by Elena Graf
“Can you think of anything else, Dr. Stolz?” Ellen looked a little anxious, as if she were still Liz’s subordinate.
“No, Dr. Connelly, I think you’ve covered everything.”
“I’ll examine you now, Ms. Krusick,” said Ellen, getting up. “This way.” She opened a door that led to an examination room. “There’s a gown there. Opening in the front, please.”
The door closed and Liz imagined Maggie wrestling with the examination gown. Whoever invented that absurd garment should be hanged with it in hell.
“I’m surprised you didn’t do the lumpectomy yourself,” Ellen said. “It’s such a simple procedure. Why come all the way down here?”
“Call me old fashioned, but I believe in that particular dictum of medical ethics.”
Ellen nodded. “We should all follow it, but many don’t.”
Liz thought of Jenny, who’d performed an abortion on her own sister without a second thought. Afterwards, she’d bragged that it was a feminist act while Liz stared at her in amazement. “What if something had gone wrong? How could you ever forgive yourself?” Jenny had merely shrugged.
Ellen interrupted Liz’s thoughts. “But you will scrub in, won’t you? You still have privileges here.” The look in Ellen’s eyes was clearly a challenge.
“No, I trust you, Ellen, but if you feel the need for supervision, I will definitely scrub in.”
They exchanged a look of agreement. “Good. I’ll see you in the OR tomorrow.”
Liz instantly regretted taking the dare, and she suspected the invitation had less to do with courtesy and more to show that Ellen now had mastery of the team. It was obviously very important to her to prove to her mentor that she’d succeeded. She seemed to have missed the fact that Liz had spent years training and coaching her and took real pleasure in seeing her success.
Agreeing to scrub in also meant Liz would have to deal with everyone’s expectations. Most of the current staff had worked under her and would be watching to see if she was still sharp.
But the real reason Liz didn’t want to be in the OR was she didn’t want to watch Ellen cut open Maggie’s breast. Even Liz’s detachment had limits.
Ellen knocked on the door to the examination room. “May I come in?
Liz followed her in, and her heart went out to Maggie. It wasn’t enough to be overwhelmed with anxiety. Now, the poor woman had to cope with the indignity of trying to cover herself with the skimpy, uncooperative exam gown.
Liz moved to Maggie’s side and took her hand, while Ellen studied the mammogram on the screen. “Let’s see. Left breast, 2 o’clock 4CM FN.”
Maggie looked anxious. “What does that mean?”
“It’s medical code for the location of the mass,” Liz explained. “We think of your breast as a clock. In your case, the position of the tumor is at two o’clock and it’s four centimeters from the nipple.” She smiled to reassure Maggie but stepped back so Ellen could begin the examination.
Ellen brushed aside the paper gown and gave the breast in question a critical look before she began. For good measure, and also to make a comparison, Ellen carefully examined the other breast and both armpits. Maggie shut her eyes tight while her breasts were being palpated. Her jaw was set hard, as if her doctor’s touch was painful. Finally, Ellen drew closed the flaps of the gown.
“All done, Ms. Krusick. You can get dressed now.” She left the room. The door latch engaged with a sharp click.
Maggie sat up and leaned against Liz, who soothingly stroked her hair.
“I know. It’s humiliating.”
“No, that’s not it. It’s that all this makes it so real.”
“I’m going to scrub in tomorrow. Do you mind?”
Maggie’s arms around Liz’s waist pulled tighter. “No, I want you there.”
Eventually, Maggie let go, and Liz left to give her privacy while she dressed.
“It’s textbook, Liz,” said Ellen, as Liz sat down in the visitor’s chair. “You should have done it in Maine and not dragged the poor woman down here.”
“I just couldn’t,” said Liz. Ellen stared at her, but then she nodded. “I’ll open with your method for nipple conservation in case we need to do a mastectomy later.”
“I hope you use it most of the time. It does less nerve damage.”
“Oh, I do. Just letting you know I haven’t made any radical changes around here.”
