased from a fabulous craft bakery on the way home from school. As she looked at Ryan she saw her eyes go wide.

"You made ice cream?" she asked very tentatively. "I thought you had to be Ben or Jerry to make ice cream," she said slowly.

"No, it's a feat that is easily accomplished if you have a good ice cream maker," Jamie replied.

"You know, you are the last person in the world who should be underweight. You obviously don't cook much for yourself," Ryan observed as she playfully tried to pinch her waist.

"No, I really don't," she giggled as she tried to dance out of the way. "I prefer to cook for others I suppose."

"If you don't stop saying that you're gonna find me on your door step every evening," she threatened. Ryan was focused on her bowl as she took her first big bite of the custard. Her eyes closed and she dropped her head to her chest. Both hands came up and balled into fists as she lightly pounded on the table for a few beats, then looked up at Jamie in wonder. Her hands opened and rose halfway to her face. She shook her hands lightly as she wagged her head from side to side.

Not a word had been spoken, but Jamie knew that she was being lavishly complimented. After every bite Ryan would look at her with a delighted expression of amazement and another little shake of her head. Finally, when her bowl was clean Ryan finally muttered softly, "I have no words." She shook her head again and looked rather helpless as she said, "If I could have another bowl I'd be forever grateful."

As her second bowl was presented Ryan predicted, "I'm sure I'll be more erudite after my second helping." She dug in again, but was once more totally silent. Her brows knit in concentration and she looked very reflective a couple of times; as if she had a point to make. But she would again shake her head lightly and shrug her shoulders in a small sign of defeat. She regarded her friend once again and admitted, "I just can't form a cogent thought. I truly want to do justice to that ambrosia but I am unable to come up with a compliment that is representative of my feelings."

"None needed," Jamie replied as she gently patted her cheek. "Just watching you eat is the supreme compliment." As she spoke, she rose and crossed the room to retrieve the hidden presents. She brought the small pile over to a still dumbstruck Ryan who gave her a delighted smile.

"Jamie, you certainly didn't have to buy me presents after all this!" she protested.

"I know I didn't have to. But I wanted to. It really gave me a lot of enjoyment to be able to buy you a few little things," she replied.

"Okay, you win. If you get pleasure out of doing this, then I'm going to shut up and just let myself enjoy it," she decided as she grabbed the first little box.

Jamie watched her face take on a childlike glee as she shook each box in turn. "I like to guess. Can I?" she asked.

"Of course, birthday girl. You can do anything you want."

"What I want is for you to be my personal chef," she said with a grin. "But I'll settle for opening my presents. She shook a box that was about 9 inches square. This one gave a funny little rumble. "Hmmm," she mused. The next box was small, about 2" by 3". A muffled wooden clicking sound emanated from it. The last gift was about 7 inches long and 4 inches wide. It was no more than a quarter inch thick and made no sound when shaken. "I think I'm ready," she finally pronounced. "I believe there is a common theme?"

"Yes," came the answer.

"So one box will lead me to guess the others?"

"Most likely."

"Okay," she said as she waved the long thin package. "I think this one is a golf glove," she stated with authority.

"How did you do that?" Jamie inquired, quite amazed.

"Well, you did just buy me one. I remember the shape of the package it came in. And I can detect a leather aroma. See?" she offered the package up to Jamie's nose.

"Wow, how good is your sense of smell?" Jamie wondered.

"It's pretty good, I guess. I don't realize how good it is until I can catch a scent several minutes before anyone else. Sometimes I even beat Duffy," she said proudly. "And I'm the official smeller of anything suspect in the refrigerator." She quickly tore open the little package. "Oooh a white one. Now I won't clash when I wear another color." She opened the cardboard cover and slipped the glove on. "You remembered my size!" she said with delight. "Thanks, Jamie," she said as she half got out of her seat and leaned over to kiss her on the cheek.

Jamie knew that she should not feel a flash of pleasure tear up her spine, but she quickly convinced herself that the excitement of watching her friend's joy had just become contagious.

She tore through the rest of the neatly wrapped presents, correctly guessing the two dozen golf balls and the little box of tees. She had not guessed that the tees were personalized however, and this little detail delighted her to no end. "These are the bomb, Jamie," she said as she shook the little box. She hopped up once again to kiss the other cheek and Jamie briefly wished that she had wrapped each of the tees separately. "I'm gonna feel like a pro with all my cool stuff."

Her glee continued when she opened the last little box. It was a small set of ball markers and a divot tool in a gold tone. Each was neatly monogrammed with 'S.R.O.' Ryan jumped up and came over to Jamie's side of the table. She grabbed her hands and pulled her to her feet. "This is all so nice," she enthused. "I can't thank you enough." They stood toe to toe, Ryan's hands on Jamie's shoulders, smiling faces locked onto each other. Ryan bent to kiss her cheek just as Jamie turned her head slightly. Their lips brushed just a tiny bit, no more than a quarter inch. The kiss was way beyond chaste but Jamie felt a jolt of feeling shoot down her spine and she had a much more difficult time explaining this one away.

Ryan didn't seem to notice her reaction as she wrapped her in her powerful arms for a generous hug. But Jamie felt her body noticeably stiffen in the middle of the embrace. She pulled back and watched Ryan's face close as she backed away. Just then the kitchen door opened and Mia walked in.

"Wow, what smells so good?" she inquired brightly. "Hi Ryan, Jamie".

"Hi, Mia, " they both replied, nearly in unison.

Mia walked over to the pan of the now cooled lasagna. She grabbed a knife from the drawer and carved off a piece. She stuck the whole big bite in her mouth and mumbled around it, "This is great. Did you make this?" she pointed at Jamie.

"Yeah, I did," Jamie replied.

"What gives?" Mia asked as she looked at the gift laden table. "Is it your birthday or something, Ryan?"

"Yep, it sure is."

"That's cool. Happy birthday," she said as she surprised Ryan by walking over to her and giving her an awkward hug.

"Thanks. It has been a very happy birthday so far," she conceded as she grinned at Jamie.

"Oh, that reminds me," Mia added.