Waiting Read online

  I'm sorry your mother did not tell you much about your dad. She told me some things. I'll write down what I remember. Here's a little something to get you started in case you don't know this already.

  Your parents met in class. His handwriting was what drew her to him. They sat together, exchanged hellos, nothing special. Then class began, and your father took notes. His writing was elegant, like calligraphy. Like art. Your mother was mesmerized. That night, they went to a party where he was a drag queen. He wore a sparkly green dress, and his singing voice captivated your mother.

  Now, about your mother and her future, I am not challenging the living will. Your mother wanted a year, and I'm giving that year. No more, no less. The paralysis issue troubles me, but I won't presume to read your mother's mind. Your grandmother has a point, however far-fetched. Lena, your mother could recover. Maybe not completely, but meaningfully. She—he—could have good years left. Your mother has two beautiful children whom I know, I absolutely know, he would want to see grow and flourish. Sometimes, I think about how your mother struggled for years. All that agony and torture. Now it's apparently over. Just so sudden. If your mother gets a second chance, I think she will make the most of it.

  Lena, your mother loved you so, so much. I wish I could convey how much. She wasn't some villain. But of course you know that.

  Do you want my wedding ring and my engagement ring? Sell them or something. Get some cash. I don't want them. Don't know what to do with them. Well, I know what I want to do with them. Flush them down the toilet. But that's a lot of money going down the crapper. Maybe I will save them for Donovan if you don't want them. You're going to ask if your mother and I are done for sure, so here's the answer. Yes, we are. We were over a good while before Donovan was born. Doesn't mean I don't love her. I always will in a way. She was my wife. I hope she wakes up and gets her second chance, but I'm not interested in being part of it. I'm not taking her back in any scenario. I'll be there to help your mother if she wants, but it won't be as her wife. She hurt me too much.

  You know what, Lena. I can't call her 'him.' I just can't. Not if your mother didn't have the guts to come to me and tell me. Because otherwise, saying he, his or him feels like a fraud.

  Are we going to tell your grandparents that your mother was transgender? Maybe that would only complicate things for them. And maybe someone should still idealize Dale.

  But maybe they should know.

  It rained when I left the rose at your father's grave. Fat, fast raindrops, but I had an umbrella. I sat and chatted a bit with him. Told him you and I were getting along better.

  - Caris

  *****

  Two weeks later, Shirley settled on a rehabilitation facility and began preparations for Dale's transfer. For Caris, the word Pinewood conjured scents of a Disney lovefest. Pine trees, clear, babbling brooks, fresh air, butterflies, dancing deer, Snow White shitting roses and rainbows. Lurking behind the Disneyfication was reality.

  Pinewood was where patients went to drool and whittle away time. Pinewood was where relatives visited every day at first and then later, once a week, if the patient was lucky. Pinewood was as guilt-free a place as any to abandon people to their deaths. However, Dale would not need to worry about abandonment, thanks to her mother. The choice had come down to either the Shepherd Center in Atlanta or Pinewood. Pinewood won because of its proximity. Certainly not because of its costs. It cost about a third more than the Shepherd Center. Shirley did not want Dale to be cared for at home. "My daughter needs to be where nurses and doctors can help at a moment's notice," Shirley stressed.

  And so Dale's last night at the hospital had arrived. Tomorrow, Disney World! Pinewood! At least there would not be lines for the rides.

  Later that week, George and Shirley were moving into a rental condo down the street from Pinewood. Caris had a hard time believing she had lived with them about four months. Wow. In some ways, she felt like they had moved in yesterday. In other ways, she felt like they were old roommates. Once they were out, Caris planned to start packing some of Dale's things. Definitely the bedroom.

  She decided to stay with Dale the last night at the hospital, although she was not sure why. Maybe to have a conversation, however one-sided. A conversation about forgiveness. About moving on. Divorce. Dale's future, or lack thereof.

  "So, Dale," she said. "About us. We're over, were over before the wreck, but you knew that."

  Nothing.

  "What do you want, Dale? Do you want to die? Should I push to let you go now?"

  Nothing.

