by Julie Cannon
“For God’s sake, Buck, just say it again and spare me the humiliation of having to ask.” Nicole’s tone was uncharacteristically sharp and she apologized.
“I said Senator Mason wants you to meet with her committee the day after tomorrow. SB249 is due for a vote next month in her off-shore safety committee, and she wants to talk with you to make sure she fully understands all the ramifications of requiring companies to install redundant blowout preventers.”
Since the Deep Water Horizon blowout in 2010, environmentalists and politicians greedy for re-election had been pushing to make it mandatory for every oil well to have no fewer than three very expensive pieces of equipment.
The cost aside, drillers were adamantly against the bill and had spent just about as much money on lobbyists to kill the bill as the Sierra Group had spent trying to get it passed. Personally Nicole was supportive of anything that would make drilling safer to humans and the environment, but Senate Bill 249 was, in her opinion, overkill. The cause of the blowout on the Horizon had been determined to be a variety of factors, with ignored or lax safety measures the primary one. The damage to the environment was heartbreaking, but another blowout preventer might or might not have prevented the disaster.
“Sure.” Nicole responded halfheartedly. She was uncomfortable around Colleen Mason, the four-time senator from Colorado. Colleen was one of the few out lesbians in the U.S. Senate, and she’d made it clear, if very subtly, her interest in seeing Nicole on a personal level. Nicole had testified before the committee a few years ago, and Colleen had contacted her off and on since then for reasons both professional and personal. Lately she was getting a little more demanding and was not taking Nicole’s “no” seriously.
“Something wrong, Nicole?”
“No, just letting my mind wander a little bit. Would you get me a Cliff-Notes version of the bill so I can brush up on it?”
After Buck left a few minutes later, Nicole sat back down at her desk and tried to concentrate on the pile of papers in front of her. She succeeded until the request for a new crane was next in the “approve” pile.
Brady was on the crew fighting the blowout in North Dakota. The owners of the rig had called after the pressure systems failed and all attempts to extinguish the blaze themselves were unsuccessful. The first blowout preventer was installed in the early 1920s, and with the advance of modern technology, well-control techniques, and personnel training, blowouts were infrequent. But when they occurred, the result was a monster.
Nicole remembered the endless discussions with her father about fires. When other little girls were listening to bedtime stories of princes and castles, Nicole was learning about blowout preventers, ignition sources, and fire-suppression techniques. She hung on every word and fell asleep dreaming about fighting fires with her dad.
Glancing at her watch, Nicole wondered what Brady was doing now. It was after six, and more than likely she was having dinner and getting ready to go out on the town. She said she was going to take in the sights, and Nicole knew exactly what sights she was referring to. Morgan City didn’t have a robust lesbian community, but if you could read the signs and if you were as attractive as Brady was, you could find exactly what you were looking for.
Nicole noticed the paper in her hands was moving and realized her hands were trembling. How long had it been since she “saw the sights”? It had been several months since she last dialed the number, and she hesitated before reaching for the phone.
She’d met Katherine, or 17402, the employee number the agency had assigned her, the first time three years into her recovery. She was nervous and had chosen a hotel twenty miles outside the town limits. The last thing she wanted was for someone to see her going into a local hotel room. In Morgan City everyone knew everyone’s business, and what they didn’t know, they made up.
Nicole had waited for Katherine with the drapes drawn and only the light from the bathroom slicing through the darkened room. She paced back and forth across the small room, too nervous to sit still. She still wasn’t sure she could go through with it, but she had to do something. She needed human contact, the touch of a woman, the release that cleared her head and made her feel alive.
Gina, her ex, had once said Nicole had an insatiable thirst for sex. Nicole, on the other hand, viewed it as her desire to make love to the woman she loved. In the beginning Gina didn’t seem to mind, and many nights they only dozed before one or both of them would reach for the other. Whether it was just her nature or the fact that she’d seen several men die, Nicole lived life, knowing how quickly it could be extinguished. She and Gina had been together for eighteen months when Nicole told her she loved her and wanted to be only with her. It took Gina several weeks before she echoed Nicole’s words, and they’d moved in together shortly thereafter.
