by Jaime Maddox
“It’ll move fast,” Nic said reassuringly, as they took their place in line, behind men and women in business suits and construction workers in dirty pants and work boots. She tried to contain her excitement. This was her favorite place to eat in all the city, and she salivated as she smelled the scent wafting off the grill.
“Come here often?” Rae asked.
“As often as I can.”
“You always lived downtown when you were here, right?”
“No, my first year, we lived out here.” Nic shook her head at the memory. “It was a stupid decision. We spent half our time commuting.”
“Well, you found this place.”
“Oh, that’s another story.”
Rae raised an eyebrow and looked at Nic, who just shook her head. “You can’t tease me like that. Tell.”
Nic told her the story as they approached the counter. “I met this girl at the gym, at the end of my first year of med school. It was a really crazy time, with buying the apartment and getting everything ready to move. She didn’t seem terribly horrific, so when she asked me out, I agreed. She brought me here, and I fell in love. With this place, not with her. My first impression of her was way off. She was a psycho. After a few dates I was ready to move on. And I did. Louis and I moved downtown and I never told her. We just left. No good-bye, no forwarding address.”
“That’s a really nice way to treat a lady.”
Nic rolled her eyes. “She was no lady. But it gets better. Fast-forward six months. I met a really cute girl and asked her out. I brought her here, because, honestly, after the first bite I was smitten. So, guess who sits down next to us at the counter?”
“No!” Rae’s mouth was open so wide an entire cheesesteak could have easily fit inside.
“I looked around. I thought there might be a hidden camera or something. Or that my date was in on it.”
“So what happened?”
“She said, ‘Hey, you moved.’ And I said, ‘Yeah.’ And then I swiveled in my chair and turned my back on her and hoped she wouldn’t stab me, and that she’d go away. She kept talking to me, anyway, practically leaning over my shoulder. Finally, my date leaned around me and said, ‘Hey, we’re having dinner. Would you please leave her alone?’ Thankfully, she did. Not before asking me for my new phone number, though.”
Rae was still chuckling as she placed her order, and Nic followed suit. A few minutes later they were carrying their baskets and drinks outside to the patio, where they shared a table with an older couple. They both attacked their food, although Nic could see the smile of amusement on Rae’s face as she cut her foot-long sandwich into smaller, more manageable segments.
“So, let’s talk about your list,” Nic suggested as she wiped stray marinara from the corner of her mouth.
Rae seemed to be so absorbed in her food that she had difficulty following Nic. “Excuse me?” she said, and, like Nic, wiped her mouth and her hands.
“Your list. Chickie and Pete’s? What’s that about?”
Rae’s look of shock was amusing. “Crab fries, of course.”
“Ah, yes. I forgot about crab fries. I’ll have to amend my list and add C & P.” Their French fries, dusted with the spicy Old Bay seasoning used so commonly to add flavor to seafood, were unbelievably good.
“So what would you eliminate from the list?”
Nic rested her chin in her hand and thought. “Nothing. It’s going to have to be a tie.”
“You really are a diplomat, aren’t you?”
“I wouldn’t want to get banned from any of these places,” she teased Rae. They talked about the other places they liked to eat in the city and found many common foods that pleased their palates.
“How’d someone from the other side of the tracks start eating Thai food?” Nic asked, playfully. “It’s not like Thai restaurants are common in your neck of the woods.”
“No, they aren’t. It’s interesting, though—for all the great food we like, our top three are basically some version of a cheeseburger and fries.”
Nic thought of McDonald’s and couldn’t help laughing.
“But to answer your question—I’ve traveled a lot. My parents are both college professors, so you know that schedule. Summers off, extended winter and spring breaks. Basically, we’ve been all over the world. They told me if I ate my dinner, I’d grow up to be big and strong, and I believed them.” Rae frowned. “Obviously, they lied.”
“Height is overrated.” Nic looked at Rae and offered a smile, but the frown didn’t disappear. “Oh, have I touched a nerve?”
