Life in Death

by M. Ullrich

  “Neither.” Suzanne stared into the distance for a moment before changing her answer. “Both? Maybe? They all know I’m bisexual, so they won’t care that I’m with a man, but I still feel like they’re judging me.”

  “It doesn’t really matter, you know that, right?” Marty looked steadily into her eyes and spoke more to herself than to Suzanne. “It doesn’t matter what they think. All that matters is that you’re happy.” A silence passed between them. Marty looked at the lines etched into Suzanne’s forehead and wondered for a moment whether she really was happy.

  “You were never fazed by my sexuality.”

  “Why would I be?” Marty asked. “You’re gorgeous and sexy. I knew I’d have to fight people off to be with you. I didn’t care whether I fought men, women, or both. All that mattered to me was winning!”

  Suzanne looked away from Marty with a laugh. “This is so weird.”

  “What?” Marty grinned. Suzanne’s laughter was infectious.

  “Being here with you, but not with you.” Suzanne winced.

  “Oh, yeah.” Marty scratched at the back of her neck. She thought it best not to tell her she had just had a similar conversation with Annmarie, right after being caught checking Suzanne out.

  Truth be told, the situation was even more bizarre than Marty was willing to admit at first. After Abigail’s birth, their late-night outings and time spent with friends dwindled, but they were completely inseparable when they were out. Marty looked around at the familiar faces and noticed how couples naturally did that, especially married parents. This was their time to be free. She watched as Charlotte snuggled up to her husband and slid her hand into his back pocket. Off in a quiet corner, Carol had Teresa casually pinned against the wall, engaging in an intimate conversation.

  “Were we that sickening?” Marty started at Suzanne’s voice. “I mean, I know we were bad, but—”

  “We were worse.” Marty knew Suzanne was ready to argue. “You always had your hands on me.”

  “Yeah, well, you used to tell me you loved me even if I was just going to the bathroom!” Suzanne nearly scoffed. Marty felt a pang of lovesickness, and judging by the uncomfortable shuffle Suzanne performed, she’d noticed it as well. This wasn’t a safe topic.

  “Let’s just agree that we were awful.” Marty expected a smart remark in response, but Suzanne swallowed another shot and finished off her beer.

  “Forget that.” Suzanne made a show of slamming the empty glass onto the bar’s glistening surface. “Let’s dance.” She threw her head back in the direction of the small, cramped makeshift dance floor. She obviously wasn’t willing to allow Marty a say because she gripped her hand and dragged her along.

  “I don’t think we should,” Marty said. After what had nearly happened on the boat, it wouldn’t exactly be prudent to put themselves in a similar position. Would it? Wait. Why am I trying to talk myself out of this?

  “Come on, Marty! I haven’t been out in so long, and you know how much I love to dance.” She batted her lashes, and Marty’s resistance was gone.

  Suzanne’s wide eyes were full of so much excitement, Marty had no choice but to grip her hand a little tighter and make a show of twirling her. Suzanne’s gleeful laugh lit something inside Marty could’ve sworn deserted her long ago. She released Suzanne’s hand and allowed herself to fully enjoy the moment she found herself in.

  Suzanne performed slow, hypnotic rolls to the tempo of the blaring music. Marty moved in time, but all she could think of was that Suzanne was so close. Marty knew exactly how it would feel to press herself against her ex-lover’s back, what her hair would smell like, and how the base of her neck was probably already damp from exertion. Marty stepped forward. If Suzanne wanted to dance with her, all she had to do was step back. And she did.

  Marty bit back the small moan she felt build at the contact between her hips and Suzanne’s backside. The natural instinct and synchronization between them all came flooding back. They swayed and shuffled back and forth, grinding their hips together seductively. Marty and Suzanne had been a couple long enough to know exactly which dance moves would be flirty and which would nearly incinerate their dancing partner.