Nicole was away from home for weeks and sometimes months at a time fighting fires around the world. Even though she’d many opportunities to cheat, and Gina would never find out, Nicole had always been faithful.
After Gina had walked out on her, Nicole had discovered Gina hadn’t felt the same. Nicole believed that fidelity was the backbone of a relationship. It didn’t matter if you were straight, gay, lesbian, or anything in between when you made a commitment to someone it didn’t matter if it was for a month, weekend, night, or even an hour, you didn’t cheat. What did the minister say at their commitment ceremony—thou shall forsake all others? Well, Gina must have mistakenly thought he said thou shall fuck all others.
Nicole didn’t know who she hated more—Gina for walking out on her after the fire, Gina for cheating on her, or herself for being so naïve to believe Gina would honor their commitment vows. To Gina the “in sickness and health” part meant as long as you don’t get sick, the “for richer or poorer” meant I get to spend all your money, and the “until death do us part” caveat meant that since Nicole’s heart did stop several times in the first week after the fire, Gina fulfilled that criteria as well.
The breakup scene with Gina was loud and ugly. Nicole was home after several months in a rehab facility and was having what she called a good day. Her range of movement was improving, all but a few burn areas were completely healed, and she was tapering off the heavy pain meds that made her dopey but enabled her to get through the day.
The home-health aide had helped Nicole prepare Gina’s favorite dinner of beef brisket with red potatoes and grilled corn on the cob. Gina, an architect who owned her own firm, had been coming home later than usual the last few weeks. Nicole had to guess when she’d be home as she prepared the simple but special meal. She put clean sheets on the bed, set the dining-room table with the good dishes and flatware, and lit the candles on either side of the small basket of get-well flowers that had arrived earlier that morning. The dimmer for the overhead lights in the dining room was low, creating a soft yet intimate setting. She had been planning this evening for days.
She missed Gina. Missed the connection they had, her touch, the way she made Nicole feel like she was the only woman in the world. Since the fire Gina had been there for her but yet not there. She was polite, helped when needed, but distant. Nicole’s body would never be the same and she was still in the process of accepting that reality, but she was still the same woman she had been before her life changed. No, that wasn’t true, she’d finally admitted to herself just that afternoon. No one could go through what she had and not change.
Maybe that was what was affecting her relationship with Gina. From the time she regained consciousness and could remember, Gina hadn’t touched her. She didn’t kiss her or hold her hand, one of the few places the fire hadn’t affected. In the evenings they sat platonically on opposite sides of the couch and watched TV, or Gina disappeared into her office with the excuse of work, and tonight was no different.
They hadn’t made love, and Nicole hadn’t been comfortable exposing herself in front of Gina. Her therapist had explained this was common and that with time and Nicole’s acceptance of her own body, she would kn
ow when she was ready. Nicole hadn’t yet fully accepted her body but she needed to be with Gina, the woman she loved, to help her reaffirm that she was a desirable woman.
Gina was in bed, her back to her, lights off, the glow of the full moon sneaking through the shutters on the bedroom windows. Nicole hesitated before slipping her T-shirt over her head and sliding under the covers. The shirt did more than keep her warm. It was her shield, and discarding it left her completely exposed and totally vulnerable. Afraid she might lose her nerve, Nicole didn’t hesitate to approach Gina. More than inches separated them in their bed, the place where love and laughter, tears and dreams had been shared.
Nicole moved close to Gina, lightly pressing against her back. Gina stiffened, and for an instant Nicole thought about backing away. But she couldn’t. She needed Gina, and they needed to reconnect as a couple, to start to rebuild their life together.
“I love you,” Nicole said, slowly moving her unbandaged hand up and down Gina’s side. Her skin was soft and warm, the familiar curves arousing.
