BASKETBALL FIC: Diana Taurasi/Penny Taylor
Title: Random Acts of Hopelessness
Cast: Diana Taurasi/Penny Taylor, Diana Taurasi/Sue Bird and (highlight for spoiler) Diana Taurasi/Cappie Pondexter
Summary: Spanning the 2007 to 2009 seasons, Diana is a specific sort of mess.
Notes: Around 5,000 words.
"You were supposed to be safe," Penny says with one naked leg slung across the covers, working fingers into Diana's hair close to her scalp.
Diana thinks maybe she should apologize. She never intended to be dangerous, a threat to her friend or to their team's security, but here she is with one hand beneath the covers and her mouth on Penny's throat. "And you're supposed to be straight." She smiles. "Aren't you?"
Her hand in Penny's lap, reaching and then stroking. She feels the heat and they both go still, waiting for something.
Time passes, moving on without them, and no one comes to stop them. The phone doesn't ring. The world goes on turning and Penny's hips begin to move to meet its passing, rocking to its rhythm. She presses herself up into the palm of Diana's hand, and all that they could be is pushing warm and wet on fingertips, the tips of tongues.
It's there when Diana laughs, saying, "Shit, you're wasted." Then breathing, head spinning, blonde sweaty hair stuck against her neck. "Are you-- wasted?"
"Shut up, Diana."
*
There were so many good intentions. Diana intends a lot of things, and one of them is to be good, to behave, to be something other than someone's temptation. She would really like to be their strength instead, their resolve and reward.
She thinks of Sue and wonders what she's doing. She could dial the number and hear Sue's voice on the line, imagine the exact shape of every line of her mouth. She knows them by heart as well as taste and touch.
She remembers the taste of Penny too, her mouth drenched by so much alcohol she is both sweet and sour. So many combinations that Diana can't trace them to the source except for that essential flavor just beneath, the taste that is only Penny. She is warm with the flush of victory, happiness burned into her skin like a mark.
Diana licks and Penny rolls away, swatting with one hand. "You're a mess."
She is a mess and meant to be harmless, but that was before. Victory, product of perfection and precision, is the cause of so many messy accidents. Penny's hands against Diana's back, digging her nails in until there is a grunt and she smiles. They both laugh and breathe against and on top of each other. She feels the way Penny's body lifts when she breathes, the heaving of lungs inside her. It is strange to feel these mechanisms of life within the warm body beside you, to know so intimately that they are alive and real, something more than these moments and sensations.
It should be no surprise then to find the space in bed beside her empty when the chill of morning comes. The room is changed and so is Penny. She is sober, not smiling, watching the shadows move along the wall as the sunrise shifts the light.
"Mistake," she says, and "husband." "We can't do this again."
She says it all in the way a doctor might explain a terminal illness. Diana wonders if the corpse under consideration is their future together as two or as a team. She senses the answer lurking there within the room but looks to the window instead, afraid to make eye contact.
Last night Detroit had seemed more beautiful than Diana could ever imagine, but in daylight it is a pale blue and cold. There are goosebumps on Penny's arms and the hair stands up on Diana's neck. Neither offers the other any warmth.
*
"Diana?"
It's Sue's voice on the other end, drowsy and almost annoyed. It's early on the west coast, still cold and grey while Detroit is wide awake and blinking in the stark daylight.
Diana can hear Sue breathing across the thousands of miles of crackling wires, signal fading in and out, and she imagines hearing it hit the same pace as her pulse and hers, their hearts and blood churning as one. They will be together in Russia soon and everything will change again. It will be simpler, secure.
"Yeah, sorry," she says. "Forget it. I'll talk to you later."
"Asshole."
Diana smiles, though her jaw feels stiff. "Yeah." She licks her lips, imagining she can still taste lemon and vodka there. "Sweet dreams, Birdy."
*
Rodrigo is there when they see each other again. He is smiling with his handsome features calm and cool like marble. Diana offers him her hand and feels the heat at the center of his touch. Penny looks away from both of them, strain showing in her smile.
All this even before Diana falls on her knees in front of a crowded room. There is applause and cheers and laughter. She is not the only one who wants Penny to stay, but she is the only person who knows the real reasons for her leaving.
"It's just something I've been thinking," Penny says with hands resolutely in her pockets and eyes focused on the floor. Diana knows then that it's already been decided.
"Oh, right," she says.
Penny's eyes are looking somewhere else far away, maybe watching their former selves laying still together in that room, frozen in time and waiting to be stopped.
Then she blinks, and the time has passed away. Their old selves fall again into an embrace, tangling in sheets.
*
She sees Penny in China. They haven't spoken since that day when Penny's jaw tightened and she looked away while the crowd cheered. Diana knew in that moment what a mistake she had made, but still can't feel a desire to take it back. Regret isn't a feeling she's fully prepared to process.
"You've been doing fine without me."
"Either you haven't been watching or you're a kind liar." The words come out colder than Diana means because she suddenly can't remember how to smile without showing too much teeth one moment, making her lips too strained and thin the next. She looks put out instead of friendly and interested, so she chews her lip to keep her mouth from staying in one pose for too long.
"The break has been nice."
A break from the team, the pressure, and from Diana.
"Tell Rodrigo I said hey."
"I really don't think that I should, Diana."
Her eyes are still off somewhere else, but Diana is sure she can't be looking into that room anymore. She's certain by now that the disgust would register on Penny's face.
"Keep in touch," she says, and walks the other way.
