Heart to Heart Page 2

  The doctor, a pretty woman with dark shoulder-length hair, and blue eyes, looked at Amy. “Are you a relative?” she asked.

  “I’m her daughter.”

  “Is your name Amy?” the doctor asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Your mother’s been calling out for you. She still remembers you.”

  Amy didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. “Did she pass out?”

  The doctor said, “We gave her a sedative. She’ll sleep peacefully for a while.”

  “What happens now?” Amy asked. She’d always thought of herself as being a capable person, but taking care of herself seemed easy compared to this. Now she had herself and her mother’s life to organize. She didn’t feel capable at all. All she felt was frightened.

  “Now that she’s resting, you can start the paperwork,” the doctor said. “Admitting is waiting for you. We’ll get her a room for the night. She’ll be better when she wakes up.” She held out her hand. “I’m Dr. Susan Everett. I’ll be your mother’s treating physician.”

  Amy limply shook Dr. Everett’s hand. “Can I stay here with her for a minute?”

  “Sure. I’ll wait outside,” Dr. Everett said.

  “I’ll be in the waiting room whenever you’re ready to leave,” Rosa said.

  The nurses left and Rosa and Dr. Everett walked out of the room together, chatting amiably. They must know each other, Amy thought. Of course, in a town as small as Fenton, it seemed everyone knew everyone else.

  Amy sat on the small stool near her mother’s bed. Reaching out, she placed her hand over her mother’s age-spotted, wrinkled one. She studied her mother’s face. When had she gotten so old? There were lines and creases that Amy hadn’t seen before. Her mother had been a vain woman and never went without makeup. Her physical appearance was the first clue that things were falling apart—her stained nightgown; her greasy uncombed hair; her jagged, bitten nails that were once perfectly manicured every Saturday when she got her hair set. This old, withered woman lying in the hospital bed was not her self-centered, gorgeous mother. This woman was lost in a funhouse maze and the carnival was never leaving town.

  Amy put her head in her hands and the tears began to fall freely. Truthfully, she didn’t know if she was crying for her mother or crying for herself. Maybe both.

  After a few minutes, Dr. Everett stuck her head in between the curtains. She saw Amy crying and walked up next to her. She gently placed a caring hand on Amy’s back.

  “I don’t recognize her,” Amy whispered. “This woman isn’t the mother I know.”

  “I won’t tell you it’s not bad,” Dr. Everett said. “Because it is. We don’t get a lot of warning with Alzheimer’s and there’s very little we can do to stop its progression. The memory loss is hard enough, but what hurts the family most is watching the loss of their parent’s personhood. A grown woman reverts to being a toddler. She is unlearning all she has ever known and soon she won’t know how to do anything.”

  Amy sniffled. She looked up at the doctor and said, “Was that supposed to make me feel better?”

  “No, it’s supposed to make you realize the gravity of the situation. Right now, you feel sorry for yourself. I’m preparing you for what comes next.”

  “Which is?”

  “The hardest time of your life,” Dr. Everett said.

  Chapter Two

  Rosa entered the kitchen as Steph was setting the table. She kissed Steph on the cheek then inhaled deeply. “Smells wonderful.”

  “That’s me you smell,” Steph teased.

  “No,” Rosa said. “You smell like a toasted marshmallow.”

  “Hey!” Steph said in mock indignation. “I showered.”

  “Good thing for you I love toasted marshmallows.”

  Steph laughed and put the silverware and napkins on the kitchen table. She had reheated cheese enchiladas, rice, and refried beans. Steph loved to cook. She felt more at home in the kitchen than anywhere else. Every week she pre-made meals on her time off from the fire station and stocked their deep freeze with plenty of frozen choices that only needed to be heated up during the week.

  Between Rosa’s hectic police schedule and Steph’s firefighter schedule, they sometimes felt like two ships passing in the night. What little time they did have together, they tried to make the most of.

  “Do I have time to shower before eating?” Rosa asked.

  “Sure. Make it quick though.”

  Rosa removed her gun belt and placed it over the back of a chair. She unbuttoned her uniform shirt. She watched Steph’s face as she undid the buttons slowly, seductively. Steph watched, her eyes sparkling with longing.

