by Jaime Maddox
If the police had looked they would have seen her racing through the yard, but instead, they pulled directly to the back porch and stopped there. Nan’s clothesline, filled with the day’s laundry, provided an excellent cover and an excellent opportunity. Katie would need a change of clothing. A woman wandering the streets in a shirt and underwear was bound to draw attention, even in Philadelphia, and she didn’t want any attention right now.
How an eighty-year-old woman who lived alone could fill the entire clothesline was a mystery to her, but Katie was happy for the cotton shorts and shirt she borrowed, and most grateful for the socks. The short adventure in the alley had ripped up her feet. Sitting in the grass, she pulled the shorts up over her legs and sucked in her gut. Even though Katie was petite, the shorts were about two sizes too small. She was able to pull and stretch the elastic waist up over her hips. She’d look trashy, but that was better than the alternative—crazy. The top fit a little better. It was still a size smaller than Katie would have liked but a huge improvement on the paper-thin one she’d been wearing. The socks, though, were just right, and as she pulled them onto her tender feet, she wished for a pair of shoes. Then a thought occurred to her. Nan was a fanatically clean housekeeper, and she often kept her Crocs on the porch to prevent tracking dirt into her kitchen. Looking over her shoulder, she crept up the stairs. Sure enough, just next to the door, Nan’s shoes sat waiting for her.
She grabbed them and turned, but before she could take a step she was startled by the sound of the door opening behind her. Nan poked her nose through. “Katie, what kind of trouble are you in?” she demanded, her voice a barely audible whisper.
Katie wished like hell she knew the answer.
Chapter Two
Love at First Sight
A few miles south in center-city, where the buildings were taller and their windows intact, and most of their lobbies patrolled by uniformed doormen, Dr. Nicole Coussart stared angrily at her best friend, Dr. Louis Perro. He was sitting across the room, sharing Nic’s sofa with his apparent new best friend, Rachael Rhodes.
Few people were in possession of the skills needed to detect Nic’s mood, for she hid it well. Her well-bred parents had trained her to rein in her emotions, to hide them, to never, ever embarrass herself or others by publicly discussing or displaying the ugly truths meant to be kept hidden. Louis had the ability to read her—that was one of the reasons she loved him—but for the past few hours he’d been too preoccupied with Rae to even notice her.
She’d taken a break from them, making the excuse to prepare drinks in the kitchen, where she wouldn’t have to participate in their conversation or laugh at their jokes. The move had done little to improve her mood, and she found herself taking her frustrations out on a bottle of Ketel One vodka. First, she strangled it with her hands in an effort to remove the cap, then slammed it to the counter. When it failed to shatter, she accepted that her consolation would have to wait until later, when they were alone. Then she’d enjoy the pleasure of murdering her former roommate.
As she busied herself preparing drinks in the kitchen, she could hear his laughter drifting in from the next room. It nauseated her. Because both Nic and Rae were gay, Louis had decided to introduce them. After all, weren’t all lesbians destined to be great friends? On her best of days, Nic wouldn’t have welcomed Rae to share the intimate evening she’d planned with Louis. On this one, which could arguably be considered one of her worst days, she was ready to explode with the rage growing steadily within.
After pouring a generous portion of vodka over the tonic and ice in her glass, Nic vigorously stirred the combination. She added a twist of lime and took a sip and, after assuring herself it was to her liking, an even bigger sip. It immediately calmed her, and she breathed deeply before starting the other two drinks.
Nic wasn’t even sure what she was so angry about. Was it that Louis didn’t ask before inviting Rae? Or was it just Rae? She was attractive, intelligent, witty, and successful. Perfect, to hear Louis describe her. Fucking perfect. Yet Nic immediately despised her. She couldn’t pinpoint one thing about Rae she didn’t like—she vaguely disliked everything about her.
From the kitchen counter, Nic could see the two of them sitting close together on her couch, their thighs intimately touching. They were leafing through a photo book Louis had put together from his humanitarian trip to Central America. The trip had been months earlier; hadn’t Rae already seen the book? Why was she sitting so close to him, anyway? Was she a lesbian or not?