*
"What did you do?" Lauren is saying while looming just above Diana's shoulders. Usually in one-on-one interactions Lauren slouches, tries to look small and average, but right now she's towering with purpose.
It's more intimidating than Diana would have expected after all their time together on the court.
"Do--"
"To Penny."
"Oh." She should say something more than that. She would answer the question, if only she really understood what it was. All Diana has are answers, with no direction toward the problem. She's sure by now that she made a mistake, but isn't quite sure which decision along the path was the wrong one.
"She's acting weird."
"Weird how?"
"Do you need a definition of the word? Just strange, mate."
Suddenly Lauren's hand is on Diana's shoulder and she's being pulled around, made to look her friend in the eye. She hadn't even realized she'd been avoiding it.
"Bit like you are now."
Though her thumb is applying gradually increasing force against the juncture of Diana's throat and shoulder, Lauren doesn't otherwise press her friend any further.
The disappointed quality in her expression is almost worse, nearly unbearable.
"I'm late for practice."
*
Cappie doesn't seem to comprehend what careful is. That's one of many traits she shares with Diana.
"It's just practice," Sue says, laughing as she watches them butting heads and bumping shoulders. "Try not to kill each other."
Diana's hands in Cappie's face, across her back, reaching around and tugging. Slapping and almost hugging. Cappie barks with laughter and shakes her head, "You do this back home? No wonder every team hates you. This is how you do rover?"
"You're there. Don't you know?"
"Sorry. Too busy winning to notice."
Cappie sprints for the basket. She darts, cutting low and Diana swings one arm across in a downward motion that nearly clips her shoulder.
The grazing contact is still enough to rile up Cappie's indignation. She's all bristling edges and pointed accusations when she whirls around after making her layup, hands in the air and shouting, "Are you crazy?"
Diana laughs, pulling her into a tight embrace, hugging and feeling the heaving of Cappie's lungs as she breathes. "What, have you just met me?" Cappie isn't a small girl by any means, but she still fits inside Diana's arms, snug and flushed warm with emotion.
*
Losing isn't something anyone gets good at, even with lots of practice. Cappie is a little more used to it than Diana, but that only makes her all the more anxious, her anger just barely hidden under the surface.
"Did Penny say anything about coming back?" Cappie asks at the start of the season. She asks at least once a week until she finally gets the hint in the cold contained look Diana gives her to keep quiet.
If there's one person in the world who is worse at being subtle than Diana, it's Cappie, but she's learning. It's slow, but she's catching on. They change the subject to the heat outside, how the sun makes the whole world seem bright red and burning to the touch.
With every loss they try to find something else to laugh about. It gets harder.
The tension keeps them from finding their balance, cuts their legs out underneath them so that Cappie starts to sway, to stumble, but Diana is there to catch her. She holds on tight.
*
One game and one day at a time. Diana has spent so much of her life learning not to think about the past, to erase all mistakes from her memory; this feeling of guilt is new and sharp. She tastes it every time they talk about Penny, and they're doing a lot of that lately.
Every loss, someone asks. Every bad day.
They're all becoming pretty awful days. She can't remember the last time she felt so worn down, so much worse than rookie year. This time it's all on her and she has no one to give her confession to.
But then there's Cappie, desperate for answers or maybe just desperate. She wants someone to point her down the path to her own sure thing.
Diana's no good with directions, but she's learned a lot by trial and error. More errors than anything.
"You want to grab a drink?" she asks, arm slung over Cappie's shoulder.
"You paying?"
Too late to back out now. "Yeah, guess so."
*
It's innocent enough. The kid is frustrated. She reminds Diana of herself.
Where would she be today without a Geno to butt heads with? Someone who offers an ice pack for her thick skull after she loses another one and just laughs and takes it with a smile when he's in the wrong. Cappie hasn't had that, but Diana's had plenty of time to learn by example.
It's a mentoring relationship really. They channel their aggression and anxiety into each other. It's one-on-one and it's never brought onto the court or into the locker room.
Well except for that one time with Cappie a twisted up bundle of nerves after a bad loss and Diana rubbing her shoulder. She ends up with bruises along the arching path of her spine where she is pressed too hard and too fast into the barrier between her locker and the next and Cappie has the impression of Diana's nails on her hips.
When they shower after the next road game nobody asks questions or comments on the markings.
Everyone's had to find their own way to cope with frustration.
*
"These aren't dates," Cappie says with her fingers drawing patterns through the condensation on her beer bottle.
They've been sitting at their table long enough that Diana's managed to make herself a nice little pyramid out of salt packets. Mostly, she isn't even listening. "Mmm?"
"We're not a couple," Cappie says, trying again.
This time it goes through, passes by the filter in Diana's head that registers the everyday kinds of conversations and sets off something much deeper. An alarm sounds somewhere in her brain and it's all she can do not to knock over the entire condiment tower. "Excuse me?"
"You and me--"
"Yeah."
"--well, we're--"
"No, sorry." Diana looks around the room. There are other people, lots of them in fact, and now is the first time she's taking enough notice to wonder if they see her too -- do they recognize and register the conversation. "I mean, I heard you." The conversation that they definitely should not be having here.
"So."
"Well, I agree."
'Not a couple' is an understatement. Diana doesn't really think of herself as a coupling kind of person. She's more of a team player. Share the wealth, don't hog the ball. What goes around comes around. All those circular scenarios.
She never would have pegged Cappie for one either, though it figures she'd be into commitment. There's been more than one night where Diana has had to tease the kid over her love affair with the ball.
