by Leigh Hays
He sighed. “I was hospitalized last month.”
“What?” Alarmed and worried, she sat up. “For what?”
“Chest pains.”
“Jesus, Dad, and you’re smoking.” She reached for his cigar.
He waved her away. “Relax. I did it to myself. I fell face-first on some ice in Oslo and forgot all about it. When I came back to the States, I had terrible chest pains. I went in, and one of the enzymes to detect heart attacks was elevated, so they kept me for observation.” He rolled his eyes. “It turned out to be muscle strain. Silly really, but it got me to thinking.”
“Why didn’t you call me?” She tried to hide her hurt. If he noticed, he didn’t say.
He took another puff. “Not much to tell. Besides, your mother was there. I got an earful about how much I worked from the kettle herself. I didn’t need the pot to come along, too.”
“Dad…” Did he really think that about her?
“Linds…” He arched an eyebrow, and she relented.
She smiled and nudged his shoulder. He leaned his head against hers. Her chest tightened and refused to let go. “Just remember, there’s more to life than work, honey.” He kissed her forehead, and the pain eased.
She said, “I know. But I like my life like this.” Thinking about Rebekiah and how quickly life could change, she wondered if maybe she wanted more. She rolled her eyes at the thought. The holidays really brought out all these people celebrating ideal versions of their lives. She was not immune to their influence, but it was reality that grounded her and reality that kept her sober.
He finished his cigar while they dished about her mother’s guests. They split up at the door to avoid censure for disappearing at the same time. Lindsey snuck in first and spent the rest of the evening in small talk. It was close to ten thirty by the time she left, using the excuse of watching Sera for why even her father’s promise of eggs benedict in the morning could not keep her overnight. Besides, her family time maxed out at thirty-six hours; the addition of her extended family cut that time in half. She felt marginally bad leaving her father behind, but not enough to stay or neglect Sera on his behalf.
Chapter Seventeen
Lindsey took Sera out for a quick walk and unloaded her pockets before getting ready for bed. Rebekiah’s reply text from an hour ago stared up at her.
You, too. How’s the family? How are you doing?
She crawled into bed and felt Sera jump up and settle next to her. She ruffled her head. Sera snuggled in tighter. Lindsey hummed and pulled her phone over and texted back, I have achieved escape velocity. You?
At the house.
How’s Thea?
Better. Surgery went well. The stent appears to be working. Colette thinks she’ll be home in a few days.
How are you doing?
Okay. Miss Sera.
Lindsey glanced over at the sleeping dog and took a quick selfie with her. She misses you.
Is that your bed?
Lindsey smiled, thinking about what it would be like to have Rebekiah in it. Yes.
Ugh. I should have brought her doggie bed.
She doesn’t sleep with you? Lindsey looked down at the dog and said, “So you’re not supposed to sleep with the humans. I thought you might be fibbing.” She bent down and scratched her ears. “You little sneak.”
Oh, hell, no. She snores.
Lindsey laughed. Sera’s eye popped open. “Is that true? Do you snore?” Sera closed her eye again and sighed.
Rebekiah was texting back. Tell me a secret.
Lindsey smiled at the abrupt topic shift. Why?
Honestly? Too much introspection here. I want to hear about someone else’s life.
Lindsey didn’t trust her curiosity. Someone else or mine?
Yours.
Okay. She came up with the least personal secret she had. I didn’t vote for my mother last election.
LOL. OMG. Are you a Republican?
Lindsey could see where she might get that, but she was quick to reply. No. But I thought her policies at the time were not serving my interests.
Cold. But kind of awesome.
Lindsey chuckled, oddly pleased by her approval. Your turn.
I hate ice cream.
Lindsey smiled. An equally fluffy detail. Really?
Too cold and not a big fan of dairy.
Cheese? Lindsey tried to remember if she’d seen her eat it.
Rebekiah replied with Meh.
How could she not like cheese? She went all in on the banter. I don’t know, that feels like a deal breaker.
