Leslie frowned. “A little bit here and there. Why?”
“Do you remember what we…” She waved her index finger between the two of them.
Leslie closed her eyes as though sniffing a single fragrant rose. “A stroke’s got nothing on what we had.”
“You get better, friend,” Alice said. “I’ll be in touch.”
Alice grinned all the way to the elevator, her heart a garden of secret hope. She took a deep breath and hoped the feeling would pass. Quickly.
Chapter Eight
Alice woke early the next morning, not from the anxiety that had been her alarm clock for more than a week, but from pure excitement. Leslie was moving to the rehab facility, and that meant she was one step closer to recovery, to being herself again—whoever that was. Alice had to admit that after all these years she was aching to find out. And what about after her recovery? Again she shut down the thought before it grew wings and jetted her off to a region that she didn’t want to explore. Now was the time to be there for Leslie in friendship, and in the spirit of sisterhood, she vowed to leave it at that.
After a quick shower, she went downstairs and made a cup of coffee with the Keurig, imagining herself as Leslie’s one-woman therapeutic cheering squad as she sipped.
“Hey, you.” Mary Ellen came in from the patio with her coffee cup and breakfast dish. “Don’t tell me you’re off to the hospital already. It’s not even nine o’clock.”
“Not the hospital, the rehab. I’m going there later for moral support.”
Mary Ellen narrowed her eyes as she rinsed her dishes at the island sink. “Somebody’s got a little crush. You gonna carry her schoolbooks for her, too?”
“Physical therapy is grueling. She needs all the support she can get to stay motivated. Besides, with me there, her kids don’t feel so pressured to be there ’round the clock.”
Mary Ellen eyed her with suspicion. “Well, gee, isn’t that thoughtful of you.”
“I’m a very thoughtful person,” Alice said and smiled into her coffee mug.
“Hey, are you going to be around for dinner tonight? I figured we could order Thai or something.”
“Uh, I’m not sure. I was going to see what Leslie was doing tonight. You know, it’s Friday.”
“The woman’s in a convalescent home. I’m pretty sure a night on the town is not on her agenda.”
“It’s not a convalescent home. It’s a rehab facility, one from which she’ll be leaving in no time. I just want to make sure she’s not alone in case her kids can’t come by.”
“So you’re just going to hang around there all day and night? Make sure nobody mistakenly admits you.”
“Mare,” Alice said, studying her. “Are you upset about something?”
“No,” she said, hesitating. “Well, yes, sort of. You’ve been here a week, and we haven’t done anything together. You’re always off visiting Leslie. I hate to sound selfish, but don’t you want to spend any quality time with me?”
“Of course I do,” Alice said, hoping she wasn’t going to drag out this conversation for too long. “Let me see how today goes. It’s her first full day there. She may be so tired tonight, she won’t want any company.”
“Sister, dear, who wouldn’t want your company?”
Alice smiled and hugged Mary Ellen tight. “Thanks for understanding. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
“You better.”
Mary Ellen gave her a firm whack on her butt before Alice gathered her small purse and keys and headed out the door.
*
Alice slipped her arms into the sleeves of the light hooded jacket she’d had around her shoulders in the air-conditioned physical-therapy room. She’d been sitting there shivering for nearly thirty minutes watching the young redheaded PT drill Leslie through a battery of exercises for the mild hemiplegia in her shoulder and arm.
Leslie looked over as Alice rubbed the back of her arms to generate body heat. After wiping her brow with her forearm, she flipped Alice the bird.
Alice laughed and called out, “I’m sorry, but it’s freezing in here.”
“That’s it, keep rubbing salt in my wounds,” Leslie said, panting.
“Okay, Mrs. O’Mara,” her PT said. “You’re done with your top half for the day. Great job. We’ll work your leg this afternoon.”
“Thank you, honey,” Leslie replied. “I feel better already. I think I’m ready to be discharged.” She wiped her face with a hand towel, and her therapist helped her up off the exercise mat and into her wheelchair.
