Last Salute

by Tracey Richardson

  “Then how about this.” Connie pressed her hot mouth against Pam’s and kissed her thoroughly, mashing her hard little body into Pam’s.

  For the briefest of moments, Pam’s defenses began to loosen. A tiny flare of uncontrolled excitement rose through the pit of her stomach before her common sense prevailed. If she slept with Connie, it would only be sex, nothing more. And she was not that kind of woman.

  Pam wrenched herself away. “Sorry, but I need to get home and get something cold on my head.”

  “Okay, bunny. I’ll call you tomorrow to make sure you’re okay.”

  Bunny? Is she for real? Oh my God, wait until I tell Trish about this!

  Pam was only a few dozen yards down the street before she used her car’s Bluetooth to dial Trish. She was laughing so hard, she could barely talk.

  “Trish? You won’t believe the date I’ve just had! Oh my God, are you sitting down?”

  Chapter Eight

  Pam sat in her Subaru longer than she knew was polite. She could see Connie peeking through the blinds, waiting for her to come up the walk and knock on the door. But her legs felt leaden and her hands wouldn’t open the car door. It was as though she were paralyzed suddenly.

  Damn it, she thought, hating this sudden case of indecisiveness, of cowardice. Last night’s date with Connie had been a disaster, one of her worst dates ever. She and Trish had laughed about it over the phone, and she’d gone to bed swearing that she’d never see Connie again. Or certainly would never go on a date with her again.

  Yet here she was twenty-four hours later, sitting outside Connie’s neat little bungalow after spontaneously calling her and asking if the invitation to come over for a drink—and more—was still good. She was lonely. Ridiculously lonely. She didn’t want to be, she tried to convince herself it didn’t matter, but she finally decided that one more night of sitting at home alone with her tears and her grief and her unbearable sadness was going to send her over the edge. Human contact, even in this less-than-ideal form, was preferable.

  All right, she thought, gazing through the dusty windshield. She tried to steel herself. I am going to do this. I am going to spend an evening with someone and not think about Laura and not think about the fact that I’m so alone in this world. It was desperate behavior. Of course it was. She was desperate. Desperate to be with someone who desired her. Desperate to be with someone who would make her—or at least her body—feel alive for a couple of hours. It was pure escapism, but so what? She and Connie were both adults.

  Before she could change her mind, she pushed open the car door and jumped out. Her long, confident strides up the brick walk gave no indication of her hesitation only moments ago. Connie opened the door before she even had a chance to knock.

  “Hi, sugar.”

  Sugar. Ugh! Pam bit her lower lip and swallowed a smart-ass retort. “Hi, Connie. Sure this is okay? Such last-minute notice and all?”

  Connie’s smile was predatory. “It’s more than okay. I’m so glad you called. I didn’t think…”

  Pam simply shrugged and refused to discuss her about-face.

  Connie led her into the candlelit living room, where two glasses of wine waited for them on the low table in front of the sofa. Wordlessly they sat down, Connie immediately scooting closer. Okay, Pam thought, any closer and you’ll be in my lap! But wasn’t that what she wanted? Wasn’t that why she was here?

  Pam reached for her glass of wine, knocked back half of it.

  “It’s okay,” Connie soothed. “Relax.”

  God, how she hated when people said that. Who could relax on command? Didn’t Connie know that saying it only made it worse?

  Connie’s hand crept on to her knee and began drawing soft circles. “I’ve always been so attracted to you. I’m so glad you finally agreed to see me.”

  I’m not seeing you, Pam wanted to say. I’m here to fuck you because it’s what we both want, nothing more.

  “I don’t really want to talk,” Pam whispered, not looking at Connie.

  “Okay, we don’t have to talk. Why don’t we kiss?”

  Jesus, now they were negotiating. Pam set her jaw and turned to look at Connie. “I don’t want to kiss either.”