Some people can just become very single-minded. Diana is a multi-tasker, but she can't fairly blame other people for their focus.
"So now what?"
"Now, you pay for the next round," Diana says, Cappie's fingers still slip-sliding over her bottle. "And then how about we call it a night?"
Still early on the west coast. Diana wonders for a brief moment what Sue's doing or maybe who. She thinks of calling but doesn't even reach for the phone.
She can't calculate the current time in Australia without stopping to do the math, so she takes another drink or two or ten and doesn't bother counting.
*
The cold in Russia brings Diana back into focus. She's already been so much out of her element for so long that this added push feels like bringing things full circle. The misery of every chilly wind is like a blessing. The rooms and hallways of their home are warm and secure in contrast, a comfort Diana appreciates now more than ever. The thrum of Sue's pulse vibrates in a pattern now so familiar, tickling through her palm when they clutch their hands together while walking, keeping away the outside cold.
Diana digs her heels into the end of the sofa with knees bent and her head resting against Sue's thigh. They could live like this forever, she thinks, just the three of them in their own separate world. Even Lauren seems to have forgotten and forgiven everything that happened in Beijing. They are changed people in Russia, much less concerned with any world outside themselves.
Diana kisses Sue in front of an open window without caring who might see. There is no one to hide from, even though there may be crowds. They talk seldom about the past and even less about the future.
They are their own continent, kept in check by their own laws and rulings. It's Sue who holds sway over Diana's heart and impulses, directing the movement of her mouth across the well charted territory of Sue's legs and thighs. It is all so much clearer with Sue's heart beating right above Diana's, the scent of their two bodies mingling along with their sweat and come.
"You're a mess," Sue whispers with such affection, twisting her fingers into sweat-damp strands of hair. "Shower with me?"
"Well hey, since you ask so nicely."
*
They each pack their own bag in separate bedrooms. They'll take the same flight out of Russia but will go their own individual ways once they land.
This is practice for their time apart.
They make plans to eat their dinner out so there won't be dirty dishes left over in the sink. Sue will sleep better with that knowledge, and Diana likes the chance to watch her one more time in public. Sue is a different person with other people watching. She's more aware, more subdued and self-conscious. She's careful to censor herself and quick to pull back from Diana's touch.
Her behavior now is a good reminder of the months ahead, the Separation Sue that Diana will have to learn to live with again. This other person who is still a piece of Sue smiles without it always reaching her eyes and draws her hand back when their fingers touch on top of the table.
This is how Sue rehearses the person the rest of the world wants her to be. She's gotten very good at it.
*
Just because Diana finds Sue reliable it doesn't mean she has to be defined by her.
She doesn't take well to distance but instead of feeling homesick, Diana has learned to ache for the feel of another's touch, the taste of their mouth. The season starts and it begins again.
What starts out as only an itch in need of scratching becomes a constant pressure in her mind, always lurking behind every thought. Dribble the ball, think about sex. Make plans for dinner and think about sex. Watch TV in the morning while she eats a bowl of cereal, think about sex.
She considers calling Sue, but is afraid the voice on the other end might sound the same as it always does. The thought of Sue already settled back into her own rhythm is too terrible to risk confirming. Diana would rather they both live in discomfort for a while. That could almost be poetic. Longing, they call it.
At this point, it's probably the least she deserves. Another week goes by and another person is asking after Penny, like it's Diana's job to keep her in check.
"We haven't talked," is all she'll say.
*
They're doing better as a team this year and someone says that it proves they can still win without Penny. They can improve all on their own.
Diana thinks it only means that everything learns to adapt when forced to. You learn to go without.
There is necessity and there is need. They aren't necessarily the same.
Her body aches with need of another, but one night stands and other distractions are only fleeting. Temporary relief.
The game against Seattle is next week and Diana counts the days.
*
They won the game and Diana should be happy but Sue's mouth is making her sloppy.
She kisses with wide, gaping gasps like a fish floundering. She smiles and her tongue slurps inside Sue's mouth, along the ridges of her teeth.
"You're a mess," Sue murmurs, and Lauren is there behind her, only nodding.
*
Lauren is there and she pulls Diana aside to talk, a whispered conversation that shifts quickly into accusations and confusion. She knows something, though she doesn't seem to realize just what it is that she knows.
Only that Penny is hurt, upset even still, and it's Diana's fault. That Diana can't control herself, so impulsive, such "a fucking child" and wouldn't Sue like to know the truth. Their voices rising, accusing, and Diana's almost shouting before she remembers herself and then tries to remember the location of the exit.
She drops her keys once in the parking lot, hands trembling, and for one hot moment of rage Diana considers throwing them blindly into the night.
She'll wish later that she had.
*
The worst part isn't the phone call to her mom and the conversation that follows it, though that is pretty bad. The problem, Diana is told, is the lack of respect for others. The lack of respect for herself. She could have been killed, it's enough to give Lily a heart attack and does Diana want this, does she want her mother to die, would she notice or care. Does she think about the others out on the road, minding their own business.
Does she think about anyone's pain or problems other than her own?
Still worse than that is the talk with Geno who instead of yelling is calm and contained, almost silent. He doesn't lecture or scold, which would at least indicate disappointment. This is almost as if he expected no better from Diana.
This is like being punched in the throat.
But none of it is as bad as when Sue stops by in person.
"You're a fucking idiot," she's saying, shoving Diana so hard that her jaw snaps sharply. She almost bites her own tongue, which is ironic since Sue obviously isn't biting hers. "Fucking asshole."
