Ask Me Again

by E. J. Noyes

  Vanessa’s intense gaze lingered, a line appearing at the edge of her mouth. Her expression turned to concern. “Is there something else wrong?”

  “No, I just have an appointment I need to keep.”

  “You can’t reschedule?”

  I shook my head, unable to speak around the sudden lump in my throat. It wasn’t only that I wanted badly to go out for dinner, but that our dinner plans were also an outing. We’d planned to take a cab, sit in a crowded space and softly chip away at one of Sabine’s fears. It had even been her suggestion.

  On the surface I knew Sabine would act as though she didn’t care that I was late—she knew firsthand how it was—but deep down she’d be hurt. Then she would try not to let it show, and fail.

  “Well if you suddenly find your evening free, would you like to have dinner with me? You still owe me some more stories about your time in the Army.”

  “Vanessa, I’m sorry but I can’t.” I could have left it at that but felt the sudden urge to explain, to remind her about Sabine. “It’s our two-year anniversary today.”

  “Oh, well in that case I hope you make it out of here soon. Shall we go check on this patient?”

  “Sure.” I collected my resident hiding around the corner, and the three of us made our way toward the elevators. Vanessa’s pager began an insistent melody. She tugged it from her waistband and frowning, began to backtrack. “Dammit, I have to go. I’ll get to her later. If I don’t catch up to you, Rebecca, could you let me know her status and how it goes with CPS?”

  “Will do,” I called at her departing form.

  Katie Housten was stable but still unconscious, and after a brief handover meeting, then post-ops and getting a message to Vanessa as requested, I escaped to my office to wait for Child Services and continue attacking my paperwork pile. I’d messaged Sabine to let her know things were hectic and that I would meet her at the restaurant a little later than our reservation time. It would be in the skirt and blouse I’d worn to work that morning, instead of the lingerie and dress I had ready at home. Clock-watching only increased my anxiety about leaving on time, and after five minutes, I pulled it from the wall and left it face down on my desk.

  Sabine called fifteen minutes later, slightly breathless. “Is everything all right, honey?”

  “Yes, but I have a case that’s going to keep me here a while. I’m so sorry.”

  “Sure, okay.” The sound of her car starting was an uncomfortable pause. “I canceled the reservation.”

  I thought I’d been clear that though I would be late, I would certainly be there, and canceling seemed unnecessary. I had let her down again. I forced cheer into my voice. “Oh. We’ll just have to go another time then.”

  “Sounds good,” she said neutrally. Neutral from Sabine, who usually lived her life with all her emotions at full intensity, was not good.

  A knock on my closed office door interrupted my response, though I had no idea what I would have said to her. “Sweetheart, I have to go. I think CPS is here.”

  “CPS? Shit, that really sucks.” Sabine cleared her throat. “I guess I’ll just see you at home then.”

  Crossing the floor, I agreed, then said goodbye with another apology and an I love you before focusing on the woman at the door. “Sheila,” I breathed, grateful that the CPS liaison was someone I’d worked with before. Child services cases were hard enough, and anything to make the process easier was welcome. “Come in.”

  Sheila, a short stocky woman in her early fifties with a wonderfully eccentric sense of fashion, stepped into my office and went straight to the leather chair on the short side of my desk. After I’d closed the door and sat down, she launched right in. “The family is known to us I’m afraid. This might take a little while.”

  As calmly as I could, I said, “All right then.” I’d be lucky if I made it home for any dinner at all.

  * * *

  The lights in the front room were off when I turned into the driveway just after eight thirty p.m. Once I’d parked, I glanced over at Sabine’s car, half-expecting to find her sitting in the backseat of it reading or listening to music as she had been five or six times when I’d come home the past few weeks. The first time, when I’d asked what she was doing, I’d received a nonchalant shrug and “Brain homework” in response.

  Before I could gather my things from the passenger seat, my phone rang. Jana. I answered, tucking the phone under my cheek. “Hey, sweetie. Sorry, I was getting around to calling you but the day ran away from me.”