Her therapist smiled. “Not quite yet, but you’re getting there.”
“You must be starving after that workout,” Alice said. “How about some lunch?”
“Sure. Where to? A seafood meal with an ocean view?”
“How about the cafeteria?” Alice said, smiling at the PT. She turned Leslie’s wheelchair around, and they headed down the hall.
“Alice, this is so nice of you to come here and spend time with me. But I’m sure you have other less-depressing places you can be.”
“And miss the chance to chauffeur you around in this bitchin’ set of wheels?”
“Well, it’ll be wonderful to have lunch with you again, even if it is at a convalescent home.”
“Don’t call it that. It sounds so permanent. It’s a rehabilitation facility. You’ll be leaving soon. You haven’t moved in.”
“Whatever,” Leslie said. “Do you remember when we used to have lunch together every day at work?”
They chose a table near a large window overlooking a marsh. The sun glistened on an active osprey nest rising out in the middle of swaying grass and cattails.
“I remember very well.” Alice helped Leslie transfer from her wheelchair into her seat. “They were some of the best days of my life.”
“Mine, too,” Leslie said, her blue eyes as mesmerizing as ever.
Alice let her eyes dally on Leslie’s for a moment. “So, uh, what would you like to eat?”
“Surprise me.”
Alice raised an eyebrow and strolled to the counter. Surprise me, she said. The whole last week and a half had been one mind-blowing surprise after another, beginning with Rebecca’s Facebook message that the love of her life had been in a coma. Now two weeks later, they were together again, having lunch—and it almost felt like no time had passed at all. Almost.
She browsed the containers of the featured lunch entrees in the glass case, none of which looked appealing, and opted for a couple of slices of pizza and two side salads.
As she approached the table, she noticed Leslie’s profile as she gazed out the window at the summer landscape. She was breathtaking—a silent portrait of beauty and grace. What she would’ve given to capture that exact moment on film to keep forever.
“Pizza,” Leslie said. “This should be interesting.”
“Tell me about it,” Alice said. “I still have several items left on my bucket list, but nursing-home fish sticks is not one of them.”
Leslie wrinkled her nose. “That explains what I was smelling.”
They grimaced at each other playfully.
“Is pizza okay?” Alice asked, suddenly panicked. “Can you eat it? I’m sorry. I’ll get you something else.”
“No, no, it’s fine. I need the practice.” She smiled, lifted the square piece of pizza with her left hand, and nibbled the corner.
“It’s no Zampano’s, but it’s not bad,” Alice said.
“I heard they make delicious pizza.”
“What do you mean, you heard? You’ve had it,” Alice said. “That night I ordered pizza before we were supposed to go to Dolores’s.”
“Alice, I’m sixty-nine years old. Even if I hadn’t just had a stroke, how would I remember pizza from forty years ago?”
A blush scorched Alice’s cheeks. Maybe bringing that up hadn’t been the smartest idea.
Leslie stared at her expectantly.
“Well, let me put it this way,” Alice said. “The most memora
ble part of the evening wasn’t the pizza.”
Alice’s blush was apparently contagious, infecting Leslie as she furrowed her brow, clearly trying to recall the night.
“Oh, my,” she said after a moment. “I think I remember.”
August 1977
Alice paced by her kitchen window, checking every few seconds for Leslie’s car. Her stomach flipped like a cheerleader’s waiting for the captain of the football team to take her to the prom. Why did Leslie make her feel this way? It didn’t make sense. No woman had ever affected her like this. On the other hand, no man ever had either. Whatever was going on with her, she’d resolved to get to the bottom of it with Leslie that night.
“Thanks for coming over early.”
“It’s my pleasure,” Leslie said. “With the kids at my mother’s and Bill bowling, it’s the one night I can get out of the house without having to do a million things first.”
“Sit down and help yourself. I ordered half pepperoni and half mushroom.”
“Two of my favorites.” Leslie opened the pizza box and inhaled the aroma.
