Visiting Hours

by Tagan Shepard

  “He’s always been cuter than he is smart.”

  Beth smiled at her joke, and the tears seemed to have stopped. She looked out the window again, her hand stroking her belly almost absently. Alison screwed the top back onto the bottle of polish more to have something to do with her hands than anything else.

  “Ignore me, Ali. I’ve been stuck in this bed too long.” The corners of her lips turned up the same way they had when they were kids and she snuck a piece of chocolate from her mom’s kitchen. It was unsweetened baking chocolate, but Beth ate it all the same and pretended to love it. “Too much time to think. Still…I wonder what it looks like up there. I wonder what color the wallpaper is.”

  Before Alison could think of anything to say, there was a loud knock. A nurse she hadn’t seen before swept into the room.

  “Sorry to interrupt the chat ladies, but it’s time for me to get your vitals and visiting hours end in five minutes.”

  Alison glanced at her watch, but didn’t see where the hands were pointing through gathering tears. She kissed Beth’s cheek, collected her things and nearly ran for the door. She couldn’t tell whether she was about to throw up or cry. Both seemed quite likely. The urge to drop her bag, kick off her shoes and sprint for the elevators was difficult to overcome. She and Beth had a nearly perfect track record of, if not fixing each other’s problems, at least knowing how to make each other feel better. The longer this pregnancy stretched, the less Alison was able to contend with Beth’s feelings or her own.

  Passing the last room on the hall, she heard a whisper of Jess’s voice. She picked up her pace and ducked into the stairwell before she could be seen. Even the briefest flash of that winning smile right now and she knew exactly what would happen. She would pull Jess into a storage closet and rip every stitch of clothing off her body. She would bury her fear and doubt in Jess’s body and ruin everything. The sex would be amazing and she would feel so good while it lasted. And she would also smash the fragile framework of something special into a million pieces.

  She leaned against the metal railing of the stairwell and took several deep breaths. Her palms caught on the uneven surface. The top layer of paint on the railing was red, but was worn thin in areas and chipped in others, showing innumerable layers underneath, each a different color.

  She imagined the thousands of people who must have stood in this very spot and gripped this very railing. What color had it been when they held it? Were they crying from bad news or laughing because of a triumph? Most were probably somewhere in between. Holding this metal for the mere fact of needing something to hold on to.

  Or perhaps they had no idea where their hands were resting. They had shared this space with her, but in a different time, and were completely unaware of any significance. Most people were. Even the most important moments usually involved people who had no idea that they were a part of history. People who had not intended to make history and instead found it being made around them. Those were the people who brought Alison to the world of history when she was young and they were the ones who would always keep her there.

  Alison studied the flight of stairs. They could take her up to Labor and Delivery right now. She could see that place and tell Beth that it wasn’t all that great. All pastel blues and pinks on the walls and furniture. It would be filled with the sounds of babies and mothers.

  She turned away and started walking down the stairs. They would take her to her car and her home and tomorrow she would know what to say to Beth to make her happy again. She wouldn’t go to Labor and Delivery. Not yet. Not without Beth.

  Chapter Twenty

  “Why history?”

  The room around them was bustling with noise, but Jess and Alison’s table sat far enough into the corner of the restaurant that it was only a dull buzz outside of their bubble. The restaurant was one of Alison’s favorite places, Burger Bach, just outside of the fashionable Carytown area. It hadn’t occurred to either of them that it was a Saturday afternoon in the fall, which meant college football and loud, drunk fans. Still, the waiter who met them at the door gave them a knowing look and seated them in the quietest corner booth available. He handed over menus with a wink before he sashayed off.

  “God Speed!”

  Jess picked up a french fry. “Am I going somewhere?”

  “By Edmund Blair Leighton.” Alison smiled at her half-empty plate. “When I was a kid, eleven or twelve I think, we went on a school field trip to the Smithsonian. A very prim and proper line of private school girls tiptoeing through this massive art museum. They had a special exhibit that day and there were several paintings by Edmund Blair Leighton. The Accolade, Stitching the Standard, Tristan and Isolde. The one that really got me was God Speed!”