  “Don’t tease me like that. It’s not nice,” Steph said. She stuck out her bottom lip in a childish pout.

  “This is foreplay. Remember I’m working afternoons the rest of the week so I can spend mornings bringing my wife coffee in bed,” Rosa said.

  “Oh, yeah? Except I’m not technically your wife… because someone, not mentioning any names, refuses to marry me despite the fact we’ve spent the last ten years together.”

  The oven timer went off.

  “You are my wife in all things. I don’t need a piece of paper to tell me that. You know, for a big, strong butch you’re nothing but a mush ball,” Rosa said. She kissed Steph on the lips.

  But Steph wasn’t going to be appeased so easily. “Why don’t you want to get married? We’ve waited forever for this right and you still won’t go for it.” Steph tried to keep her voice even. She didn’t know why it bothered her so much that Rosa wouldn’t marry her. They’d already built a life together.

  The oven timer sounded again. Rosa changed the subject, “You know for a white chick you sure make great Mexican food.”

  Steph refused to be distracted. She opened the oven door as she said, “What’re you afraid of?”

  “Of messing things up,” Rosa said, facing her.

  “Babe, nothing is going to mess us up. We’re together, we’ll always be together.”

  “Look what happened to Susan,” Rosa said.

  Rosa and Dr. Susan Everett had been best friends since college. Their friendship had withstood the test of time.

  “Okay, I’ll admit that was a bad scene,” Steph said. She closed the oven door and turned the setting down to warm.

  “Bad? It’s every bride’s nightmare,” Rosa said.

  “And you think I’d do that to you? Believe me, I am not a runaway bride,” Steph said.

  They both laughed. Steph imagined herself hitching up her wedding gown and making a run for it. “I’d probably twist an ankle in my heels trying to get out of the church.”

  “Like you’d be wearing heels,” Rosa said.

  Steph laughed. “You’re right. I’d look like a drag queen if I put on a dress.”

  Rosa’s face clouded over. “I still can’t wrap my mind around what happened. How could Carrie go through all the prep, all the expense, all the emotional drama, and then not show up to her own wedding?” Rosa asked for the hundredth time.

  “You forgot the part where she disappeared with the honeymoon plane tickets to Belize,” Steph said. “That was the worst.”

  “No, what’s worse is running off with the wedding planner to Belize.”

  “Yeah, that’s pretty effed-up.”

  “I don’t think Susan’s ever going to get over it,” Rosa said.

  Steph didn’t want to discuss Susan anymore. It always made Rosa depressed. “Go shower so we can eat. You smell like depraved criminals.”

  Rosa released her long, dark hair from the tight bun she wore at work. She shook her hair out until it draped over her shoulders. Her large brown eyes sparkled. She lightly touched the cleft in Steph’s chin. “I’ll be right back,” she said.

  ***

  In the shower, Rosa thought about Susan and how humiliating it must have been to be left at the altar. Rosa wasn’t sure she could have dealt with it. Susan was damaged, but hopefully the right woman wo
uld show up—one with character and a sense of morals. Rosa should have told Susan what she’d suspected between Carrie and the wedding planner. She wasn’t supposed to have overheard what they said. Rosa had been the first one to arrive at the bridal boutique. She had already been in the dressing room, trying on her bridesmaid dress, when Carrie and Monica, the wedding planner, had entered.

  They stood in the changing room, unaware that Rosa stood a few feet away on the other side of a curtain. Rosa overheard Carrie swear her undying love to Monica who appeared to be petulant that it was taking Carrie so long to get out of this “charade of a wedding.” Monica was ready to move on. She wanted to go to Belize and start a life there—planning romantic tropical weddings. Carrie, as a gynecologist, would also be able to work in Belize, which had a shortage of doctors and none of the hassles of insurance paperwork and malpractice insurance. They would have each other and a new life together. “Don’t you want that?” Monica had asked.

  “You know I do,” Carrie had said.

  “Then stop the wedding. Now.”

  “I will, I will, I will. I promise,” Carrie had said.