  Caris tried to sleep on the lumpy cot. She must have succeeded for at least a bit, because she awoke with a start some time later. She checked her cellphone. Eleven-thirty, so the night yawned before her. Great. She went to the window. She drew the curtains back and pulled the blinds up. The moon scowled down at her. A sense of foolishness overtook Caris. She had been stupid to expect some sort of closure, some sort of meteor shower that spelled out L-E-T M-E D-I-E or I A-M A-L-I-V-E.

  A whisper: "Hey."

  Caris whirled around. Lena, bathed in the moon's rays.

  "I didn't mean to scare you," her stepdaughter said. "Sorry."

  "Lena. Hey. It's okay."

  "I couldn't sleep," Lena said. "Figured I'd come here. Maybe I shouldn't have stayed after I saw you asleep, but…" Lena shrugged. "I fell asleep right away in the chair. The hard, un-fucking-comfortable chair."

  "Did I wake you up?"

  "Yes, but it's fine."

  Caris poured herself and Lena small glasses of water. The moon or a cloud shifted, leaving Lena half in shadow. She was eerie, like a shape shifter.

  "How's work?" Caris asked. "We haven't talked in a while." That was true. Lena had never replied to Caris's letter.

  "Work's good."

  "School? You in summer school?"

  "Summer school is over. But yeah, school is decent."

  Lena obviously was not in a talkative mood, and Caris's shoulders ached. She felt the weight of the day ahead. Tottering mounds of paperwork, the monitoring. The worrying. The wondering. "Well, off I go. You need your time with your mother."

  "You stay. You belong in that cot. I don't. But if it's okay with you, I'll stay too. I'll read and nap in the chair or something."

  "I don't belong in that cot, Lena. I'm here to try to figure some answers. Make sure what your mother would've wanted. Make sure I'm doing the right thing."

  "Still—"

  "I'm not letting you bunk in a chair." Caris surveyed the cot. The fit would be doable. But tight. Very tight. Having Lena in bed with her was tempting. Very. Feeling her heat, hearing her breathing, the beat of her heart.

  "We're not getting in that cot together," Lena said, her expression unreadable.

  "Of course not. I'm going home. The place is all yours. Let's do something soon, though, okay? I've missed you."

  "Missed you, too."

  Caris slung her purse over her shoulder.

  "Are Grandma and Granddad at the townhouse with Donovan?"

  "Yep."

  "You want the keys to my place? You can stay there and maybe get a good night's sleep."

  "I look that bad, huh?"

  Lena grinned. "No, no, don't be crazy. It's the least I can do for kicking you out." She slid two keys off her key ring. "So, do you want them? The orange one is for the front door. Blue one for my unit."

  In other words, will you stay with me tonight? Was that Lena's true question? No, of course it was not. But Caris found herself whispering: "If you come too. Not that I—well, I just meant—to talk and catch up. If you wanted. Because I have missed you. Well, no. Of course you don't want to. You're staying here. I'm sorry. Yes, thank you. I'll take the keys. I appreciate it."

  Lena searched Caris's face a long moment, and Caris wondered if the acknowledgement, understanding and desire on Lena's expression reflected her own. Caris saw fear, too, causing her chest to squeeze. "Never mind," Caris mumbled. "I'm going home. Good seeing you again."<
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  "Caris?"

  "What?" Could my voice be any more choked?

  "Mom never—and you've never mentioned your father. What's up with him?"

  She doesn't want me to go. "That's a good question. I never knew who he was. My mother used to say his name was Carl Louis, and that's how I got my name, by combining Carl and Louis."

  "You don't believe her?"

  "When I was ten, she admitted she had no clue who he was. My mother used to be an alcoholic. She blacked out a lot. Remembered nothing."

  "Oh."

  Caris laughed, trying to break the awkwardness. "Maybe I'm a long-lost princess. I'm heir to the throne of an obscure European country. Her Royal Highness Caris Ismay. Your mother is the princess now. If only the kiss of love would wake her up."

  "Have you tried?"

  "Tried what? Kissing her awake? No."

  "You going to?"

  "No."

