High October

by Elena Graf

  “I knew you would understand.”

  As if he’d heard them talking about him, Sid came into the kitchen. “That coffee smells good.” He looked from Liz to his wife. His face lit up when he saw her, and the smile spread across his face like a bead of oil in hot water. Liz recognized that smile. It was the smile that Maggie gave her when she came home at the end of the day. It had no other reason for being other than pure joy at the sight of her.

  Sid took a cup from the cabinet. “I’ll just get myself some coffee. I don’t want to break up your hen party.”

  Bev shook her head after he left. “Two department chairs at Yale-New Haven sitting here, and he talks about a hen party.”

  “He’s only kidding. He has nothing but respect for you. He worships you.”

  Bev got up to pour herself another cup of coffee. “Are you in a big hurry to get home?”

  “No, I took time off because I knew I’d be visiting my mother, and I wanted a couple of days to do any damage control with Maggie after our meeting.”

  Bev stirred sugar into her coffee. She put down her spoon and looked at Liz. “Why not stay the night? I’d enjoy the company. You know that Sid loves to talk to you about the war and the stories your father told you.”

  Liz nodded as she considered the invitation. “Yes, thank you. I think I will. It will be nice to catch up.”

  When they finished their coffee, Bev invited Liz to take a walk along the inlet. Over the years, Liz had spent many afternoons here, walking along the tidal river, while she and Bev talked about medicine or personal things—their families and plans for the future. Sometimes, not talking at all.

  Liz hooked her arm in Bev’s. “You’ve been married to Sid for a long time. What do you talk about when you know everything about your partner?”

  “It’s hard sometimes. We take each other for granted. Sometimes he doesn’t listen to what I say, but there’s no problem with his hearing. But we try to keep it fresh. We go on date nights. We leave each other little love notes. He still brings me flowers for no reason at all. He makes blintzes for me on Sunday morning.”

  “I envy you. Almost everyone we know is divorced. You and Sid are the exception.”

  “If it’s going to last, it has to be more than sex, but that’s important too. Sid can’t get it up anymore, but he always makes sure I’m satisfied.”

  Liz wasn’t sure she wanted to know that about Sid, but Bev had always been completely open about sex, something her patients and Liz appreciated.

  Bev gave Liz a penetrating look. “The Tamoxifen’s not affecting her libido, is it?”

  “No, no. Thank God, that’s not one of our problems.” Liz pulled her friend’s arm closer. “You should have been a shrink.”

  “I thought about it…when oncology got too depressing. They desperately need more psychiatrists. It’s not a growing field. Except mental illness can be worse than death sometimes.”

  Liz suddenly remembered Alina’s panic attack. “I think you’re right.”

  “So, what are you going to do? You can’t be in this halfway, Liz. It’s all or nothing.”

  Liz nodded and stared out over the water. “She asked me to marry her. She was joking, of course, but also half serious.”

  Bev’s eyes narrowed. “It’s pretty early for that.”

  “Maybe, but I’ve been waiting for her for forty years.”

  “Just don’t be impulsive. You’re one of those people who thinks herself into analysis-paralysis, and then jumps in with both feet, just to make a decision. Remember when you retired?”

  “That only looked impulsive,” said Liz. “I knew I wanted out at the top of my game. Wielding a scalpel past your prime is pure ego. My eyes aren’t as sharp. Robotic surgery is for kids raised on video games. My hands are stiff when I wake up, especially in the winter. It was the right thing to do.”

  “I’m sure you’ll do the right thing now. You always do.”

  They came to a bench at the waterfront. Bev suggested they sit down. For a long time, they sat without speaking as they looked at the sound. Liz reached out, took Bev’s hand, and gave it a friendly squeeze.

  “Thanks for this,” she said.

  ***

  Liz was driving through downtown Guilford when she spied the jewelry shop. Terry Piotrowski, the owner had always steered her in the right direction. When Liz needed a gift for Jenny, Terry always helped her choose exactly the right thing. Maybe she could help her find something for Maggie to cheer her up. A peace offering.