  Rosa hadn’t mentioned what she’d heard to Susan. She mistakenly thought Carrie would either tell her or she would dump Monica and go through with the wedding. But she hadn’t. Carrie simply hadn’t show up at the church—which was full of friends and family awaiting her arrival.

  The upside—if there was one— was that the twenty-five-thousand-dollar wedding was all on Carrie’s credit cards. Since they weren’t married, Susan was not responsible for any of the debt.

  Rosa should have told Susan what she’d overheard. She had to live with that guilt. That was the one and only secret Rosa had ever kept from Susan and she hated herself for it. She hoped that Carrie never came back to Fenton because Rosa would hunt her down, give her a piece of her mind, and accidentally discharge her weapon straight into Carrie’s two-timing vagina. She’d make sure Carrie couldn’t run away from anyone in the future.

  Of course, Rosa would never actually abuse her power as a police officer to exact revenge, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t fantasize about it.

  There was a knock on the bathroom door. Steph poked her head in. “Babe, have you drowned? You’ve been in here quite awhile.”

  “Sorry, I’ll be right out.” Rosa quickly soaped up and shaved her legs. She was so engrossed in thought that she had lost track of time.

  “What were you thinking about?” Steph asked when Rosa slipped into her chair at the kitchen table.

  “What’s makes you think that?”

  “Because when you take long showers that means you’re deep in thought.”

  “I was thinking about Susan and Carrie.”

  “Babe, you’ve got to let it go. I know you think you should have told her, but no one knew she’d bail at the last minute, not even you,” Steph said. She set down Rosa’s plate in front of her. It was heaped with rice and beans and two cheese enchiladas.

  “Too much food. I’m not going to be able to eat all this,” Rosa said.

  “Try. You’ve lost weight. It’s my job as your living-in-sin girlfriend to keep you well-fed and healthy.”

  There was a knock at the door. Steph looked up. “Who could that be this late?”

  “I told Susan to stop by after work,” Rosa said, opening the back door.

  “My ears are burning,” Susan said. She hugged Rosa warmly.

  “Sit down and I’ll load you up a plate,” Steph said. “We have enough to feed an army.”

  Susan smiled. “Thanks, I’m famished.” She sat down in her usual spot at the worn kitchen table.

  Susan loved the homey feeling at Rosa and Steph’s house. It was a simple bungalow house in the Arts and Craft style popular in the early 1900s. It fit Rosa and Steph to a tee—cozy and snug. It had two bedrooms and one bathroom in only 1,200 square feet. They had decorated in warm colors and with lots of homemade quilts, afghans, and pillows. Susan thought it always felt like the house was hugging you in its arms.

  Susan remembered helping them move in. Rosa had been so nervous about buying a house, but Steph was her usual calm self, saying, “Babe, it’s like paying rent, only you get to fix it up like how you want.” The house had definitely been a fixer-upper. Their friend Parker was a carpenter and she’d helped with all the renovations.

  Steph put a plate of rice and beans and three cheese enchiladas in front of Susan.

  Susan closed her eyes moaned. “This smells so good. I’ve had three days of nothing but cafeteria food.” She took a forkful of rice and beans, chewed, and swallowed. “Damn, Steph, you’re a good cook. If Rosa ever dumps you, you’re all mine.”

  Steph beamed.

  Rosa smiled at Susan. “You just made her day.”

  ***

  After dinner, Rosa and Susan did the dishes while Steph loaded up the cooler with ice and Coronas. They had decided during dinner to head down to the reservoir, sit lakeside, and have a few beers.

  “We haven’t done this in forever,” Steph said as they pulled up in the parking lot of Griffin Park.

  The reservoir was fairly large and Griffin Park, with its stately oaks and walking gardens, was a boasting point for the Chamber of Commerce. Many of the town’s festivals and events centered around the park. Steph grabbed the cooler from the bed of her black Dodge Ram pickup. Rosa always kidded her about her redneck truck. Steph retorted with a list of uses that her truck accommodated, unlike Rosa’s elderly Nissan Sentra. Rosa loved her car, even with its odometer at almost 200,000 miles, and until it truly gave up the ghost, she was keeping it.

