by Joey W. Hill
Eventually, Elaine started asking Julie and Betty questions about Des. Julie could see Marcus was absorbing the information as intently as Elaine, probably to fill Thomas in later, but he was curious for his own sake.
Julie was part of that rapt audience when Betty offered a more detailed picture of the boy and young man Des had been. Though the shrewd nurse kept them distracted with the stories, Julie saw Marcus check his watch more than once. A couple times he rose and paced the hall when it was obvious he was too restless to be still. The first time he did it, Elaine caught his hand as he passed her and squeezed. He answered that pressure and bent to drop a kiss on her head.
“Don’t go far,” she said. “You know Thomas doesn’t want you smoking.”
Despite her own worries, Julie hid a smile. Elaine knew enough about Marcus to know he smoked when he was tremendously agitated.
“I’ll just be out in the hall,” he said, brushing her cheek with a light knuckle, his way of reassuring her.
Betty handed the ball back to Julie and she entertained Elaine and Rory with her stories of Des’s “Slinky” routine on the roof, his Type I kids like Mylo and people at the theater like Billie. She tactfully stayed away from the specifics of their performances. Julie was sure Elaine knew it was erotic in nature, since she avoided asking for details a person would normally ask about the productions. However, Julie knew she wouldn’t be comfortable with open discussions about it, so she tactfully stayed away from that. As always, though, Elaine was supportive, lauding Julie’s success in getting the theater up and running.
“Do you have any other pictures of Des?” Elaine asked her at length.
“Oh, I…” She didn’t. She didn’t have a picture of him. Not even the one Thomas had taken at the restaurant that night. Why hadn’t she told him to send it to her? Here she was, doing what she was doing, feeling for Des the way she did, and she didn’t even have a snapshot of him on her phone.
“Hey.” Betty put a hand over hers, as if sensing the tsunami of emotion the simple request had provoked. “It’s okay. I do. I have plenty.” Reaching into the canvas tote she had with her, printed with whimsical purple flowers on the outside, she drew out a slim photo album that looked new. “I copied the pictures I’ve collected of him over the years and made you an album, Elaine. I figured his aunt and cousins would want them, or at least be interested.”
“Oh.” Elaine’s face lit up. “How very kind of you.”
Marcus had returned from his latest pacing, so he moved next to Julie as Betty shifted to sit next to Elaine. Rory rolled his wheelchair over to the other side of his mother to see, since Betty put the photo album in Elaine’s lap. Marcus slid his arm around Julie and brushed his lips against her temple as the two women began to talk about pictures of Des, starting from his first intake picture at the boys’ home, and the infant pictures from the hospital. Julie wanted to see them, too, but right now she needed Marcus’s strong arm more.
“I know he’s going to be fine today,” she said softly, combatting the coil of desperation in her gut. “There’s more potential for complications afterward, really. Infection, rejection, all that. But that’s the thing. I can’t stop worrying about a million things that might have made yesterday the last day we had for him to feel like himself, be himself, be the person I love… We’re still so new to all of this.”
God, was that what worried her? That he’d come out of that surgery no longer Des?
She hadn’t meant for anyone else to hear her, but Elaine had incredibly sharp ears. She stopped and looked up. “Loving someone isn’t like loving a painting, dear. It’s like loving a garden. A lot of hard work, and some things thrive, while others wither and die, but those fertilize the rest. And things always, always change, from season to season.”
She reached over the album to take Julie’s hand and hold it. Betty watched the interchange with quiet approval and agreement in her expression.
“But your love for your garden, all it’s been, and all it can be, never changes.” Julie could tell from Elaine’s fond, wistful expression she was thinking of her late husband. “You can’t predict how it will work for you and Des. Only time and God can help you figure that out. Just don’t lose your faith in love. It’s one of the strongest, most wonderful things about you, and I’m sure that’s a big part of what Des sees in you as well.”