  Marty felt something shift in Suzanne during one particular song. She had reached back and grabbed Marty’s hips with a nearly painful grip, causing her ass to grind just a little harder into her crotch. A jolt of pleasure ripped through Marty, and she wanted more pressure. She needed more pressure, and she could tell by the way Suzanne’s arms flexed that she was willing. Marty wrapped her arms around Suzanne’s waist and flattened her palms against her taut abdomen. She pulled Suzanne in so her back was flush against Marty’s breasts. Marty pressed her cheek against Suzanne’s ear and felt how hot she was. She looked down at the little beads of perspiration forming in her cleavage.

  Marty wanted to taste that sweat.

  She turned her head slightly and pressed her soft lips to the reddened shell of Suzanne’s ear. She was ready to state her wants and demands, but reality stopped her.

  “I’ve got to get going.” Marty all but pushed Suzanne away and made a beeline for the door. Just as she stepped out into the fresh air, someone grabbed her wrist. When she spun around, she faced a glassy-eyed Suzanne.

  “I’m sorry,” Suzanne said. Her chin started to quiver, weakening Marty’s resolve.

  “You have nothing to be sorry for.” Marty reached out and fixed a few mussed strands of blond hair that fell on Suzanne’s forehead. Marty watched as her ex blinked slowly at her. “Come on, let me drive you home.”

  “You don’t have to,” Suzanne protested weakly.

  “You’re a lightweight and had two shots with a lager chaser. You may not be feeling drunk yet, but you definitely need a ride.” She pressed her hand gently to the small of Suzanne’s back and led her in the direction of her car. Marty opened the passenger side door and waited for Suzanne to get comfortable in the worn seat before closing it. She took a deep breath of comforting, humid night air before getting behind the steering wheel.

  “You have all of your things?” Marty looked Suzanne over as she shifted in the passenger seat. Suzanne nodded.

  “I’m sorry for dancing with you like that.” The words were out of Suzanne’s mouth before Marty even had the chance to start the car. “I just don’t know how to…”

  “We don’t know how to dance without touching each other. I know.” Marty smiled what she hoped was a comforting smile before putting her key in the ignition and starting the car. It seemed to start the sky above them as well; lightning weaved throughout fluffy clouds.

  “Is it supposed to rain?” Suzanne leaned forward and looked up through the windshield. A fat droplet splashed against the glass, answering her question. A rumble of thunder echoed in the distance, and the screen of Marty’s phone flashed from the console between them.

  “It’s a coastal flood warning.” Marty glanced once at the words punctuated with a red exclamation point and back to Suzanne. “Let’s get you home. Where am I heading?” Marty watched as Suzanne’s drowsy face contorted with confusion. “I have no idea where you live now.”

  “Oh, I’m renting a small house in Spring Lake Heights for now. Just head in that direction, and I’ll direct you once we get closer.” Suzanne looked out the window, and Marty followed the directions.

  The car ride had grown awkward. Their easy conversation in the bar or even the casual talks they shared over the phone during the past weeks seemed to elude them. Marty wanted to ask if Blake was renting the home as well or if he lived somewhere else, and if they were currently house hunting as any other soon-to-be married couple would. Should she offer to help them?

  That would be awkward, Marty thought. She squinted at the disappearing road before them. The rain was coming down in sheets, but she knew the roads well enough to avoid large puddles. Should she mention some listings far from Point Pleasant to ensure she wouldn’t run into them hand in hand at a local market looking through the fresh produce? That
would be deceptive yet incredibly beneficial to my survival. Marty was about to suggest it, but Suzanne spoke first.

  “How do you know about Tess’s guacamole skills?” she said in a voice so delicate, so lacy thin, Marty wasn’t sure she heard her correctly.

  “What?” What does guacamole have to do with anything? Marty leaned over as far as her seat belt would allow in order to hear Suzanne more clearly above the pitter-patter of heavy rain.

  “At the barbecue, you were raving about how good Tess’s guacamole was. I was curious as to how you knew.” Suzanne started biting at her thumbnail, something she did every time she got nervous. That clued Marty in to exactly how many layers this question truly had. It was loaded.

