Heart Block

by Melissa Brayden

  “Um, a Crown and Coke,” she said to the bartender. Stronger stuff than her normal fare, but she’d need it. She turned her attention to James. “Thanks for meeting me. You’ve been so sweet about giving me time to catch my breath.”

  He took her hand and held it in his lap. “I’m just glad we’re back on track. Speaking of which, how do you feel about the Eagles?”

  Slight diversion. “They’re my favorite band.”

  He smiled and pulled the back of her hand up for a kiss that made her discomfort level spike. “Thank God the rumors were true. They’re in town on the fifth of next month. I got us tickets.”

  Her drink arrived and she took the opportunity to not only free her hand but to take a large, fortifying swallow. And then another. “About that. I asked you here because I wanted to talk. Some things have…shifted in my life and, God this is hard to say. I’ve met someone else. And this person has started to mean a lot to me.”

  James sat back and studied her. The silence seemed to go on forever. “When did this happen?”

  “I guess rather unexpectedly over the past few weeks. And as much as I enjoy your company, James, in light of the circumstances, I don’t think I can continue seeing you. At least not in a romantic sense.”

  He stared into his drink. “Well, I certainly didn’t see this coming. Is it serious? With the other guy?”

  She considered the question, choosing to ignore the pronoun. “It has the potential to be, I think.”

  A pause. He raised his eyes to hers and offered a halfhearted smile. “Definitely not what I wanted to hear. But I care about you, Sarah, and want the best for you. Given, I still think that’s me, but if it’s meant to be between us, it will happen someday. Right?”

  She decided not to argue, and to just roll with it. No need to drag out the conversation. “Thank you for understanding and if at all possible, maybe we could be friends.” It was generic and lame but all she had.

  He nodded, his energy noticeably lower. “Of course. Women like you aren’t easy to come by. I don’t plan on letting you get away entirely.”

  She smiled at the compliment, but still felt a little uneasy. “I should go.” She took out a ten from her wallet and slid it toward the bartender. “Take care, James.”

  He nodded. “You too.”

  *

  It was windy on the beach as the sun made its final descent in the sky and Emory enjoyed the view as she slowed her speed to a moderate walk. The run on the beach had been just what she needed, and she was glad she’d picked up what had at one time been her daily routine. It felt good, she thought, stretching her calves.

  As she approached her back door, she saw a familiar face waiting for her, and much to her chagrin, she actually smiled at his unannounced visit.

  “Hello, Walter.” She stroked him behind his ears. “And how was your day today?” He whined softly and leaned into her hand for more. She knelt and scratched gently under his chin, earning herself a few swipes of his tongue across her face. “All right, all right, that’s enough of that. Yuck.” She stood and wiped away the dog slobber. “It was nice to see you, Walter. Thanks for stopping by.” Emory gave his head a final pat and went inside to set about the task of cooking herself a small dinner.

  Deciding on a chef salad, she went to work pulling the ingredients from her fridge. She decided to whip up the dressing herself, as the store-bought stuff never seemed to sparkle. She threw some red wine vinegar, honey, garlic, and rosemary into a small bowl, and set about whisking like there was no tomorrow. She stopped a short time later to sample her work. Nice flavor balance. She offered herself a mental high five and accepted it.

  While she ate, she turned on some soft jazz and enjoyed the pairing of her salad with a little Charlie Parker. It was the second chorus before, out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed none other than Walter himself, still on her deck. He sat at perfect attention and stared at her through the glass, his eyes warm and expressive as if to say, “I’m a very good dog. Give me some salad.”

  But she was more annoyed by his adorable display than anything else and turned away, taking her dinner to the living room where she could veg out in peace. The DVD case to Up was still tucked into the arm of her sectional. She studied it while she ate, letting it mentally take her back to the recent evening she’d spent with Sarah and Grace.