  Lena went to her mother. She kissed Dale's forehead and both her cheeks. Then her chin. Lena was like a porcelain doll, delicate and fragile, half in moonlight, half in shadow. A porcelain doll who caused Caris's heartbeat to speed up. She imagined Lena was kissing her instead of Dale, and Caris's arms prickled. Her neck longed for Lena's mouth. "Wake up, Mom. We miss you." When Lena returned her focus to Caris, Lena's expression was somber and grave. "What do you think about do-overs?"

  "Do-overs? You mean like your mom if she wakes up?"

  "Or..." Lena exhaled a heavy sigh. "Yeah, yeah. That's what I meant. Hey, why do you want to go home with me tonight, Caris?"

  "Like I said. To catch up." Maybe if Caris said the words enough, they would magically become true.

  "To catch up," Lena echoed, and Caris wondered if the factors running through Lena's mind were the same factors that had been whirling through her own the past few weeks. Could we have a fling and come out of it okay, with no hurt feelings? Without anyone finding out? Without falling in love? What if Dale wakes up? And and and and...

  "All right, Lena whispered. "Let's get out of here."

  Chapter 12

  Lena got to her apartment first and stayed in her car to wait for Caris. Great going, Lena. She should have left the hospital the moment she entered her mother's room and realized Caris was asleep in the cot. And Lena had left. Kind of. She had gotten as far as the elevator banks before returning to her mother's room. She'd told herself she was being silly. There was no reason to flee Caris. Caris and Lena were adults.

  So, Lena had settled into the chair and...wham.

  Caris was spending the night. Not with Dale, but with Lena. Lena was ready to get the agony out of her system. She and Caris needed to fuck, to get the fucking over with, preferably tonight.

  Lena drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. Where was Caris? Bet she's chickening out.

  *****

  Caris was lost in thought as she drove. When she got home—and she was going home, she was not going to Lena's, no way—she would…what? Rattle around the darkened living room while George slept? Break out the home movies again, see Dale in her full glory at the beach, skiing, at their wedding? Pray Donovan would not cry? Masturbate? Caris's throat ached. Her pussy hummed hotly. If she masturbated, she would not come easily. Because she would be thinking about Lena.

  Lena waiting for her. Lena, abandoned. By Caris. Lena who would never write her a letter again.

  Come off it. Nothing's going to happen. She and Lena would talk. And go to sleep. All there was to it. Certainly there would not be sex. Caris had to remember that her pussy was a thorny bramble thicket of weeds. She had not trimmed since Dale's crash. No way was Lena going anywhere near the pussy. Or her breasts.

  *****

  Lena flicked on the lights to her bedroom, and Caris's gaze fell upon Diana, Princess of Wales. A cardboard cutout. She turned a questioning look on Lena.

  Lena shrugged. "I like the royals."

  Her bed was a queen size. The covers were blood red with bands of vertical, thin green and yellow stripes. Her furniture and curtains were light green. The cumulative effect was soothing.

  Lena proffered a pair of sweat pants and a Holstein-sized T-shirt. Not my size anymore, Caris almost said.

  "You change here," Lena remarked. "I'll change in the bathroom."

  When Lena emerged from the bathroom, Caris knew getting to sleep would be a problem. Huge problem. Damn you, Lena. Sexy, hot Lena, her dark hair shiny, flowing and loose. Sexy, hot Lena wearing smiley face boxer shorts and a tight purple wife beater. These breasts. These long legs. Is she torturing me on purpose?

  Caris set her phone alarm. "I'm getting up at six. We're moving your mother at eight. You going?"

  "I guess, for a bit. Maybe not at six unless—do you want me to keep you company? Why so early?"

  "I want to make sure everything goes smoothly. I'll probably have paperwork to sign before she's released from the hospital. Your grandmother's coming, so she can keep me company. You sleep in."

  Lena's eyelashes fluttered. "No, I'll, I'll go with you. She's my mother. I should be there." Lena turned off the main light. She tapped on the touch lamp by the bed, and they got into bed. Gingerly, awkwardly.

  "You look nice," Caris said.

  "I look nice? I'm wearing pajamas."

  "Exactly. Have you taken a look lately at yourself in these pajamas?"

  Lena pressed a hand to her forehead. "Let's fuck and get it over with. All right?"