"Sue--"
"You want to die? Is that it?"
Another shove and Diana's back is against the wall with Sue pointing a finger in her face. Everything is very literal right now, so the only thing to do is answer with complete sincerity, almost too earnest when she says, "No, I don't." It feels too simple and small in the face of the anger that's making Sue tremble and her jaw clench.
"I have a plane to catch."
"Yeah--"
"Don't interrupt." With every shove it's seeming more and more that these pushes are only the healthy alternative to Sue sending her fist through the wall. Or possibly through Diana. "I need to be on that flight, but I'm here with you."
It seems best to only nod; that's the least like interrupting.
"Why do you do this to us, Dee?"
"To... us?"
Sue lets out a sigh that seeps into the room like steam released by something boiling, pressed up through the tightly welded together caverns of Sue Bird's insides and heart. That place she goes to lose her real self. "Like I said, I'm here with you, aren't I?"
"Oh."
Even worse than her mother's fear and concern or Geno's seemingly low expectations is the moment when Sue looks at her like she's seeing someone else. Like all the time that's passed between them is suddenly made substantial, something dense that hangs in the air and obscures their view. As if the hours and days have finally turned into the miles that stretch between them.
Diana wants to say she's sorry but worries that it's already too late. She isn't even sure who she would begin her apologies with anymore.
*
Diana's used to control on the court. She tries not to hog the ball, but she and her teammates want to always be aware of both it and each other. Someone else goes left, she goes right. It's a balance.
The rest of her life isn't like that. It's not that Diana is passive, far from it, but she just doesn't tend to take the reigns as much. More of a go with the flow sort of thing. Sue is the point guard type everywhere, but Diana would rather just wait for the right time to take her shot.
It's not patience so much as self-preservation.
The basic talents with the ball were almost natural, developed deep in Diana's muscle memory so young she'd have to strip away all of herself just to uncover where the instincts are really rooted. Taking initiative on the court was something else completely. That she had to learn.
It was a combination of all kinds of things. It was college; and while other people aimed to impress by studying literature and science, Diana studied bodies and movement. She learned to read the game on another level. Even the most beautiful half court shot could only make Geno shake his head and smirk but a perfect bounce pass would earn a laugh at least. And it made Sue smile.
Diana should have known then she was in trouble. Pleasing a crowd has never been a problem, smiles aren't exactly a commodity, but Sue's was different.
From the beginning, Sue was different.
It's not her presence in Diana's life that's defining half as much as the absence.
*
Before even impulse there is instinct, the unthinking moment of a hand that moves somewhere beyond conscious will, and that's where Sue lies. Diana is dialing her number and there's a voice on the other end even before it registers what she's doing.
"Did you see?"
"Yes, idiot," Sue says, but she's laughing.
Diana can't help but smile. The feeling is almost overwhelming, feeling like she could kiss someone. "Haven't got anything on me now, Bird."
"Well, maybe a few things." Sue's laugh is so throaty and low that Diana can picture the movements of her mouth, the stretch of her belly where the sound is produced.
"Oh," Diana says, and she licks her lips. "Well, maybe."
The locker room is crowded, with people and with sounds, and Diana has to press her fingers close to her other ear just to block some of it out. She hunches her shoulder and ducks down into a world of only the sounds of Sue, her breathing on the end of the line. "Why aren't you celebrating?"
"What do you think this is? I'm gloating."
"Yeah, that sounds like you."
Someone is tugging at Diana's shirt sleeve, grabbing at her shoulders. Cappie presses against her, sweaty and loud, panting into the phone and shouting, "Champions, baby!" She gives Diana's hips another quick squeeze and then bounces off, other targets to assault.
"I think she's having more fun than you are."
Diana braces her shoulder against the wall and laughs. "I think she's having more fun than everyone else."
"Everyone remembers the first time."
It's not just Cappie having a good time. Diana has had enough herself so that her mind drifts easily, more free to make associations, and she can picture Sue sprawled out on the bed, almost as drunk on happiness as she is from the alcohol. Her hands against Diana's throat, clutching her face, and her legs hooked over the back of Diana's knees. Their two pieces of the net on the night stand, almost twined together into one.
"Yeah," she says into the phone, across the miles and years. "You remember?"
The sounds are getting louder, higher and faster, and the floor almost vibrates beneath her feet. Diana thinks that if she should try to move, she might sway, slump into the wall again, but her smile is still firmly locked in place even as her stomach begins to sink.
"Go on, Dee. You've earned it."
"Mm?"
Across the room, Penny is laughing into a camera, a drink in each hand. Cappie is dancing, hands above her head, t-shirt slick with champagne.
"Have fun," Sue says. "I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay?"
"Yeah."
This time when she pushes off from the wall, each steady step comes one after another. Her eyes are aimed at the other side of the room but her gaze is pointing directly to the past. Sue's arching back, her thighs and sweat, the husky quality to her voice when she's horny.
"I miss--" she starts to say into the phone, but the line is already dead and the night is passing her by.
After instinct and the innate is impulse, the hand that reaches out to take one of Penny's two drinks and take a sip for herself. "Shit, man." Diana laughs loudly and shakes her head. "How hammered are you gonna be in an hour?"
Penny's cheeks are red with both alcohol and exertion but her smile is relaxed and so is her posture, beckoning Diana closer. "We'll see, won't we?"
"Yeah," Diana says, her eyes shifting their focus in and out, here and there. "Yeah, I guess." She takes another drink and dives headlong into the night, buried in the noises of the room while all around outside of them the Detroit night begins setting in, heavy and black and suffocating.