Alice filled their glasses with Tab soda and paced around the kitchen, gathering grated cheese, napkins, and red-pepper flakes.
“Hey, aren’t you going to sit down and eat?” Leslie pulled out a slice of pepperoni, folded it, and bit off a large chunk.
“Yeah, uh, in a minute.” Alice hovered behind Leslie’s chair. “Listen, Les. I wanted to talk to you about something, something that’s been weighing on my mind.”
“Well, okay,” Leslie said, twisting her body from side to side to find Alice. “Come sit down and talk.” She dabbed her lips with a napkin and regarded Alice with the attentiveness of a psychoanalyst.
Alice sat, staring at Leslie. She’d had this conversation in her head for several days, but now the words abandoned her like a partner in crime fleeing as the authorities closed in.
“I was wondering…” Her throat suddenly dry and scratchy, she paused for a sip of soda. “I mean, I want to know what you…”
Leslie appeared to be anticipating every syllable. “What I what?”
“I was wondering if…if…you think I should paint in here.” Alice shoved a slice of mushroom pizza into her mouth in defeat.
Leslie inspected the entire kitchen. “I like the mustard yellow. It matches the avocado-green appliances so nicely.”
“Hmm, it does, doesn’t it?”
“You could try some new curtains. Whenever I need a change but don’t want to spend a lot of money, that’s what I do.”
“And that’s what does it for you?” Alice said dryly.
“Usually.” Leslie tore apart two slices of mushroom. “Is something else bothering you?”
Alice shrugged as she nibbled the crust of her pizza, disappointed she hadn’t had the courage to start the conversation she’d wanted so badly to have with Leslie. Maybe the solution was to taper off their friendship—stop calling her so often, showing up at the field when Billy had a baseball game, and joining her family for holidays.
“I think I know what the problem is.” Leslie got up and started clearing the table. “You need a man in your life. You’re too young for this spinster routine.”
“Spinster? Now wait a minute,” Alice said. “Why is a single man my age called a bachelor and applauded for his independence? Do you know how many times I’ve seen those cats get slapped on the back and congratulated for avoiding the ‘old ball and chain’ for so long?”
Leslie gave her the high eyebrow. “How many times?”
“Well, twice,” she said, sheepish at first. “But that’s twice more than I’ve heard it said to a woman.”
“Point taken,” Leslie said. “But I still think having someone to go out with on the weekends would lift your spirits, someone other than friends.”
“Hey, don’t undervalue the power of friends to lift your spirits.” Alice shuffled around Leslie as she put away the condiments and sponged off the table.
“I would never,” Leslie said with a smile. “I’ve come to understand it better than ever over the last several months.”
When Alice turned back from the sink, she bumped into Leslie. Their eyes locked, and they hesitated for a long, agonizing moment before their lips met. What was it about Leslie that drew her like a magnet to steel? For that matter, what was it about her that seemed to have the same effect on Leslie? Alice grasped her around the waist and towed her along until she backed up to the counter. When Leslie cupped her face in her hands and kissed her passionately, Alice nearly crumbled into a heap on the floor.
Slowly they made their way into the living room and onto Alice’s couch, where they grew increasingly tangled up and sweaty. Leslie’s bag of crochet hooks, patterns, and yarn lay nearby on a chair. So enthralled in making out, they didn’t check the clock until they were already a half hour late.
“Leslie, it’s seven thirty,” Alice finally whispered.
“Oh, God.” She sprang up from under Alice. “We’re so late. How are we going to explain it?”
“I’m surprised Dolores hasn’t called. Don’t worry. We’ll come up with something,” Alice sat up and straightened her twisted bell-bottom jeans. “I got it. You had to wait for your husband to get home from work.”
Just then Alice’s phone rang. She dashed into the kitchen and answered it, stretching the cord as she walked to the living room and signaled to Leslie.
“Sorry, Dolores. I meant to call. Leslie and I won’t be able to make it tonight. I’m not feeling well, and she called earlier to let me know she couldn’t find a sitter.”
