by Nat Burns
I nodded. “Glad you are here, then.”
Her glowing eyes bored into mine. “Me too.”
I felt an erotic thrill race through me. I so wanted to take her upstairs, to my bed, so I could know her body as well as I now knew her mind. I sighed shakily. No, that would have to wait. The time wasn’t right.
But will it ever be right when you get back home?, whispered the devil on my left shoulder. I knew that this place and this time was rarified, not the norm for either of us.
“We need to go to bed,” I said without thinking. At Maddie’s raised eyebrow, I blushed crimson and backpedaled. “You have a presentation in the morning, I mean. You need to rest. I’m supposed to be looking after you, Sandy said.”
She sighed and gulped her drink. “You’re right. I’ve…I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you, Ella.”
I smiled at her. “It’s been a perfect night, Maddie, but I’m sure you had work to do tonight and I’ve kept you from it.”
She shook her head, a cascade of curls breaking free from behind her shoulder and rushing to the front. She impatiently tucked them back. “I’m ready, and seriously, it was good, this time together. I wouldn’t trade it for anything. You are right, though. We need to get a little rest before tomorrow.” She chuckled and rose. I mirrored her, and we walked through the mostly deserted lounge and out into the brightly lit hallways. Maddie shielded her eyes with one hand as I squinted up at her.
“Whoa! That’ll wake you right up,” I murmured.
Maddie just shook her head, smiling as she pressed the elevator buttons. “Shall we meet at eight thirty? We can have breakfast before.”
“Yes. Your topic sounds interesting. For tomorrow, I mean.” Here I was, on eggshells again after spending such lovely quality time with her.
I could see her shift into professional mode, a small, subtle change. “So many mothers are refusing vaccinations for their children because they say it causes autism.”
“But it doesn’t, does it?” I asked, trying to remember if this had been addressed in my textbooks. We’d touched on it in class, but not to any great extent.
“We don’t know what causes autism…” She paused as we entered the empty elevator car. “But, believe me, we don’t want to go backward and create a world without vaccines. It would be horrific. There was an outbreak of mumps in California not too long ago. This is what is happening without the MMR vaccine for babies. Mumps can cause sterility in males.” She shook her head.
“They don’t think about that, though, do they? We’ve become a society that can’t see beyond instant gratification.”
“Exactly,” she responded with a deep sigh. “This is what I’ll be talking about tomorrow. Also, about the elderly who don’t realize that there are many vaccines out there that can prevent ailments specific to their ages.”
The elevator doors opened with a muted chime. We progressed along the carpeted hallway, and I felt as though she were holding my body against hers. As though a bubble of privacy, of intimacy, surrounded us. A fanciful notion, but she filled my senses completely.
We paused in front of our rooms.
“You’re so smart,” I said, apropos of nothing. I was awed by this woman, this physician.
“As are you,” she said, her accent thick and melodious.
“I’m going to hug you,” I said softly.
She moved very close. “I’d like that,” she replied.
I was in her arms then, and it felt as though our hearts beat as one. I inhaled the subtle essence of her. She smelled like starch and lemon. I pressed my cheek to hers, wishing I could kiss her but not daring to. Her body was lean and firm, and I could feel the press of her breasts against mine, even though she was taller.
When we parted, I could see the blush staining her features.
“Goodnight Maddie,” I said, looking away.
“Buenas noches, Ella,” she replied, touching my hand briefly.
Chapter Nineteen
Maddie
My presentation went well. I had a number of good graphics to help the roomful of attendees to understand how serious my topic had become during the past handful of years. My graph of future trends had turned out less than stellar, but I thought it was a satisfactory crystal ball for any who cared to believe.
I also had Ella, who watched both me and the audience with bright, contemplative eyes. I could see, in my own imagination, the gears of inspiration working in her mind. I looked forward to talking with her about the topic later in the day.
I finished to a roomful of applause, and Tom came by to congratulate me as I packed up my computer.