Pouring two glasses from a previously uncorked bottle of a Jordanian Shiraz, Nic scowled. It had been a totally rotten day, and she just wanted to crawl into bed and pull the blankets over her head. But first she’d suffer through drinks, watching the two of them act like teenagers in love and feeling like the proverbial third wheel. All he seemed to care about was Rae. Did he have some sort of abnormal attraction to lesbians?
She felt a sudden urge to run out of the apartment, but she wouldn’t do that—she had to keep up appearances. She’d have a cigarette, instead.
Back in the living room, she handed them their drinks and then escaped to the balcony, cigarettes in hand, and promptly inhaled her first puff. Studying her cuticles, she enjoyed the smoke’s calming effect. Her nails were looking better since she’d begun to apply a new chemical to help her stop biting. She detected a hint of growth on the left fifth finger. Progress.
She inhaled again, resting her forearms on the balcony railing, thinking about her rotten day. Her ER shift had started miserably. She hadn’t even finished taking report when the first ambulance called. The paramedic unit was bringing in a teenager with a traumatic cardiac arrest. Texting while driving had claimed another victim. The girl’s neck was broken and she’d probably died instantly. But the medics had tried, because how could you not try to save a sixteen-year-old? Nic had suspended resuscitation efforts and signed the death certificate just as the girl’s frantic parents arrived. She’d had to tell them their daughter was dead.
Later, she’d had to write an incident report admonishing one of the nursing staff for incompetence. By the time she’d finished her shift, everyone had heard the news and none of the nurses were speaking to her. That didn’t bother her too much, though. She wasn’t in the ER to make friends. She had a job to do, and being nice to her coworkers didn’t get it done. She was the doctor, the one ultimately responsible for the patient’s care—and the one who would be sued if something went wrong.
After the nursing incident, she’d had a verbal sparring match with the oral surgeon on call. Nic had to threaten to report him to the state medical board to convince him to come in to evaluate a patient with Ludwig’s angina. The patient had nearly died of throat swelling while he waited.
Then, it had taken two hours to get the report on a STAT CT scan on a patient with a potentially catastrophic headache. She was surrounded by incompetent idiots! The laziness and poor performance were inexcusable, and she hated that she had to go to war so often just to get her job done. And the girl’s death was unforgettable. It had set the tone for the day, and Nicole had never quite recovered. No matter how many times she had to deliver that news, she never found it any easier.
The first anniversary of her first job was still weeks away, and she was already burnt out. It was too late to make a career change now, though. While she was highly qualified to practice in the ER, she was unprepared for any other field.
In spite of it all, though, Nic had smiled as she climbed into her SUV for the two-hour drive from Wilkes-Barre to Philadelphia. She was anxious to see Louis, her best friend from college, happy to be presenting a case report at a conference the next day, and looking forward to dinner with her godmother, Dr. Jeannie Bennett. The trip had passed quickly as her iPod played the Elton John version of Aida, and her mood had begun to improve as she descended from the mountains, through the tunnel and into the Lehigh Valley, where the landscape changed from tree-studded mountain peaks to flat farm land. How could the
beauty of the mountains and that tragic tale of love fail to soothe her? She effortlessly negotiated the curves of the Schuylkill Expressway as it followed the river, smiling when the Philadelphia skyline appeared. Magically, her mood had turned.
Her joy had been short-lived. Instead of the quiet evening she’d envisioned, Louis had another plan—Rae.
Nicole shared little in common with most people, and making small talk wasn’t her forte. She didn’t like to share details about herself, and she really wasn’t interested in hearing about the lives of people she’d never see again. It was a waste of her valuable time, and her evening with Rae was no exception.
