“I know.” Now Bethany’s defensive and I feel like shit.
“If he hurts you, I’ll kill him.” That’s all I meant by the He’s married bit. But too late, I realize how judgmental I sounded. My glass house has three men who all had sex with me at the same time. So I’m not about to throw a rock from where I’m at.
I just…I don’t care that he is my dean. I’ll stab the man if he’s planning to string Bethany on.
She sighs. “He’s getting a divorce.”
“If he hurts you…I’ll slit his tires. I’ll make sure he never files his paperwork properly ever again.”
My beautiful friend laughs. I can also hear the phone rustling. I think she’s walking somewhere more private too. “I am his secretary, you know. I can make work very difficult for him.”
“How—how did this happen?”
She sighs again. “It’s such a cliché, but that’s how it happened. I’m his secretary. I know the man better than anyone else. I put up with his shit better than…Well, you know. He just came to me last week, told me he was getting a divorce because he realized he’d rather spend the rest of his life with someone who actually cared about him.”
“Do you care about him?”
It’s hard for me to see the connection between wonderfully loud and vibrant Bethany and my bossy, old-fashioned dean. He’s tweed while she’s neon pink pencil skirts. He’s pipes and talking about the tragedy of twenty-first century literature while she’s loud pop music and saying fuck a lot.
“Yes,” Bethany admits. “I—I haven’t dated in the last year because I kind of had a crush on him the whole time.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“How long have you two been…?”
“Fucking?” She laughs.
“Yeah.”
“We’re not. Not yet. He wants to take things slow. But I almost had him come in his pants last night.”
Ew. Just ew. Thinking about my dean in any kind of erotic sense might be even grosser than—well, it’s gross.
“I—um, congratulations?”
Bethany giggles. “Thanks. And now that I’m alone, what about you, missy? Just who did you almost make come in his pants last night? Which fella did my skinny friend pick?”
“I didn’t make anyone almost come in his pants last night. I was a nun.”
“You’re so boring. When are you going to fuck one of them?”
I have no idea what to tell her. I swallow, trying to decide if I want to spill the truth.
She sighs. “Making love, okay? When are you going to make love to one of them?”
I giggle at her attempt to appease me and that gives me the confidence to confess. “I, er, already have. This morning.”
She squeals. Her delight that I’m finally having sex makes me laugh even more.
“Was it good? Which guy did you pick?”
“It was good. Really good. And I didn’t pick.”
“Oh, did a couple of them find out about the others then take a hike? Well, it’s their loss, Jane. It’s really their loss. You’re a great woman, and any man who would walk away from you is an asshole.”
Bethany’s said things like this to me before. I don’t know why, but my brain deflects these kinds of sentiments. I never know how to accept the kindness, the sweetness. But today, after three men have lavished me with affection and sex, I finally hear the words she says. They feel like manna to my soul.
“None of them walked away from me.” My throat and mouth are so dry.
Bethany’s quiet for a moment, trying to figure out what I’m not saying.
So I decide to finally admit to what I’ve done. “I fucked all three of them this morning.”
She’s very quiet now.
“God, you aren’t choking again, are you?”
Bethany bursts out with a laugh. “No. But—god, you almost had me there. I almost believed you.”
“I—I’m not kidding. I made love to them. They’re still in my house. Cooking, I think. We’re all really hungry. Hours of sex will do that.”
If I thought Bethany had squealed before, it’s nothing like now. She’s screaming and laughing, and I hear my dean ask her if she’s okay. She says yes and to leave her the hell alone for a moment while she talks to me.
After I hear a door close, she says, “You’re not kidding me?”
“Nope.”
“Not even a little?”
“No.”
“At once? You had them at once?”
“Yep.”
“And it was good?”
“So good.”
“Are you going to do it again?”
“That does seem to be the plan.”
“You fucking lucky bastard.”
I laugh.
She screams again. “I love you. You’re so full of surprises. Just like the Victorians. They always seemed so proper, but you know under all the stiff lace were bodies needing to come all over the place.”