Leslie looked at Alice in surprise.
“Okay, yes, thank you. We’ll see you ladies here in two weeks.” Alice replaced the receiver and sauntered back to the couch next to Leslie. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what made me say that.”
Leslie fought a smile like a sinner in church. “I’m glad you did.” She traced the curve of Alice’s jaw with her fingertips. “This is so strange. It feels like I’m in a dream when I’m alone with you.”
“The most amazing dream,” Alice whispered. She stroked the ends of Leslie’s hair as though Leslie were some priceless museum piece she’d been forbidden to touch. “I’d always known women could be close with their girlfriends, but not this close.”
Leslie’s smoky blue eyes focused on something across the room as they seemed to puzzle out their situation. “Have you ever been this close to a friend before?”
Alice shook her head.
“Me either.” She tightened her grip on Alice’s hand.
Alice shut her eyes and closed Leslie’s hand between both of hers, relieved to hear her finally acknowledge that something was simmering between them.
“I love kissing you,” Leslie whispered as though someone might be listening.
Alice’s eyes popped open. “I do, too,” she whispered back. “I don’t know why, but it was never like this with my husband, or anyone else, now that I think of it.”
She wondered if Leslie had thought about her as often as she had when they weren’t together. But a profound sense of caution held back that confession.
Leslie rested her head against Alice’s. “I’m so confused.”
“I am, too,” Alice said. She lifted Leslie’s chin, and they kissed slowly for a while.
“Alice, I…” Leslie looked down.
“Tell me.” Alice stroked her hair for reassurance.
“I’ve never felt like this with Bill either, not in fourteen years with him. I don’t understand it because I love him. He’s a good husband.” She bent forward, elbows pressing into her thighs, and covered her face with her hands. “I’m so ashamed to admit that.”
Alice patted her on the back, struggling to find a way to comfort her as her heart hemorrhaged at Leslie’s confession. After a moment, she pried Leslie’s hands away from her face. “Don’t feel ashamed, Leslie. We’re friends. I’d never tell anyone.”
“I know you wouldn’t. It makes me feel awful to h
ear myself say it out loud.”
Alice inhaled as a slow panic brewed in her. “We should stop doing this, whatever it is. I don’t know what we were thinking.”
Leslie wiped the tears from her cheeks. They sat as still as pet rocks for what seemed like forever.
“Kiss me one more time,” Leslie whispered.
The sibilance in the word kiss broke the silence, startling Alice. She searched Leslie’s glassy, fretful eyes for a moment, fighting the energy drawing her to Leslie’s lips. “What’s happening with us?”
“I don’t know.” Leslie closed her eyes and pulled Alice’s head toward her.
Feeling like it would be the last time she’d ever see Leslie, Alice slid her hand up Leslie’s thigh, her skin hot and damp. Leslie let out a soft moan of surrender. As she unzipped Leslie’s cut-off denim shorts, the scene was so surreal, she felt like a voyeur.
“I’m falling in love with you,” she breathed in Leslie’s ear.
“Don’t say that, Alice,” Leslie whispered as she helped Alice lower her shorts over her hips.
“I’m sorry,” she said and bit Leslie’s earlobe.
Leslie moaned louder as she squirmed beneath Alice. The taste of her tanned skin grew sweeter the lower Alice journeyed with her mouth.
They moved together in a fluid motion, exploring each other like their bodies were rare, precious finds.
After they made love, they lay in each other’s arms on the couch in silence. What could either of them possibly say to lessen the seriousness of what they’d done? Alice’s arm had gone numb under Leslie, but shame had her paralyzed anyway. This was all her fault. Why had she ever kissed her in the first place? People had urges and impulses all the time that they never acted on. Why had she? She couldn’t bear to think what Leslie was feeling at the moment.
Finally, she said the only two words she could string together. “I’m sorry.”
Leslie looked up at her. “What are you apologizing for? I should’ve stopped you.”
The Second Wave Page 9