“Good job, as usual, Maddie,” he said, shaking my hand. He then went on at exhaustive length about one mother he had dealt with who had absolutely refused any preventative treatment for her trio of very young children. He was rightfully concerned, but I had no easy answers. I finally suggested he put together a wake-up package that gave an overview—a photographic overview—of the preventable diseases that vaccines could prevent. His face brightened at that, and he hurried away.
“So, that must have been enlightening for him,” Ella said as she approached. “What did you tell him?”
“Just a possible way to get some of his patients vaccinated.” I shrugged. “Hope it works for him.”
Ella was watching the last few attendees filing from the room. “That’s our Doctor Maddie. Brilliant as always.”
“Hmph,” I offered doubtfully as I lifted my case.
I was remembering her at breakfast. She and I had both been giddy with excitement, perhaps excitement lingering from the previous night. It seemed as though we’d broken through some barrier to our psyches and could finally be at ease with one another. We’d snickered about pancakes shaped like the state of Alabama, discussed the merits of grape jelly and syrup as to which was the best topping for pancakes and agreed that vanilla soy lattes were the best way to drink our coffee.
“So, are we off to hear Quillen?” she asked as we walked toward the huge double doors.
I wrinkled my nose at her.
“What?” she queried, laughing.
“I slept enough last night,” I told her. “One thing about Dr Quillen, his presentation is pretty much the same every year.”
Ella pulled the program from her bag and folded it open to the speakers’ page. “‘New techniques for effective journaling to broaden patient care,’” she read aloud.
I sighed as we moved along the hallway. “Yep, that’s the one. Let’s see though, hmm. New techniques for journaling. Maybe that would be worth it,” I murmured, index finger tapping my chin.
She chuckled. “It says here that encouraging your nursing staff to add entries is the key.”
We looked at one another and laughed.
“So, what should we do instead?” she asked.
I had no idea. “What do you want to do?” I asked finally.
Her eyes lit. “Let’s go up and change into jeans and sneakers. I have an idea.”
Within half an hour, Ella and I were changed and out a side door of the hotel. We raced to my car and climbed inside. I took a deep breath and glanced at Ella. She was grinning, her gaze scouring the parking lot behind us.
“I think we made a clean getaway, boss,” she said in a forties gangster’s tone.
I laughed aloud. It did feel as though we were escaping the hotel. In reality, I knew we were escaping our traditional roles and the duties that bound us within those roles. I also knew we were on an adventure. I was excited, more excited than I had been in a very long time. Was this what life was like, life with a partner you felt at ease with? Could it always be this good? I was afraid to think about it too hard for fear of jinxing it somehow.
“So which way?” I asked as I pulled to the edge of the parking lot.
“Go right here,” she said, consulting a scribbled map she held in her hand. I had noticed it in the elevator, but she had pulled it out of my sight. I surmised that our destination was a secr
et.
I turned right and followed the road for a few miles, at which point she directed me to turn left. We were heading closer into downtown Dothan.
“Turn right,” she cried out, and I quickly executed a ninety-degree turn.
My mouth fell open and then a wide grin closed it. “No way!” I breathed.
Ella giggled. “Way! I knew you’d love it. I just knew!”
I parked quickly, and we rushed inside through an arched structure that resembled a huge, open clown mouth. The glass doors inside proclaimed: Welcome! It’s Time to Skate. It certainly was.
We stood inside, both mesmerized as we absorbed the ambience of the huge skating rink. The familiar scents of popcorn and sugary candy assailed me, and I glanced to my left. Sure enough, there was a concession area with several small tables and a wall of narrow booths. To our right was the skate rental, a hut with an ultramodern spaceship theme. I glanced back at the rink. The brightly neon lit walls were painted with huge murals featuring superheroes, most notably from The Incredibles, a Pixar movie about a whole family of superheroes. I hadn’t seen it, of course, but I had seen advertisements for it, including posters at my local grocery store back home.
