Last Salute

by Tracey Richardson

  Whatever this was—all of this—they were both going into it with their eyes wide open, both fully cognizant of the past and the present. Finally, Trish thought with mild surprise, she was ready to give herself to Pam and to accept Pam’s gifts.

  The sudden relaxing of Pam’s body forced Trish to lift her mouth. She recognized the sudden easing of sexual tension, the body exhaling its arousal. With disappointment, she raised her eyes to Pam’s, saw that she was quietly crying.

  “Oh, baby,” Trish said softly, taking Pam into her arms and rocking her. “It’s okay.”

  “No. I don’t think it is.”

  “What? Will you tell me what’s wrong?”

  The tears abated, but Pam’s eyes remained clouded with sadness. “I can’t do any of this until I’m confident it’s going to work out between us. It would devastate me to make love with you and then for things not to work out between us. I don’t want this to be an experiment. To make love and then decide it was a mistake.”

  Trish lovingly brushed a lock of hair from Pam’s forehead. “I want things to work out between us too. I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t think we stood a good chance, don’t you know that?” She smiled weakly in an attempt to contain her sadness and disappointment. “I don’t exactly go around making love to a different woman every week.”

  Pam smiled back, and Trish’s fears loosened. She didn’t want to lose her, not when they were so close to scaling the mountain between them.

  “I know that,” Pam said. “It’s not that. It’s not you.” She reached up and fingered Laura’s class ring on the necklace around Trish’s neck.

  “But I thought it was me we were waiting on? I was the one who wasn’t sure, remember?” Hopelessness tugged at Trish. She knew full well this was about Laura. It always came back to Laura. “Look, I know I’m ready to put Laura in my past now. I’ll always love her, and our years together can never be replaced. But I’m ready for a new life, for a chance at happiness again. I won’t cast off all my baggage overnight, but I am starting to leave it behind, piece by piece. Don’t you believe that?”

  “Yes, I do. Oh, Trish.” Tenderly, Pam reached up and traced the outline of Trish’s mouth with her fingertip.

  It was Trish’s turn to submit to her frustration. She tried to swallow the tears back, but she didn’t entirely succeed. “I’m trying as hard as I can. Won’t you give me a chance?”

  “Yes,” Pam replied. “I will. But not right now.”

  “Why? What’s happened to change things?”

  “It’s me that can’t walk away from Laura. All my life I’ve wanted to be like her. Wanted the things she had. Now I’m no longer sure who I am. Am I Laura’s clone, or am I my own person? It’s like she’s this giant shadow over me, and I don’t know how to get out from under it.”

  “Oh, Pam. You’re not Laura. I wish you could see that.”

  “That’s the point. I need to figure it out for myself. I need to find my own identity before I do anything else. Before I can get on with my life.”

  Trish swiped at a tear racing down her cheek and watched helplessly as Pam pulled the sheet up to cover her naked chest. She rose from the bed, stood rooted in place as though she were paralyzed. If she turned and walked out the door, she feared she might never see Pam again.

  “What if,” Trish said shakily, “this really is who you are? This woman who wants to love me, who does love me with all her heart?”

  “Then I’d be the happiest woman in the world to take your hand and walk through life together. But I need to be sure, before we complicate things further.”

  No, Trish thought, the prospect of losing Pam slamming into her. This couldn’t be. Just as she’d begun to understand Laura’s hold on her and begun, finally, to shed it and to realize she could love Pam, Pam was sending her back into the abyss of confusion, insecurity and doubt.

  “I’m only asking for some time,” Pam said shakily.

  But what, Trish thought with desperation, if Pam decided she’d only wanted her all these years because she’d been Laura’s? That she was something to be inherited, passed down from one sister to the other? If Pam believed those things, there was no hope for them, and the thought nearly buckled her knees.