When Maggie emerged from the examination room, she looked unsettled, so Liz focused on the torrent of information Ellen was conveying. “We’ll do the surgery at eight o’clock tomorrow morning. It’s a quick procedure that lasts only fifteen minutes to a half hour. Max forty minutes. We’ll keep you in recovery until the anesthesia wears off and you can sit up. Then Dr. Stolz can bring you back to Dr. Carson’s to rest. Don’t worry. We’ll give you plenty of medication for the pain.” Ellen rose and extended her hand. “See you tomorrow, Ms. Krusick.”
Maggie turned to Liz on the way to the car. “She’s a cold fish, isn’t she?”
“Unfortunately, surgeons often have poor patient management skills. Our involvement is brief, so some surgeons think it’s a waste of time to develop a rapport.”
“But you’re wonderful with your patients.”
“I wasn’t always. In the beginning, I had to force myself.”
Before she sat down in the driver’s seat, Liz unbuttoned the waistband of her skirt. “Maybe Jenny’s right about the beer.”
Maggie laughed for the first time that morning. “I think your little belly is adorable.”
“Well, if you want to see me in suits more often, I’m going to have to lose it.”
Liz started the engine, then sat for a moment, debating whether to visit her mother. It had been months since she had seen her, and it would be a shame not to take advantage of being nearby.
“I probably should stop in to say hello to my mother while I’m down here. You can come along or I can drop you off at Jenny’s.”
Maggie’s reply was instant and cheerful. “No, I’ll come with you. I’ve always liked your mother.”
Liz wondered how much she should tell Maggie about the many twists and turns in her relationship with her mother. After being disowned, Liz was finally welcomed back into the family, but things with her mother had remained rocky. There were months when they didn’t speak. Then they were back to being as close as ever—her mother completing her sentences and practically reading her mind.
Maggie listened carefully as Liz gave her a quick overview of where things stood. Monica Stolz been a widow for over thirty years. Fortunately, Robert, Liz’s youngest brother, who’d never married, lived with their mother, and looked after her.
Monica had turned eighty-five in the spring. Her mind was sharp, especially on the subject of politics. Liz often thought her mother had missed her calling and should have run for office herself. In fact, Monica was too used to being the boss and giving orders. She would have failed miserably at the give and take of politics. To keep up with her mother’s obsession with politics, Liz had to read all the political stories that showed up in her newsfeed before their morning phone call.
Unfortunately, conversation, even political debates, had become increasingly difficult because her mother was losing her hearing. Once considered a great beauty, she was too vain to use a hearing aid.
Maggie nodded, absorbing the information. “You’re lucky to still have your mother, and how many people our age can go back to the house where they grew up?”
“She’ll never sell that place and she’ll never leave it until they carry her out in a body bag. Unfortunately, she doesn’t have the money to keep it up. My brother has a good income, but it’s too much even for him. The taxes are killing them.”
Maggie was silent for a few minutes as she gazed out the window. “Do you think she’ll remember me?”
“Once I provide her with some context. Don’t be surprised if you get a chilly reception. I told her how our relationship ended. Years after the fact, but I told her. Despite her issues with me, she’s fiercely loyal to her kids, so of course, she always takes my side.”
“Then maybe I shouldn’t go with you.”
“It will be fine. Let me call and see if it’s a good time to come over. We can bring her lunch from the Chinese restaurant.”
Liz roused Siri and asked her to call her mother. The phone rang and rang until the answering machine picked up. No doubt their entire conversation would be recorded. “Hello, Elizabeth!” sang a cheerful voice through the dashboard when Monica finally picked up the call.
Maggie and Liz exchanged a smile. “Hi, Mom. I’m in the neighborhood and wondered if I might drop by for lunch. I’ll bring Chinese food, and if you don’t mind, I’d like to bring along a friend.”
“Really? Who?”
“You remember Maggie Fitzgerald. From college?”
There was a long silence. “Oh, that Maggie!” The disapproval in her tone was obvious.