  Terry instantly looked up when Liz walked in. “Dr. Stolz,” she said, reaching out her hands with a warm smile. “I haven’t seen you around town for ages.”

  “That’s because I moved to Maine. I quit my job at Yale-New Haven and bought a little family practice in a small town up there.”

  “Oh, I LOVE Maine,” said Terry. She gave Liz a curious look. “I haven’t seen Dr. Carson in here either. Did she move to Maine too?”

  Liz shook her head.

  Terry nodded, understanding.

  Liz gazed around the store. It looked the same since the last time she’d been there, when she’d bought diamond earrings for Jenny’s birthday. That was the last jewelry she’d bought for Jenny, or anyone else for that matter.

  “How’s the jewelry business?” Liz asked cheerfully.

  “Surprisingly good. The chains haven’t knocked us out yet. We try to keep the line fresh. We maintain a stable of custom jewelers, and we brought in this collection of genuine Irish jewelry. It’s an exclusive. You can only order this line directly from Ireland or from us. Want to see?”

  “Sure. Why not?” Irish jewelry didn’t really interest Liz, but she politely listened while Terry reviewed the offerings in the new line.

  “We went with this company because they only use the best stones and 18-carat gold. Look at this.” Terry reached in and took a ring out of the case. “Isn’t the design unusual? These beautiful Celtic knots are set with small diamonds and a perfect solitaire in the center.” She put it on a velvet pad so Liz could see it better.

  “Is this an engagement ring?”

  “Yes, that’s what it’s meant to be. It comes with a matching wedding band.”

  “Nice. Are the diamonds good quality?” Liz held the ring under the light to inspect it more closely.

  “This particular stone is at the top of the GIA grading. It’s almost two carats and comes from Canada, so it’s ethically sourced.”

  “Beautiful.” Liz put on the ring. It fit perfectly. She knew Maggie wore the same size because she’d left her ring on the window sill while preparing dinner. Out of curiosity, Liz had tried it on.

  “Is someone getting engaged?” Terry’s voice was hopeful.

  “Maybe. How much is this?”

  Chapter 37

  Maggie’s phone pinged, and she saw the text from Liz flash across the screen. “How are you?”

  She wondered how she could answer the question without going into extended explanations. The truth was ugly. Maggie had hardly slept since she’d been back in New York, despite being in her own bed for the first time in months. Since Liz had become her lover, she’d never spent the night apart from her. She knew Liz didn’t like people touching her when she slept, but after the lump had been discovered, Liz had held her every night until she fell asleep.

  But now there was no Liz with her strong arms and warm body an arm’s-length away. There were only the cold sheets and the too-firm mattress, bought at a time when the firmer, the better. “Like a coroner’s slab,” Liz had said. Remembering those words, Maggie felt doubly chilled.

  Maggie stared at the text. Liz would worry if she didn’t respond. Maggie needed some space, but she didn’t want to be cruel.

  “I’m okay,” Maggie wrote back. She added a red heart emoticon.

  Liz responded with a red heart.
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br />   Maggie finally got out of bed. She brewed a cup of strong tea and sat down at the little round table in the kitchen foyer. It was progress. Yesterday all she could do was lie in bed until noon. She’d read and watched old movies on the tiny TV. She’d never changed out of her pajamas, never showered. When she finally realized around four that she was hungry, she’d ordered Chinese food delivered.

  As she sipped the tea, she gave her surroundings a critical look. The tiny apartment seemed so cramped after the spaciousness of Liz’s house and the privacy of the woods. Even though all the windows were tightly closed, Maggie could still hear the noise of the city. Before spending time in Maine, she’d found the constant buzz of activity comforting, especially on the nights when she couldn’t sleep. It soothed her to know that all around her people were still awake. Today, it only reminded her of how alone she was in this vast sea of humanity.