“I guess that is me.”
“This is going to take a bit to wrap my head around.”
“You and me both.”
“You want to cancel your classes on Monday and take me to the appointment so you can tell me all the details?”
“I’m just going to tell you that it was good. But, yes, I’ll be there.”
“And Sherman wants to come too.”
Sherman? I know that’s my dean’s first name, but it’s hard to picture him as anything other than Dean Whittaker.
“I’ll be fine with the dean if he’s fine with me.”
“I’m going to try to make him not come along.”
“Why?” I ask.
“So you can tell me every sordid detail. I want to know everything: dick sizes, colors of their heads, the way they came—”
“I’m not going to tell you any of that.”
She giggles. “I’ll make you.”
“How?”
Then I’m scared I asked. I’m so afraid she’ll remind me that cancer might be close by. And that I need to tell her everything because she has cancer now. She’ll be joking, but I can’t take a joke like that. I fucking hate cancer.
“I don’t know how, but I’ll think of something.” Bethany laughs again. “So, see you Monday?”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
She’s quiet for a moment. “Thanks for putting up with my screaming. I love you.”
I hate that she’s gotten serious. She’s scared, I know, because she’s thinking of the appointment, of what might come.
“I love you too.” I keep my voice calm, collected. “You want me to come over, hang out?”
“You kidding? I have to have sex with Sherman tonight. It’s going to kill me if he doesn’t fuck me soon.” She laughs, but it comes out too hard. God, I wish I could hug her right now.
I try to laugh too. For her I do try.
“Okay, well,” I stammer, “if you change your mind—”
“And ruin what’s going on at your house? No way. I want you to have sex with those men until…until…well, I can’t think of anything gross enough to make you gasp, but I will.”
I, again, chuckle. I hope it doesn’t sound dull.
“I’m going to get into Sherman’s pants as soon as I get off the phone.”
I groan.
“There’s my girl.” While I’m laughing once more, she says, “See you Monday, hon.”
We hang up and I’m fearful for her. Maybe for me too, as selfish as that sounds. I hate not knowing.
16
Sex, sex, and more sex,” I say, “that was my weekend.”
That’s all Bethany can get out of me after she talked Sherman into getting us some soda pops while we’re waiting for the doctor. She is, again, in that horrible getup that doctors force their patients to wear. This time she’s cold, so she’s wearing two tying contraptions while she’s on the examination table, which is lined with paper that loudly crackles every time she breathes.
I d
on’t tell her that Chris left early this morning before his shift. He’d slept in and was in a hurry, but we had a quickie by the door. Shortly after, Paul had to return to his apartment and get ready for his classes. We had sex with Gabe in the shower. Gabe left when I came here for Bethany’s appointment. I also don’t tell her that none of the men made plans with me. And I’m fairly certain I’ll never see them again. Well, I’ll see Paul on campus. But he’ll probably duck from me.
“I had sex with Sherman,” Bethany interrupts my depressing thoughts.
I have to bite my lip, trying not to laugh. This is my dean, her boss, we’re talking about.
But Bethany doesn’t notice and seems thrilled to share. “Get this. He’s good. I mean really good. I came when he first entered me. I came during. I came after. I kept coming and coming.”
Wrinkling my nose, because I really don’t want to hear this about my dean, I wonder if Bethany had so many orgasms because Sherman is really that good. Or if she’s more into him than I thought. I’m pretty sure it’s the latter.
“I don’t want to know more.” I shake my head, palms out to her, pleading. “I’ll start picturing my dean having sex with you.”
Bethany laughs, her maroon hair bouncing, her tight curls more joyous than usual. I don’t get Sherman and Bethany. I can’t see them together; although, I literally did right before Sherman went to get us some Cokes. Still, they’re such opposites. But that doesn’t matter, does it? Whatever it is my dean does for Bethany looks so damned good on her. She’s glowing. He’s doting and worried about her. Oh, and when we shook hands out in the parking lot, he grabbed me for a hug, instructing me to call him Sherman now that we’re good friends, which I’m still not sure how to process.