“Yes, that Maggie. We’re staying with Jenny for a few days. I knew you’d kill me if you found out I was down here and didn’t stop by.”
“Well, I wouldn’t kill you, Elizabeth. You’re my daughter.”
“Just kidding, Mom. See you later.”
Maggie looked anxious after Liz ended the call. “Your mother didn’t seem too happy about seeing me. Maybe you should drop me off at Jenny’s and go alone.”
“Don’t worry. It will be fine.” Liz sounded confident, although she was a little anxious herself.
When they were in college, Maggie had been Monica’s favorite among Liz’s friends. Maggie would put on her best theatrical performance for Monica and charm her. Monica, who was something of an actress herself, used to selling top corporate clients on the family design and decorating business, was easily charmed.
Maggie always came along when Liz went home on weekends or for holidays when it was too expensive to go to Syracuse. They slept in Liz’s room, where they squeezed into one of the twin beds and slept with one ear awake, ever alert in case they needed to change the sleeping arrangements at a moment’s notice.
Ironically, Monica had once considered Maggie a good influence on her daughter. Maggie had presence, whereas young Liz was awkward and unsure. The tallest girl in the class since seventh grade, Liz stooped, whereas Maggie had a bearing that came from learning how to carry herself onstage. Maggie knew how to dress and make herself attractive, while Liz preferred threadbare jeans and T-shirts.
Maggie woke Liz from the memories by asking, “How long will it take us to get there?”
“Oh, about an hour and change, depending on the traffic.” Liz glanced at Maggie and caught her chewing her lip. “Are you sure you’re up to it? You’ve been on an emotional roller coaster in the last few weeks.”
“Yes, it’s been a wild ride, but your mother will be so disappointed if you don’t come.” Maggie frowned. “It’s been so strange. One day, everything’s fine. The next, you have cancer.”
“You had cancer, but you didn’t know it.”
“But everything is different now. My life is suddenly about cancer.”
Liz reached over and patted Maggie’s thigh. “No, it’s not,” she said in a perfectly serious voice. “It’s about fucking.” She raised a brow and gave Maggie a naughty grin.
Maggie’s mouth momentarily opened in shock, then she laughed until tears came to her eyes. “Stop it, Liz! You’re going to make me wet myself.”
“Don’t you dare ruin my leather seats!”
***
Liz tried to hide her embarrassment when Maggie walked into the venerable, old farmhouse. No doubt, Maggie would compare it to her memories of the place in its heyday. The drapes in the family room hadn’t been updated since the 1960s. The 1980s kitchen appliances still functioned, so they’d never been replaced. Everything looked dated and shabby. Here and there were signs of actual neglect—a leak in the ceiling that had never been repaired; a bare light bulb hanging from wires since the renovation project was interrupted years ago.
Maggie gave Liz a look of sympathy and a gentle smile that communicated, “we’ll talk about it later.” Despite the uncertainty in Monica’s voice when Liz announced she was bringing Maggie, the greeting they received was enthusiastic, even operatic. Monica made such a fuss over Maggie that Liz was left to stand aside with an arched brow to wonder what had suddenly come over her mother.
Liz set the table in the kitchen and distributed the Chinese food, while her mother held Maggie captive in the family room, regaling her with stories of the family business in its prime. The visit was going well until Maggie revealed that she had been the house guest of her old college friend since the trampoline accident. Liz could feel her mother’s eyes boring into her back as she scooped out the fried rice.
Instead of addressing the issue directly, Monica called to Liz from the other room. “Elizabeth, make sure you use the nice flatware.” Liz sighed, weary of being told what to do as if she were still a child.
After lunch, Liz cleared away the dishes, loaded the dishwasher and washed the pots left over from the previous night’s dinner. She scrubbed the counter around the sink, trying to remove the brown stains around the faucet. Whenever she came, she tried to tidy a little, but the entire house was such a mess it was merely a gesture.
