Life in Death

by M. Ullrich

  “What’s wrong with her girlfriend?”

  “She’s rude!” Annmarie finally turned away from her computer. “She’s harsh, and she obviously doesn’t make Suzanne happy. Someone needs to come along and sweep that poor girl off her feet.” She smiled again at Charlotte. “And you’re going to get your chance this Friday.”

  *

  “You have got to be kidding me!” The loud voice startled Marty, and she jumped, almost spilling the last bit of wine on her crisp, floral printed blouse. The red would’ve stood out amongst the muted blues. When her heart calmed, Marty looked around to find the source of the rude outburst.

  Behind her stood a petite blonde, no taller than five foot five. Her hair fell around her face in loose waves. The tendrils were multiple shades of blond and thick, appearing almost heavy. The stranger stood dumbstruck for a moment as Marty regarded her. She wore tight black slacks paired with a black blouse. Marty’s eyebrows rose in question.

  “Suzanne?” Marty stood and recalculated the blonde’s height. She seemed taller now. Marty extended her hand. “I’m—”

  “Not Charlotte.”

  “No.” Marty dropped her hand and blushed slightly. “I’m not. I’m Martha Dempsey, but please call me Marty.”

  “Suzanne Carlson.” She scanned Marty with her deep blue eyes as she spoke bluntly. “I was supposed to meet Charlotte, but I guess I shouldn’t be surprised by another setup.” She smiled weakly. Her lips were full and pink.

  “Please, sit.” Marty motioned to the empty chair across from herself. Suzanne looked as if she wanted to argue, but she was more than ready for a drink. She sat gracefully and looked to Marty again.

  “I apologize for my little outburst.” Suzanne couldn’t hide the color that rose on her fair skin, painting her cheeks a shade of pink Marty found undoubtedly attractive. “This is the third time this month I’ve expected to see my friend and I walk up to a complete stranger. A surprise each time, and Charlotte knows how much I hate surprises.”

  Marty winced. “That sounds terrible. I’ll thoroughly chastise Charlotte when I see her at the office on Monday, but until then let me buy you a drink.” Marty put on her most charming smile. She knew she looked good; her choice of shirt was fitted enough to advertise her lithe build, and she kept the sleeves cuffed enough to display her early summer tan. Her hair had behaved that evening and the curls fell onto her shoulders in controlled chaos. With a hint of eye makeup and lip stain, Marty was sure to be a tempting date.

  “I’m seeing someone.”

  Marty licked her lips and smiled again. “Then we won’t call this a date, just drinks between new acquaintances.”

  “I don’t see anything wrong with that.” Suzanne matched Marty’s broad smile. “I’ll have a chardonnay.” Marty was awestruck by the vibrant blue of Suzanne’s eyes. The waiter approached the table and Marty ordered for both of them. Suzanne sat back and flashed a crooked smile.

  “So, Suzanne.” Marty leaned forward on her forearms and continued to speak. “Why is it that you’re seeing someone and yet your friend continues to set you up?” She knew why, but she was curious about Suzanne’s side of the story.

  Suzanne let out a sigh. “Charlotte isn’t a huge fan of my girlfriend.”

  “How come?”

  Suzanne turned the interrogation around on Marty with a bit of heat. “Why do you let your coworker set you up on blind dates? Can’t get a date for yourself?”

  “I’m new to town, looking to make some friends. A blind date didn’t seem like such a bad idea at the time.”

  “Where are you originally from?” Suzanne asked.

  “Princeton.”

  “Fancy pants.” Suzanne chuckled and sat back as their drinks were delivered. She thanked their waiter. “What brings you down the shore? Point Pleasant is more of a tourist town, not exactly known for its real estate. Princeton is surely the better place to sell homes in New Jersey.”

  “True, but I was ready for a change of scenery and better opportunities. Here you have homes, condos, townhomes, summer rentals, winter rentals—the possibilities are endless.” Marty took a sip of her red wine. “Plus, I’m a sucker for the water. I plan on having a boat in the next couple of years.”

  “Oh yeah? What if you’re not as successful as you think you’ll be?” She was obviously a playful woman, and Marty enjoyed her company all the more for that.