“No, not really. It only bothers me when I’m dating. I always date women shorter than I am.”
Nic nearly drew blood biting her lower lip in an attempt to suppress her laughter. “That must be challenging, considering how small a dating pool you’re dealing with. Get it? Small. Ha, ha!”
“If you weren’t shorter than I am, I’d throw food at you.”
“And I’d gladly eat it. But seriously, lesbians under five feet tall? What are there, like three of us in Philadelphia?”
Rae cleared her throat and stared. “I’ll have you know, I’m almost five-three.”
Nic reconsidered the sarcastic retort that came naturally to her tongue after seeing the lingering frown on Rae’s beautiful face. Instead, she reached across and patted Rae’s hand, even offered a gentle squeeze and allowed her fingers to linger there for just a moment before pulling them away.
At this moment, it was she who needed comfort, for the ease with which she found herself talking to Rae unsettled her. She, who so carefully guarded her thoughts and feelings, was discussing herself in a way she never had before. Not even Louis, who knew her best, had heard all the secrets of her heart.
When Nic focused her eyes, Rae was smiling at her, obviously expecting an answer to a question Nic hadn’t heard as her mind wandered. And that smile, perfectly vivid, was a thing of beauty. The eyes, so intense as they listened to her, were captivating.
The world melted around them, the smudges on the periphery of Nic’s vision the only evidence that cars drove down Henry Avenue, children played in the park, and other patrons ate at the restaurant. The only clear image was the face of the woman before her.
Nic wasn’t familiar with this comfortable companionship she shared with Rae. They could tease and dance around the ring, occasionally throwing a punch, but with no underlying malice. The animosity had been there the previous night, but those feelings had dissipated, for both of them, and now Nic found it difficult to recall exactly why she’d felt like that. Now their sparring was playful, delightful. Rae’s intelligence matched her humor. Her physical attraction matched the rest of the package.
“So that’s why you’ve traveled all over the world? Except fifty countries? Because of your parents?” Nic was intrigued. She’d also traveled extensively, and her favorite magazines were the one that introduced her to new places.
“Yeah, they really love to travel.”
“Hmm. So what are the fifty? I dare you to name them. All of them.”
Rae cleared her throat. “The ones I’ve been to, or the ones I haven’t?”
“You’re serious, aren’t you?”
Rae just nodded.
“Rae, that’s impressive.”
She shrugged, and Nic decided to save the topic of travel for another time. And she seriously hoped there would be another time.
“Did you save room for dessert?” Nic asked, arching her eyebrows suggestively.
“Hmm, shall we make a list?”
“No, that wouldn’t work, because I’ll eat anything that has chocolate or whipped cream. Those are in everybody’s top three.”
“Not mine.” Rae shook her head.
“What? You’re kidding me.”
“Yes, I am.”
They laughed on their way to the car and settled on ice cream, which they purchased in Manayunk but transported to a bench along the Schuylkill for eating. Between licks, they talked.
�
�Tell me about your job,” Rae suggested.
“What would you like to know? The current recommendations for treatment of pneumonia or trauma protocols, or how to deliver a baby?”
“Hmm. I don’t need that much detail. Why did you choose emergency medicine? How do you like it?”
“Well, the first question is easy. ER. The television show. It mesmerized me. The second question is more complicated.”
Rae held up her ice-cream cone, now half the size it had been, eaten nearly down to the cone, and seemed to study it. “I’m thinking you have about three minutes.”
“I could talk for three hours and not cover it all.”
“That good, or that bad?”
“Both. Medicine—the art and science of medicine—they’re great. It’s wonderful to put the clues together to find out what’s wrong with someone and then fix the problem. It’s incredible to insert the tube into the lungs of someone who can’t breathe or slide a needle into a vein and place a line that saves someone’s life. To give someone just a little dose of medication to knock them out—and then pop their dislocated shoulder back in the socket. It’s great. They wake up a few seconds later, their pain gone. It’s a wonderful feeling.”
