'Tis the Off-Season: Book 6.5 of Girls of Summer Read online

  And browse they did. Emma headed for the general fiction area, where she leafed through interesting-looking novels from assorted Best of 2016 lists. Jamie, meanwhile, headed for the YA section, no doubt looking for her favorite story type: queer, dystopian, and/or fantasy. The shop was warm, the customers few, and classical holiday music played in the background. It was a perfect way to while away an hour.

  When Jamie finally lugged her haul to the counter, Emma had to laugh. Her girlfriend had piled so many books in her arms that she could barely see over the top.

  “What?” Jamie said, grinning. “Our shelves need filling. Plus, I’m buying local.”

  “And we thank you for it,” the woman said as she reached for the first book, the cover done in rich gold and featuring a close-up of an old-fashioned watch.

  Emma’s pile wasn’t quite as high, but she’d had the same idea. It would be nice to fill their shelves with good books so that they had something to read on future trips.

  Back at the house a little while later, they made tea, turned on the fire, and cuddled on the recliner couch, sharing their books with each other one at a time. Emma didn’t have any trouble picking a book—she’d been waiting to read the new Annie Proulx novel for months now and had finally accepted that she was never getting off her library’s hold list—but Jamie started one book after another before finally huffing and disappearing into their bedroom. When she returned, she had her Kindle already open, a reading app visible on the screen.

  “Fan fiction?” Emma asked.

  Jamie nodded. “There’s this really awesome Clexa fic I can’t stop reading. It’s like rubber-necking, you know? Like, I want to hate The 100 because of what they did to Clarke and Lexa, but I can’t stop reading the alternate universe stories where they meet in a coffee shop or end up being co-workers or neighbors.”

  Emma did know what she meant. After all, she’d been watching with Jamie the night Clarke and Lexa, stars of the dystopian TV show The 100, had finally gotten together, only for Lexa to be shot to death by her homophobic father figure within hours of consummating her relationship with Clarke. Jamie had freaked out afterward, as in legitimately experienced emotional distress. This latest enactment of the toxic “Bury Your Gays” trope on television hurt so much because, she told Emma, Lexa had felt like the closest representation of someone like her on television she’d ever experienced, and to see her so suddenly and brutally murdered for daring to love another woman was genuinely traumatizing.

  The clincher was that Clarke, who identified as bisexual, was now likely destined to end up with a male character named Bellamy, the show’s fans agreed. Emma and Jamie had discussed the fact that no bisexual female character they knew of had ended up with a lesbian at the end of a TV show or movie, even though they could both name several bi women married to lesbians. Look at them—Emma was a prime example of a bisexual (or possibly pansexual) woman living her best life with her non-binary partner. Maybe this problematic media representation was why some lesbians with bi girlfriends worried about being left for men, she’d often thought. Representation mattered, especially for traditionally marginalized groups.

  This year in particular had been tough on queer women in television. Jamie had been furious when GLAAD, which published an annual report on queer rep on television each November, released its results: out of 142 queer characters on television, 25 were queer women who had been killed off in 2016, usually violently and often to further the storyline of a straight, cis character. So, while queer representation was increasing on television, so were the problematic deaths of queer women.

  “I completely understand why you’d rather read coffee shop AUs with happy endings,” Emma said now, reaching over to squeeze Jamie’s hand.

  Jamie looked up, cheeks rosy from the fire, hair mussed from her raincoat hood. In soft fleece pants and a turtleneck sweatshirt, she looked even more snuggly than usual. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” Emma leaned in and kissed her cheek. “I’m glad we’re getting our own happy ending.”

  Jamie nuzzled her neck. “I prefer to think of it as a happy beginning.”

  “Ooh, I like that. To happy beginnings.” She hoped. God, did she hope.

  Jamie nudged her leg against Emma’s on the recliner’s footrest. They were wearing matching wool socks that Emma’s mother had given them for Christmas, blue and gray for Jamie and red and white for Emma. Together, Emma’s mom had pointed out, the colors were red, white, and blue, which was fitting for US Soccer’s most famous couple. Emma was pretty sure that Maddie and Angie deserved that title, but she didn’t argue with her mother. The socks were cozy and her mother’s love was unconditional, which was really all that mattered.