  “No worries, I get it. Everything okay?”

  “Mhmm. Just hectic and then some.” As I gathered my coat and briefcase, I asked, “What’s up?”

  There was an uncharacteristic pause from Sabine’s sister, who I’d never known to be lost for words. “Uh, I was talking to Mom and Dad last night. About Sabbie.”

  My hand hovered near the car door handle. “Yes?”

  “The other day when we had coffee she seemed kind of off, upset. She said a few things that made me think maybe things weren’t going that great.”

  “The day you guys saw the homeless veteran?” I pushed the car door open, recalling Sabine’s breakdown later that day. To say things weren’t going great was an understatement.

  “Yeah. And the other night when you guys came around for dinner she didn’t really seem like herself, more than the usual stuff. Look, Bec, I know she’s not the easiest person to deal with, especially when she’s not…feeling well. But we’re really worried about her, that she’s not doing the things she should. Can you do something, talk to her?”

  Do something. Talk to her. I’d been trying to do something, trying to talk to her for the past month, and all the months before. And nothing seemed to be helping. “What exactly do you want me to do, Jana? She’s seeing her appointed Behavioral Health contact, I’m trying to get her to open up and share with me, and short of forcing medication down her throat I’m not sure what else I can do.” By the end of my monologue, my dismay and annoyance had risen until I was close to yelling. Though I knew Jana didn’t mean it this way, the implication that I wasn’t taking care of Sabine stung. With immense effort, I lowered my voice. “I’m doing the best I can.”

  “I know,” she said immediately. “It’s just…she should be getting better.”

  “She’s not going to just get better, Jana. It’s not something that has a quick and easy fix.”

  “I know,” she said quietly, and I could hear her struggling to keep her tears at bay. “But I just thought being back home with you, and me…that she’d be different. That it’d be easier.” After inhaling quickly she said, “Bec, I know you’ve got your own shit going on and I know things aren’t easy, but she’s my sister.”

  “And she’s the woman I want to spend my life with,” I said simply. “Jana, look, I get it. You’re worried. So am I. But I’ve literally just got home, I’ve had a very long and upsetting day, and I missed our anniversary dinner because of it. Can we talk about this again in a day or two?”

  She took a few seconds before answering, “Of course, sure. Love you.”

  “You too. Talk soon.”

  Jesus! Though I knew Jana wasn’t accusing me of not being there for Sabine, there was still the hint that she thought I should be doing more. And the notion both angered and upset me. It was easy for anyone who wasn’t trudging up a seemingly never-ending hill day in and day out to tell us how to fix everything.

  This was our anniversary and I was already hours late. Being in a foul mood wouldn’t help anything. I leaned back against the car, waiting to settle down before I went inside.

  After a quick, unsuccessful sweep of the semi-dark lower floor, I shed my coat and bags on the kitchen table and continued the search for my girlfriend. At the edge of the back-porch cone of light I could make out Sabine on the swinging bench that hung from the thick tree beside the vegetable garden. She had one leg drawn up so her Ugg-clad foot was flat on the seat, the other foot hanging so she could push the seat back
and forth. Beside her thigh sat a heavy crystal glass with her left hand resting on top of it.

  At my approach, she dropped her other foot to the grass and shuffled over to the edge of the seat. “Hey.”

  Being near her immediately eased some of my tension. This was the woman I wanted to spend my life with, and I needed to remember that every time things were hard. “Hello, my darling.”

  She stretched down to set her glass on the grass beside the swing, causing strands of hair to fall across her face. She pushed them away and almost immediately they fell back again. With a huff, Sabine pulled the band from her ponytail and gathered her hair into a messy topknot. Her movements were jerky and impatient, and more telling than any words as to how she was feeling. Once she was done, I bent down for a light kiss.