  Jess picked up her glass and eyed the contents. She had chosen a bottle of Hardywood Brewery’s Coffee Stout because, she said, they were the only decent local brewery. It was infused with roasted beans from Lamplighter, one of the only coffees in town that she liked, and it carried the pleasant memories of their first date. The beer was heavy, heady and thick as chocolate milk going down. The day outside was just cool enough to warrant the heaviness, and the flavor was bold enough to stand up to her burger made of ground lamb and piled high with goat cheese and spinach.

  “That makes sense. I’ll admit, when we met I guessed you did something more in the arts field.”

  “It’s the skirts isn’t it? I give off an artsy, hippie vibe even if it doesn’t fit me at all.”

  Jess wiped creamy suds from her upper lip with her napkin. “I wouldn’t say it doesn’t fit you. You just seem like a person who is more into…I don’t know…characters? People rather than memorizing dates and battle names and all that. But I still don’t see how a painting got you into history.”

  Alison had taken Jess’s advice and ordered another bottle from Hardywood. A Peach Tripel that was exactly what she liked. Not too hoppy, not too fruity but with a hint of both. It was smooth. Maybe a little too smooth. Jess’s presence was beginning to have an effect on her, so the addition of an easy-drinking, high alcohol beer put her in a dangerously flirtatious mood.

  “The painting is one of those romanticized scenes of medieval life. It’s a woman tying her scarf around the arm of her knight. He’s in full armor, sitting on his warhorse, headed off to battle.”

  A particularly loud cheer from the bar distracted her, and she looked over her shoulder without really seeing the crowd. Instead she saw a young version of herself, standing in front of a massive gilt frame, staring at that fictional couple. She turned back around to see Jess watching her and the temperature in the room seemed to ratchet up a few degrees.

  “Um…I loved it. I couldn’t stop wondering about those two. What were their lives like? What was their love like? The plaque beside the painting mentioned courtly love. When I got home, I went straight to the library to research it. I was enthralled. I guess I have been ever since.”

  Jess shuffled around the few leftover fries on her plate. “Typical woman. Looking for a knight in shining armor. Tell me about courtly love. I feel like it was mentioned in my lectures, but they got very heavy on military stuff and I might have been too bored to pay much attention.”

  “Hmm. Short attention span.” She smiled widely at Jess and was pleased to see her blush a little. “It’s all about nobility, purity and acts of service. The most famous example is Lancelot and Guinevere. A knight loves a woman, usually one in a loveless marriage, from afar. He isn’t willing to sully her honor by actually seducing her and she is determined to be a proper wife and remain faithful. Then he performs heroic acts and they can’t deny themselves anymore. They fall into bed, but forgive themselves because they held out against temptation for a little while. Typical romance novel stuff. Exactly the kind of thing that makes a pre-teen girl swoon.”

  “Then that pre-teen girl grows up and discovers that chivalry is dead.”

  “Even worse, she discovers chivalry never existed.” She found her fingertips traci
ng along the lines of Jess’s hand where it lay on the tabletop. “Real chivalry was more than just holding open doors and showing up with flowers. And it wasn’t just keeping your lady safe, but doing the impossible for her.”

  “Doing the impossible?”

  “A knight was not worthy of his lady unless he could literally slay a dragon for her. With a spoon if that’s what she wanted.” She lowered her eyes, finally noticing what her hand was doing. A tingle shot through her body as if Jess’s skin were electrifying her. “Whatever his lady wanted he was honor bound to make happen, even if he died in the process.”

  The hand under Alison’s fingertips went rigid, but the beer was swimming in her blood and she hardly noticed as she finished, “It’s an unrealistic dream.”