Cast: Diana Taurasi/Penny Taylor, Diana Taurasi/Sue Bird and (highlight for spoiler) Diana Taurasi/Cappie Pondexter
Summary: Spanning the 2007 to 2009 seasons, Diana is a specific sort of mess.
Notes: Around 5,000 words.
"You were supposed to be safe," Penny says with one naked leg slung across the covers, working fingers into Diana's hair close to her scalp.
Diana thinks maybe she should apologize. She never intended to be dangerous, a threat to her friend or to their team's security, but here she is with one hand beneath the covers and her mouth on Penny's throat. "And you're supposed to be straight." She smiles. "Aren't you?"
Her hand in Penny's lap, reaching and then stroking. She feels the heat and they both go still, waiting for something.
Time passes, moving on without them, and no one comes to stop them. The phone doesn't ring. The world goes on turning and Penny's hips begin to move to meet its passing, rocking to its rhythm. She presses herself up into the palm of Diana's hand, and all that they could be is pushing warm and wet on fingertips, the tips of tongues.
It's there when Diana laughs, saying, "Shit, you're wasted." Then breathing, head spinning, blonde sweaty hair stuck against her neck. "Are you-- wasted?"
"Shut up, Diana."
*
There were so many good intentions. Diana intends a lot of things, and one of them is to be good, to behave, to be something other than someone's temptation. She would really like to be their strength instead, their resolve and reward.
She thinks of Sue and wonders what she's doing. She could dial the number and hear Sue's voice on the line, imagine the exact shape of every line of her mouth. She knows them by heart as well as taste and touch.
She remembers the taste of Penny too, her mouth drenched by so much alcohol she is both sweet and sour. So many combinations that Diana can't trace them to the source except for that essential flavor just beneath, the taste that is only Penny. She is warm with the flush of victory, happiness burned into her skin like a mark.
Diana licks and Penny rolls away, swatting with one hand. "You're a mess."
She is a mess and meant to be harmless, but that was before. Victory, product of perfection and precision, is the cause of so many messy accidents. Penny's hands against Diana's back, digging her nails in until there is a grunt and she smiles. They both laugh and breathe against and on top of each other. She feels the way Penny's body lifts when she breathes, the heaving of lungs inside her. It is strange to feel these mechanisms of life within the warm body beside you, to know so intimately that they are alive and real, something more than these moments and sensations.
It should be no surprise then to find the space in bed beside her empty when the chill of morning comes. The room is changed and so is Penny. She is sober, not smiling, watching the shadows move along the wall as the sunrise shifts the light.
"Mistake," she says, and "husband." "We can't do this again."
She says it all in the way a doctor might explain a terminal illness. Diana wonders if the corpse under consideration is their future together as two or as a team. She senses the answer lurking there within the room but looks to the window instead, afraid to make eye contact.
Last night Detroit had seemed more beautiful than Diana could ever imagine, but in daylight it is a pale blue and cold. There are goosebumps on Penny's arms and the hair stands up on Diana's neck. Neither offers the other any warmth.
*
"Diana?"
It's Sue's voice on the other end, drowsy and almost annoyed. It's early on the west coast, still cold and grey while Detroit is wide awake and blinking in the stark daylight.
Diana can hear Sue breathing across the thousands of miles of crackling wires, signal fading in and out, and she imagines hearing it hit the same pace as her pulse and hers, their hearts and blood churning as one. They will be together in Russia soon and everything will change again. It will be simpler, secure.
"Yeah, sorry," she says. "Forget it. I'll talk to you later."
"Asshole."
Diana smiles, though her jaw feels stiff. "Yeah." She licks her lips, imagining she can still taste lemon and vodka there. "Sweet dreams, Birdy."
*
Rodrigo is there when they see each other again. He is smiling with his handsome features calm and cool like marble. Diana offers him her hand and feels the heat at the center of his touch. Penny looks away from both of them, strain showing in her smile.
All this even before Diana falls on her knees in front of a crowded room. There is applause and cheers and laughter. She is not the only one who wants Penny to stay, but she is the only person who knows the real reasons for her leaving.
"It's just something I've been thinking," Penny says with hands resolutely in her pockets and eyes focused on the floor. Diana knows then that it's already been decided.
"Oh, right," she says.
Penny's eyes are looking somewhere else far away, maybe watching their former selves laying still together in that room, frozen in time and waiting to be stopped.
Then she blinks, and the time has passed away. Their old selves fall again into an embrace, tangling in sheets.
*
She sees Penny in China. They haven't spoken since that day when Penny's jaw tightened and she looked away while the crowd cheered. Diana knew in that moment what a mistake she had made, but still can't feel a desire to take it back. Regret isn't a feeling she's fully prepared to process.
"You've been doing fine without me."
"Either you haven't been watching or you're a kind liar." The words come out colder than Diana means because she suddenly can't remember how to smile without showing too much teeth one moment, making her lips too strained and thin the next. She looks put out instead of friendly and interested, so she chews her lip to keep her mouth from staying in one pose for too long.
"The break has been nice."
A break from the team, the pressure, and from Diana.
"Tell Rodrigo I said hey."
"I really don't think that I should, Diana."
Her eyes are still off somewhere else, but Diana is sure she can't be looking into that room anymore. She's certain by now that the disgust would register on Penny's face.
"Keep in touch," she says, and walks the other way.
*
"What did you do?" Lauren is saying while looming just above Diana's shoulders. Usually in one-on-one interactions Lauren slouches, tries to look small and average, but right now she's towering with purpose.