  “It’s part of my plan,” Marty said confidently.

  “Do you always stick to your plans, Marty?” Suzanne leaned into the conversation, following Marty’s earlier action.

  “I do.”

  “Tell me more about your plan.”

  The two women talked for hours. They laughed and exchanged embarrassing stories. Marty cringed as she relived the morning of her worst hangover and how little she cared when her mother found her naked on the living room floor. Suzanne quickly countered with the unexpected wet T-shirt contest she’d participated in on a train one rainy morning the summer before. Marty never hesitated before reaching out to touch Suzanne’s hand more than just a few innocent times. Once the waiter informed them of last call they realized how long they had been talking. Both women laughed in embarrassment.

  “I guess that’s our cue.” Suzanne started to stand.

  “You never told me about your girlfriend.” Marty stood and stretched, her shirt lifting a bit from the waistband of her jeans.

  “She’s the silent type and not necessarily outgoing.” Suzanne cleared her throat. “We don’t go out much, but I like the quiet, strong types. The guy I was with before her was the same. Come to think of it, my friends weren’t too fond of him either.”

  “Guy?” Marty’s eyes widened.

  Suzanne laughed. She was clearly used to this reaction. “Yes, guy. Bisexuals do exist, you know.”

  “Mmm.” Marty nodded and thought for a moment. She smirked before saying, “Bisexuals who happen to go after people with lackluster personalities certainly do exist.”

  “Oh, that’s just rude!” Suzanne’s guffaw contradicted her words.

  Marty needed to know more about this mystery woman who’d captured Suzanne’s heart. She walked around the table and placed her hand in the middle of Suzanne’s back, leading her from the restaurant in a chivalrous manner. “Does she make you laugh?”

  “She can be funny.” Suzanne’s words were almost hesitant.

  Marty grunted quietly.

  “What? What was that for?”

  “Nothing, I just…” Marty paused and met Suzanne’s gaze, a playful smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. “I can’t help but agree with Charlotte. You can do better.”

  “And you think you’re better?” Suzanne crossed her arms over chest.

  “I had you laughing all night, didn’t I?” Just as Suzanne was about to comment, Marty continued. “But I’m just looking to make friends, remember?” Marty’s breath caught when Suzanne smiled with a twinkle in her eye. She decided to press her luck. “What’s your number?” She took her phone from her back pocket. “I’d like to have another friendly outing sometime soon.” She didn’t look up from her screen. When Suzanne gave her the number, Marty started breathing again.

  “Call me soon, friend,” Suzanne said.

  “I will.” Marty turned and started her walk through the parking lot, an extra bounce in her step as she approached her beat-up sedan. She sat behind the steering wheel and stared at Suzanne’s number. She wouldn’t call that night, but she would call in the morning and every morning after that until Suzanne realized that Marty was worth way more than friendship.

  Chapter Two

  “Abigail!” Marty called from the bottom of the stairs. “You need to hurry up, and don’t forget your slippers this time. I refuse to buy a pair in the gift shop for fifteen dollars.”

  “I’m ready.” Abigail appeared and raced down the stairs toward her mother. When she stood at Marty’s side, she was slightly out of breath. “I got my slippers and the fuzzy socks Grandma got m
e for Christmas.” She held both items up high.

  “Good.” Marty looked around the house one last time to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything. “Ready?”

  “I don’t want to go.” Abigail had been strong, but this was the second round of treatments, more aggressive than the first. They still had no definite answers.

  “I know, sweetheart.” Marty swallowed hard against the lump that formed in her throat. She hated this. She hated uprooting her daughter for endless days and nights in a hospital that would end up feeling all too much like a second home. She hated the way she couldn’t tell when the days turned to nights or whether the sunset was beautiful or the sunrise brighter than usual. Hospitals changed the way she looked at life, as well as the spirit Abigail used to carry along with her. She shook her head and tried to be the optimist, a role that used to come naturally but hadn’t in recent months. “You’ll start to feel so much better after this. You’re going to kick it for good. Thinking about that makes it a bit better, right?”