  Rosa and Susan grabbed the lawn chairs and they headed for a large oak tree. Steph put the cooler between Susan’s and Rosa’s chairs so they could use it as a table. Susan gazed out at the lake. There were several kayakers and a woman on a paddle board. They looked serene as they glided across the glass-like surface of the water. Susan wished she had some of their serenity.

  Rosa must have noticed her mood. She reached over and touched her friend’s arm. “You okay?”

  Steph got them beers. She cocked her head at Susan. “Oh, shit, I forgot. Well, it’s best you’re spending it with friends.”

  “And I thought you were doing it out of pity,” Susan said, smiling wryly.

  “I’m lost,” Rosa said, taking the beer from Steph. Steph handed her a plastic container with cut-up limes. Rosa squeezed a slice into her Corona.

  “It’s my anniversary,” Susan said, holding up her beer. “Or should I say it’s my non-anniversary.”

  Steph held up her own bottle. “Here’s to cheating exes. May they get the karma they deserve.”

  “Here’s to you, Carrie. I hope you’re having a nice life,” Susan said. She blinked hard, fighting back angry tears.

  Rosa got up and hugged her. “Hey, it’s over and it won’t happen again. I promise you.”

  “It’ll never be over for me,” Susan said, trying to get hold of herself. She didn’t even cry when one of her patients died. She put on her stoic doctor face and consoled the family. The only problem was she couldn’t seem to console herself.

  “Hey, yes, it will. Time heals all,” Rosa said.

  “And getting laid helps,” Steph said.

  “Steph!” Rosa reprimanded. She swatted Steph’s arm.

  “What?” Steph said. “She needs a girlfriend, that’s all I’m saying.”

  Susan laughed. “No, she’s right. A girlfriend would help. I just don’t know if I’m ever going to be able to trust anyone again.”

  “There’s somebody out there for you,” Steph said. “Don’t give up on love yet.”

  “You’re a hopeless romantic,” Susan said.

  “Worse. I’m a hopeful romantic,” Steph answered.

  Susan sighed and took a long drink of the beer. Finally, she said, “Who would want to date me? I’m tainted. Every lesbian in town knows I was jilted. It’s like I’m wearing a scarlet letter. Nobody wants to get near me.”

  R
osa didn’t say anything. She knew there was a certain amount of truth to what Susan said. The news of the jilting had been all over town by that same evening. Steph had saved the day by getting the reception going. They still had the party. Susan got sloppy drunk. Steph carried her inside and held her hair while she vomited. Then she put her to bed. It was the worst night of Susan’s life.

  “What about that new girl in town, Amy Warner?” Steph asked. “She seemed really nice and I guarantee you, she’s family. My gaydar was pinging all over the place.”

  “She is very pretty,” Rosa added. “Female Caucasian, short brown hair, five foot six, 130 pounds.”

  “Well, if she ever commits a crime, we already have a description,” Steph said.

  They all laughed.

  “I met her this afternoon. I’m her mother’s attending physician,” Susan said. “She may be cute, but she has a lot of big drama ahead of her. The Alz patients are a difficult burden.”

  “And she might need a shoulder to cry on. That’s where you come in,” Steph said.

  “Stop playing matchmaker,” Rosa scolded.

  “New love is the best way to get over old love,” Steph said. “It’s in the lesbian handbook if you don’t believe me.”

  “I concur,” a voice from behind them said.

  They all turned to look. It was their friend Parker. Parker was one of those athletically blessed women who made any sport look easy. She was also blessed in the looks department—long, blond hair, sky blue eyes. Parker tried to downplay her good looks as much as possible. It was almost as if she were embarrassed by them.

  Steph jumped up first. “Parker! Haven’t seen you in quite awhile.” She hugged her hard and then gave her a manly sock in the arm.

  Parker hugged Rosa, but she only smiled and nodded at Susan. She seemed to know innately that Susan wasn’t big on hugging. Maybe it had to do with a hug-less childhood, or her need to be stoic when she delivered bad news to patients’ loved ones. Regardless of the cause, Susan needed her shell and Parker respected that.