It's more intimidating than Diana would have expected after all their time together on the court.
"Do--"
"To Penny."
"Oh." She should say something more than that. She would answer the question, if only she really understood what it was. All Diana has are answers, with no direction toward the problem. She's sure by now that she made a mistake, but isn't quite sure which decision along the path was the wrong one.
"She's acting weird."
"Weird how?"
"Do you need a definition of the word? Just strange, mate."
Suddenly Lauren's hand is on Diana's shoulder and she's being pulled around, made to look her friend in the eye. She hadn't even realized she'd been avoiding it.
"Bit like you are now."
Though her thumb is applying gradually increasing force against the juncture of Diana's throat and shoulder, Lauren doesn't otherwise press her friend any further.
The disappointed quality in her expression is almost worse, nearly unbearable.
"I'm late for practice."
*
Cappie doesn't seem to comprehend what careful is. That's one of many traits she shares with Diana.
"It's just practice," Sue says, laughing as she watches them butting heads and bumping shoulders. "Try not to kill each other."
Diana's hands in Cappie's face, across her back, reaching around and tugging. Slapping and almost hugging. Cappie barks with laughter and shakes her head, "You do this back home? No wonder every team hates you. This is how you do rover?"
"You're there. Don't you know?"
"Sorry. Too busy winning to notice."
Cappie sprints for the basket. She darts, cutting low and Diana swings one arm across in a downward motion that nearly clips her shoulder.
The grazing contact is still enough to rile up Cappie's indignation. She's all bristling edges and pointed accusations when she whirls around after making her layup, hands in the air and shouting, "Are you crazy?"
Diana laughs, pulling her into a tight embrace, hugging and feeling the heaving of Cappie's lungs as she breathes. "What, have you just met me?" Cappie isn't a small girl by any means, but she still fits inside Diana's arms, snug and flushed warm with emotion.
*
Losing isn't something anyone gets good at, even with lots of practice. Cappie is a little more used to it than Diana, but that only makes her all the more anxious, her anger just barely hidden under the surface.
"Did Penny say anything about coming back?" Cappie asks at the start of the season. She asks at least once a week until she finally gets the hint in the cold contained look Diana gives her to keep quiet.
If there's one person in the world who is worse at being subtle than Diana, it's Cappie, but she's learning. It's slow, but she's catching on. They change the subject to the heat outside, how the sun makes the whole world seem bright red and burning to the touch.
With every loss they try to find something else to laugh about. It gets harder.
The tension keeps them from finding their balance, cuts their legs out underneath them so that Cappie starts to sway, to stumble, but Diana is there to catch her. She holds on tight.
*
One game and one day at a time. Diana has spent so much of her life learning not to think about the past, to erase all mistakes from her memory; this feeling of guilt is new and sharp. She tastes it every time they talk about Penny, and they're doing a lot of that lately.
Every loss, someone asks. Every bad day.
They're all becoming pretty awful days. She can't remember the last time she felt so worn down, so much worse than rookie year. This time it's all on her and she has no one to give her confession to.
But then there's Cappie, desperate for answers or maybe just desperate. She wants someone to point her down the path to her own sure thing.
Diana's no good with directions, but she's learned a lot by trial and error. More errors than anything.
"You want to grab a drink?" she asks, arm slung over Cappie's shoulder.
"You paying?"
Too late to back out now. "Yeah, guess so."
*
It's innocent enough. The kid is frustrated. She reminds Diana of herself.
Where would she be today without a Geno to butt heads with? Someone who offers an ice pack for her thick skull after she loses another one and just laughs and takes it with a smile when he's in the wrong. Cappie hasn't had that, but Diana's had plenty of time to learn by example.
It's a mentoring relationship really. They channel their aggression and anxiety into each other. It's one-on-one and it's never brought onto the court or into the locker room.
Well except for that one time with Cappie a twisted up bundle of nerves after a bad loss and Diana rubbing her shoulder. She ends up with bruises along the arching path of her spine where she is pressed too hard and too fast into the barrier between her locker and the next and Cappie has the impression of Diana's nails on her hips.
When they shower after the next road game nobody asks questions or comments on the markings.
Everyone's had to find their own way to cope with frustration.
*
"These aren't dates," Cappie says with her fingers drawing patterns through the condensation on her beer bottle.
They've been sitting at their table long enough that Diana's managed to make herself a nice little pyramid out of salt packets. Mostly, she isn't even listening. "Mmm?"
"We're not a couple," Cappie says, trying again.
This time it goes through, passes by the filter in Diana's head that registers the everyday kinds of conversations and sets off something much deeper. An alarm sounds somewhere in her brain and it's all she can do not to knock over the entire condiment tower. "Excuse me?"
"You and me--"
"Yeah."
"--well, we're--"
"No, sorry." Diana looks around the room. There are other people, lots of them in fact, and now is the first time she's taking enough notice to wonder if they see her too -- do they recognize and register the conversation. "I mean, I heard you." The conversation that they definitely should not be having here.
"So."
"Well, I agree."
'Not a couple' is an understatement. Diana doesn't really think of herself as a coupling kind of person. She's more of a team player. Share the wealth, don't hog the ball. What goes around comes around. All those circular scenarios.
She never would have pegged Cappie for one either, though it figures she'd be into commitment. There's been more than one night where Diana has had to tease the kid over her love affair with the ball.
Some people can just become very single-minded. Diana is a multi-tasker, but she can't fairly blame other people for their focus.