  Sabine’s arm stole around the back of my neck as she kissed me, soft but lingering, and I tasted the warmth of the scotch, mixed with vanilla. For a moment, I was transported back to our first night together, both of us drinking scotch. Our first kiss. The taste of her, and how she’d been so hungry and yet at the same time so tender. There was the same gut feeling now as I’d had then, of want and need but also discomfort. Our first time, it was guilt. Now it was knowing there was something not right. With her. With me. With us.

  I settled beside her, my arm resting across her lap as I leaned into her, planting kisses on the side of her neck. Sabine twisted her head so my kisses fell on her mouth again. “I love you,” she said, once we’d parted.

  “I love you too. I’m so sorry I missed dinner.”

  Sabine shrugged, the movement one of practiced nonchalance. “It happens. I know you didn’t mean to. Did you get everything sorted out with CPS?”

  “Yes. We’ll probably have another meeting later this week.” I sat up, turning sideways to face her. “Have you eaten?”

  “Not yet, I was waiting for you.” She smiled wryly. “I was going to cook, but I wanted it to be something special, and you know…”

  I did know. Sabine enjoyed cooking and was very good at it. But only with a handful of dishes she’d perfected. She’d follow a new recipe, but I always sensed an uneasiness if she had to make something unfamiliar, whereas most of my meals were improvised or something new.

  I stood and held out a hand. “Come inside then, let’s make dinner together and you can tell me about your day.”

  After dinner, an almost telepathic thought had passed between us and we both snuck away to collect our respective anniversary gifts from where we’d hidden them. Sabine blinked away tears when she unwrapped the book I’d spent hours on the Internet to find—a German-language first edition of Kafka’s The Castle. I knew she’d never read it, despite her familiarity with The Metamorphosis which she could almost quote word for word. In German and English.

  Sabine carefully ran her fingers over the cover. “It’s so perfect, I almost don’t want to read it,” she said, then held it close to her chest as she would something precious she was afraid of having taken away.

  She stood beside me, hip touching mine as she brushed her teeth while I removed my contacts. By the time I’d put my glasses on, Sabine was done and staring at me, a small crooked smile turning her lips up.

  “What?”

  “I was just thinking that I love that watch on you.” Her anniversary gift was a delicate white-gold wristwatch, slightly too big because she knew I liked wearing my watches that way. On the underside she’d had engraved B - all the time in the world, S. Sabine took my left hand and rotated the watch so the face rested on top of my wrist again. Then with slow, careful strokes, her fingers traced the back of my hand and down my fingers.

  “Me too. It’s beautiful, thank you.” A sudden thought popped into my head, likely a consequence of her lovely gift of jewelry, her intense examination of my hand and my earlier thoughts of spending my life with her. “Maybe, sometime soon, we could exchange commitment rings. They don’t have to be fancy, but I’d like people to know that I’m with you.”

  Sabine’s eyes widened and her voice lifted half an octave. “Sure, that sounds great.” Her left eyebrow was slightly arched. She wasn’t as enthusiastic as she was trying to have me believe. No matter how hard she tried, this tell always gave her away.

  Her lack of excitement had me both surprised and upset. “We don’t have to if you don’t want, I just thought…”

  “No, Bec. I want,” she said forcefully. “You just took me by surprise, that’s all.” Sabine kissed me quickly then almost as an afterthought leaned over for a second, deeper kiss. She left the bathroom ahead of me, striding toward our walk-in closet before stopping abruptly with her back to me. After a few seconds, she turned around again and stood at the foot of our bed, an undecipherable expression on her face. “I want,” she said again, more quietly this time.

  I turned off the bathroom light. “Great, maybe we can go and look sometime in the next few months?” At her confirmatory nod, I moved to her side. “Are you sure you’re okay about tonight? You seem upset.”

  She paused, then almost reluctantly, nodded. “Mhmm, I am a little. And I’m upset that I’m upset. And I’m annoyed with myself, because a kid’s been abused and I’m here feeling sorry for myself about a dinner reservation.”

  I ran my hand up and down her back, massaging the tense muscle. “I’m upset too. I was really looking forward to tonight and I’m so sorry.”