  Maggie decided that brooding over feeling alone was ridiculous when she had so many friends in the city she hadn’t seen for months. She unplugged her phone from the charger and called the number of her best friend in the NYU theater department. A moment later she heard Laura Maglione’s dramatic contralto.

  “Maggie Krusick! Where the hell have you been?”

  “I was in Maine doing summer stock.”

  “Yes, I think you told me before I left for my cruise. How was it?”

  “Can you come over for coffee? I’ll tell you all about it.”

  “I can be there in an hour. Give me some time to put myself together.”

  That was the standard line from theater people. No self-respecting woman of the stage ever went out in public without “putting on her face.” But Maggie had been changed by her stay in Maine and Liz’s easy disregard of social convention. She decided not to rush to put on makeup. She had known Laura for years and suffered with her through breakups from their respective male partners. Maggie decided it was about time to show the woman she called her best friend her true face.

  Maggie found some refrigerator cinnamon buns in the refrigerator. She put on her glasses to scrutinize the purple date stamped on the bottom, happy to discover they hadn’t expired. She set the oven to preheat, whacked open the can on the edge of the counter and arranged the buns on a pan. She put on a pot of coffee only to realize there was no cream. Fortunately, she remembered that she’d stashed some packaged creamers in the cabinet for emergencies.

  “Smells good in here,” Laura said, appreciatively sniffing the air when she came into the apartment. She was a lithe, tall woman with stunningly white, long hair. She’d been a model before she studied modern dance—one of Martha Graham’s last crop of students. She often talked about it to lord over her peers, who’d studied with lesser lights. “Martha always said…” Laura liked to say. Her specialty in the theater department was choreography. Maggie, who loved modern dance, quickly gravitated toward her.

  “Hey, girl.” Laura caught Maggie in an embrace, one of the few straight women she knew who gave full body hugs. “Why haven’t you called me? I’ve been sooooo worried about you.”

  Maggie pulled the cinnamon buns out of the oven and set them on a rack to cool while she poured Laura a cup of coffee. She refilled her own cup and added double sugar because she needed the energy.

  “I’m sorry. I just didn’t have time. When I was doing Mama Mia in Webhanet, it was eight shows a week.”

  “So ambitious of you. I can’t imagine returning to the stage at our age.”

  “Well, maybe it wasn’t the best idea for me either. I fell during a trampoline stunt…”

  “Oh, my God! Were you hurt?”

  “I broke my leg…right above the ankle.” Maggie pulled up her caftan to show her where. “Fortunately, the theater manager took me to the local family practice.”

  “He took you to some local doctor! Why not just call an ambulance?”

  Maggie raised a finger. “Wait! That’s where the story gets interesting.”

  Laura leaned on her hand. “Do tell.”

  Maggie joined her at the little table in the kitchen alcove and passed the plate of cinnamon buns.

  Over the next hour, She told Laura the entire story from the trampoline accident to the meeting of the tumor team. By the time she finished, they’d drained the entire pot of coffee and devoured all of the cinnamon buns.

  “My God! That’s quite an adventure. How long did you say it was since you’d seen this Liz?” Laura picked up the crumbs from the plate with her fingertip.

  “Forty years.”

  “And how long have you been lovers?”

  “Six weeks.”

  “That’s pretty quick work, Maggie. You don’t waste any time.”

  “At our age, there’s no time to waste.”

  “No, especially not for you.” Laura gave her a quick guilty look. “That came out wrong.”

  Maggie shrugged. “Not something I haven’t thought myself.”

  “Oh, Maggie, I know so many breast cancer survivors. Some of them had it years ago. It sounds like your doctors are optimistic.”

  “They are, but you know how doctors are. They never tell you the whole truth.”

  “Maybe that’s because they don’t know themselves.”

  That was a possibility Maggie hadn’t considered. Maybe Liz was guarded because she didn’t know the answers. Of course, she didn’t. She was a doctor, not God. But Maggie had been brought up to think doctors were God.