  “I guess.” Abigail scuffed her foot against the wooden floor.

  “That’s my girl.” Marty ushered the young girl out to her black Subaru with a gentle hand on her bony shoulder. She had a pink duffel bag slung on one shoulder and her own tote held in her right hand.

  The drive to the University of Pennsylvania hospital took close to an hour and a half. Traffic in the early hours of Friday morning was congested with businesspeople who rose with the sun. Marty shifted as she pulled into the hospital’s parking garage. The denim of her worn jeans squeaked against the leather of the seat. She always wore soft jeans and even softer Tshirts for trips to the hospital. They spent long hours there, and comfort was key. That explained Abigail’s colorful pajama set.

  Looking at her daughter as she exited the car, Marty smiled sadly as she remembered simpler times and sleepwear decorated with Disney characters.

  The pair walked in silence toward the elevators and continued that way until they entered the lobby. Suzanne and a male nurse stood at the front desk with their backs to the rest of the hospital. Marty would recognize that figure in a crowd, no matter how hectic and bustling. That familiarity made Marty’s heart clench and her fingertips itch. Marty knew the bright cobalt of the polo she wore would complement her eyes, and she couldn’t help but notice the way khaki trousers hugged her curves. A renewed ache thudded in her chest.

  Marty wanted to disappear.

  “Mommy!”

  “Abigail!” Suzanne spun around and opened her arms. Marty walked slowly, allowing the pair to share in the moment without her intrusion. They embraced, and Marty dropped her head. Her emotions were still raw from the day before. When Suzanne finally stood at her full height, Marty fought to look anywhere but into the bottomless blue eyes that could so easily be her undoing.

  “Suzanne.” Marty nodded in acknowledgment, but she didn’t look at her.

  “Marty.” Cold. Hard. Emotionless. Suzanne had had moments like this ever since they had received news their daughter wasn’t in remission, but once Suzanne had moved out months ago, Abigail had been the only one to break through to the Suzanne Marty had fallen in love with.

  The male nurse cleared his throat. “Shall we?” he said, extending his arm toward the elevators. Marty considered taking the stairs. The small group waited for an elevator to arrive and stepped through the first set of opened doors. “I’m Blake…uh, Blake Amato.” The formality seemed awkward, and his deep voice sounded loud in the small space that had only been filled by the sound of whirring motors seconds before.

  “I’m Marty, and this is Abby.” Marty placed her hand on Abby’s shoulder and regarded the man standing before her in blue scrubs. He wore thick, black-rimmed glasses and had a five o’clock shadow that appeared to be permanent. His nervous smile didn’t go unnoticed.

  “We’ve met,” Abigail said as the elevator signaled their arrival.

  Blake was the first to exit, followed by Suzanne, who tugged her daughter along by her small hand. Marty stood back for a few seconds, wondering why she felt like an outsider with her own family.

  A middle-aged man in a white lab coat bellowed from across the small waiting area. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite patient!”

  A bright swath of colors swirled across the walls, and cartoon-like animals grinned from every corner. The pediatric wing of the hospital was a paradox to Marty. So cheerful and so sad.

  “Good morning, Dr. Fox,” Abby said brightly.

  “Good morning to you, Abigail.” The tall, lanky doctor moved around the small reception area to greet the family. “I see Nurse Blake personally escorted you to your treatment this morning. He’ll be working in the chemotherapy room today, so if you need anything, don’t hesitate to annoy him.” Dr. Fox scrunched his face up goofily as he laughed at his own joke. The other three adults laughed along politely, but Marty noticed Suzanne’s smile was directed at the nurse. “Let’s get you into a room so we can do a quick checkup, and then we’ll get started.” Dr. Fox led the way toward a small examination room and spoke as he walked with purposeful strides. “And how are the Dempsey women doing this morning? I hope the traffic was kind to you.”

  The silence was awkward by itself, but when Blake meekly muttered, “It’s Carlson now,” time stood still, and the tension in the small space rose.