  She’d talked to Sarah a couple of times on the phone since then. There had been some mild flirtation, which gave her day an extra added charge, but their schedules, coupled with Grace’s, had kept them from actually laying eyes on each other. This was a problem she hoped to remedy soon. She had dinner plans with Vanessa on Saturday after they closed on the house, but she was hopeful she could persuade Sarah to see her Friday. Pulling her cell from her pocket, she decided to try her luck. And after three rings, there she was.

  “Hey, you,” Sarah said.

  “Knock, knock.”

  Amused chuckling. “All right. Who’s there?”

  “Wanda”

  “Wanda who?”

  “Wanda go on a date with me tomorrow night?”

  Sarah laughed at her lame attempt at humor. “That was really, really bad. You have to know that was bad.”

  “I do, which makes it awesome.”

  “I don’t think it gets any worse than that.”

  “Oh, it can.”

  Emory heard her laugh again and pause. “And as absolutely horrible as that joke was, I would like nothing better than to say yes.”

  “Then say yes,” Emory said, still playful.

  “I would but, um, how should I say this? I already have a date.”

  Emory took a moment, her heart sinking as the fun fell from her voice. “The architect?”

  “Not actively seeing the architect anymore, no. I closed that loop. He accepted my offer of friendship. Kind of.”

  Emory was confused and still a little deflated. “Okay, then who are you going out with?”

  “She’s eight years old and a tad on the feisty side. I promised I would take her to the movies tomorrow night. However, I think she would love it if you came with us.”

  “The movies?” Her spirits were lifting. “That could be fun. There’s an art house I like to check out sometimes. I could see if they have anything kid friendly. Sometimes they have subtitles, but—”

  “Gonna have to nix the art house this time, Ivy League. We want to see the new Twilight flick.”

  She paused for the punch line. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “I am most definitely not kidding. Meet us at our place at six thirty?”

  “Okay, but I want you to know how much this could damage my reputation if word gets out.”

  “Blackmail material makes this all the more alluring.”

  Emory sighed softly. “Okay, well I’m all for alluring. See you at six thirty.”

  “I can’t wait. Bye, Wanda.”

  Emory grinned to herself as she carried her plate to the kitchen wondering what rabbit hole she’d fallen down. Twilight, seriously? Though she had to admit there was something appealing about the sheer whimsy of it.

  As she walked past the back door, she was forced into an honest to goodness double take at the newest demonstration just outside. With all four paws standing straight up in the air, she would have thought someone had shot Walter dead if it weren’t for those ridiculously earnest eyes blinking back at her from his upside-down position. She tilted her head to the side and held eye contact with him. His eyes seemed so soft, yet so hopeful. She felt her resolve crumbling. “All right! I’m not made of stone. You win.”

  As she opened the back door, Walter leapt to attention and trotted eagerly into the house. He stopped at her feet and gently pressed his wet nose into her hand, offering a lick. She rolled her eyes and relented, scratching obediently behind his ears. “This doesn’t mean anything. You can hang out for a little while, but if you get the furniture dirty, I swear, there’s going to be trouble.” Her answer was a powerful thwacking of his tail
against the back of her legs.

  She spent the rest of the night reviewing sales reports for work, her eyes growing hazy from strain, her neck muscles aching from use, and Walter curled warmly into her side, fast asleep.

  Chapter Ten

  On Friday night, Sarah entered her kitchen, shrugged into a long cardigan sweater, and found Emory standing in front of her refrigerator, studying the myriad of random snapshots. “Grace should be ready in just a minute. Are you all set?”

  Emory looked back at her and nodded happily. “Is this your friend Carmen?”

  Sarah leaned in over Emory’s shoulder and followed her gaze to the photo in question. “Yep. That was taken right after high school graduation. Please ignore my hair. I hadn’t discovered the magical world of hair care products yet.”

  Emory shook her head in amusement and pointed at a photo near the center of the group held to the fridge by an Immaculate Home magnet. “How old is Grace in this one?”

  Sarah frowned in concentration. “She would be four years old there. You can’t tell, but she burst into tears moments after that photo was taken. Santa kind of freaked her out until she was about six.”