"So now what?"
"Now, you pay for the next round," Diana says, Cappie's fingers still slip-sliding over her bottle. "And then how about we call it a night?"
Still early on the west coast. Diana wonders for a brief moment what Sue's doing or maybe who. She thinks of calling but doesn't even reach for the phone.
She can't calculate the current time in Australia without stopping to do the math, so she takes another drink or two or ten and doesn't bother counting.
*
The cold in Russia brings Diana back into focus. She's already been so much out of her element for so long that this added push feels like bringing things full circle. The misery of every chilly wind is like a blessing. The rooms and hallways of their home are warm and secure in contrast, a comfort Diana appreciates now more than ever. The thrum of Sue's pulse vibrates in a pattern now so familiar, tickling through her palm when they clutch their hands together while walking, keeping away the outside cold.
Diana digs her heels into the end of the sofa with knees bent and her head resting against Sue's thigh. They could live like this forever, she thinks, just the three of them in their own separate world. Even Lauren seems to have forgotten and forgiven everything that happened in Beijing. They are changed people in Russia, much less concerned with any world outside themselves.
Diana kisses Sue in front of an open window without caring who might see. There is no one to hide from, even though there may be crowds. They talk seldom about the past and even less about the future.
They are their own continent, kept in check by their own laws and rulings. It's Sue who holds sway over Diana's heart and impulses, directing the movement of her mouth across the well charted territory of Sue's legs and thighs. It is all so much clearer with Sue's heart beating right above Diana's, the scent of their two bodies mingling along with their sweat and come.
"You're a mess," Sue whispers with such affection, twisting her fingers into sweat-damp strands of hair. "Shower with me?"
"Well hey, since you ask so nicely."
*
They each pack their own bag in separate bedrooms. They'll take the same flight out of Russia but will go their own individual ways once they land.
This is practice for their time apart.
They make plans to eat their dinner out so there won't be dirty dishes left over in the sink. Sue will sleep better with that knowledge, and Diana likes the chance to watch her one more time in public. Sue is a different person with other people watching. She's more aware, more subdued and self-conscious. She's careful to censor herself and quick to pull back from Diana's touch.
Her behavior now is a good reminder of the months ahead, the Separation Sue that Diana will have to learn to live with again. This other person who is still a piece of Sue smiles without it always reaching her eyes and draws her hand back when their fingers touch on top of the table.
This is how Sue rehearses the person the rest of the world wants her to be. She's gotten very good at it.
*
Just because Diana finds Sue reliable it doesn't mean she has to be defined by her.
She doesn't take well to distance but instead of feeling homesick, Diana has learned to ache for the feel of another's touch, the taste of their mouth. The season starts and it begins again.
What starts out as only an itch in need of scratching becomes a constant pressure in her mind, always lurking behind every thought. Dribble the ball, think about sex. Make plans for dinner and think about sex. Watch TV in the morning while she eats a bowl of cereal, think about sex.
She considers calling Sue, but is afraid the voice on the other end might sound the same as it always does. The thought of Sue already settled back into her own rhythm is too terrible to risk confirming. Diana would rather they both live in discomfort for a while. That could almost be poetic. Longing, they call it.
At this point, it's probably the least she deserves. Another week goes by and another person is asking after Penny, like it's Diana's job to keep her in check.
"We haven't talked," is all she'll say.
*
They're doing better as a team this year and someone says that it proves they can still win without Penny. They can improve all on their own.
Diana thinks it only means that everything learns to adapt when forced to. You learn to go without.
There is necessity and there is need. They aren't necessarily the same.
Her body aches with need of another, but one night stands and other distractions are only fleeting. Temporary relief.
The game against Seattle is next week and Diana counts the days.
*
They won the game and Diana should be happy but Sue's mouth is making her sloppy.
She kisses with wide, gaping gasps like a fish floundering. She smiles and her tongue slurps inside Sue's mouth, along the ridges of her teeth.
"You're a mess," Sue murmurs, and Lauren is there behind her, only nodding.
*
Lauren is there and she pulls Diana aside to talk, a whispered conversation that shifts quickly into accusations and confusion. She knows something, though she doesn't seem to realize just what it is that she knows.
Only that Penny is hurt, upset even still, and it's Diana's fault. That Diana can't control herself, so impulsive, such "a fucking child" and wouldn't Sue like to know the truth. Their voices rising, accusing, and Diana's almost shouting before she remembers herself and then tries to remember the location of the exit.
She drops her keys once in the parking lot, hands trembling, and for one hot moment of rage Diana considers throwing them blindly into the night.
She'll wish later that she had.
*
The worst part isn't the phone call to her mom and the conversation that follows it, though that is pretty bad. The problem, Diana is told, is the lack of respect for others. The lack of respect for herself. She could have been killed, it's enough to give Lily a heart attack and does Diana want this, does she want her mother to die, would she notice or care. Does she think about the others out on the road, minding their own business.
Does she think about anyone's pain or problems other than her own?
Still worse than that is the talk with Geno who instead of yelling is calm and contained, almost silent. He doesn't lecture or scold, which would at least indicate disappointment. This is almost as if he expected no better from Diana.
This is like being punched in the throat.
But none of it is as bad as when Sue stops by in person.
"You're a fucking idiot," she's saying, shoving Diana so hard that her jaw snaps sharply. She almost bites her own tongue, which is ironic since Sue obviously isn't biting hers. "Fucking asshole."
"Sue--"
"You want to die? Is that it?"