They were all from the Wilkes-Barre area, all alumni of the University of Scranton, but Rae was five years older than Nic and Louis and had moved to Philly before they arrived on campus. Their paths hadn’t crossed until the previous summer, when Rae moved into the apartment next to Louis. Although Louis and Rae seemed to have an endless supply of conversational topics, their hometown seemed to be the only thing she and Rae had in common.
Though Louis had touted Rae as witty, friendly, and intelligent, Nic considered her obnoxious and overbearing. She was physically quite attractive, there was no doubting that—but the attraction ended there. She wore her short, black hair spiked, and her eyes were bright green and seemed to dance in step with her abundance of energy. Her lips were full and inviting, and when she smiled, her entire face lit up. But then she spoke, and her voice was too loud, and her convictions too firm, making her sound a bit angry. She reeked of cologne and Nic feared just a whiff of Rae could trigger a migraine. And her hands were like things possessed, touching everything—the salt and pepper shakers on the dinner table, the linens, Louis, and worst of all, Nic. The woman should have been confined to a straightjacket. It was maddening. And, sadly, it wasn’t over yet.
Tossing the cigarette remnant into an ashtray, Nic gazed into the night, summoning her courage. This building boasted a great view of the Ben Franklin Bridge. Both the bridge and the Delaware River below were twinkling, the blue and red lights reflecting beautifully across the water, daring her to be happy, but the sight didn’t improve her miserable mood. Her nerves were a bit calmer after the nicotine and alcohol infusion, though, and she was ready to go face the enemy. Or was it enemies?
Louis was the first friend she’d made at the University of Scranton, on the very first day of chemistry lab. He’d helped her through that brutal freshman year, translating chemistry into English, so that she could understand the complexities that were so apparent to him. She’d sailed through the next three years, but couldn’t deny or forget that debt she owed him. Without Louis, she wouldn’t be who she was or where she was, and even though she was totally pissed off at him at the moment, she loved him.
Nic turned and headed back inside. Their friendship had withstood the tests of time and temperament and the trials of MCATs, then medical school, board exams, and residency. It would surely survive Rae.
Louis and Rae were laughing about something Nic had missed, and she tried to be happy for him. It looked like he really had a good friend in Rae, and he deserved that. He was a good, kind person, and she had no right to be jealous. Jealous? Yep, that’s what this was.
Nic had left Philly a year earlier, when she finished her three-year ER residency. Louis’s surgery program was a four-year ordeal. They’d been together for more than a decade, lived together, studied together, worked together, and then she’d left. While she was waiting for him back home, waiting for her friend to watch old movies and eat dinner, to play tennis and do crossword puzzles, he’d gone and found a replacement.
Nic hadn’t spent the year socializing. She’d been working hard. Yes, she’d caught up with old friends, and even gone on a date or two. Nothing serious. She wasn’t in the market for romance. She’d always been married to her career, dedicating the bulk of her time to studying and later practicing medicine. Women and relationships—and even friends—had taken a backseat to the career path she’d chosen. Except for Louis. He wasn’t an addition to the life she’d lived, he was a part of it, the flavor of it. Unlike with other people, being with him wasn’t a stress and took no effort. It was simple and easy and wonderful, and if she had a single ounce of heterosexual potential she would be Mrs. Perro by now. But she didn’t, and she suddenly had to face the fact that one day, her dear, sweet, best friend would stop focusing so much on his own career, and find his true soul mate.
If he was right and Rae liked girls, then she wasn’t the one. But, Nic realized, one day there would be someone, a special someone who’d take him away from her. Louis was different from her, she knew. He was social and liked people, and wanted a marriage and family. She saw herself with great potential for many one-night stands, but she didn’t think she could ever tolerate anyone enough for more than that. So he would fall in love, and get married, and the friendship as she knew it would be over. She’d be alone. It was inevitable.
As Nic found a seat across from them, Rae caught her attention with a little wave and smiled. “The wine is nice. What is it?” she asked, raising her glass to the light and swirling.
Nic noted the small hands delicately cradling the glass and thought she must know a bit about wine. “It’s a Shiraz. From Jordan.”