Rae noticed that Nic had turned in her seat and was talking with her eyes and her hands, as well as her mouth. She could see Nic’s passion and wondered for a moment what she’d look like in bed, about to orgasm under the influence of Rae’s hands and mouth moving over her body. She sucked in a breath and adjusted in her seat, conscious of the sudden dampness in her boxers. Clearing her throat she replied, “That does sound wonderful.”
“Yeah, but I have so much other stuff to deal with, it takes the joy out of it. Insurance, for instance. I can take care of your heart attack, spend half an hour at your bedside talking to you and examining you, I can insert your IV and inject your medications myself and read the EKGs, talk to the cardiologist. But if I fail to note on your chart that you appeared anxious as you were heading off to the cath lab to have a stent placed, if I fail to check that box, I get dinged, and I don’t get paid. It’s ridiculous, Rae. Doctors should be reimbursed for what we do, not what we write on the chart.”
“So, standard fees?” Rae asked, burrowing her eyes into Nic’s. Her perspective was interesting. The cost of health care was out of control, and the debate over health-care benefits for everyone was a political hot potato.
“We already have that, sort of. But payments are made based on documentation, not on the care provided. It should really be the opposite.”
“Makes sense to me.” Rae imagined this concept, wondering how it would affect patient care.
“We’d have more time to spend with patients. It would be great for patient care.”
“I see. So would you eliminate medical records?”
“Oh, no. I’d still have to keep notes, for when you lawyers want to sue me.” She narrowed her eyes at Rae.
“Hey, I’m a public servant. Don’t look at me like that.”
Nic held her gaze as she patted Rae’s knee. “Yes, you are. I’m sorry for carrying on like that. I’m sure this is boring you to tears.”
Actually, it wasn’t. Rae loved to learn about everyone and everything. Even if Nic never got to see her apartment, Rae would come away from their time together a richer person, armed with more knowledge and a better understanding of something outside her field of expertise.
“I would imagine you’re never boring, Nicole.”
Nic shrugged off the compliment. “Tell me about your job. How exactly are you serving the public?”
Rae had finished her cone and leaned back, gazing out at the river. It was quiet, with evening traffic now dissipated and the population of joggers and walkers dwindling as well. “My job’s as frustrating as yours sounds, and as rewarding as well. I’ve had the chance to travel, which is great, and I’m doing something good, which makes me happy.” She turned her head to face Nic and smiled.
“But what do you do?” Nic asked again, and she also turned, pulling her legs up beneath her on the bench as Rae explained her job as an attorney for the DEA and touched on the case she was working on now, putting together the prosecution for when they found their defendant.
“Prescription-drug abuse is a huge problem in the ER, too.”
“You mean with staff?”
Nic laughed. “Well, you do hear stories now and then about nurses and doctors stealing meds for their own use. Nurse Jackie really does exist. But I was talking about the patients. People come in with all kinds of excuses for needing narcotics. Back pain, migraines, tooth aches, anything they can think of to get drugs.”
“So how do you handle that?”
“I tell them to get lost.”
Rae scowled. “But how do you do that? What about people with legitimate pain?”
Nic raised her voice an octave. “My job isn’t to treat chronic pain. They should be getting those meds from their family doctors, not from the ER.”
“So you let them suffer?”
Nic shrugged, softening her tone. “I don’t suspect they have real pain, Rae. I suspect they have real addiction.”
“So you don’t think anyone deserves to be treated? What about someone with a broken leg?”
“Well, that’s a new injury. Of course that should be treated. I’m talking about the chronic stuff—back pain and migraines and fibromyalgia—that sort of thing.”
“Well, can’t those people get worse some times?”
Nic rolled her eyes.
Rae was quiet for a moment before she responded. “Well, I guess if every doctor approached it that way, we wouldn’t have such a prescription-drug problem in America.” She allowed a flash of a smile before she turned away.