Another shove and Diana's back is against the wall with Sue pointing a finger in her face. Everything is very literal right now, so the only thing to do is answer with complete sincerity, almost too earnest when she says, "No, I don't." It feels too simple and small in the face of the anger that's making Sue tremble and her jaw clench.
"I have a plane to catch."
"Yeah--"
"Don't interrupt." With every shove it's seeming more and more that these pushes are only the healthy alternative to Sue sending her fist through the wall. Or possibly through Diana. "I need to be on that flight, but I'm here with you."
It seems best to only nod; that's the least like interrupting.
"Why do you do this to us, Dee?"
"To... us?"
Sue lets out a sigh that seeps into the room like steam released by something boiling, pressed up through the tightly welded together caverns of Sue Bird's insides and heart. That place she goes to lose her real self. "Like I said, I'm here with you, aren't I?"
"Oh."
Even worse than her mother's fear and concern or Geno's seemingly low expectations is the moment when Sue looks at her like she's seeing someone else. Like all the time that's passed between them is suddenly made substantial, something dense that hangs in the air and obscures their view. As if the hours and days have finally turned into the miles that stretch between them.
Diana wants to say she's sorry but worries that it's already too late. She isn't even sure who she would begin her apologies with anymore.
*
Diana's used to control on the court. She tries not to hog the ball, but she and her teammates want to always be aware of both it and each other. Someone else goes left, she goes right. It's a balance.
The rest of her life isn't like that. It's not that Diana is passive, far from it, but she just doesn't tend to take the reigns as much. More of a go with the flow sort of thing. Sue is the point guard type everywhere, but Diana would rather just wait for the right time to take her shot.
It's not patience so much as self-preservation.
The basic talents with the ball were almost natural, developed deep in Diana's muscle memory so young she'd have to strip away all of herself just to uncover where the instincts are really rooted. Taking initiative on the court was something else completely. That she had to learn.
It was a combination of all kinds of things. It was college; and while other people aimed to impress by studying literature and science, Diana studied bodies and movement. She learned to read the game on another level. Even the most beautiful half court shot could only make Geno shake his head and smirk but a perfect bounce pass would earn a laugh at least. And it made Sue smile.
Diana should have known then she was in trouble. Pleasing a crowd has never been a problem, smiles aren't exactly a commodity, but Sue's was different.
From the beginning, Sue was different.
It's not her presence in Diana's life that's defining half as much as the absence.
*
Before even impulse there is instinct, the unthinking moment of a hand that moves somewhere beyond conscious will, and that's where Sue lies. Diana is dialing her number and there's a voice on the other end even before it registers what she's doing.
"Did you see?"
"Yes, idiot," Sue says, but she's laughing.
Diana can't help but smile. The feeling is almost overwhelming, feeling like she could kiss someone. "Haven't got anything on me now, Bird."
"Well, maybe a few things." Sue's laugh is so throaty and low that Diana can picture the movements of her mouth, the stretch of her belly where the sound is produced.
"Oh," Diana says, and she licks her lips. "Well, maybe."
The locker room is crowded, with people and with sounds, and Diana has to press her fingers close to her other ear just to block some of it out. She hunches her shoulder and ducks down into a world of only the sounds of Sue, her breathing on the end of the line. "Why aren't you celebrating?"
"What do you think this is? I'm gloating."
"Yeah, that sounds like you."
Someone is tugging at Diana's shirt sleeve, grabbing at her shoulders. Cappie presses against her, sweaty and loud, panting into the phone and shouting, "Champions, baby!" She gives Diana's hips another quick squeeze and then bounces off, other targets to assault.
"I think she's having more fun than you are."
Diana braces her shoulder against the wall and laughs. "I think she's having more fun than everyone else."
"Everyone remembers the first time."
It's not just Cappie having a good time. Diana has had enough herself so that her mind drifts easily, more free to make associations, and she can picture Sue sprawled out on the bed, almost as drunk on happiness as she is from the alcohol. Her hands against Diana's throat, clutching her face, and her legs hooked over the back of Diana's knees. Their two pieces of the net on the night stand, almost twined together into one.
"Yeah," she says into the phone, across the miles and years. "You remember?"
The sounds are getting louder, higher and faster, and the floor almost vibrates beneath her feet. Diana thinks that if she should try to move, she might sway, slump into the wall again, but her smile is still firmly locked in place even as her stomach begins to sink.
"Go on, Dee. You've earned it."
"Mm?"
Across the room, Penny is laughing into a camera, a drink in each hand. Cappie is dancing, hands above her head, t-shirt slick with champagne.
"Have fun," Sue says. "I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay?"
"Yeah."
This time when she pushes off from the wall, each steady step comes one after another. Her eyes are aimed at the other side of the room but her gaze is pointing directly to the past. Sue's arching back, her thighs and sweat, the husky quality to her voice when she's horny.
"I miss--" she starts to say into the phone, but the line is already dead and the night is passing her by.
After instinct and the innate is impulse, the hand that reaches out to take one of Penny's two drinks and take a sip for herself. "Shit, man." Diana laughs loudly and shakes her head. "How hammered are you gonna be in an hour?"
Penny's cheeks are red with both alcohol and exertion but her smile is relaxed and so is her posture, beckoning Diana closer. "We'll see, won't we?"
"Yeah," Diana says, her eyes shifting their focus in and out, here and there. "Yeah, I guess." She takes another drink and dives headlong into the night, buried in the noises of the room while all around outside of them the Detroit night begins setting in, heavy and black and suffocating.