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Cat just bit her lip and shook her head. “Now you’re just being mean. He’s just not your type.”

Dylan licked her lips and smiled. “And what, exactly, is my ‘type’?”

Aww shit. Hoist by my own petard. Par for the course around her, actually. “Um…not him?”

Dylan laughed, deciding to let her young friend off the hook. “He’s not really, and to answer your first question, I guess I don’t really see myself as being

‘alone’. I mean, I have my team, and my work. It takes up a great deal of my time and energy. I’m not really social by nature so….” She shrugged. “It works

out for the best.” Then she smiled. “Besides, I haven’t found anyone who can put up with me yet.”

“I find that very hard to believe.”

“I’m hard to live with. I have a certain way I like everything.”

“You fold your socks don’t you?” Cat teased and leaned forward. “Go on, you can admit it. You’re a sock folder.”

“I also squeeze toothpaste from the bottom of the tube.”

“Oh you’re one of those.” She giggled when Dylan nodded.

“Guilty.” The coach looked up from her glass. “I guess I just haven’t found the right,” she paused and decided that it wasn’t worth hiding from Cat anymore.

The young woman had been totally honest with her she owed her the same. “Woman.”

Cat nearly choked on the ice she had started crunching. “Wow.”

“What?”

“I didn’t expect you to say that.”

“I didn’t expect to say that either, but, well I think I can trust you.”

“You can.”

“I know.”

The silence fell between them again; the pregnant kind that you could slice with a knife.

They are so blue. It’s a pool I think I could dive into and never want to leave.

The waitress approached and slid Cat’s dessert, a thick slice of warm apple pie with a large scoop of slowly melting vanilla perched atop it, in front of the

young woman, breaking the moment.

Cat took a large bite and moaned with gastronomic ecstasy.

Dylan swallowed hard through a bone dry throat. Then quaffed her entire glass of tea in one gulp. She thought about rolling the glass over her suddenly hot

forehead, but decided against it.

“So, tell me,” Cat continued casually, “who is the perfect woman? For you, I mean.”

She’s doing this on purpose. I know she is.

Dylan thought it over for a moment. “I guess she’d have to be able to keep up with me. Find my job as exciting as I do, but be able to have her own life so

when I’m on the road I don’t feel like I’m being neglectful.”

“How about a woman who would like to travel with you?”

“That could be nice.” Dylan’s head wobbled a bit, as she seemed to be considering it. “Tricky, but fun.”

“Nah,” Cat waved her hand at the coach. “Just give her a job with the team. Chief Towel Girl or something.”

“Towel Woman.”

“Right.”

Dylan sobered a bit. “I guess I’d just have to find someone who enjoys life as much as I do. I’m a fairly quiet person, but I enjoy the finer things and I’d like

someone who could share that with me.”

“So,” Cat leaned in again, “do you like to curl up in front of a fire with a good book or an old movie and listen to the rain on the roof?”

“Yeah, yeah I do.”

“Me too.” Cat’s watch beeped, and she looked down. “Damn.”

“What’s the matter?”

“Oh, it’s nothing, really. It’s my Mom’s birthday and I promised I’d call her before my dad takes her away for the weekend.” She sighed. “I don’t think I’ll be

able to get home in enough time.”

“No worries,” Dylan replied, retrieving her phone from her belt. “Use mine.”

“Thanks!”

Cat closed and locked the door of her apartment behind her, as it had become her routine since the attack. Before she could open her mouth, Hamlet came

bounding into the room and pranced at her feet waiting to be acknowledged. Cat dropped to her knees and gave him a hug and a good scratch behind the

ears. “How’s my new baby?”

She was rewarded with a long wet dog kiss, which tickled her nose and caused her to fall back on the floor. This was an open invitation to Hamlet to play

with his new mistress and they soon were involved in a wrestling match. Cat paused when the phone rang, but she decided to let the machine get it and

she continued playing with the dog.

“Cat? Are you home?”

She stopped again when Dylan’s voice came across the room. She started to get up but decided against it when Hamlet threw himself unceremoniously

into her lap and flopped over to get his stomach scratched.

“Ok, well I seem to have left my cellphone with you, so if you could bring it to practice tomorrow that’d be great. Oh, and thank you for buying me lunch.

You really didn’t have to do that, but it was very nice of you.”

Cat smiled. Hamlet seemed to kind of purr.

“So, um, well…thanks. And I’ll see you tomorrow at practice. Get some rest.” There was a long pause and she added, “If you need anything you have my

number.”

“Unless you’ll come over and give me a long massage, I’m not calling.” She looked down at her dog. “God I’m losing it.”

“Bye.”

There was a click and then Dylan’s vocal presence was gone and Cat missed it.

“Yup, I’m losing it.”