  With Jamie snuggled against her side, Emma turned back to her book. One of the reasons she loved coming here was that vacation mode kept her from doom scrolling on her phone. All the news seemed awful right now: most of the members of a Brazilian club soccer team had been killed in a plane crash; Carrie Fisher—Princess Leia—had died suddenly; and of course, Trump kept appointing clowns and cronies to important leadership roles in “his” upcoming administration. It still felt like a bad dream that Trump had somehow defeated Hillary Clinton for leader of the free world. Ellie had hosted a party on election night because they were all sooo sure that the first American woman was about to be elected president. Instead, their fellow white people had voted to elect an unapologetically sexist, racist, misogynistic narcissist with no political experience to drive the country into the ground. Thanks, FBI, for the unconscionable “but her emails” assist. At least it would only be four years. Wouldn’t it? Didn’t this national nightmare absolutely have to be over in 2020?

  Not everything was terrible, of course. The Sounders had beaten Toronto a couple of weeks earlier in a shootout to win their first MLS title, and Russia’s history of doping in sports was finally being acknowledged. Also, in a win for the environment, Obama and Trudeau had jointly banned offshore drilling in the Arctic—though Trump would probably open it back up as soon as he possibly could.

  Vacation mode, Emma reminded herself as angst over the president-to-be threatened to rear its ugly head. With the focusing power that had helped her win Olympic and World Cup gold, she dove back into Annie Proulx’s history of expansionism capitalism in early America.

  #

  The following morning, after their daily dip in the hot tub, Emma set aside vacation temporarily to meet with her fellow USWNT Players Association reps. Fortunately, the conference call didn’t take long. They were all eager to be done for the year, and besides, it wasn’t like US Soccer showed any interest in resuming negotiations. The federation’s only offer was to sign a temporary extension of the old MOU and come back to the table in 2017 to discuss a new collective bargaining agreement.

  “What do you think, Amy?” Ellie asked.

  Amy Rupert, the ’99er-turned-corporate-attorney, shrugged in her video chat window. “I think Jenny is right. This is your best option for now. With Sadie’s help and the new structure, I see good things happening for you guys in the new year.”

  Rupert had recently introduced them to Sadie Olsen, a management consultant with an MBA and JD degree, who had agreed to serve as interim director of the Players Association. Rupert had also consulted pro bono with the group throughout the year, helping them in particular with redefining their goals for the future: equal pay, improved facilities (i.e., no crappy practice fields and no matches on turf), better support for the pro league, and closer adherence to international windows that didn’t interfere with club play. With 25 appearances on the year with the national team, most USWNT members had only made it to half of their 20 regular-season NWSL matches, and that despite the fact the league had paused play during the Olympics.

  There was a chorus of agreement from the rest of the group, and then they took their leave—all except Ellie and Maddie.

  “We want to talk to you for a second, Blake,” Ellie said, her face impassive.

  She’d always been a decent poker player.

  While the rest of the group signed off, Emma made sure her headphones were plugged all the way in. She didn’t want Jamie overhearing this conversation.

  “Okay,” Maddie said when it was just the three of them, practically jumping in place, “so is the plan still the same tomorrow?”

  “Yes,” Emma said, glancing over her shoulder. She’d closed the sliding doors to the den, but if Jamie was still in the living room, she might be able to hear Emma’s side of the conversation.

  “Does she have any idea?” Ellie asked.

  “I don’t think so. Though she is acting kind of weird.”

  Maddie giggled before covering her mouth with her hand.

  Emma narrowed her gaze on her friend’s screen. “What?”

  “Nothing. I mean, Jamie’s always a little weird, isn’t she? You guys are both total nerds.”

  Emma stared at Maddie a second longer, but then she shrugged. “That’s not a bad thing in my book.”

  “Exactly,” Ellie said, her voice booming more than usual. “Anyway, I have to get going. Jodie’s coming by later for the last of her stuff.”

