Waiting Page 11

  "In the end, Mr. Fellows told Dale he'd decided to go elsewhere. On your mother's way out, she reached for my arm. 'Ma'am,' she said. 'You were right. I apologize. I'd like to take you to dinner tomorrow night and pick your brain.' "

  "Mmm. Kinda sweet, actually."

  "Speaking of work, I have to do my milking job now. Will you wait a few minutes?"

  "No problem." I want to watch…

  *****

  When Caris returned, Lena was on the bed, asleep, her ponytail spread below her. Caris studied the swell of her breasts, the curve of her butt, the length of her thighs, and Caris's chest ached.

  Lena flickered an eye open. "How'd the milking go?"

  "My udders held up. They're improving. Lena?"

  "Hmm?"

  "Can I lay with you? For a few minutes?"

  "It's your bed." Lena scooted over, and Caris noticed Lena was careful to keep a distance from her.

  "I wish you could stay with me tonight," Caris whispered.

  Lena looked away.

  "I didn't mean like that," Caris said quickly. "I meant that—Never mind."

  "I know what you meant."

  "Good, because I'm not sure what I meant." Caris realized that their legs and ankles were touching. Just a bit. Yes, this was nice. Exactly what Caris needed.

  Lena glanced at the nightstand clock. Midnight. "I hate to do this, but I have to get to bed. Early morning."

  Caris's heart crashed. Parole is over. Back to prison. "You said you'd show me their pictures."

  Lena sighed. "Yep." She got her cellphone out. "The Soundros family. Mommy, daddy, their children."

  A handsome family greeted Caris. The mother and father were black, although the mother had almond-shaped eyes. Asian blood, maybe. The children, Lena's children—Caris lost herself in them. Their smiles were identical, tilted to the right side. The boy looked a lot like Lena, despite his dark skin. Looked a hell of a lot like Lena, actually. Same eyes, nose, chin.

  "Aron looks like Deonte," Lena said.

  "She's beautiful. They both are. Like you." Caris reluctantly gave the phone back.

  "You think Mom was right? Should I have kept them?"

  Caris was not sure what to say. One thing she knew: Lena did not need more grief or self-doubt. "I think your mother was wrong not to fully support your decision. She should have played with the children and... I would have. I would now."

  Lena could not meet her eyes. "I better go."

  "Right. Well, I'll walk you out. The living room is dangerous in the dark."

  George had left the lamp on, but Caris went outside anyway. The night was refreshing and nippy. A little wind. Caris would stay outside for a while after Lena left. And think about Lena. Then go inside and rub the memories of Lena's touches into her pussy.

  Caris and Lena strolled the few feet to her car. "Good night," Caris said. She glanced at the sky. Nice night. Lots of stars out, practically a different sky from the smudgy one right after bowling. That's right. Think about stars and not about how much you want to kiss Lena.

  "Good night." Lena smiled. Made no move to get into her car. Caris made no move to turn around.

  "I need to be absolutely clear with you," Caris said. "In case it was not clear earlier. I don't want a relationship. Don't need a relationship. I have so much going on. I'm right out of a marriage." Caris did not quite believe what she said. For one thing, Dale had begun freezing her out long before Donovan was born. Dale and Caris had been distancing themselves emotionally from each other. And Caris had a feeling she and Lena could be happy together. Very. But easier to be cooler and distant at this point. Meet Lena on her terms.

  Lena blinked. An astonished blink, as if to say how could anyone in her right mind infer that she and Caris were headed for a relationship? "I don't want a relationship either," Lena said. "With anyone." She laughed. "Can you imagine us in a relationship? Grandma and Granddad would have heart attacks."

  "Right," Caris said, thinking Lena had not needed to be quite so fervent in her agreement. "So that's out of the way. Can I kiss you now?"

  Lena's answer was to draw Caris into her arms. The first kiss was on the mouth, like a whisper, like the two half-second nothing kisses the night before, and a whisper that caused Caris's toes to curl. Then came a hard, desperate kiss, and more toe curls. Lena tasted of beer, the same beer Caris had, and Lena's mouth was soft, her tongue eager and the right degree of wet. Their kiss was like a conversation, allowing Caris to express to Lena what she could not verbalize, and Lena was an excellent conversationalist.