  “I know it’s not your fault, Bec.” She drew herself up and smiled. “But it’s not about where we go or what we do, right? It’s about us. And I had a really nice night staying in with you.”

  I made a musing sound at the back of my throat and she hastened to add, “I think it’s just, like I’ve been psyching myself up for this all day and now I’m kinda wired. Like I don’t know where to put all this energy and I just feel a little off, that’s all.” She gave me one of her easy smiles. “The deployment, coming home and the…PTSD, talking to the shrink and doing my brain homework. There’s just a lot of shit already underneath what happened tonight, that’s all, but it’s fine. Honest.”

  I was reluctant to challenge her, not when she’d just freely given me a handful of her thoughts, which I knew was difficult for her. “Okay then, darling. If you’re sure.” I flexed my fingers, cracked my knuckles.

  Sabine tapped my hand with a forefinger. “Don’t. You’ll get arthritis.”

  “That’s not true. They’ve done studies, you know.”

  “Still. It’s gross.” She took my left hand again, studying it intently. Sabine lifted her eyes to mine, raised my hand and unhurriedly kissed each finger. When she was done, she murmured, “You’re right. I could see a ring on that finger.”

  The low, husky tone and what she was implying made my stomach churn with a sudden rush of excitement. Once she’d dropped my hand, I pushed both under her tee and ran my nails over her stomach. Her abdominals tensed, and not in the way I recognized as desire, but something more like discomfort.

  I withdrew my hands. “Did you see Andrew Pace today?” I sensed there was something more she wasn’t telling me, some other explanation for her distance.

  “Mhmm.”

  “How was it? Do you think he’s helping?”

  “Yep.”

  “Is he happy with your progress?”

  “He is.” The deflection was obvious. Carefully, she stepped out of my reach and drew back the bed covers.

  I held onto my sigh. “Sabine, can we talk?” My decision moments before to not push her had faded along with her brief bout of openness.

  “We’re talking right now.” She flashed me a facetious smile.

  “That’s not what I meant.” I slipped around to her side of the bed and pulled her down, then sat beside her. She dropped her hands flat to the bed, but I kept hold of one of her wrists, my grip gentle enough that she could disengage if she wanted to. “Every time I ask you what’s happening, you avoid the subject. I’m kind of at a loss here about what to do. I don’t know if I should push, or let it go or what I
need to do to get you to talk to me about these things.”

  I felt her muscles tense as though she was going to try and get away, but she remained sitting, clutching the duvet in tight fists. Her expression was resignation, bordering on defiance. “Really, Bec? It’s our anniversary and you’re…attacking me.”

  I couldn’t pass judgment on how she felt, but the reaction seemed extreme and with Jana’s Can’t you do something? echoing in my head my answer came out harsher than I’d intended. “I’m sorry if you feel attacked, I really am. Obviously that’s not my intention, but clearly something is up that you’re not telling me.”

  Sabine drew in a long slow breath, then conceded softly, “It’s okay, I get it. I’m sorry too.” She raised her free hand to rub at the right side of her ribs.

  “You know I’m just concerned about you.”

  Her swallow was audible. “I know.”

  “I don’t want to push, but I think maybe we need to try something else.”

  “Like what? What do you want from me, Bec?”

  “For starters, like I said, I just want you to talk to me, to include me in your treatment. To be honest and open with me. And I really think you need to revisit taking medication.”

  Sabine squirmed, breaking my grip. She twisted herself right around so we were face-to-face. “I’m trying,” she ground out before turning away to stare at the wall.

  I had to close my mouth to stop my rebuttal flying out. To tell her I thought she wasn’t trying hard enough would not only be unfair, but counterproductive. “I know you are, sweetheart.” I stroked her cheek. When she remained unmoving, I gently turned her face back to me. “Do you understand where I’m coming from? Why this is important?”

  Mutely, she nodded.

  “Okay then.” I took a breath, trying to calm down and think of another angle to come at it. “I don’t want you to be overwhelmed. I just want to help, but I don’t know what to do. Will you let me help you, will you tell me how? Please?”