  “Her and me both.” Emory chuckled, turned around, and took Sarah’s hand. “I like that you have all of these photos up here. It just feels so, I don’t know, homey.”

  “Is that a secret word for lame?”

  “Nope. I like your place. It feels happy and vibrant, like you.” While that was true, Emory was also aware of just how strange it felt to her. She tried to imagine herself living in such a bright little busy world, but she was stalling out. She wouldn’t know how to go about creating “homey” if she tried. It was a problem.

  “It’s excruciatingly small next to yours.”

  Emory had to agree. The place was tiny. She was guessing less than nine hundred square feet, but Sarah had definitely made use of the space. There were potholders dangling from the oven, magnets of the alphabet on the dishwasher, and framed photos of family and friends all over the place. Organized chaos was a good word for it. “No, it seems perfect for you two.”

  Sarah beamed back at her. Her smile could end wars. Unable to help herself, Emory leaned in for a soft kiss, lingering a bit longer than she meant to and sighing internally at the tingling sensation Sarah always seemed to leave her with.

  “You know, I’ve missed you,” Sarah told her quietly. She brushed Emory’s cheek ever so softly with the back of her fingertips. “Is it mandatory that we wait a week to see each other? I know you’re busy but—”

  Emory placed a gentle thumb to Sarah’s bottom lip, quieting her. “I can find more time. I’ll buy it if I have to.” For some reason, when she was with Sarah, the rest of the world seemed less important. It was an illusion, she reminded herself, but lately that was getting harder to remember.

  Sarah kissed her thumb. “Good. Now that that’s solved, we have some vampires to watch. Let me rustle up my kid.”

  Once at the theater, Grace bounded to the concession stand. Emory followed casually behind her as Sarah paid for their tickets, a condition she insisted upon. After settling on popcorn and Junior Mints, they found their seats in the theater, Sarah sitting in the middle.

  “I guess I should update you on what’s happened so far in the series,” Sarah said.

  Emory stared back at her blandly. “If you feel it’s important.”

  “It is,” Grace chimed in. She leaned across Sarah in all seriousness. “Very.”

  “Got it. Inform away.”

  As Sarah recounted the trials and tribulations of Edward and Bella in precise detail, Grace waved to a boy a few seats in front of them, who waved enthusiastically back and continued to steal glances at Grace throughout the next few minutes. “I don’t mean to interrupt,” Emory said. “But I think the child has an admirer.”

  Grace blushed and shook her head emphatically. “That’s just George. He’s my friend. Can I go talk to him, Mom?”

  “Sure,” Sarah answered, seemingly amused at Grace’s sudden shade of red. “Be polite to his parents.”

  Emory watched Grace scamper down to the front of the theater. As soon as Grace was out of earshot, she turned to Sarah. “How’s she been?”

  “She’s had a great week, actually. Hasn’t mentioned camp once, and invited Mindy over to play, which from what I hear, I have you to thank for. I’m glad she felt she could talk to you.”

  “I hope it was all right. I think she just wanted an outside opinion.”

  “You are the cooler one, after all.”

  “Well, obviously,” Emory replied. “What about the cardiologist? Tell me again what he said.”

  “He doesn’t love that she had a second episode, but thinks it’s nothing to get too alarmed about, as fainting can be a symptom of this particular condition. But he did recommend we consider a pacemaker so Grace can live a more active lifestyle without worry of similar spells in the future. He wants to implant it over her Christmas break so she has time off from school to recover.”

  “That sounds a little scary. Are you going to do it?”

  “I think so. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t terrify me to have her operated on, but maybe it’s for the best when you think about it in the scheme of her entire life. I’ve talked to Grace and she’s all for it, but then she’s always been a little too fearless.”

  “It sounds like you’re doing the right thing.”

  Sarah elbowed Emory softly as the lights in the theater dimmed. “Shhh, vampires are about to make out.” Sarah snuggled down into her seat and smiled up at Emory. “Hand me the popcorn.”