  Before Connie could utter a response, Pam pressed her body into Connie’s until she yielded against the sofa, then she climbed on top of her. Hastily, she unfastened the buttons on Connie’s blouse, simultaneously squeezing soft breasts through cotton until Connie began to moan. Oh yes, this was going to be easy, she thought, as Connie pushed her breasts toward Pam’s mouth and began demanding softly, over and over, that Pam fuck her. Pam took each breast into her mouth, sucked taut nipples, drove a hand between Connie’s legs. She could feel Connie’s wetness through her thin cotton slacks.

  Pam silently marveled at how easy mindless sex was. And it truly was mindless. Not a single, composed thought formed in her mind as she gave in to raw, physical yearnings. Her body’s hunger surprised her. She consumed Connie—tasted her, stroked her, grinded into her, clutched her, groped her, all at a furious, greedy pace. And in turn, she let Connie pleasure her with her hands, her mouth, until nothing mattered but release. Afterward, in orgasm’s receding tide, when thoughts began to slither back into her mind—thoughts of Laura, thoughts of her empty home, even thoughts of Trish—Pam reached for Connie and began the process of emptying her mind all over again. It seemed, for the moment, the only way to divorce herself from her overwhelming grief and loneliness.

  The sex wasn’t especially enjoyable, she could admit that easily enough, because Lord knew not all orgasms were created equal. Sex with Connie was simply a release, a distraction, a function she needed to do for herself with a more-than-willing participant. Of course she would regret it in the morning, she knew that, but hadn’t one of the lessons from Laura’s death been to live in the moment? Yeah, that’s what I’m doing. Living in the goddamned moment.

  * * *

  Trish glanced quickly at the Michigan wall calendar magnetically attached to the fridge and happily stroked off another day. Well, the day was only beginning, but what the hell. Fourteen more working days before school was out for the summer. Thank God, she thought, as she reached inside the fridge for her lunch bag. She needed the break more than she ever had in her nearly fifteen years of teaching. Laura’s death left her struggling to get through work each day. Her colleagues knew she’d once been lovers with the luckless soldier who’d been killed, but she hid her deepest emotions from everyone but Rosa and Pam, because grieving so deeply over the death of a long-ago lost love wasn’t something most people would understand. They’d look at her with pity, or confusion, and wonder what was wrong with her that she’d never moved on from Laura, she imagined. And they wouldn’t be wrong. But in Trish’s mind, love didn’t always follow common sense and protocol. Love was the most beautiful and most confusing damn thing in the world.

  Her phone rang. She almost let it go to the answering machine, then thought better of it in case it was the school calling, warning her about some problem awaiting her.

  “Trish here,” she answered quickly, before she could change her mind.

  “Hi.” It was Pam, talking so quietly that she was hard to hear.

  “Hey you. This is a nice surprise.”

  “Sorry, you’re getting ready for work, aren’t you?”

  Something in Pam’s voice instantly alarmed Trish. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes. No…I don’t know.”

  Trish took the cordless phone to the kitchen table and sat down. Work could wait. “What’s going on?”

  “I just got a registered letter delivered to me. From the army. Laura’s personal belongings should be here by the end of the week.”

  Crap. She knew the day was approaching, and that seeing Laura’s things would be difficult for Pam. Dog tags, Laura’s journal, whatever personal effects she’d had with her in Afghanistan. “Would you like some company on the weekend?”

  “God, yes. I hated to ask.”

 
“You didn’t. I offered. I can drive to Chicago after work Friday.” It was a four-hour drive. Since it was June, she could easily get to Pam’s before it got dark.

  “That would be great. Are you sure you don’t mind? I really don’t want…”

  “Look, I totally understand. You know I want to be there for this part, right?”

  There was silence on the other end, and Trish wondered if Pam was still there. “Pam? Are you still there?”

  “Yeah, still here.”

  “Is there something else you’re upset about?”

  “Am I that easy to read?” She didn’t sound pleased.

  The truth? She found Pam incredibly easy to read, even after all the years they’d not seen one another and in spite of their seven-year age difference. Maybe it was their shared bond over Laura, all the memories they had in common. In any case, Trish already felt more connected to Pam than she’d felt to anyone in a very long time.