Hearing the wisdom of an older generation was as reassuring as Marcus’s arm around her shoulders. Elaine gave her hand one more pat before returning to the album. “Look at him there. Twelve years old… Oh my.”
Elaine’s eyes abruptly filled with tears, alarming all of them as she fingered the teenage picture of Des. In the earlier pictures, his hair had been short, an incompatible look with his features, though Julie suspected short hair was a requirement of the boys’ home. But in this picture, it was starting to grow out. His eyes were the same in every photo. A penetrating brown that conveyed his depth of character even in a two-dimensional medium.
“Mom? You okay?” Rory put his callused, large hand on her thin forearm. He’d grown into a handsome man like his older brother, and was tanned and callused in all the right places from his work at the family hardware store he managed, despite only being in his twenties. His physique made it clear he didn’t let being in a wheel chair keep him from hard work.
Elaine nodded, withdrawing a small album from her own sizeable purse. Opening it up, she displayed a young girl around the same age as Des in his picture. The likeness was so remarkable, the only thing that distinguished them seemed to be gender. “It’s no wonder Thomas saw the resemblance. Look at the two of them. It almost made the DNA test unnecessary. There’s no doubt they were mother and son.”
“You’re right, Mom. He looks a lot like Aunt Christine. I remember she always had peppermint drops.”
“Yes.” From the press of Elaine’s lips, and the flicker in Betty’s eyes, Julie suspected there was a less-than-innocuous reason for that. If his mother was a drug addict, she likely had bad teeth. Julie thought about Des’s subconscious preference for peppermint scent in his own home and wondered if he’d internalized that olfactory memory as an infant.
There was no unkindness in Elaine’s voice as she gave her son the simple one-word answer, only sadness as her fingertips slipped over the picture. “She was never a happy child, not like you, Thomas and Les, but she was artistic and dramatic. She’d create costumes out of scraps of cloth and old jewelry our mother had. She’d stroll through the house like a fine Victorian lady, or a princess. One time she imitated a British accent and pretended to be Queen Elizabeth for a whole week.”
“Ah, a method actor,” Julie said.
A touch of gratitude crossed Elaine’s expression as Julie pulled her out of the shadows. “Yes. That’s exactly how she was. She loved to pretend to be someone else.”
Sal appeared at the door and five sets of eyes immediately snapped to him. “They’re in recovery now,” he said. “Dr. Pindar said he’d come here to see all of you once he cleans up, but the surgical nurse told me everything went exactly as planned. No problems for either of them.”
“Thank God,” Elaine said, as Betty echoed the same sentiment. Rory stroked his mother’s arm and Marcus’s grip on Julie’s hand increased, a silent message of hope and reassurance. She’d hold onto that, and use it however she needed for Des.
As she looked around at Betty and Thomas’s family, including Marcus, she knew neither she nor Des would have to stand alone in that. She’d teased Des about family culture shock, but there was nothing better in the world to have when you really needed it.
Especially when the family in question had hearts as big as these.
Chapter Twenty-One
Des moved in and out of a post-operative haze. Only vaguely aware when they moved him back to his room, he was nevertheless pleased to feel Julie’s hand on his arm and her lips briefly on his face. He could smell her scent, so as he drifted in and out, he knew she was in the guest chair recliner. B
etty came and went, her and the new shift nurse, an attractive black woman who smelled like lemon, checking all his vitals and making him do the spirometer to improve his breathing when he was conscious.
He knew he was starting to wake up for real when he was aware enough to register the catheter that would help the transplanted kidney’s communication with the rest of his plumbing. The newest member of his organ team had better get up to speed soon, because he wasn’t going to tolerate having his cock stuffed with a tube any longer than necessary.
He had the pressure cuffs on both his legs to prevent blood clots, and an IV in his arm and neck. They made him feel tied down, antsy, but he pushed that away. Another temporary condition only.