Deal breaker?
I’m not sure we can be friends, Lindsey teased.
Friends? Is that what you call us?
Lindsey paused in her reply. She couldn’t tell what she was asking. With no emoticon or tone, it was hard to tell if she was teasing or seriously asking. Suddenly, the conversation felt less playful. She wished she could see her face or hear her voice. Why? What do you call us?
Friends…friends with benefits?
Lindsey responded with a smiley face. She wasn’t sure how to react. Did Rebekiah have a lot of friends like this?
What would you call us?
Lindsey groaned. She so did not want to have this conversation over text, but now that they were, she did not want to call her either. The anonymity of not seeing her face made it feel easier. I don’t know. I’ve never done this before. Rebekiah immediately started texting back, and Lindsey palmed her forehead before she added, Mixed business with personal.
Ah. I see. Do you want it to stop?
They’d skirted this conversation before she left, but they hadn’t gotten this specific. She felt a twinge of disappointment at the thought of stopping whatever was happening between them. No.
Neither do I.
Lindsey smiled and cuddled her phone closer to her chest. The next statement from Rebekiah shifted the subject again. Not looking forward to tomorrow.
Somewhat relieved, Lindsey rolled with the subject change and typed back, Why?
Not sure what to expect with the medication. She’s been a complete asshole the last few times we’ve seen each other. I’m not sure who I’ll be dealing with.
At least her parents were civil, even when they were distant. She wished she could make it better for her and was surprised by that thought. She’d never really cared to fix her ex-girlfriends’ problems. Perhaps because she didn’t know that much about them. Their lives existed outside her own, and that was probably why.
That sucks. How long have you known her?
All my life. She lived in the same commune as my parents.
Lindsey laughed. It totally fit with Rebekiah’s bohemian past and alternative artistic pursuits. Of course?
?
Explains your open attitude toward sex. She knew that she was taking the conversation in a different direction.
Ha…you don’t know the half of it.
Oh, but she wanted to. Desire moved through her. She reached over and switched off the lights. Then tell me.
What do you want to know?
She turned down the brightness on her phone and snuggled into the bed. A pleasant warmth spread through her body. What’s your biggest turn-on?
Lindsey waited while Rebekiah typed, Submission as willing consent. Lindsey puzzled over that one until Rebekiah added, I like to push boundaries, that moment of submission and surrender is a total turn-on for me.
That warmth turned wet and moved toward her core. And how would you get that from me?
Three dots appeared immediately, but no text came through. What was taking so long? What if all she wanted was the photos? What if she lied, and she didn’t want this and was trying to find a way to let her down? Wet and wanting, she struggled to stay calm. Finally, Rebekiah’s reply arrived. I would overwhelm your senses. You’re cerebral, so I’d need to ground you in the here and now. The physical. Maybe a blindfold? But you like control, and that would unnerve you. So I’d need your trust. We would talk every ste
p of the way until you finally felt comfortable with my lead.
Lindsey sighed and closed her eyes; her hand slid down her stomach.
Her phone dinged. She glanced at the screen, and her sister’s name popped up. Merry Christmas!
All the arousal left her, and she pulled her hand back. You, too.
How are Senator Blackwell and Dad? Grace asked.
Good. I left early.
Bummer. No eggs benedict.
Lindsey laughed. We all make sacrifices. Where are you?
Miami. Grace sent a picture of her standing on the deck of her ship in her duty uniform.
Rebekiah texted back, Too much? She wrote to Rebekiah, Sorry, sister just texted. Then she asked her sister, When are you back in town?
I’ve got another three months.
Rebekiah’s text showed up right after Grace’s. Ah. I’ll let you go.
No.
No? Grace texted back.
Shit. Sorry, texting another person. She texted no to Rebekiah.
Work?
Lindsey considered her response. Grace’s timing could not have been worse. A half answer would only get her more questions, but a real answer would draw their conversation out. Not exactly.
Grace sent a big smiley face. Not exactly. Lol.