“Nicole,” Gina said, and Nicole knew that tone. It was the one that said, “You’re kidding, right?”
“Gina, we need this. You’ve barely looked at me since the accident, and I can’t remember the last time you touched me, even if it was just in passing.” She no longer called her Nic either.
By unspoken agreement both she and Gina had made certain the other wasn’t in the same room when they were anything other than fully dressed. Gina rose early and was off to work before Nicole was out of bed. The reverse was true in the evening.
“Nicole,” Gina said, more forcefully this time, and moved away from her. She was already so far to her side of the bed Nicole was surprised she didn’t fall out. She reached for her again.
“Gina…” Before Nicole had a chance to say more, Gina sprang out of bed.
“No,” she said, her face clearly visible in the moonlight.
“Gina,” Nicole said again, this time hearing the pleading in her voice. She hated it.
“No, Nicole. I can’t do this.” Gina waved her hands, indicating the bed.
Nicole started to sit up, the sheet falling down and exposing her scarred chest. Her breasts were the bright pink of new skin, though her nipples, thankfully, hadn’t been damaged. She saw Gina look at her and just as quickly turn away. She pulled the sheet up to cover herself. “Gina sweetie, we don’t have to make love. I just want to be close to you, feel you against me again. I’ve missed you.”
“I can’t do this,” Gina repeated, and headed to the closet. Nicole heard her rummaging around and practically gasped when she emerged with a small suitcase and several business suits.
“What are you doing?” Nicole asked as Gina pulled open drawers and tossed underwear into the open case.
“I can’t do this.”
“For God’s sake, Gina, stop saying that.” Nicole was angry now. She grabbed her T-shirt from the floor and put it on before she turned on the light.
“Gina, honey, what’s going on? You have to talk to me. We love each other. We can get through this. We just need a little more time,” Nicole said, making up excuses.
“Nicole, don’t start with this again.” Gina gave a sigh of exasperation. Nicole had insisted they both attend therapy to deal with the accident. Gina had refused.
“We never finished it, Gina.” They had had this discussion before, but Nicole was always too weak to complete it. Tonight she’d see it through to the end.
“Why are you here? Is it out of guilt? An obligation? A sense of duty?”
“Of course not. Don’t be melodramatic.”
“Melodramatic? I have burns over sixty percent of my body. I may never walk normally again, or ride a bike, or throw the ball for the dog. I certainly will never, ever wear a bikini. Hell, I won’t even wear shorts again. I’m not melodramatic. I’m a realist.” Nicole’s voice carried across the room. Rosco, their springer spaniel, jumped up from his bed in the corner and quickly slinked out the bedroom door.
“For God’s sake, Nicole, stop it.” Gina looked around as if making sure she hadn’t forgotten anything.
“No, I won’t stop it. For weeks I peed out of a tube, shit in a pan, and ate through a hose that went up my nose and down my throat. I’ve been peeled naked by nurses, manhandled by therapists, and psychoanalyzed by shrinks. A little squabble’s nothing to me.”
“This is not a little squabble.” Gina stopped as if deciding whether to continue. “I can’t do this. I can barely look at you. My eyes stray to the bandages, the bloody bandages that make my stomach turn. In the morning I can hardly wait to leave, and I stay at the office until I can barely see I’m so tired because I can’t do this. I don’t want to do it.” Gina stood still, as if her declaration took all the energy out of her. Then she continued.
“I know I didn’t say what you wanted to hear, but it’s the truth. I don’t want to see your burns, change your bandages, and I certainly don’t want to touch them. I can’t do it and I don’t want to.” Gina repeated herself like Nicole was a small child and still not getting it. “You always said we have to tell each other the truth. Well, there you have it. Maybe I am a coward or a shit or whatever you want to call me, but at least I’m honest about it.”
Nicole had been afraid this would happen. In the hours she was alone in her hospital bed or enduring the agony of the debridement of dead skin to avoid infection, her biggest fear was that Gina would find her scarred and bloody body repulsive.