  Chapter 14

  Caris showered, dressed and grabbed a banana. The weather was nice on a Saturday, Dale's fifth day at Pinewood, and Caris figured she would take Donovan to see his other mother for a while. Dale was in bed, her eyes closed. "She had a good night," one of the nurses said. "No problems. She's adjusting nicely."

  Shirley was not around. Not yet, anyway. Good. Shirley and George had moved out the day before, and last night without them had been nice. Liberating. Caris had stripped naked and stayed that way all night, even as she watched TV on the couch. Plus, Shirley's hovering got on Caris's nerves.

  Pinewood was peaceful. Quieter. None of the urgency that permeated the hospital. Caris pulled the curtains back from Dale's windows and tugged up the blinds to let the sun shine through. "It's a beautiful morning," she told Dale. "Feels like fall's coming early."

  Dale was awake. Blink. Blink.

  Caris summoned Joe, her favorite orderly. Joe was gentle and had muscles the size of the Grand Canyon. He made transferring Dale to the wheelchair look easy. "Here we go, Mrs. Ismay," he said brightly to Dale. He slid his arms under her and lifted. "Nice and easy."

  She would hate this. Dale, fiercely independent and prideful, would die before subjecting herself to this. Stop it. She does deserve her second chance. Pitiful now did not mean pitiful later. Plenty of room to go back up.

  Caris carried Donovan outside, and Joe wheeled Dale. Caris inhaled the welcome scent of freshly mowed grass. Birds chirped. Perfect Disney setting, indeed. She chose a spot at the banks of the duck pond. A few ducks, some with babies, paddled in the water.

  "You can feed them bread and rice cakes," Joe said.

  "Cool. Thanks."

  "See you soon."

  Caris unfurled a checkered picnic blanket. Lena, Lena, Lena. What are you doing to me?

  Donovan tried to haul himself across the blanket, toward an approaching duck. "Ba! La! Ba ba!"

  Caris was ready to leave already. "Hey, Mr. Ba La. Let's get Mama a dress."

  *****

  Caris and Donovan headed to Space. Caris pondered the black dress again. She wouldn't fit in the size eight, but she could try a size ten.

  The dress hugged her curves. It was simple, understated. Versatile. Equally great for dinner and a movie or for a black-tie event, with the proper accessories. Maybe dinner tomorrow with Lena? Caris imagined Lena's eyes going wide and later, Lena peeling the dress off.

  No. Caris should save this dress for a date. A true date. Jennifer said she had a few people in mind for Caris and had suggested a double date.

  Caris studied her breasts. They were definitely bouncing back. On her stomach, some stretch marks were gone, others lighter.

  An image of Lena teasing her nipple popped up. Lena rubbing the nipple, pinching it, nibbling it between her white teeth. Caris's nipples hardened. Her clit hardened.

  Caris continued studying herself in the mirror, awe spreading through her body. I'm a woman again.

  And she wanted Lena.

  Caris dialed Jennifer. "Let's try your double date idea. And do you mind watching Donovan for a few hours tonight?"

  After Caris hung up, Donovan waved his fists in the air and shot her a grin. She smiled back. Before long, the belly swollen with her son and the milk weighing down her breasts would be dim memories. Maybe she'd laugh about her cow tits one day, when she was eighty-two. Shirley's age. What I'd give to be young and to have these milky
breasts back, to have my child be a baby again and nearby instead of ignoring my phone calls or in a persistent vegetative state.

  She recalled Lena, younger than her, and regretting letting her children go. Caris imagined being forced to give up Donovan. No way.

  An intense love overwhelmed Caris. The thought of losing Donovan was unbearable. The thought of losing Lena was unbearable.

  Caris took her son in her arms and cradled him. "I love you, baby," she said. "Mama loves you."

  *****

  That night, Lena's bug was parked behind Azizi, and Caris's heart leapt.

  But no.

  She needed to stay the hell away from Lena.

  Twenty minutes later, Caris took a left shortly before the Ben Brenman park off Route 236. She pulled into the Almond's parking lot. Mostly full. Looked like it held about fifteen spaces. Good lighting. Almond's was a squat, square orange-ish building. Not what Caris had expected. She could not find the name anywhere.