Lindsey typed back, It’s complicated.
Isn’t it always?
She smiled and typed Good night, Grace. And hoped it ended there for the night.
Love you, too.
Back, Lindsey typed to Rebekiah, but the moment was gone.
Rebekiah asked a couple questions about Grace, which ended with Lindsey sending her the picture she’d just received. She looks like you.
Lindsey smiled and typed, Only younger.
Any other pictures?
Lindsey rifled through her Dropbox. A few years ago, she had all her pictures digitized and cataloged in an effort to purge excess junk from her life. She guessed the year and scrolled through a few pictures before she found the one she was looking for. She was in her late teens sitting on a wooden boat with Suzie’s legs wrapped around her, half turned in the V of her legs and smiling. They looked so young. She hit send.
Aww…
First girlfriend. Parents hated me. Staunch conservatives and very very rich. Her boat. Not mine.
What happened?
Lindsey smiled at the memory. College. Married a man. Had kids. Lives in Greenwich, CT.
LOL.
I know. Tragic. You? She suspected that Suzie was still trying to live up to her parents’ expectations.
?
First girlfriend?
Hmm. Official or first woman I slept with?
Lindsey laughed. “Oh, Rebekiah, why am I not surprised?” There’s a difference?
Yeah. For me at least. You?
Lindsey considered her early relationships, Suzie and Monica. No. I slept with my first girlfriend. She grinned. I did sleep with my second boyfriend.
Lol. No men for me. So, yeah, there was an older girl in high school. Alex. Sigh. She broke my heart.
Lindsey saw a young Rebekiah, all awkward and earnest, and she sent a sad face emoji.
You? First heartbreak?
Monica immediately came to mind. The longest relationship she’d ever had that spanned college, grad school, and New York City. Monica’s leaving took Lindsey by surprise, although in hindsight, the last two years of their relationship had seen a steady increase in late nights, constant travel, and binge drinking. By the time she sobered up and left New York, Monica had moved on. She was her first and last heartbreak. After Monica, she settled for brief affairs abroad or longer relationships in town often involving her current lover moving in and then out citing neglect or emotional distance. Neither of which felt particularly off base to her.
The conversation lost its fun, and she typed a quick follow-up. Sleepy. Talk tomorrow.
Rebekiah’s response was instantaneous. Sure. Ttyl.
Sleep came quickly but was filled with dreams of Monica and their life together. She woke up the next morning sad and lonely. She cuddled with Sera and cried before she nudged her awake to go for a run.
Chapter Eighteen
The day after Christmas, Rebekiah woke up before dawn and left the house in search of coffee. Her conversation with Lindsey the previous night had ended abruptly and left her kind of unsettled. At five a.m., traffic was thin as she took US 1 along the water. Unwilling to head to the hospital yet, she kept driving, ending up in the parking lot of the White Street Fishing Pier.
Coming home always stirred up the past. White Street Fishing Pier was no exception. Whenever her father brought her down to visit, her grandfather would pick a day and wake her just before sunrise. Armed with poles and tackle, they’d drive down to the pier and spend the morning watching the sunrise and catching fish. After college, the place took on another meaning.
The pier was also the site of the Key West AIDS Memorial, and it was the only physical place where her mother was memorialized. She wandered down the length of black marble before stopping at the second to last set of names and finding the one she was looking for. She never knew until her late twenties that Thea had paid to put her mother’s name in the stone, and it was only after another argument that she told her.
She struggled for years to understand both her parents. Anger and bitterness fluctuated with acceptance and understanding. Memories of her father were wrapped up in childhood and tinged with nostalgia. He was a distant and loving figure gone before she really knew him. But her mother had been present until adulthood. She’d encouraged and loved her, but she’d always held back a part of her life, the one she shared with Thea.