  “So, how long are you going to keep Liz away?” Laura studied Maggie. “It’s not over already, is it?” she asked, raising a brow.

  Maggie was anxious for a moment. Laura was one of the few people who knew about her affair with Katherine Gleason, the woman with whom Maggie had had a fling that summer years ago. She’d sworn Laura to secrecy about the affair and never revealed Katherine’s name, although she was so tempted. There was an unspoken agreement in the theater to honor the privacy of those who were still in the closet. Maggie had assured Laura that falling for a woman had been momentary lapse, and she was still completely straight.

  “Is it over?” Laura asked again, prodding with an intense look.

  “No, it’s not over,” said Maggie. “And in fact, I haven’t really been fair. Liz has been nothing but kind to me.” Laura’s open and interested look made Maggie want to keep talking about Liz. Conversation about her made her somehow nearer. “She’s such a good person. The townspeople adore her. She was there every step of the way for me with this stupid disease. You’d like her, Laura. You really would.”

  “Is she the one?” Laura asked gently.

  Maggie was startled by the question. “The one what?”

  “To finally sway you…” Laura wiggled her brows. “…to the dark side?”

  It took Maggie a moment to figure out what Laura was trying to say. “You mean, to loving women?” Maggie laughed. “Oh, she did that forty years ago!”

  “So why has it taken you so long to be honest with yourself? I’ve known for years.”

  Maggie stared at her. “It was so much easier to be straight, like everyone else.”

  “But Maggie, have you ever really been happy? Now, tell the truth.”

  Maggie shook her head.

  “So? Maybe, here’s your chance.”

  It sounded so easy and uncomplicated when Laura said it. Why wasn’t it that way in life?

  “The cancer changed things. I don’t want Liz feeling she has to stay because she feels sorry for me.”

  “If she discovered the lump the first time you were together and stayed, I doubt that’s the reason.”

  Maggie thought about it. “You’re right.”

  After that, Laura filled Maggie in on all the department gossip. Rumor had it that the chairman had gotten a lucrative offer from Northwestern and might be willing to risk losing his tenure to take it. That meant there would be jockeying to s
ee who would fill his role. As Maggie listened to Laura recount the political machinations behind the scenes, she was surer than ever that retirement had been a good idea.

  After Laura left, Maggie finally took a shower and got dressed. She scanned her emails and texts, including one from Sophia wanting to know about the tumor team meeting. Rather than write all the details in an email, Maggie called her daughter.

  “You’re not going to go for a bilateral mastectomy, are you, Mom?” asked Sophia in a worried voice.

  “I don’t think so. It seems very drastic. Don’t you think?”

  “It is, and once you do it, you can’t undo it. Besides, implants have their own risks. What does Dr. Stolz say?”

  Maggie smiled. No matter how many times she’d heard Liz ask Sophia to call her by her first name, Sophia insisted on formality.

  “She agrees with the other doctors.”

  “You know she’ll keep an eye on you and be after you for all your imaging and labs. Is she there? Can I say hello?”

  Maggie’s breath caught. Usually, she kept her troubles from her daughters because of the girl’s difficult history. It had been so hard to break the news when she and their father had decided to separate, but she also hated to keep things from them deliberately. The repercussions of that could be much worse.

  “She’s not here. I’m back in New York.”

  “Oh! Didn’t she come down with you?”

  “No, I’m alone. I needed some time to think. So much has happened. I need to catch my breath.”

  “Yes, a lot has happened. You’re still going to move to Maine, aren’t you?”

  “I don’t know. We’ll see.”

  “But it could be good for you, Mom. Dr. Stolz seems like a good person. It’s obvious she cares for you. That guy, Tom was a real dick.”

  Maggie bit her tongue to prevent herself from scolding her daughter. Sophia seldom used foul language, but when she did, it was definitely for emphasis. The word choice to describe Tom was tantamount to three, maybe even four, underlines.