Nicole shouldn’t have been surprised, but it hurt nonetheless. She and Gina had been together for six years and were making a life together. They had shared broken bones, an appendectomy and tonsillectomy. Their love had endured long separations due to Nicole’s job, yet they’d managed to carve out time to take vacations in places like Rome, Australia, and Fiji.
“Get out,” Nicole shouted, lifting her bandaged arm and pointing to the door. “Get out of this room, my house, and my life.” As if released from her shackles, Gina ran out of the room, sparing Nicole the agony of having to tell her again.
Now, leaning back in her desk chair, Nicole reached for the phone and dialed the number she knew by heart. Ninety minutes later she was in the same hotel, opening the door to the same woman who’d released her torment many times before.
Chapter Seven
Relax. Breathe. Don’t think. Just feel. Nicole chanted inside her head as Katherine slid her skillful fingers inside her. From the minute Katherine entered the sterile room Nicole felt disjointed, almost outside herself. The first time she and Katherine were together was very different from this time.
It had been the same out-of-the-way hotel, and the clerk’s smirk had embarrassed Nicole when she said she’d pay cash. She’d signed the register, took her key, and bolted from the plain but clean lobby.
Once in the room she was too nervous to sit. She had texted her room number to the woman who was due to knock on the door any second.
“What in the fuck am I doing? I’m about to have sex with a complete stranger. I didn’t even do that in college,” Nicole said to the empty room as she walked back and forth at the foot of the king-size bed. “Shit, she might be a cop, and that’d just be perfect.” Nicole grabbed her keys and touched the doorknob just as the expected knock came.
She didn’t open the door. She didn’t move and wasn’t sure she was even breathing. The woman knocked again. Nicole knew it was a woman because when she’d called to make the appointment she was asked her preferences, including male or female. Somehow she’d stuttered out female and explained her physical situation before being assigned a client number. The deal was cash paid up front.
“Ms. Haven,” a muffled voice said from the other side of the metal door. Nicole didn’t answer. Her hand was still on the knob, her knees weak.
Nicole hadn’t given her real name when she made the appointment. When asked, she blurted out the first thing that came to mind. This woman would be her sanctuary, retreat, and refuge from the wor
ld she now faced. When Paul, her physical therapist, had referred her to the agency, he said that the employees were professionals, discreet and specialized in individuals with disabilities. She supposed that having scars over a majority of her body constituted a disability.
“Ms. Haven. My name is Katherine, 17402. I understand you’re expecting me.”
Her hand was shaking as she turned the knob and pulled open the door. Nicole hadn’t known what to expect, but this woman was tall, well dressed in a familiar name-brand suit, and completely put together. The smile on her face was apparently meant to put Nicole at ease, but it only made her more nervous.
“I’m Katherine,” she said, extending her hand in greeting.
Nicole responded more out of habit and was surprised to feel Katherine’s hand was warm. She knew hers was damp and clammy.
“May I come in?”
“Yes, of course,” Nicole stuttered, opening the door wider and stepping to the side. Katherine smelled like lilac and practically glided as she entered the room and turned around.
Nicole closed the door and had no idea what she was supposed to do or say. Did she hand her the money that was in a plain white envelope? Did she just get naked and lie down on the bed? Was any conversation allowed or encouraged? She’d paid for one hour, and at this moment that felt like forever. Katherine must have sensed her discomfort.
“Shall we sit down?”
“Yes, sure. Can I get you something to drink or something? There’s soda, beer, and a few cocktail mixes.” Nicole had looked in the minibar under the TV earlier.
Katherine’s smile was warm and understanding. “No, thank you. I’m fine, but feel free to have something if you’d like.”
Nicole couldn’t help but smile. “I probably should, but I think I’ll pass too.”
Katherine crossed her legs and Nicole couldn’t help but look. She glanced up and knew Katherine had caught her.
“I understand this is the first time you’ve called the agency.”