  She turned, finding just enough strength to leave.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Pushing aside her half-eaten salad, Pam sipped coffee in the hospital cafeteria and considered telling her friend and colleague, Nancy Watters, the monumental decisions she’d made. She hadn’t talked to anyone about them yet. The option of talking to Trish was most definitely off the table.

  Nancy frowned at Pam’s plate. “I know the food in this place sucks, but I always thought their salads weren’t half bad. It seems you don’t agree.”

  “I guess it would help if I actually had an appetite.”

  Nancy set her fork down on her plate. “Okay, my friend. Enough of this. What’s been going on with you lately?”

  Pam winced. “That obvious, huh?”

  “Yes. And look, I have to be honest. I heard through the grapevine yesterday that you’re letting your residency expire in a couple of weeks without re-upping. I was waiting for you to tell me about it, but…”

  “I’m sorry. I should have told you. And I was going to, honest.”

  “I know it’s been a terrible time for you since your sister died. Why don’t you take a leave for a couple of months? You know Langton would be more than happy to grant you one.”

  Pam smiled helplessly at Nancy. She was one of the good ones, one of the young docs on staff whose general philosophy—about medicine, about life—matched Pam’s. Nancy cared about her patients, went the extra mile for them, for her colleagues too, and they respected her for it. She was bluntly honest without being cruel, kind without being condescending, skilled without being egotistical. All of the things she tried to be as well. She was going to miss Nancy.

  “I need more than a leave right now,” Pam said. “I need time, distance, to figure out where to go from here.”

  Nancy looked decidedly unhappy with the news. “With your career?”

  “Yes. And more.”

  “I knew there had to be someone you weren’t telling me about.” She tilted her head inquisitively. “Tell me about her.”

  The request didn’t surprise Pam. Nancy was straight, engaged for about five years to a man she seemed in no hurry to marry, and she was completely understanding and non-judgmental about Pam’s sexual orientation. Pam could tell her anything, but she went for a delay tactic instead. “It’s a long story.”

  “Fine by me. We’ve got fifteen minutes before rounds start.”

  Nancy wasn’t to be dissuaded, and after a moment, Pam relented with a laugh. She gave the abridged version of her and Trish’s past—admitting the teenaged crush she’d had on Trish, about Laura and Trish’s breakup after Laura finished medical school and entered the army full time, of how she and Trish had become reacquainted after Laura’s death, how they’d been spending a lot of time together. And how things had grown complicated between them.

  “So let me get this straight,” Nancy said.

  “Straight?” Pam flashed a grin.

  “Er, okay, you know what I mean. So you’ve loved Trish since forever, but Trish didn’t really know you existed in that department until this spring. You’ve been spending a lot of time together, gotten to know each other as friends and equals, provided emotional support to one another. You kissed, she freaked out, saying she wasn’t ready for that kind of relationship with you. This weekend, she admitted she might be ready, you kissed again, almost made love, and then you freaked out, saying you weren’t ready. Sheesh, is this an episode of a soap opera? Or maybe a chapter from one of those schmaltzy books you’re always secretly reading?”

  Pam’s mouth fell open. “You know about my books?”

  Nancy waved a hand through the air. “Please. I’ve seen you stash them away in the staff room before running off to answer a page.”

 
“Okay, fine, you busted me. I like schmaltzy books, straight and gay. They’re my weakness.”

  A spark lit up Nancy’s eyes. “I’ve always wanted to read one of those lesbian romance novels.”

  “Ah-ha! So that’s why you’re having the longest engagement in the history of this hospital.”

  “Don’t get your panties in a twist, Wright. I’m not switching teams. It’d be fun to read about it, that’s all.”

  “Dammit. My toaster oven broke the other day, too. I was hoping for a new one.”

  “Huh?”

  “Never mind.”

  “So, where were we? Oh yes, I believe I just summarized your love life for you.”

  “Yes, and it’s not funny. I really am confused about her, Nance.”