  “Excuse me?” The doctor straightened his burgundy tie before removing his stethoscope from around his neck. “Up on the table.” His large hand came down to pat the pink vinyl. Abigail launched her small body onto the table and shifted against the crinkling paper covering.

  “Yeah, excuse me?” Marty didn’t want to acknowledge what had been said, but the words left her mouth before she could stop them. She stared at Blake, questioning his continued presence and praying that just this once looks could actually kill.

  “My last name is Carlson. We’re divorced. Now can we please get back to Abigail?” Suzanne nearly barked out before leaning back against a nearby wall. Her left arm was wrapped around her body, and she covered her mouth with her right hand.

  “Of course.” The doctor looked around uncomfortably before continuing to take Abby’s vitals.

  After quick preliminaries, the small family and Nurse Blake were led to another room lined with oversized chairs. Three other children were receiving their chemo treatments that morning, each small face more pale than the next. Marty could tell by the frightened look in one small child’s eyes that it must be her first treatment. She’d never forget when Abigail’s face hung heavily with the same fear.

  “I’m sure you both remember the drill from last time.”

  “She’ll spend most of her time here in the hospital,” Suzanne replied.

  “Correct. The next two months will be rough on everyone involved, but especially Abby. We have to be careful and watch for any sign of infection.”

  “Of course,” Marty added as she hung on to every word the doctor spoke. Her clouded green eyes never left her daughter’s smiling face.

  “However, I think it’d be most wise to keep her here around the clock for the first month. Last time the option of spending time at home seemed safe. This time I’m afraid it’ll be too great a risk. Especially if she’ll be shuffled between two homes.” Marty stared at the doctor. “Around-the-clock monitoring and consistency in atmosphere—that’s my recommendation.” He looked between the mothers and over to the nurse. “Blake, would you mind getting everything started?” The doctor handed Abigail’s chart to Blake and started to leave the room, but Marty followed closely behind.

  “Dr. Fox?” she called out as soon as they were in the bright hallway. The older man turned and regarded the slightly disheveled woman.

  “Yes, Mrs. Demp—um,” he paused to clear his throat, “Ms. Dempsey?”

  “I feel like there’s something you aren’t telling us. Six months ago we come in with a sick child and we receive a diagnosis that usually carries a ninety-five percent remission rate. Now we’re right back at square one, a
nd you’re telling us we need to be careful. What’s really going on with Abigail?”

  Dr. Fox released a large breath before answering. “She fell into the five percent. I told you this experimental treatment would be better for her, but if her numbers aren’t above borderline at the end of this month, I’m afraid they’ll most likely never get better.”

  Marty flinched at the words, her emerald eyes shadowed by awakening tears. “So my baby will be…” Marty steadied her breath, inhaling. She sniffled once before deciding she couldn’t control the emotion clawing its way up her throat. She looked to Dr. Fox, silently asking him to confirm or deny the suspicion that was turning her stomach, and he did.

  “She’ll be considered a terminal case.”

  There Were Two Women in Love

  What are you still doing here?” Charlotte asked Marty as she threw a folder onto her desk. It was late on a Friday night, and just about everyone in the office had more important plans than burning the midnight oil.

  “What are you doing back here?” Marty retorted before spinning in her chair to face Charlotte.

  “Damn clients want me to work up an offer for them tonight. Normally, I’d take all the paperwork with me to MacGregor’s and have a drink while I work on it, but the buyers are such nitpickers that I need a full bottle of merlot after three hours with them.” She fell back into her chair and kicked off her heels. She flexed her nylon-clad toes before continuing. “Since I’m sure my fellow agent wouldn’t appreciate an offer with wine stains on it, I’m going to write it up here and then get drunk. Care to join me?” She looked at Marty hopefully.

  “I’m sorry, I can’t.” Marty wanted to leave it at that, but she could feel the other woman’s eyes still on her after she turned her attention back to the computer screen. “I’m looking for a house.”

  “At work? How dare you.” Charlotte laughed at her own thinly veiled sarcasm.

  “For myself,” Marty said.

  “That’s right.” Charlotte dug her heels into the carpet and launched her chair into the direction of Marty’s desk. “Our number one agent got their bonus today.”