“Oh my God, it’s Jack-Jack!” Ella exclaimed.
I turned to her. “Who?”
“Isn’t he cute? I just love that movie.”
I followed her gaze and saw a single-toothed baby with a round head and a single spiky tuft for hair.
She was studying me. “You haven’t seen it, have you?”
I grimaced an apology.
“Well, we’ll remedy that as soon as we get home. I own it and we will definitely have a movie night. See there?” She pointed to a back mural and we moved closer to the waist-height rink wall to get a better view. “That’s the father, the big man in the black mask. Same as over there, in the business suit—his alter ego.” She grinned at me, and I was stunned by the grin’s radiance.
She continued in my silence. “His name is Bob Parr. His superhero name is Mr. Incredible. That’s his wife Helen next to him. Elastigirl when she’s in the mask. The two older kids are Violet and Dash. She can be invisible, and he can move like lightning.”
I cleared my throat. “So what do they do, in those fancy red leotards?”
She blinked slowly. “Well. Well, they save the world, silly. That guy there with the mop of fire hair is named Syndrome and he has some kind of old grudge against the Incredibles and he wants to wipe them out so he can take over the world.”
“Ahh.” I nodded my understanding.
She grinned sheepishly. “My favorite character is Edna, but I don’t see her here. You’ll see her. She designs the indestructible suits the superheroes wear and has more money than Croesus.”
“Croesus?” I was drawing a blank.
She frowned at me. “You know, Greek guy, king. Lots of money.”
I mentally raced through my Greek studies and vaguely recalled him. “Oh, yeah. Sorry.” I knew I was blushing.
“No problem, Doc. Come on, let’s skate!”
She grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the spaceship.
Chapter Twenty
Ella
Roller-skating had always been a favorite activity of mine. When I was a little girl, my mother had often taken my sister and me to a tiny roller skating rink in a sport park outside Wiesbaden, Germany. Ice-skating was more popular in that area, but for some reason—probably her own nostalgia—my mother had chosen roller-skating as a fun activity she, Jess and I could do together while my father worked. I wasn’t even sure that Maddie could skate, but for some weird reason, I had known she would enjoy doing this, whether she could skate or not. So I had taken the chance after admiring the rink in the brochure the previous day.
“Do you have any idea how long it’s been since I’ve had on roller skates?” Maddie said as she tightened the laces on her rentals, size nine. Mine were size eight and a half, and I had already finished fastening them snugly.
“It’s been a while for me too,” I responded. “I guess we can hold one another up, if need be.”
She eyed me archly. “All I have to say is, if I go down, you’re going with me.” She laughed and rose, wobbling, to her feet. I rose too and grabbed her arm as a sloping floor seemed to pull us toward the rink. We both slammed into the wall next to the rink opening, and I started to laugh.
Maddie studied me, as if trying to keep a stern face. She was rubbing an elbow that she’d hit on the wall. Watching her pretend austerity cracked me up even further, so I laughed until I was breathless. Within seconds, she had joined in, and we stood there making spectacles of ourselves. People had been staring already, simply because we weren’t locals, now they had even more to gawk at. Eventually, the hilarity subsided into small coughs and sniffles.
“Are you done?” Maddie asked, still chortling helplessly but trying to control it.
“Yes,” I managed to gasp. “I think so.”
She chuckled and took in a deep breath. “So…so we can skate now?”
I nodded, not even looking at her for fear of losing composure again. I focused on my feet as I stepped into the rink, still clutching the wall and pulling myself along. I could feel her right behind me. We circled that way for a few minutes as I watched the local skaters whiz by us.
“They go awfully fast,” Maddie said through clenched teeth.
I felt laughter well up again. “Yes. Yes, they do.”
“Ella?”
“Yes Maddie?”
“Is there a kiddie rink somewhere that we should be in?”
That did it—I was gone. As I bent, laughing, my feet flew out from under me, and I landed on my backside, curled double with merriment.