  “Yes, you are,” Trish answered simply.

  Pam sighed miserably. “I slept with Connie last night.”

  The words took a moment to register, and when they did, Trish swallowed against an impossibly dry throat. “Connie? But I thought…”

  “I know. I thought so too.”

  “Then why?” Her voice was tight, full of unrestrained disappointment. She hated herself for it. She wasn’t Pam’s mother or lover or big sister. It was none of her business, and, yet, Pam’s admission had hit her like a punch to her gut.

  “Shit, I don’t know. I guess I just needed to be with someone last night. I needed to feel something, you know? Something besides numbness, sadness. I just, I don’t know.”

  Trish did understand that brand of loneliness, but she wasn’t about to fall into bed with the first woman who happened along, and she resented Pam for doing so. For being so weak.

  “Christ, Pam. You’re only going to complicate things for yourself and for this Connie woman.” She couldn’t say the woman’s name without sounding hostile. Jesus, why was she being so childish about this? She tried to lighten her voice. “Sleeping with someone isn’t going to make you feel better, okay? It’s only going to make things worse.”

  “I know, I know. You’re right. I just…It was stupid, I agree. It’s not going to happen again.”

  Pam sounded chastened, which only made Trish feel worse. She hadn’t meant to scold her, to make her feel worse than she probably already did. “I’m sorry, Pam. I didn’t mean to sound so rude. Or judgmental.”

  “No, you’re absolutely right in what you said. I need you as my compass right now. I feel so damned lost. So…alone.”

  “I know, sweetie, I know.” If she could take Pam into her arms right now, she would, but it would have to wait a few days. “Look, I have to go to work, but I’ll see you in a few days, okay? And if you need anything in the meantime, if you need to talk, call me. Any time of the day or night. I mean that, okay?”

  Pam’s voice was thick with emotion, and Trish imagined tears welling in those gray-green eyes. “I don’t know what I’d do without you right now.”

  Trish tried hard to sound upbeat. They’d have to brace each other up right now as best they could. “Well, you won’t have to worry about that. I’m not going anywhere, and I’ll be seeing you real soon, okay? Maybe we can even try to do something fun.”

  “Okay,” Pam answered faintly.

  As Trish hung up, she tried to ignore the jumble of emotions the call had sent spiraling through her. She hated knowing how upset, how lost, Pam felt, and how helpless she felt in turn. What she couldn’t reconcile was the unexpected jealousy that had risen in her like a serpent when Pam told her she’d slept with Connie. She had no right to be jealous of who Pam spent her time with or how she spent her time with them. And yet she undeniably was.

  Her stomach felt rock heavy with the unsettling realization. What the hell was that all about?

  Chapter Nine

  Trish’s presence calmed Pam and gave her an instant feeling of peace. It made her stronger too, like she just might be able to handle sorting through Laura’s coffee table-sized box of personal belongings, including the journal she knew would be inside. They’d agreed to wait until tomorrow to do it, when they’d both have more energy. The box stood in the living room, an ominous reminder of the grim task ahead.

  Pam had whipped together a vegetarian dish of penne and cauliflower in a parmesan and bechamel sauce, with fresh basil sprinkled on top. Italian was the one thing Pam could cook well and loved eating, and Trish appeared grateful for a home-cooked meal after the long drive.

  She knew Trish was tired, but she suggested a drink at the famous Drake Hotel. It was nine o’clock, the perfect time for a Friday night drink on the town, and Pam wanted to show Trish the historic landmark that had welcomed such notables through its doors as the Kennedys, President Obama, Frank Sinatra, Princess Diana, Elizabeth Taylor and countless other celebrities. Mostly, though, she didn’t want them sitting around her townhouse staring at that big box, contemplating its contents. They could save it for tomorrow.

  Trish had gamely agreed, and now they sat in the hotel’s upscale bar drinking eight-dollar Cuba Libres, an autographed glossy of Judy Garland peering down at them.

  “Makes me feel like somebody important,” Trish said with a smile.