“Don’t be mad at me,” Nic said, and touched Rae’s shoulder. Why did she care what this woman thought? She’d go home tomorrow and they’d probably never see each other again. Yet she found something appealing about Rae, something intangible that went beyond her looks and her intelligence and her humor. Some spark, some chemistry, a rare and elusive connection existed between them that she’d only once experienced before—with Louis. Never with a woman—although perhaps that wasn’t completely true. Her best friend from high school had been very special, right up until the day Nic came out to her. It had certainly never happened with another lesbian.
Rae’s smile was full this time, and genuine. “Oh, I’m not mad. I do find you challenging, though. Is there any topic we agree on?”
Nic held up her hands in offering. “Cheesesteaks.”
Both of them laughed, and peace was made.
They sat quietly then, looking out at the river as the evidence mounted that this day was coming to an end. The sun was low in the sky, the mosquitoes making their appearance, and the temperature was beginning to drop just a little. Where had the time gone? Between the art and the company, Nic had had a lovely afternoon. But they couldn’t sit on that park bench forever. She’d have liked to, though, and that realization was perhaps the most wonderful thing to happen to her in a very long time.
“Shall we go?” Rae asked as Nic rubbed the goose flesh on her arms.
“I think we should,” Nic replied, disappointed. They walked to the car in silence, and as she opened the car door, her phone beeped to inform her of a message awaiting her. She’d spent the past two hours blissfully unaware that she’d forgotten to take her phone out of Rae’s car.
“Do you mind if I check to see who called? I always worry when I’m away from home. My parents aren’t getting any younger.”
“No, I understand perfectly. Feel free.”
“It’s Louis,” she said after scanning her messages.
“You can answer it.”
“He probably called to warn me to bring you home in one piece.” Nic typed in her password, listened to the message, and gasped. As she turned, she saw Rae watching her. “Can you take me to the hospital?” she asked.
“What’s wrong?”
She lo
oked at those brown eyes, now filled with concern, and knew her own probably matched them. “I don’t know, but it can’t be good.”
Chapter Twenty-two
Confessions
Jet sat with her face in her hands, appreciative of the comfort of Jeannie Bennett beside her. When the doctors had rushed Katie to the OR, her first inclination had been to call her parents. Then she realized they were doing a much greater service by watching Chloe and Andre. At the moment, the kids had to be their priority. So she’d called Jeannie, and within half an hour, her boss was there, worrying just as much as Jet but looking poised and together nonetheless.
It had been a great relief when the doctor entered the waiting room to inform them Katie had survived the surgery. He painted a grim picture and said Katie was extremely critical and still on a ventilator, but Jet understood the meaning of the vital signs and knew Katie was doing a lot better than she’d been on the floor of Bruce Smick’s office.
A long night was in store for them, so Sandy, who’d come along with Jeannie, had gone for coffee and doughnuts and brought some back for the SICU nurses, a thoughtful gesture that Jet understood would gain her a favor with the staff when she needed one. Jet now sipped her coffee, but in spite of the fact that she hadn’t had dinner, she didn’t have any appetite for the doughnuts that sat on the table beside her chair.
It was approaching nine o’clock. Nearly five hours had passed since Katie was shot, three since her surgery ended, and ninety minutes since they’d been allowed to briefly see her. Katie was, of course, unconscious, with tubes inserted into her mouth and her bladder and veins, and complex machines were breathing for her and infusing fluids at a precisely calculated rate. Yet the sight of her was a comfort, watching her chest rise and fall reassuring, even if the ventilator was doing the work. Jet had groaned when the staff told them they’d have to leave and had checked the clock every few minutes, counting the time until she could see her lover again.
Jet looked at the other faces of anguish that surrounded her and knew she was probably more fortunate than most of them. Katie would live, in spite of the resident’s dire words. She couldn’t and wouldn’t accept any alternative. Other people gathered here didn’t have such optimism, nor did some of them have reason, and it showed on their faces.