  “I know, and I’m sorry. I’m not trying to make light of it. Why are you confused? The woman you’ve secretly loved for decades finally feels the same way. Are you afraid she’s going to change her mind?”

  Pam hesitated. Putting the intensity of her feelings into words was difficult. “Partly, yes. But my biggest fear is that I’m not really in love with her. That I only thought I wanted to be with her because she belonged to Laura. Now that Laura’s gone, I don’t have to compete with her. I don’t have to try to emulate her any longer. It’d be horrible for Trish if I’ve only loved her all this time because she was the prize in a game.”

  “Did you talk to her about it?”

  “Yes. I told her I needed to find my own identity. That I needed to be sure of what I wanted.” Pam swallowed around the sudden lump in her throat. “Without Laura as my compass, I feel lost.”

  Nancy pushed her plate aside without finishing her lasagna. “Look, I can’t pretend to know what you’re going through, having your sister killed over there and how that’s turned your world upside down. Maybe taking some time away from Trish and from work is absolutely the right thing for you to do right now.”

  Okay, so her idea wasn’t crazy after all, Pam thought with relief. “But what if I never come back to those things?”

  Nancy’s eyes narrowed skeptically. “You mean medicine too?”

  “Maybe.”

  There was a long pause while Nancy studied the wall across the crowded cafeteria, as though it might divulge the meaning of life. Thankfully, she didn’t jump all over Pam. “I hope that’s not true, Pam, because it would be a great loss. In many ways. But it’s your life. You need to try and be sure you’re doing with it what you want, no matter what direction it leads you in. And that you’re sharing it with the person you want to share it with. Don’t settle for anything less. And you should take all the time you need, because these are the biggest decisions you’ll ever make in your life.”

  Pam expelled the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Thank you. I needed to hear that.”

  “So what are you going to do when you leave here in two weeks?”

  Her next plan was a big step and possibly not a very safe one. She’d confided in no one stateside yet, but it was time to tell someone. “I’m going to Afghanistan.”

  “What?” Nancy was rarely ever rattled, but now she blanched as if she’d seen a ghost. “Tell me you’re not serious.”

  “I am. I’m going in three weeks.”

  “Why on earth would you do that? It’s not safe over there. They’re still fighting, and there are random shootings and bombings every day. You could be killed!”

  “Yes, but it’s highly unlikely. I’d only be going for a few days. It’s part of a special program for families of soldiers who’ve been killed there. They get to see where their loved ones served, visit any memorials, get to know the people they worked with. It’s supposed to be a healing journey.”

  “Therapy under fire, sounds more like.”

  Pam tried to shrug the comment off. “Let’s hope not.”

  She had been in touch by email all week with Camille setting things up, thanks to the tip she’d been given by that journalist at the party. It had come about quickly, both the plans and her decision to do the trip, and it felt right. Between making the trip and reading Laura’s journal, Pam would have a much better understanding of her sister by the end of it all. And a clearer awareness of their differences, she hoped. Ideally, the experience would culminate in a crystallization of her own wants and needs, her own identity. More than healing, she hoped it would be a journey to self-discovery. She was counting on it.

  “Is Trish going with you?”

  The question startled Pam. She hadn’t mentioned Afghanistan to Trish. In fact, they’d not spoken much at all since last weekend. Things were still delicate between them. “I don’t think it’d be her cup of tea.”

  “So you haven’t asked her?”

  “No, and I’m not going to. Didn’t you just agree with me that I need space from her?”

  “Yes, but maybe this trip could be a healing one for her too.”

  Pam shook her head adamantly. Trish would never go for it. She hated everything to do with the army and with war. Not only that, but she’d probably be pissed as hell that Pam was going. “No. She’d just try to talk me out of it.”

  “Is that why you’re afraid to tell her about it?”

  “You’re good, you know that? You should have been a lawyer.”

  “What, argue with people all day long? Naw, I’d rather cut into their brains.” Her grin was evil.