  “It does have that feel to it, like only important people come here. I love the history of the place. Can’t you can almost feel it oozing out of the walls?”

  “You’re right. If I close my eyes, I can picture Frank Sinatra and Marilyn Monroe sitting here drinking martinis, the place blue with cigarette smoke.”

  “I’ll bet some pretty big deals were brokered right here in this bar. Probably even guys like Capone. And politicians like Mayor Richard Daley, the Kennedys.”

  “You love Chicago, don’t you?”

  “I love its history, its architecture. The characters and the character of the place. But I don’t know that I’ll stay here forever. There’s something about the peace and nostalgia of Ann Arbor that’s got a special place in my heart. Even more so now.”

  “Think you’d ever come back to stay?”

  Pam shrugged, not yet fully committed to the idea. She didn’t want to move all over the country, change addresses all the time the way Laura had. Staying in one place was important to her. “Maybe. I haven’t decided yet. My residency’s up in another month.”

  Trish’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “What are you going to do?”

  Before Laura’s death, she’d planned to sign on again with the same hospital. Now it was hard to feel the ground under her feet, and decisions no longer came easily. Some days, simply choosing what to eat or what to wear was a monumental decision. “I don’t know. I can’t seem to make up my mind about anything anymore. Even the simplest decisions are difficult.”

  “I know. I’m done in two weeks for the summer, and I’ve never needed a break as badly as I need one now.”

  “That’s what I’m leaning toward, taking a long break. I haven’t had one in years. And I feel like if I don’t, I’m going to make some big mistake at work that’s going to cost someone their life.” Pam hadn’t confided her secret fear—a fear that had kept her awake at night lately—to anyone before now. “I feel like a menace at work because I’m so distracted, so…not myself. It’s only a matter of time before I make a serious mistake if I can’t get my head together again.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Trish said, reaching across the table and placing her hand on top of Pam’s. The gesture touched Pam inside, almost made her want to cry. She was full of barely controlled emotion these days, and it scared her. What if she lost it in front of a patient? Or a patient’s family?

  “Well, it just figures, Pamela Wright!”

  Both women snapped their heads toward the bitchy voice. Connie Mayfield stood beside their table, hands on her hips, her lipsticked mouth a slash of blood-red anger.

  “No wonder you haven’t called me all week. You could have just told me
you were seeing someone else,” she hissed at Pam.

  Pam saw that Trish looked exactly as she felt—mortified. She wanted to crawl under the table, but found her voice instead. “I’m sorry, Connie. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Trish is a friend and…”

  “Yeah, right.” She scowled at Trish’s hand over Pam’s on the table. “You could have at least been honest with me.”

  “I am being honest.”

  “I mean honest about what happened between us the other night. Honest about not wanting to see me again.”

  Pam squirmed in her seat, hating the fact that Connie was forcing a public scene. Dyke drama was so not her thing. She tried to keep her voice level. “Look, I didn’t mean to treat you badly in any way. I’m just not looking to get involved with anyone right now, okay? And I’m sorry I didn’t communicate that very well.”

  “You sure didn’t mind getting involved with me the other night.”

  Pam flinched, her face burning with embarrassment. She needed to put out this fire with Connie once and for all. “I had a nice time with you, I really did. I just don’t want it to continue. I’m sorry.”

  Connie’s expression alternated between disappointment and anger. Her gaze fixed on Trish. “She’s a player, you know. I’d watch out if I were you.”

  She twisted around on her heel and stormed off, much to Pam’s relief. They both giggled a little, muffled by their hands, in case Connie was listening.

  “Thank God,” Pam muttered. “I feel like I just got caught cheating or something.”

  Trish winked teasingly. “On me or her?”

  That was a sobering question and one Pam didn’t want to answer.

  On the drive back to Pam’s, they laughed about the scene with Connie, with Pam interspersing apologies. “I’m really not a player, you know.”

  “I know, sweetie. I know.”

  She swallowed against fresh emotion at the endearing term. If Trish kept calling her “sweetie,” she was going to cry, dammit.

  “Have you ever done anything like that?”