  Grace returned and the screen lit up with action, adventure, and romance. Emory, as hard as she fought, found herself actually sucked into the vampire storyline. About halfway through the movie, Sarah climbed over Emory for a quick trip to the restroom. It was less than a minute before Grace leaned across the empty seat between them.

  “Can you keep a secret?” she whispered.

  “Usually,” Emory whispered back, curious.

  “It’s important.”

  “Okay. I’ll do my best.”

  Grace leaned in a little closer. “I think my mom likes you.”

  “I like her too. I like both of you.”

  “No. I mean, I think she has a crush on you.”

  It was all Emory could do to not choke on her mouthful of Diet Coke. She was fairly certain this was not information Sarah would have shared with Grace. “What makes you say that?”

  “She smiles a lot more when you’re around or when she talks to you on the phone, and it’s not like with her other friends. I’m telling you, it might be a crush.”

  “All right, I’ll keep that in mind.” She leaned back into her own seat, still trying to process Grace’s very surprising revelation.

  And then in a much louder whisper, audible to almost the entire theater, Grace asked her final question. “You are a lesbian, right?”

  Emory didn’t have a chance to answer and pretended not to notice the several curious heads that turned her way because luckily, Sarah chose that exact moment to return to her seat, planting herself between them. “What did I miss?” she asked excitedly, looking from one of them to the other.

  Emory offered her a wry smile.

  *

  “Are you sure she actually used the word lesbian?” Sarah eyed her skeptically two and a half hours later. They sat on the stairs in front of the door to Sarah’s apartment so Grace, now asleep for the night, would not overhear.

  “I’m fairly certain, yeah.”

  “Wow. Just when I think she can’t surprise me any further.”

  “She’s a very intuitive little person.”

  “Apparently, more than even I realized.”

  Emory stood. “I wouldn’t worry too much about it. She didn’t seem distressed at all. Strangely, quite the opposite. I have a feeling she’ll come around and talk to you about it sooner rather than later.”

  “If she waits too long, I think I’ll h
ave to broach the subject with her first. I want to make sure she’s not full of some wild notion she saw on television.” Standing up and joining Emory, she shook her head. “I could just kill my father, by the way. I’m pretty sure this is straight from their afternoons of CNN.”

  “Don’t be too hard on him. At least he’s spending time with her. I can’t imagine what it would be like to watch television with my parents growing up, not to mention my grandparents.”

  Sarah nodded and seemed to study Emory for a moment longer than usual.

  “What?”

  Sarah shook her head. “You’re so beautiful. Sometimes it just hits me.”

  Emory didn’t know what to say. There were times when Sarah rendered her speechless, and this was one of them. All she knew to do was kiss her, Sarah, who could make her feel so many things. And she did just that, leaning in, and then sinking into that wonderful flood of pleasure that kissing Sarah always led her to. But what was meant to be just one kiss turned into much more as the always-present spark between them took hold and caught fire.

  Sarah kissed Emory back eagerly until she found herself pressed up against the brick wall of the stoop. Emory was kissing her now with what could only be called skilled precision and she was getting lost in it all. She must have a master’s degree in kissing. Sarah felt a weakness creep into her body that could only be cured by pulling Emory closer to her, up against her, so she could feel her all over. She allowed her hands to drift lower from around Emory’s neck where they rested, until she caressed the small curve of her hips and even lower until she was cupping Emory’s ass tightly, all the while their mouths continued to dance.

  Sighing deeply, and warring with her body’s natural instinct, Sarah reluctantly slowed the pace of the kiss and pulled her mouth begrudgingly from Emory’s. She took a moment to catch her breath and right herself.

  When she raised her gaze, there was a new look in Emory’s eyes. There had been so many times Sarah had asked herself how Emory was feeling, but in this moment, she knew. She could see the sincere emotion clear as day. Sarah lifted her palm to Emory’s cheek and caressed it softly.