  Emma winced. She’d managed to forget that Jodie had filed for divorce a few weeks earlier. It made sense, though. They’d been living apart for most of the year. “I’m sorry, Ellie. Are you sure you’re up for—”

  Ellie cut her off. “Honestly, it’s the only thing giving me life right now. I promise it’s all good.”

  “Don’t worry,” Maddie added. “Angie and I have her back.”

  Emma nodded. Over the past year, Angie and Maddie had proven themselves to be dependable and even, dared she say it, stable. Which was good. Any relationship on the national team needed to be mature and responsible. The potent
ial to damage team dynamics with drama was always there, as Emma well remembered from her own youthful indiscretion.

  Her friends chatted her up about the following day’s plan for a few more minutes, and then Ellie waved and Maddie blew kisses through the screen as the call ended. Emma looked at the clock on the corner of her laptop screen. Almost ten. The previous day’s rain had cleared, and the winter winds had died down a bit; maybe Jamie would want to go for a hike.

  She opened the doors to find Jamie curled up on the recliner couch, earbuds in place, tablet in hand. More Clexa fanfic, no doubt.

  Emma dropped onto the seat beside Jamie and carefully tugged one earbud free. “Hey.”

  “Hey. How was the meeting?”

  “Fine. Want to hike Neahkahnie? We could take a picnic lunch…”

  The trail up Neahkahnie Mountain had become one of their favorites in the area. Emma loved it because it was short but steep with amazing views at the top, and Jamie loved it because they always saw a bunch of cute dogs along the way.

  Jamie closed her tablet. “You had me at the word hike.”

  Good, Emma thought, following her girlfriend toward their bedroom to get changed. The more activity today, the less time she would have to worry about tomorrow.

  Jamie seemed restless, too, because after petting all the dogs they met on the trail and picnicking high atop Neahkahnie, she proposed that they go for a bike ride. Emma could still feel nervous energy simmering beneath her veneer of calm, so she agreed. That was how they came to spend the next-to-last day of the year hiking mountains, riding bikes, and climbing sand dunes in Nehalem State Park.

  At one point as they pedaled through the paved loops at the state park campground (where, Emma noted in astonishment, people with hard-sided trailers were actually staying despite the wintry weather), Jamie launched into her semi-regular marketing ploy.

  “Look how cute this place is! Wouldn’t it be fun to camp here? We could wake up at sunrise and walk over the dunes in the morning to play on the beach with the kids. Wouldn’t that be amazing?”

  Emma side-eyed her. “Um, hello? Can you say inundation zone?” The campground was on a peninsula between the ocean and bay and would absolutely be at ground zero in any Cascadia Subduction Zone event.

  “They have alerts for that now. Anyway, you have at least fifteen minutes after an earthquake to get to higher ground.”

  “Running away from a killer wave with babies in my arms? I don’t think so. Besides, we have a comfy bed less than a mile away. Not to mention a fireplace that doesn’t release greenhouse gases or rely on killing trees...”

  Jamie sighed. “Fine. I guess I’m just going to have to bring our kids here without you.”

  Emma didn’t say over my dead body, but she definitely thought it. No need to argue about a hypothetical future event that may or may not ever come to pass—especially if her New Year’s Eve plan didn’t work out the way she hoped.

  Less than 24 hours from now, she would know, one way or another. That wasn’t terrifying or anything.

  There was only so far that activity could take them, and Emma was too nervous for a quiet night by the fire. Fortunately, after demolishing take-out from the only Thai restaurant in town, Jamie suggested they watch a movie.

  “I would love to,” Emma said quickly. “What about Pitch Perfect? We could watch number one and number two, if you wanted.”

  “Oh,” Jamie said, pausing over the open dishwasher. “I was thinking we could watch Carol. We didn’t get a chance to in Berkeley, and I know it’s one of your favorites.”

  “I thought you didn’t love it.”

  Jamie shrugged and closed the dishwasher. “It’s kind of sad, but it has good rep and it’s set at the holidays. Besides, who doesn’t love Cate Blanchett?”