“It’s very good, and thank you for this.” She motioned toward the cheese plate Nic had placed on the coffee table.
“Have you been to Jordan?” Louis asked, smiling at Rae, once again ignoring her as he focused on his new friend. Nic took a moment to look around the large living room, every open space filled with works of art they’d collected together, cheap originals from unknown artists and beautifully framed prints of some of their favorite masterpieces. And there were pictures, too, mostly of the two of them, a virtual documentary of their decade-old friendship. The furniture was an eclectic mix of fine pieces and cool junk, all blended to lend the room a feeling of casual elegance.
Nic watched as Rae wiped her mouth, and turned to answer Louis. It was as if Nic wasn’t even in the room, and she was tired of it. Maybe she and Louis weren’t destined for marriage, but Louis was her friend first, and it was time she let her feelings be known. The hell with manners, she thought as she listened to Rae’s reply.
“That’s one place I haven’t been.”
Nic raised a carefully shaped eyebrow. “One place?” she asked. “Does that mean you’ve been to all the other places?” The question might have been teasing, but she didn’t inject any humor into her tone and gazed at Rae with a challenge in her eyes.
Rae met them and didn’t back down an inch. She was silent a moment as she seemed to contemplate her reply. “There are about fifty, actually.”
“Fifty?”
“Yes, give or take.”
“Fifty what?” The woman was confusing her, and Nic no longer tried to contain her irritation. She’d had a tiring day and was exhausted by this woman.
“Fifty countries.”
“What are you talking about?”
“There are fifty countries I haven’t been to.”
Nic nearly choked on her wine. “Oh, I see,” she replied, but she didn’t see at all, and she didn’t intend to ask Rae to explain. Instead, she changed the subject. “Speaking of geography, exactly where are you from?” Nic hadn’t been paying close attention at dinner; she was too busy being furious, but she seemed to remember something about the lower Wyoming Valley.
“West Nanticoke.”
That was interesting, Nic though. Not the most exclusive town in the valley. Probably not even in the top twenty. “And why do you live there?” Nic asked.
The look on Rae’s face was worth the cost of the bottle of wine she was wasting on her, and Nic tried hard not to smile.
“Excuse me?”
“Why do you live there? I mean, isn’t it sort of…I don’t know what the word is…perhaps the wrong side of the tracks?”
Rae burst into a laugh that rattled the windows, leaning full into the sofa and throwi
ng her head back against the cushions. She stopped, started again, and then sat up and shook her head at Nic. “You are so fucking full of yourself. I don’t know how you don’t explode!”
“Oh, my.” Nic shook her head at Louis. “I think I’ve angered your new friend.”
“Oh, no,” Rae interjected. “I’m not angry. I’m amused. And curious to know how such a nice guy like Louis ended up with a jerk like you for a friend.”
“Well,” Nic said, “I think we’re just destined for each other, because we’ve been friends for a long, long time. And no one’s ever going to come between us.”
“So, how about that movie we saw the other night?” Louis asked, attempting to change the subject.
Nic recognized his ploy and decided to back off. “Oh, what movie was that?”
“We saw a film at the Ritz,” Rae replied. “A foreign film with subtitles.”
Nic was speechless and was certain her mouth dropped. For effect, she dramatically opened it, then used the back of her left hand beneath her chin to close it again. Her gaze shifted from Rae to Louis, who slumped in his chair with a guilty expression. Reaching for a piece of cheese, he avoided her gaze. And how could he not?
She’d always been his date for foreign films. At least twice a month during their time in Philly they’d seen an independent film or documentary at the Ritz. They loved the exotic scenery of far-away lands, the romanticism of words spoken in foreign tongues, the cultures of different societies. These movies provided such a fresh, different taste compared to the canned products of most Hollywood studios. Before she visited Philly, she’d asked Louis if they could take in a film, and he’d vaguely dismissed her.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” Nic looked to him for an explanation. As far as she was concerned, this was akin to having an affair.