“Are you okay?” Maddie asked when she could squeeze words out from between her own gurgles of laughter. She hovered above me as I tried to catch my breath.
“You girls all right?” asked an elderly woman as she skated up to us.
“We…ah…” Maddie broke into stifled laughter again.
The woman smiled at us, revealing two gold teeth to the left of her front incisors. Her salt-and-pepper hair was cropped close, and her broad mahogany features were curious but accepting.
“Y’all just ain’t got no sense, that’s what it is,” she said in a motherly tone. “Have either of you girls even been on skates befo’?”
“Actually, we have,” Maddie said. “But it seems like we just can’t stop laughing long enough to stay on our feet.”
I held up an arm and the stranger grabbed my forearm as Maddie grabbed my upper arm. They lifted me up, and I rolled slowly toward the wall as I wiped tears from my eyes with my fingers.
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” I said. “I just get so tickled sometimes.”
“It’s Ethel, young ’un. I been workin’ here for nigh on thirty year now, and I’d be glad to help y’all get over to the center where there’s a little less traffic, if you like.”
“I think we need that, Ethel,” Maddie said. The laughter had finally gone out of her voice, though there was still a small tinge of amusement.
I nodded my agreement, and Ethel took each of us by the crook of an elbow and, timing it just right, pulled us through the circling skaters on the outer perimeter. She skated, still linked with us, for a few minutes, circling the inner perimeter, around where the few really good skaters were practicing their moves. Soon I felt the familiar rhythm of skating return, and when a Bee Gees song sounded all around us, I was able to skate to its disco beat. I looked over at Maddie and found her smiling into the wind, eyes closed as she moved along with the familiar strokes as well.
“There you go, girls,” Ethel shouted. She handed Maddie’s hand to me and then she drifted away, into the crowd. Maddie smiled at me and squeezed my hand. We continued to skate together without problem.
I reveled in the well-remembered patterns of movement as I let the music swell inside and fill me completely. It just felt so damned good to move into the wind, neon lights and
bright, energizing colors surrounding us. The music was good, too, not as cheesy as in some rinks I’d been in. The pipe organ music was a dim memory as Top 40 hits mingled with disco and a few nineties hits filled the rink. The skaters that passed us were smiling, some showing off practiced moves that reminded me of ballet. One older couple glided by as if ballroom dancing.
I glanced at Maddie and fell in love with her anew. Her dark curls were streaming back, rioting against their sedate, careful lives. She still held my hand, even though it made the sashay more difficult for both of us. I didn’t think she cared, and I knew I didn’t. I honestly wished we could stay here forever.
Chapter Twenty-One
Maddie
I had forgotten how much I loved roller-skating. It had been one of my favorite activities when, as a child and young teen, I had gone with my mother to the Empire, a beautiful old rink in central Brooklyn. It had been especially fun when my mother’s brother, Umberto, had visited from Puerto Rico. Though he’d spoken very little English, he’d been fascinated with all things American and had boogied to the seventies music with amazing aplomb. I had loved those times.
Now, as I glided next to the woman I was quickly learning to adore, I fully realized that some things are so ingrained in you when young that you never quite forget how to do them. A sense of relief filled me, and I finally realized that yes, I could love again. Fear had paralyzed me for so long as I endeavored to move ahead in my career that it had been easy to ignore basic human needs. I was skating that fear away, and it fell from me in huge chunks. The voids that were left filled with brightness, and I was infused with joy.
I looked at Ella and reveled in her obvious joy. Releasing some of the pent-up tension that had been building between us was a good thing for both of us.
The crowd had died down somewhat, and I checked my watch. It was past five o’clock. I shook my head in amazement as I pulled Ella closer.
“It’s quarter past five,” I said as I leaned toward her ear.
Her eyes widened. “We’ve been here almost five hours?”
I grinned and patted her hand, which I had tucked into my elbow. “Hard to believe, isn’t it? I guess time does fly when you are having fun.”