  Caris laughed, a choking laugh. "I don't want to fuck you if it means not being your friend."

  "Are we friends?"

  "I think we are. We wouldn't write each other letters if we weren't."

  Lena used her elbow to prop her head up. "Good point."

  "How are, uh, how are Nakeem and Aron?"

  "Fine. I guess." Tight smile.

  Caris let her gaze fall to Lena's cleavage. To Lena's full breasts. A jet droned overhead, reminding Caris of Shirley's snores.

  Lena let Caris look. Without comment.

  Then Lena said: "I usually sleep naked."

  "I like sleeping naked. When your grandparents move out Friday, I'm going to close the blinds and have myself and Donovan a naked party."

  "Did you and Mom sleep naked?"

  "Not usually."

  "You think because she didn't like her body? Sleeping naked reminded her she didn't have a penis?"

  "Could be."

  "This is a weird conversation we're having."

  Caris chuckled. "You started it."

  "Guilty as charged." Lena gave Caris's shoulder a quick, brisk squeeze. "We should go to sleep. Will you tap the lamp off?"

  "Yes." Caris tapped the lamp off. After her eyes adjusted to the dark, she studied the dim outlines of Lena, amazed by her closeness. Her beauty. She wanted to trace the edges of Lena's face, her nose, her lips.

  "Are you awake?" Lena asked.

  Caris cupped Lena's cheek. "Yes. You want something quick?"

  "Just wanted to say thank you for coming over."

  "Thank you for letting me."

  "I bet you miss this. Being in bed with someone."

  "I do," Caris whispered. "But I could get this with other people. That's not why I'm here. You're—you're…never mind."

  "When you're ready, maybe you already are ready, you should start dating. See lots of people. Have fun."

  "Do you like dating? I'm not crazy about it. It's artificial. Stilted."

  "Stilted like us right now? Yeah?"

  Caris attempted a playful smile in case Lena could see it in the dark. "Yes."

  "You ought to go out with people."

  "I will, I will."

  "When you smile, do you know one edge tugs up more than the other?"

  Caris's stomach became warm and tingly. "You like my smile?"

  "It's cute. Nakeem and Aron have that smile, too."

  "They do?"

  "Mmm."

  "Is that why you like me?"

  Lena laughed. "Oh, Caris."

  Caris's heart we
nt thump-thump-thump at the undertone in Lena's laugh. "I'm not going to be able to sleep," Caris said.

  "Me either."

  Caris's legs were wobbly. Unsteady. Never mind that she was in bed. Her legs had been goners since she realized she was going home with Lena. Caris's body was on fire. She felt eighteen again. She was nervous, horny, fearful, about to melt. She had a burning desire, an aching need, for another meaningful kiss, for true sex, two-way, passionate, hair-pulling, panting, moaning, groaning, sweaty sex. For hours and hours. Not a sterile wham bam, thank you, ma'am. If only her pussy was in shape. If only her breasts were.

  Caris's stomach was a mess of somersaults. Why did I come tonight? Stupid, stupid.

  She and Lena would fuck. Eventually. Sex with Lena. Oh my God, my God—anything else than sterility with Lena would be dangerous. Caris would have to find a way to depersonalize their sex experience. Not just because of who Lena was, but also because of Caris's edginess about her baby-changed body. Blows Dale had delivered to her sexual self. Caris was a woman who had not had true sex in close to a year, and Lena was not the person to change that.

  A wham bam ma'am was easy. Uncomplicated. Caris would find a way to make that happen when she and Lena did fuck. Not lovemaking. No kisses.

  "Caris?"

  Lena kissed her, a brush of mouth against mouth, and then Caris reached for Lena, for another kiss, slightly longer. Their hips pressed into each other, and then Caris was on top of Lena, and she was kissing Lena's neck. Lena tasted of sweat and LenaLenaLena, she was delicious, and Lena moaned, and groaned, and Caris did too, and it was over quickly. All they had to do was rub their pussies against each other. Fastest orgasm Caris had in her life, especially with clothes on. Perfect degree of depersonalization too, but afterward, Lena gathered Caris into her arms, and Caris burrowed into her.

  "Bowling tomorrow night?" Lena asked.

  "I would love that."