  Jess slipped her hand out from underneath Alison’s, reaching for her beer. She took a long swallow and couldn’t see the disappointed look on Alison’s face through the murky liquid. Jess said, “But it’s still your dream.”

  “Hmm?”

  “That’s why you love history, isn’t it?” Jess’s voice held an edge of sharp stone. “You still dream of finding your unrealistic knight in shining armor.”

  “Doesn’t everyone?” Alison reeled her thoughts back, dragging her eyes away from the curve of Jess’s neck. It occurred to her how many times she had used male pronouns and thought she understood the chill that had come over Jess. “Although I like the idea of having my very own Joan of Arc even more.”

  Jess nodded, looking into her beer, her hand firmly wrapped around the glass. Alison frowned. Her joke hadn’t smoothed the tension, but she couldn’t ask why. She fiddled with one of her rings, the alcohol coursing through her suddenly making her feel a little ill instead of giddy.

  “Can I get these plates out of your way?”

  The waiter was back, his encouraging smile still firmly in place. There was the slightest bob to his impressively high pompadour as he settled his weight onto one hip.

  “Yeah absolutely!” Jess was grinning when she pushed the remains of her lunch toward him. She turned back to Alison and winked. “Want anything else? Another beer?”

  Alison stared into her green eyes, alight and happy, and wondered if she’d imagined the awkward moment. “No, I better not.”

  He left with their plates. Alison didn’t want to lose the moment, so she asked, “How about you?”

  “How about me what?”

  “Why medicine?”

  “You mean other than the endless schooling, crushing student loan debt and astronomical malpractice insurance costs? Why not medicine?”

  “Well, when you put it like that.”

  This time it was Jess who reached out. She took the hand Alison was using to spin her ring and ran a broad thumb over her palm. A shiver rippled through Alison’s body at the touch, but Jess was talking again and she forced herself to listen.

  “I’d love to say it was some sort of crusade. Like someone close to me had trouble conceiving, or to make sure that the LGBT community was better served or something like that. Truth is, I just wanted to be a doctor. Ever since I was a kid.”

  She traced the pale blue path of the veins on Alison’s palm and up to her wrist, smiling at her memory.

  “When I was little we went to all of these weird swap meets and flea markets and stuff. Mom raised bees and she sold honey there. This one time I kind of wandered off and found this lady selling stuff she’d bought at an auction when a school closed.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Eight or nine maybe.”

  “And already a rebel.”

  Jess laughed. “Yeah. You ever see anatomy mannequins? They were kinda creepy actually. Clear human form and inside were these organs. All bright, primary colors. You could take them out to look at and then they clicked back into place. Not exactly accurate anatomically, but enough to teach a kid the general layout of our innards and guts.”

  “What a great toy. Sounds like the stuff of nightmares.”

  “Pretty much. Especially just standing in the back of science classrooms. I badgered my mom into letting me buy it with some birthday money I had tucked away. I played with that thing for hours. I could dissect it and put it back together with my eyes closed.”

  “And you didn’t grow up to be a serial killer.”

  “Not yet. I’m too much of a nerd I guess. All I wanted was to learn what all those neon pieces of plastic were for.”

  “I guess it was a good toy then.”

  The sensitive flesh of Alison’s wrist tingled from the soft brush of Jess’s thumb. Her touch was delicate in a way that made Alison’s whole body feel loose and shaky. As much as she craved that feeling, it was overwhelming given the setting. She repositioned her hand, catching Jess’s fingers between her own.

  “The kidneys got me hooked. Imagine a nine-year-old figuring out her whole life because she liked trying to say glomerulus.”

  “Glom what?”

  “Glomerulus. It’s a tuft of capillaries in the kidneys. Helps filter the blood. It’s so weird-looking. Like a ball of yarn. Anyway, I was all set to become a nephrologist, a kidney specialist.”

  “But you aren’t.”