After a few hours, Liz noticed Maggie’s act beginning to unravel from fatigue. She suggested that it was time to go.
Monica tried to delay the departure with extended farewells and opening a new line of political conversation. She plied her daughter with a box of chocolate chip cookies she had baked. Liz tried to refuse them, pleading the need to cut back on sweets for her figure, but Maggie stepped in and graciously accepted them.
“I’d never refuse your wonderful chocolate chip cookies, Mrs. Stolz. Thank you so much!”
Monica stood by the door to wave goodbye. Liz waited until they were down the driveway to ask, “Were you shocked?”
Maggie gave her a quick, anxious look, obviously weighing how much to say. “Honestly? I was a little. She is so frail…and old. She was such a beauty.”
“A lot can change in forty years.”
“But what happened to the house? It used to be like something out of a magazine. Remember when it was featured in Town and Country?”
Liz remembered. “The money from the sale of the business ran out. It had been poorly invested, spent on the wrong things. Robert tries to do the maintenance, but it’s too much for one person. Without hired help to keep the place up, it’s falling apart.”
“Can’t you help them?”
“I do. I give them money to make repairs. They spend it on things that make no sense, like rebuilding the cupola on the barn. It’s all about appearances. Meanwhile, the floor is rotting under the downstairs toilet. Sometimes I do the work myself to make sure it gets done. I replaced the kitchen faucet a few months ago. There’s so much that needs to be done. It’s a losing battle.”
“Your mother is rather hard of hearing.”
“Let’s be candid. She’s half deaf.”
“She seems lonely.”
“She tells me she’s not old enough to go to the senior center. She snubs the neighbors’ lunch invitations although she’s known them since I was in grade school. She thinks she’s too good for them.”
“That’s a shame.” Maggie sighed.
“I know, but there’s only so much I can do.”
Maggie reached out and touched Liz’s arm. They rode in silence until Liz switched on the radio.
Chapter 25
Maggie awoke feeling sweet and sexy from dreaming that Liz was making love to her. Then she realized it was the day of the surgery. Her eyes flew open, and her heart began to hammer. She remembere
d that Liz would be in the operating room and told herself that everything would be all right. Curling deeper into Liz’s embrace caused her to stir. She reached up and cupped Maggie’s breast, the healthy one, as it happened, and kissed the back of her neck.
“I dreamt you were making love to me,” whispered Maggie.
“Maybe I was.” Liz nibbled Maggie’s ear as she lifted her nightgown and caressed her from behind. “That must have been some dream! You are so ready.” She penetrated deeply before exchanging her fingers for her thumb so she could stroke outside at the same time.
Maggie closed her eyes and enjoyed the sensation. Liz had been revealing her skills as a lover gradually, surprising Maggie with the amazing things she could do with her clever hands and mouth. The pleasure Maggie experienced when they made love had less to do with Liz’s technique than her incredible sensitivity to her responses—the slightest tightening of her muscles around her fingers, every nuance of her breathing, the way her back arched or her legs parted to ask for more.
Liz switched and went deep again. “Yes, like that. Don’t stop.” She came on the inside moments later.
After Maggie’s breathing returned to normal, Liz fended off her attempts to return the favor. “Go back to sleep. It’s still early. I have to be sharp in the OR today.”
When Maggie woke again, it was to her lover’s kiss, a soft press of her lips against hers. Still in a groggy haze, Maggie sat up. There was a steaming cup on the bed stand. “Black, because of the surgery, but I thought you might need a caffeine jolt to get into the shower.”
“I thought I wasn’t supposed to eat or drink anything.”
“Clear liquids are allowed up to two hours before surgery. Drink fast.”
“I love you,” said Maggie, raising her face for another kiss.
As Maggie sipped the coffee, she watched her lover head off to the shower and felt very lucky to have literally stumbled back into Liz Stolz’s life.
She felt even luckier when she lay on a gurney in the hall outside the surgical suite and felt strong fingers intertwined with hers. The pressure wasn’t aggressive. It was sure and comforting.