  Marty took a deep breath and tightened her grip on the steering wheel. Something about her question dug its way beneath her skin. Tess had always been a small thorn in the paw of their marriage. Marty had reassured Suzanne she wasn’t interested in Tess, but her jealousy seemed to be alive and well, even though their marriage was anything but. Maybe that was why Marty found her hackles rising.

  What was Suzanne really asking? If she had decided to move on with Tess? Seek comfort in the other woman just like she had already done with Blake? Or was she asking if that comfort had been sought out well before their marriage ended?

  Marty took another deep breath to calm herself. “When Abigail passed, a few of the neighbors made it a habit to stop by and check on me, especially since they knew about the divorce.” Marty shrugged slightly, no longer being ashamed of others’ perceptions of her being helpless without Suzanne. “They always brought food, and Tess made guacamole once. I complimented it, so she kept bringing it around.” The explanation received nothing more than a nod in response. “There’s nothing going on between us,” she added in spite of herself.

  “That’s none of my business.” Suzanne spoke mostly to her lap. The car was stopped at a red light as the pouring rain pounded around them.

  “No, it’s not, but it’s what you wanted to know.” The light turned green.

  “Take the next right and follow it down to the end. Just stop there, I’m on the corner.” Suzanne put an end to the former conversation. “Thanks again for the ride. I would’ve been fine, though.”

  Marty frowned when she realized they had arrived at the end of the street. She wanted to talk more, explain more, but she knew the timing wasn’t right.

  “You’re welcome.” Marty steered the car to the side of the road and put it in park. “Let me know if you need a ride to get to your car tomorrow.”

  “Thanks.” Suzanne reached for the door handle and started to make her getaway.

  Against her better judgment, Marty reached out and grabbed Suzanne’s hand to keep her in place. Marty felt the diamond ring that wasn’t hers impressed on her palm.

  “Suzanne.” Marty wasn’t entirely sure what she was going to say, but she needed Suzanne to know her heart always belonged to her. “I’ve never—”

  Suzanne kissed her, tangling her hands in Marty’s hair as she tugged it and Marty moaned. Marty bit down on Suzanne’s lower lip, and she soothed whatever discomfort she caused with a healing swipe of her tongue. The taste of Suzanne reminded her of a happiness she’d once lived. A happiness that was no longer hers. Marty knew it was the liquor talking. It would be a mistake to regret the next morning, Marty was sure of that. She pulled away.

  Suzanne apologized for the second time that evening, but her apology died in a storm of raindrops as she ran from the car and into the darkness that swallowed the quiet neighborhood whole.

  Until…

  This home is being sold ‘as is’ because the owners are expected to move into their new home in Florida by the end of this month,” Marty said to the young couple standing behind her as she slid the key into the lock. “It’s in good condition, so don’t let that intimidate you.” She pushed the front door open and encouraged her clients to step inside.

  “Why are they moving?” the taller of the two men asked. Gary and Jacob were the kind of clients Marty loved to work with. They had a short list of “must haves” and an open mind regarding everything else. Gary asked the questions while Jacob quietly surveyed the structural details.

  “They’re older and retired. It just seems to be the natural progression of life in this area.” They both gave her puzzled looks. “People tend to run away from the winter,” she said. “I happen to enjoy the cold very much, but maybe that’ll change in another twenty years.” She chuckled brightly, and they seemed to relax.

  “I love snow,” Jacob said as he stepped beyond the front door and looked up into the high ceilings of the foyer. “Nice entryway.” Gary followed closely.

  Marty rubbed her palms together in hopes of warding off the early November chill. Autumn in New Jersey was just about as misleading as springtime was. Some mornings all you needed was a light sweater, but by lunchtime you wished you’d packed a down parka. Today was one of those days.

  “Clean lines.” Marty looked over to where Jacob’s voice came from. He was checking out a clean, glass-enclosed gas fireplace.

  “When was the house built?” Gary asked from the center of the great room.

  “It’s fairly new construction—1999—so I’m sure you’ll get a sense of some of the more modern elements like bigger closets and a full-sized pantry in the kitchen.” Marty pointed in the direction of a fully updated kitchen, where stainless steel appliances and granite countertops did the rest of the talking.