“Jealous?” Bethany wags her dark brows, her blue eyes dancing.
I laugh and nod.
“The hell you are.” She crosses her arms, pretending to look angrily at me. Her smile always gives her away. “I’m still a little shocked about what you did this weekend.”
“Me too.”
That’s when Sherman walks in. Of course. He hands me a soda but not before one goes to his lady, Bethany. I like that he’s so chivalrous to her. I like it a lot.
“What did you do this weekend that was shocking, Jane?” Sherman asks, sitting down in a stiff plastic chair close to me.
He’s trying to be my friend. He’s trying so hard to put me at ease. To put us all at ease during this terrible time while we wait for the doctor. But I know I freeze and it’s showing on my face.
“Jane went to a wine tasting event without me.” Bethany pretends to pout. “And she liked three wines. Couldn’t choose which one to buy, so she got all three.”
“Excellent,” Sherman pats me on my knee stiffly. “What did you get?”
“Three whole-bodied wines.” Bethany’s so quick with her wit I’m about to spit through my nose trying not to laugh.
“Good show.” Sherman is an Anglophile. I’m slightly suspicious of him falling for Bethany because of her kick-ass accent, even if she is from Oz. But he’s also a wannabe cowboy at heart, who hides his bronze statues of wind-swept horses and their rough riders amongst his books in his office. I know the statues might not mean much, but to me it symbolizes Sherman’s desire for wild things. So maybe Bethany is his soul mate.
“Thanks,” I finally choke out. I’m blushing. From head to toe, I’m on fire, and Bethany is loving it.
“Maybe we’ll come by, Bethany and I.” Sherman nods. “And have a taste of the wines that stole your heart and purse.”
I laugh. Too loud.
“Baby.” Bethany’s shaking her head. “I’m not sure you’d like the swing of her wines.”
Sherman frowns. “I love wine. You know that, darling.” He stiffens after he’s called my friend his darling. Turning slightly to me, he smiles impishly. “I—I know our relationship is unorthodox.” He’s blushing more than I just did. Sweat is beading on his forehead too. “But we—I do feel—”
“She’s cool, baby,” Bethany explains.
I shrug. “You know, I understand…unorthodox relationships…Sherman.”
Now Bethany is really laughing, and as usual she’s very loud. But she’s interrupted by a petite doctor who walks in. The doctor is smiling and looks like she’s trying to impersonate a real oncologist with her white lab coat that’s sized a bit too big on her tiny frame.
Dr. Gallagher introduces herself, shakes everyone’s hands, and makes small talk while remembering our names. She might look young—maybe from her small frame or because she just is, but I can tell she’s sharp. She thoroughly inspects Bethany, not making a single noise during, unlike that bastard, Dr. Callahan. And Dr. Gallagher periodically asks if Bethany could please lift her arms and if it would be all right to listen to her heart. She makes sure her stethoscope is warm before she touches Bethany. I love Dr. Gallagher.
She sits down on the rolling stool that all doctors seem to have and looks Bethany in the eyes. “You have a nodule in your throat that’s atypical. I can’t tell if it’s always been there. Maybe it was something you were born with. Or maybe it developed.”
“I smoked in my early twenties. I’m so sorry,” Bethany says quickly, in a panic.
Dr. Gallagher nods and points to the chart in her lap. “I read that. But right now I don’t know if smoking did anything to you.”
“Then someone should get me a fucking smoke.”
We all laugh at Bethany’s joke. Even Dr. Gallagher. Bethany is terrified, and I know she’s being funny to assuage her fear. And we’ll all laugh. We’ll laugh until we can’t.
“So, Bethany,” Dr. Gallagher says, “since I know so very little, I’d like to do a biopsy of your throat. I can schedule it for later this week.”
Brave Bethany nods mechanically.