A glance at the clock, the light through the blinds, and a somewhat muzzy recalculation of the passage of time told him it was close to daybreak. He guessed it was early morning rounds, based on the sounds of rolling carts, beeps and murmurs, and the movement of nurses up and down the hall in their squishy shoes.
The recliner was empty, but the blanket wasn’t yet folded, also confirming the early morning hour. At the sound of a door opening, he turned his head and saw Julie coming out of the bathroom.
She was a welcome sight, and a charming one, in pajama bottoms with kittens printed all over them. Her soft, stretched vee-neck T-shirt made him want to touch her generously wobbling breasts. Since getting erect with an installed catheter was not a good plan, he forced his thoughts elsewhere.
He lifted a hand, drawing her attention. “Hey there.” His voice was thick, unused, and he cleared it as she beamed like the sun.
She immediately came to his side and closed both her hands about one of his. “Welcome back.”
Before the surgery, there’d been some fear and tension in her expression, despite her best efforts to conceal it. She didn’t have much of a poker face, his love. But he was glad for it, because the range of emotions he read now were heartening. She was more relaxed, and very happy to see him.
He knew the surgery had gone well, because he remembered Dr. Pindar discussing it with him in post-op. However, typical for anesthesia, things that had seemed clear then had turned into a dreamlike haze. He’d have to ask Julie or Betty for a recap. But he’d retained the most important thing. Step One was a success.
Maybe they all knew it was the easiest step against what might be ahead, but he’d take it as a good sign. He was going to let Julie’s optimism bolster him. Though he’d possessed a will of iron and enough self-discipline to direct an army battalion his entire life, he hadn’t always been optimistic. Just stubborn. For her, he wanted to be optimistic.
“So…” She gave him an mischievous look, drawing a chair close to the bed. “Since you have a gay man’s kidney, are you having any urges to fulfill a couple of my guy-on-guy fantasies?”
He chuckled, and winced. Her eyes darkened and she placed her hands on his torso as if she could soothe away the pain. “That could backfire,” he advised her. “What if having a gay man’s kidney makes me want to be gay?”
“Based on how you were looking at my breasts just now, I think I’m safe.”
“Caught that, did you?”
“I think you’ll be ogling my breasts when you’re ninety. And did I thank you for that?”
He lifted her hand to his lips, kissed it with decent accuracy. “I feel like I have fur in my mouth. Can I have something to drink?”
“The nurse said not at first. We can use these wet swabs on your lips and inside your mouth if it feels dry, but not even ice chips until the doctor gives the okay.”
“Nazis.”
“I know, right? They say it’s for your own good, but I think the Inquisitors said the same thing when they were racking heretics.”
He smiled, despite the discomfort of dry lips. “I missed you, love.”
“I was here the whole time.” Her fingers tightened on his, but her eyes shone with care and love. It was a good feeling to be basking in that light. “Oh, here, let’s do the spirometer thing and get it over with. She told me to push it on you like a drug dealer coaxing six-year-olds to do crack as soon as you surfaced.”
He remembered the nurse walking him through it, but he let Julie show him again, because it meant she curled her fingers around his hands and caressed his face as he brought the mouthpiece to his lips. When he sat the device down, he laid his head back on the pillow, feeling lightheaded.
“Julie?” At the light rap on the door, he opened his eyes. An older woman he didn’t know but was pretty sure was Thomas’s mother, based on similarities in their facial features, peered around the panel. “Marcus just relieved me and I wanted to see—oh.” She startled when she realized Des’s eyes were on her, and she smiled, a partly nervous, partly pleased and anticipatory look. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s all right. I’m awake.”
“So I see.” She smiled more warmly. “I’m Elaine.”
“I figured.” Des cleared his throat, feeling ridiculously awkward. Elaine hadn’t expected he’d be conscious, though now that he was, she looked eager to stay. But he could also tell she was struggling to not seem too eager and spook him. If he wasn’t ready to talk, he expected she’d go away without offense, but he didn’t know what he was ready for.