  “I love stainless!” Gary gawked and Marty watched as Jacob’s stoic façade fell away into the familiar, softened delightful look of true love.

  “They come with the house.” Marty was a top real estate agent because she answered questions before they were spoken. “There’s plenty of room in the backyard if you ever decide to—” Suzanne’s unique ringtone cut Marty’s suggestion short. “Gentlemen, why don’t you look around while I take this?” She answered quickly and skipped a polite greeting.

  “I’m at a showing right now. I really can’t—”

  “I’m on my way to the hospital with Abigail.”

  “What?” Marty’s eyes flew open as she checked her surroundings for no real reason before checking the time: a little past noon. “What’s going on? Is it you? Is it Abby? Are you okay?”

  “We’re fine,” Suzanne said in an even tone. But Marty heard the underlying unease wrapped around those two words. She listened closely as Suzanne took a deep breath before continuing. “Abby got a really bad nosebleed.”

  “A nosebleed?” Marty chuckled quietly as she asked the question. Suzanne was always the more protective and paranoid of the two, so she wasn’t too surprised to hear she was taking their six-year-old to the hospital over a nosebleed. “She’ll be fine,” she said casually. “Just plug it up with some toilet paper. I used to get them all the time.”

  “Marty!” Suzanne yelled loud enough to make Marty pull the phone away from her ear.

  “What?”

  “She’s been bleeding for an hour, she’s been bleeding a lot.” Her whisper was more frightening than her bellow. Marty knew that whisper. Suzanne was scared.

  “Jersey Shore hospital or Brick?”

  “Jersey Shore.”

  “Let me just close up, and I’ll be right there.” Marty knew Suzanne’s silence meant her head was spinning with possibilities. “Everything will be okay.”

  “Just hurry.”

  “I love you.” She was so on edge, she nearly jumped out of her skin when Jacob approached from behind.

  “I’m sorry!”

  She needed to get away from this house and next to her baby girl. “I’m sorry, Jacob, but I’m going to have to cut your tour short.”

  “Is everything okay?” Gary sidled up next to his husband and looked on with concern.

  “I have a family emergency.” Marty swallowed thickly. “I’ll call you tomorrow, and we’ll take it from there.” She was already ushering them from the property and to their car. She
was grateful they had decided to drive separately that afternoon.

  “Not a problem,” Jacob said. “I hope everything is okay.”

  “Thank you.” Marty walked back to her car. The wind was blowing against her, sharper and more frigid than before, matching the fear in her chest.

  *

  For Suzanne, keeping her eyes on her family was a matter of survival. She watched as Marty tickled Abigail’s ten little toes over and over from baby to big and back again. The giggles that filled the room were as close to a sedative as Suzanne could get even though she was surrounded by cabinets full of them. At least she figured that was what filled the shelves in the small hospital room.

  “So basically what I’m trying to tell you is that all the piggies went to the market because roast beef is delicious!” Marty tickled their daughter, her voice bouncing throughout the white room. Suzanne found solace in Abigail’s smile.

  Suzanne’s newest mantra began: Focus on the good thoughts, throw away the bad. She looked at Marty and took in the way sunbeams barely made it through industrial blinds to illuminate her green eyes. Focus on the good thoughts, throw away the bad. This is just a small bump along the very long road of parenthood. She probably just needs to eat more iron or protein or vitamin B. Focus on the good thoughts, throw away—

  “For Abigail Dempsey?”

  Suzanne stood so quickly at the unexpected bellow of the nurse’s voice, she felt dizzy. “Yes?”

  “Yes.” Marty stepped forward and Suzanne was grateful for her authoritative quirks. She didn’t mind standing just behind her wife.

  “The doctor will be right in to see you.” The young nurse looked everywhere but at the nervous parents before her. Suzanne noticed the evasive action right away. “I’m going to take Abigail down to the reception desk for a lollipop, if that’s all right with you both?” Her smile was bright but stiff as she looked at Abigail, who was squirming on the exam table.