  Which was a very good point, Emma thought as she led Jamie to the guest bedroom that doubled as their media room.

  The movie entranced her as ever, with its slow-burn angst, beautiful set design, and the drama at the heart of the story. Emma loved how the movie showed the complication inherent in queer life in mid-twentieth century America, the way Cate Blanchett captured the tension between living for herself and living as a parent, how Rooney Mara embodied her character’s journey from innocence to experience. There were lovely, tender scenes between the two women, a perfectly paced lesbian romance, and, of course, Sarah Paulson as the consummate ex-girlfriend. Add in some of the best holiday scenes, and you had an instant queer holiday classic.

  Besides, watching it snuggled up on a loveseat with Jamie in their vacation house the night before New Year’s? Best. Holiday. Movie. Ever. Even Love, Actually paled in comparison.

  Afterward, they got ready for bed quickly and made love slowly, the fairy lights Jamie had strung near the ceiling casting the room in a warm glow while the wind rustled and the ocean roared below, and Emma wished this perfect moment would last even as she couldn’t wait for tomorrow.

  Fingers crossed.

  Chapter Three

  The wind off the ocean chased the clouds away overnight, for once just as the weather people had promised, and Jamie awoke to a blue-sky day and the sound of Emma’s voice drifting in from the deck. As she peed and brushed her teeth, Jamie couldn’t quite make out what was being said. As soon as Emma saw her in the doorway, though, she ended the call, setting her phone to one side of the hot tub.

  And yeah, that was definitely weird.

  “Good morning,” Emma said, her smile genuine enough.

  “Morning.” Jamie slipped into the water, sighing as the warmth immediately seeped into her body. Blue skies usually meant colder temperatures in the Pacific Northwest, which would account for the extra steam rising from the hot tub. “Who were you talking to so early?”

  “Maddie. She was asking about Ellie. I guess Jodie picked up the last of her things yesterday.”

  “Oh, crap.” Jamie had been so caught up in her own stuff that she’d forgotten to check in with Ellie the previous day. She reached for her phone, only then remembering that she’d left it inside. “I should text her. Remind me to text her later?”

  “I will.”

  The end of Ellie and Jodie’s marriage was one of the reasons Jamie had wanted to invite Ellie and some other friends out to Manzanita for the weekend. But Ellie claimed she had other plans, and Emma had wanted a romantic holiday celebration for just the two of them. Jamie couldn’t pretend she minded that idea.

  Speaking of romance… “On another topic, I was thinking we might take a drive today,” she said, as casually as she could manage. “It’s such a beautiful day, and we don’t usually have much time to explore.”

  “Oh.” Emma’s head tilted. “Where were you thinking?”

  “Depoe Bay? It’s a couple hours south, and supposedly it has a resident gray whale population. Plus, I read it’s migration season right now, so there’s a pretty good chance we’d see some whales.”

  “I think my family went there when I was a kid,” Emma said.

  Jamie waited, tapping her fingers against the side of the hot tub—but in slow motion under the water’s surface where Emma wouldn’t see.

  “Can we go kind of early?” Emma asked. “I’d like to be back in time to watch the ball drop in New York.”

  “Sure,” Jamie said. “Early sounds good.” That actually played right into her plans—they needed to be on their way home before dinner to time everything just right. “So, lunch in Depoe Bay, and then we watch some whales and head home?”

  Emma nodded. “That would work. Do you want to go for a run beforehand? I was thinking of doing the airport loop at Nehalem.”

  “Sounds great.” Jamie held up her hand for Emma to slap. “I love vacation.”

  Emma smiled. “I love you.”

  Jamie hoped she would still feel the same later, say, around four o’clock that afternoon.

  #

  She almost forgot it this time, for real. But at the last minute, Jamie ran back to their bedroom, retrieved the box from her drawer, and tucked it into the bottom of her daypack beneath an extra fleece and wool beanie. The temperature was supposed to hover around forty, but you could never tell how cold the shore would be, and the last thing she wanted was to have her plans thwarted by a lack of layers.