  So, this was it. Where Dale last lived. Spoke her last words. Slipped a note into Lena's tote bag and bid sayonara, au revior, seeyalater.

  Caris sat at the bar, near a male bartender and a college-aged couple. The bartender was obscured in the shadows. He watched the Braves on TV, his back to Caris and the couple. The man in the couple was a Mr. Abercrombie and Fitch. The woman was a young, plump Betty Crocker, red shirt and all.

  "You all right?" the bartender asked.

  Caris ordered a margarita. "Lovely." She kept her eyes fastened on the couple, hoping the bartender would get the message and leave her alone.

  Poor Betty Crocker. Betty hung onto Mr. Abercrombie's every word, leaned into him, adored him with dumb brown doe eyes. Mr. Abercrombie grunted in response and poked texts into his cellphone. Betty would not give up. She purred into his ear, her hands disappearing below the bar counter.

  Caris licked her margarita salt.

  Mr. Abercrombie put his cellphone away. Ordered another beer. "Shit, Betty. Stop pawing. A few more minutes, okay. Then we'll go to your place."

  Caris lifted her glass, concealing her grin. Damn. Her name IS Betty.

  "They come every once in a while," the bartender remarked. "She's hopeless, isn't she? He uses her, and she doesn't have the self-respect to stand up for herself."

  Caris did not bother to reply. Sometimes respect was underrated. Of course they were going to Betty's place. Mr. Abercrombie probably had roommates. Roommates he did not want to know about Betty, who was desperate and whom he probably considered several levels below him in the looks department.

  Was it time to bring out Melanie Michaels after—how long had it been—five or so years? In her younger days, Caris would go out sometimes to bars or clubs and pick up women. She would give her name as Melanie Michaels, her porn star name. First pet: Melanie, the doomed little mouse. Street she grew up on: Michaels Avenue.

  But this was a straight bar. In suburbia. Try it. Odder things have happened. It would get her mind, her body, off Lena.

  Caris flashed her smile for practice. She could not see it, of course, but the smile was more of a confidence thing, more like a feeling. No mirror required. Caris nailed the smile on her second attempt. She still had that elusive it, that joie de vivre. When her eyes twinkled that mischievous twinkle, Betty would be a goner.

  Ten minutes later, Mr. Abercrombie said: "Gotta drain the lizard and make another call." He walked off, big important man swaggering, jewels to protect between his legs.

  Betty followed him, but disappeared into the women's bathroom. Perfect.

  Caris waited until Betty washed her hands. "Your boyfriend is jerking you around."

  Betty narrowed her eyes. "He's a nice guy."

  Caris leaned into her. She made sure her breath tickled Betty's ear. "He doesn't go down on you. Doesn't give you screaming orgasms. I will." But you won't touch me. Anywhere. Wham bam, thank you, ma'am.

  Betty stepped back. Her doe eyes were wide, captured in car headlights. Caris let her take a moment to process the turn of events.

  Curiosity and a half smile, a let's see now played across Betty's face. "Who are you? Did Todd send you?"

  "I'm Melanie Michaels. Or whoever you want me to be." Caris moved her mouth over Betty's, devouring its softness. She tasted cheap rum on Betty's tongue and felt an intense pain, an intense ache for Lena's mouth. Lena's tongue. Betty gasped and moaned.

  "Your place?" Caris asked. "Or here?"

  Betty's eyes were luminous, her cheeks flushed, but she said: "Um, that was amazing, but I better go."

  *****

  After Caris got home and bade Jennifer goodbye, she slid into the bathtub. She shaved her armpits and her legs. She trimmed her pussy and shaved the edges of her pussy and her lips, creating easy, smooth access. She and Lena fit, no denying it. They just did. Hard to explain. Caris had been in a dark place since before Dale's accident, and now there was a light. The light was not where Caris had expected it to be. Was not where she wanted it to be. But there was a light.

  Anyway, was it such a big deal whom she would be doing things with? Yes. Of course it is.

  Says who? Show me the rule book.

  After the shave and trim, Caris worked even more deliberately. She rubbed waterproof lube on her clit. She teased herself until she could wait no longer. Her orgasm was tremendous but only whetted her desire for Lena.