She stared at the name for a while, letting the sound of the ocean fill her ears and wondering what her mother would think of her life now. If Thea was any judge, she’d be proud of her art. She liked to think that she would’ve understood her commitment to Emma, but she’d never know. There were too many blank spaces in her life with unanswered questions. Finally, she turned and walked along the concrete pier amid the fisherfolk with a nod and a smile if they looked up from their lines. The salt spray covered her forearms, and the waves washed away her maudlin thoughts.
Her phone dinged, and she almost didn’t pull it out, but she figured it was Collette. She saw a picture of Sera sprawled out on a puffy quilt, fast asleep. Lindsey. Any lingering feelings about her mother and Thea faded into the background.
Four-mile run and she’s out like a light.
Rebekiah smiled and typed, Four miles. So early…
Did I wake you?
Nope. Just heading to the hospital.
Rebekiah looked for a place to sit. Finding none, she headed back to the parking lot and moved to the beach. Walking down to the edge of the tide line, she sat on the sand to watch the sunrise.
Actually, I’m avoiding it. She took a picture of the rolling waves and sent it.
Lindsey pinged back. Nice avoidance location.
Their conversation last night had been equal parts flirtatious and serious before Lindsey had ended it. It was hard to tell over text if she’d been sleepy or ducking the question. She didn’t want to pick at an old wound, but she wanted to know more about her. She asked again. Never told me about your first heartbreak…
Three dots showed up on her phone, but nothing arrived. She waited and waited, then sat on the beach, tucking her phone into her pocket, hoping Lindsey had gotten sidetracked and that she hadn’t pushed her too far. She cursed the fragility of texting until her phone dinged again.
Monica.
Rebekiah waited, but nothing more was forthcoming. Figuring that was all she was going to get, she filed that name away for later and started thinking about a safer topic.
We met in college. We were together for seven years.
Or maybe Lindsey would talk about it now. Wow. What happened?
I did. Work, booze, other women.
Rebekiah did some math in her head, and unless Lindsey was with someone
right now, Monica had been the longest relationship she ever had. Ouch. Been there, done that.
When I was drinking, I was much less selective with my choice of partner. Sobriety made me more risk averse.
Rebekiah thought about her own early sexual history with its random hookups and short-term affairs and the precautions she’d taken in the years that followed. Taking a deep breath, she typed, Can I ask a personal question?
Lol…What are these then?
Rebekiah chuckled. Getting to know you questions. Well?
Go ahead.
Have you been tested? Rebekiah realized that her question was a little late in their relationship. They’d already touched each other intimately. But she had more plans for them, and given their collective histories, she needed to be sure going forward.
There was a pause before Lindsey texted back. HIV? Yes. Every six months. I’m assuming this line of questions has a purpose. Three dots were followed by a smiley face with a wink.
Rebekiah laughed, any sting the comment might have had erased by the emoticon. What do you think?
Lindsey replied right away. I got tested two months ago. You?
HIV negative. A month ago. Just after their time in New York City. Also, no STDs.
Lindsey reported a clean bill of health as well. What happens next?
Relief washed through her. Previous partners were either offended or confused when she asked these questions. After Emma died, she’d been less rigorous with her precautions, engaging in unprotected sex with a variety of women, up to and including her most recent photo subjects. Rebekiah smiled. I come home and do those things I told you about.
Feels like we’re doing this backward.
Rebekiah stared at her text. How so?
Having sex first. Getting to know you second.
Rebekiah chuckled. She forgot how her approach differed from most people’s. You know me. Besides, that wasn’t sex—it was foreplay.
Lindsey sent a smiley face back. If you say so.
I do.
Okay.
Rebekiah couldn’t get a read from her comment. Are you really okay?
A smiley face came back. Absolutely. More dots. Hate to run, but I gotta get ready for work.
Their conversation wrapped up after that. She felt better for having the talk. She didn’t know what she’d do if Lindsey had balked at the topic of getting tested. Sitting so close to her mother’s memorial made her acknowledge just how important it was to her and how little she’d cared to follow her own heart the past few years. She steeled herself for the next part of her day by taking a couple shots of the sunrise before she got back into her car and headed toward the hospital.