  “Nope. I started med school and something about gynecology and obstetrics just clicked with me. Turns out I was good with figuring out women’s bodies. I know. I know. Start with the jokes.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  Jess laughed that throaty laugh again. The waiter slid their check onto the tabletop between them. Alison released Jess’s hand reluctantly to fish out her wallet. She threw a couple of bills down, and as they stood Jess’s hand found its way to the small of Alison’s back. It rested there lightly, and her heart skipped at the possessiveness of the gesture.

  The sun was high and bright after the dim restaurant. Alison worked on a script to casually invite Jess over to her apartment while they walked across the crowded parking lot. Her mouth was watering at the thought of the long walk up to her front door. The shy look she would give as she leaned close. The words she would whisper before wrapping her teeth around Jess’s earlobe. She nearly walked into a parked car, but Jess’s hand on her back steered her out of the way just in time.

  “I would insist on buying you ice cream or something,” Jess said as they approached her car. “But I have some stuff to do back home before I sleep.”

  Alison’s stomach plummeted. Pulling the corners of her mouth up into something resembling a smile was harder than she had imagined. “Oh. That’s too bad.” She saw something in Jess’s look that she hoped was regret or at least disappointment. “I’ll take a rain check.”

  Jess didn’t respond with words. Instead, she leaned in with a confidence that Alison had not seen from her before. Kissing had become more comfortable between them now. As though they’d been doing it for years and knew exactly how to move together. Alison’s hands were on her shoulders, pulling her closer. Jess leaned in, but not indecently close considering they were in a very public and visible spot. Alison melted into the kiss, fully aware that her slight intoxication was doing her no favors in coordination, but not really caring. She felt Jess’s chest press against hers. She ached to eliminate all the barriers between them.

  She slid her hand experimentally up Jess’s side, hoping for some encouragement, but it was clear that Jess was holding back, and Alison hoped it was only because of the lack of privacy. The kiss was full of the promise of more, but it was also restrained. Superficial. It ended much too soon, but she was still thrilled to see the glaze over Jess’s eyes.

  “I should go. Thank you for lunch.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  How’s your day going?

  pretty awful yours?

  Not bad. How about a drink to make it better?

  cant sorry working late tonight

  Looking forward to going home and rescuing a princess?

  More like blowing up a few dozen aliens

  That could be fun too.

  id rather s
ee you

  Do you get a break any time soon?

  god yes any time really we docs can do whatever we want didnt you know that ;)

  you thinkin of coming to bust me out of this place?

  Maybe.

  im your willing coconspirator you bring the beer ill find a chainsaw

  That was how Alison and Jess ended up watching the sunset over downtown from the roof of the hospital. Alison had whisked Jess away from the nurses station, but Jess was the one who took her hand and led her up a back stairwell. The stairs ended in a locked door, its key hidden not so secretly over the metal doorframe.

  Most of the nurses and a few doctors knew about the roof access. People used it as a place to escape the stress of the hospital, Jess explained, or a place to indulge in the cigarettes that were forbidden throughout the campus. There was an unspoken rule that if the door was unlocked when you got there, the roof had already been claimed and you had to find somewhere else to go. Fortunately, the key was still in place, the hideout was unoccupied, and they could spend some time together away from prying eyes.

  An old, mismatched pair of folding lawn chairs waited by the railing. When they sat, Alison reached into her bag.

  “You know I was just joking, right?” Jess said with a nervous laugh. “I can’t actually have beer while I’m on the clock.”

  Alison’s smile widened and she pulled out a pair of dark brown bottles. She twisted the cap off one and handed it to Jess. The smell of sassafras hit her even through the swirling wind.

  “Root beer.” She laughed and took an experimental sip. “I haven’t had this since I was a kid.”

  “I brought Coke, too, if you’d rather. The root beer was really just a joke.”

  Jess put her feet up on the railing. “No, this is perfect. Thank you.”

  Alison leaned back into her chair, pulling her knees up against her chest. “You’re welcome.” She drank from her own bottle and looked out over the view. “Why has your day been awful?”