“The good news is,” the doctor continues, “which I know sounds weird when I just asked if I could cut into your throat, is that your lymph nodes seem to be normal. In fact you seem very normal, healthy. So this could be something you were born with.”
“Or it could be something else.” Bethany’s voice is quiet, and it breaks my heart.
Dr. Gallagher nods. “Yes. We’ll have to find out. So I’m going to have my nurse Ellen come in and schedule the appointment, but I’m pretty sure I have an opening this Friday.”
“This Friday. Good.” Sherman gets his phone out and opens his calendar to cross off the whole day. I just might love Sherman too.
Dr. Gallagher nods but keeps looking just at Bethany. “So Ellen will also explain to you a bit more about the procedure. It’s outpatient. You’ll need a ride.”
“I’ll take her in,” Sherman says loudly then winces and looks at me.
I nod, stunned this is happening so fast. But it always happens so fast. Biopsy. Diagnosis. Chemo. Death.
“I can be here too.” I’m not sure if I said that or if someone did it for me. God, I wonder if there’s a fog around just me or everyone else in the room.
Sherman nods and we turn back to Dr. Gallagher.
“Good. I’m glad Bethany has so much help. She’ll need to eat liquids for a few days afterwards, and Ellen will go over what she needs to do the day before. But it will be a small procedure, going in through the mouth so the only incision will be to the tumor.”
“Tumor?” I ask. My voice is really weird now.
“Well, I don’t know if it’s benign or malignant. I don’t know anything yet.” Dr. Gallagher smiles at me then Bethany. “So, let’s not worry until we know more, okay?”
But I’m already worrying. I’m already bracing myself.
I can’t lose Bethany. She’s all I have left in this world, this world that took Anne. It took Tim. I’m fairly certain there will be three men I’ll never see again. And if this world takes Bethany…I don’t know what I’ll do.
17
I’m in a stupor as we leave Dr. Gallagher’s office. Sherman asks if I want to have lunch with Bethany and him.
&nb
sp; I try to cover my fear of what the hell is going on in Bethany’s throat with a smile, a bright cheerful smile.
“Sure,” I choke.
“No, Jane, you have to get back to school,” Bethany protests. “You have your next class at two.”
I shake my head, looking at a clock we’re passing by in the labyrinth that is the hospital. “It’s not even noon. I have time.”
Bethany squeezes my arm, pulling me close. “Jane, honey, don’t take this the wrong way,” she whispers as we continue walking somewhere in the hospital, trying to find where the damned parking lot is. “But I want to be alone with Sherman. I want him to fuck my brains out. So I can calm the fuck down.”
No margaritas with me? I want to ask. No watching movies we love while eating cookie dough? But what about me? I come so close to asking.
But none of this is about me. I know that. And I hate how selfish I am right now.
I smile again at my friend, detesting the sting in my eyes, pushing it far away. “God, yeah, you’re right,” I say. “I should get ready for my next class.”
Bethany winks at me and latches her hand into the hook of Sherman’s arm. He’s made a place for her at his side, and she’s taking it. They’re walking slightly ahead of me and I’m so sad. I feel like I’m losing her. Fuck, why am I thinking of myself? I’m not the one getting the biopsy. I’m not the one with the threat of malignant over my head. I need to get myself together.
Then I hear a laugh. It’s deep and so very male. And familiar.
“I was just thinking about you.”
I turn around and stare at Chris. He’s with three other firemen, all in blue. He’s so tall, so beautiful, so masculine. I want to race to him and have him hold me.
From my periphery, I notice Bethany and Sherman turn too. “Well, if it isn’t the fireman,” she says.
Chris smiles at her and walks closer in just two strides. Along the way he wraps his arm around me, holding me close while he extends a hand to Bethany and Sherman.
“I’m Chris Peters. I don’t think we were introduced the last time I saw you.” He shakes Bethany’s hand and she’s smiling up at him, a mischievous grin if I ever did see one on her face.
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