  Pam glanced at her watch and jumped to her feet. “Two minutes to rounds. Better roll.”

  Nancy sighed loudly, picking up her tray from the table. “Tell her.”

  “Tell who what?”

  “Trish. Tell her you’re going to Afghanistan. If you don’t, she’ll never forgive you.”

  * * *

  Trish opened Laura’s journal to the last place she’d read. Pam had left it with her, telling her to keep it for a while, to go ahead and read it on her own. She’d catch up with it later, she promised.

  Faithfully, Trish had read a few pages every day, partly in retaliation for Pam distancing herself from her and partly because the journal intrigued and amazed her. Laura was a very good writer, and while the journal didn’t diminish Trish’s anger at the war, it was helping her understand what it had been like for Laura over there, the trials and tribulations of fighting and helping.

  As for Pam, well, she was simply running away from her like a scared child. Fine. Let her make her own discoveries, just as Trish was coming to discover how far apart she and Laura had truly grown from one another over the years. How different their lives and their worlds had become. They could never have bridged those differences, Trish now believed. They’d grown into two very different people, with different goals, different personalities, different expectations, different priorities.

  Jan. 24:

  Eating is comforting, and so is being around others, and I could see that people were lingering in the dining hall, despite having finished their meal. I was happy to sit there too, slowly unwinding, listening to snatches of conversation around me.

  Suddenly there was the most awful sound, loud and getting louder by the second. It was deafening, a high-pitched screeching sound that pierced you to your bones. I felt certain it was a rocket landing directly on our heads. Somehow I managed to move and I threw myself from my chair and dove under the table. Others had begun reacting too, some running for the door, others diving on to the ground, one soldier even reaching for his sidearm, though I don’t know what good that would have done.

  I had crawled up against the structural wall, in the knowledge that if the building came down I would be somewhat safer beside it.

  Then someone started laughing, and I thought to myself, “Okay, the noise is gone, and I’m still here, so that has to be a good sign.” There was no smoke or fire either. More good signs. As we were scrambling back to our seats, someone came in and said it was only a plane and a bloody Italian one at that. Some pilot hotdogging it.

  Sometimes a plane will sweep down out of the sky and fly low and fast, to terrif
y the enemy or at least demonstrate the awesome technological superiority of the coalition. The idea, of course, is to do it over the attackers’ position, not over your allies’ base, and frighten the living daylights out of them.

  Nevertheless, it’s a stark reminder of how your paradigm shifts in wartime, how normal can become completely abnormal in a split second. How a loud noise can make you think your life is about to end. Daily, sometimes hourly here, we’re reminded that no one is truly safe and that life can be changed forever in an instant.

  Trish set the journal on her lap, thought about how life could be altered in a split second. Her life had permanently changed in the instant she’d found out about Laura’s death. Like nothing else, it had made her realize she could never go back. That a big part of her life was over. But Laura’s death had also brought her Pam, and that was a gift. Out of death is born the fertile ground of life. Destruction almost always makes way for rebirth. From hate are planted the seeds of love. She didn’t know where she’d heard those lines, or if she’d just now made them up. The urge to write was overwhelming, and Trish opened her laptop on the coffee table and turned it on.

  As she waited for it to boot up, she thought about those lines and how they might relate to her life. From Laura’s death, could she begin living her life again? And was Pam part of that equation? How would she know when the time was right to forever slip the bonds of Laura’s love, to give herself fully to someone else? Someone who would love her and make her their life’s priority. Someone she could build a future with.

  The email program on her computer chimed. It was a message from Pam, the first in days, and Trish eagerly opened it.

  Hi, T:

  I’ve been busy, starting to wrap things up at work. But I wanted to tell you of some news. I am going to Afghanistan in a couple of weeks. It’s a program the army offers for grieving loved ones of soldiers killed in action. I know you are probably hating this idea right now, but I feel it’s something I need to do. Please try to understand.