Julie filled in the sudden silence in her comfortable way, bless her.
“You talked Marcus into going back to the hotel?” she said to Elaine. She included him in the talk with the angle of her body, still sitting on the bed, but she spoke in that way people did around a recovering patient who might not yet be up to talking.
“Oh, I’m sure I didn’t, though he let me believe that.” Elaine offered a self-conscious chuckle. She wore dark slacks with a blue tunic top over it that pinned at the hip, accentuating a trim figure. Her dyed ebony hair was long but pulled back in a sleek twist. Her hazel eyes had a touch of blue-grey to them when she turned her head toward the light. Des wondered if she looked like his mother. Since Thomas had been cued into his parentage by comparing Des’s looks to his aunt, not his mother, Des guessed that Elaine and Christine had drawn from different gene pools within the same family.
“He was probably in the cafeteria the past few hours to catch up on his work emails and texts,” Elaine continued. Her Southern accent was country rural, soft and pleasing. “Staying as close as he can without making me think he doesn’t trust me to watch over my own son. I hope he took a little nap down there, though, because I don’t think he got much sleep. Thomas woke up about an hour ago.”
“Des has only been up a few minutes. I’ll go tell the nurse he’s awake. Would you like to sit with him a few minutes while I do that?”
“Oh, well, if he’s waking up, I don’t want to intrude on you two. I can come back later.”
Julie had looked his way as she made the offer, confirming he was okay with her suggestion. He wasn’t sure, but Elaine’s kind attempt to give him an out, combined with the way her eyes were fastened on his face, drinking in his features, decided him. Don’t be an asshole. Or a coward. What are you worried about?
Exactly what he’d said before the surgery. Though he’d posed it as a joke, and Julie had gone along with it, the wisdom in her lovely brown eyes had told him she knew the truth. He didn’t know how he’d feel if Elaine didn’t like him. Didn’t matter how old he was, an abandoned kid would run toward the edge of a cliff to avoid another dose of familial rejection.
“No, it’s good. Please…” He gestured Elaine farther into the room, coughing a little, the after effect of the breathing exercise.
Julie picked up her robe, shrugging into it and freeing her long hair from the collar. “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” she told Des, leaning over to brush her lips over his. He put his hand on her shoulder to hold her, bring her back down for more of that, just an extra minute. When he at last let her go, she ducked her head, hiding her flush as she hurried from the room.
She’d handed Elaine a cup of water with what looked like big Q-tips in it befor
e she departed. Elaine moved the rolling table close and set the cup on it so he could reach for one of the swabs and roll it across his lips and in his mouth. Fortunately, he was able to do that on his own, but she helped him find the controls on the bed and raise him to a more upright reclining position. It felt better to sit up and be somewhat in control of his faculties, though he had to close his eyes a few minutes at the return of the dizziness. They had him on some good painkillers, because he wasn’t too uncomfortable, but fortunately he also wasn’t loopy. He hoped.
She’d put her bag on the chair and he saw a photo album in it. “You’ve been sharing pictures?” he asked, looking for a way to start the conversation that might put them both at ease.
“I thought…well, you don’t have to look at them. In a way, I brought them for myself. It sounds silly, but I felt like by bringing pictures of the woman who bore you, I was bringing Christine with me to meet the child she never had the chance to know.”
He blinked. “That was…an odd way to refer to her.”
Elaine’s lips tightened. “She wasn’t your mother. Betty was probably the closest thing to that for you, wasn’t she? God bless her. But I’ll call Christine your mother if you wish me to do so.”
“I don’t. I guess I’m just surprised…that you’d realize that I wouldn’t be comfortable with that. She was your sister.” He was usually more lucid than this, but maybe this halting, gentle way they were both handling one another was how it should be. Julie had left only the bathroom light on, so it was dim and quiet in the room, cocooning them in their own world.