  *****

  Caris was back at Pinewood the next day. She had not planned on returning so soon, but Shirley had called and asked her to come about noon.

  When Caris and Donovan arrived, only Dale was in the room. Caris picked up an Agatha Christie book on Dale's nightstand. It was a collection of three short stories: Crooked House, Ordeal by Innocence and The Seven Dials Mystery. Shirley needed a new copy. The book was worn, dog-eared. Caris studied it carefully. The alternative was to study Dale carefully.

  Caris sat and cleared her throat. "Crooked House," she began. "Chapter One. I first came to know Sophia Leonides in Egypt towards the end of the war. She held a fairly high administrative post…You know what, Dale? I bet you're sick of Agatha Christie. I don't know how your mom does all that reading, all the time." Caris snapped the book shut and reached for the newspaper at the foot of the bed. She scanned the sports section. "No Braves news. Sorry." The Braves were Dale's favorite baseball team.

  Nothing.

  "Yeah. It's not exactly overwhelming, is it? Okay, then. Back to Sophia Leonides." Caris scanned a couple of paragraphs. "She's a fox. Seems she's extremely easy to look at. She has a clear mind and a dry sense of humor. She's easy to talk to and enjoys dancing."

  Blank stare.

  "Caris." Lena's voice.

  Caris snapped her head up. Lena was hovering in the doorway.

  "Hi," Lena said with a smile.

  "Hi, Lena. It's good to see you." Polite, everyday dialogue. As if they hadn't experienced perfect kisses, that conversation of a kiss.

  "I can come back in a few minutes if—"

  "No. Stay. Did your grandmother summon you here, too?"

  Lena stepped into the room. "Yep. So, tell me more about Sophia Leonides."

  Caris scanned a few lines in the book. "Sophia has dark, crisp hair. A fighting chin. She is a good listener but doesn't like to talk about herself. She likes how this guy, Charles, has a funny way of doing things."

  "Sophia reminds me of you."

  "How?"

  Lena winked. "She's a fox."

  Caris could not help but smile.

  "So who is this Charles?"

  Caris surveyed the next couple of pages. Nothing much. "I don't know." She closed the book, giving Lena a playful gaze. "Who do you think he is?"

  "Hmm." Lena puckered her lips. "He's a double agent. His funny way of doing things is a cover. In actuality, he's a ruthless assassin."

  "His assignment is to kill Sophia."

  "Sophia, whom he doesn't know is his sister."

  Caris leaned forward, caught up in the game. "Sophia is also nosy. One day,
she's ruffling through Charles's luggage and finds an old family photo. It falls into place. She realizes who he is. She has to decide between her duty to her country or to her illegitimate brother. She has no idea he wants to kill her. Furthermore—"

  A cry. A stomp. Shirley brushing past Lena. "That's not how it happens," she huffed. "Not even close. Move over!" She flapped her arm, motioning Caris aside.

  "Grandma, we were only having fun," Lena protested. "You can play, too."

  Shirley grabbed the book. "That's not how it happens! This isn't play. Let's not confuse Dale."

  Be that way. No new copy for you.

  "Why are we here, Grandma?"

  Shirley's expression turned cool and distant. "Your grandfather is at the condo packing. He and I have been having problems. He's moving back to Rhode Island next week."

  Lena shifted her weight. "Wow. Sorry."

  Caris squeezed Shirley's shoulder. She was sure that under Shirley's icy veneer was a world of pain and hurt. She had to admit, though, that the news did not surprise her. She did not blame George for leaving. Shirley was obsessed with Dale. Spent her time with Dale and most of her conversations were about Dale—researching treatments, the leaps and bounds science was bound to make, how they ought to pray, et cetera. George had become furniture to Shirley. She discounted his opinions and did not listen to him.

  "I'm sorry, Shirley. Anything I can do?"

  "I'm fine," Shirley said. "Just as well. Dale needs all of my focus. Our focus. George thinks—" She scoffed. "He thinks Dale's dead. He thinks our baby's dead. He's thought so all along." She shot Lena a provocative scowl, daring Lena to contradict her.

  Lena said nothing.

  Caris said nothing.