by E. J. Noyes
She murmured her assent then slid from beside me, standing unsteadily. Tucking her left arm under her right armpit, the muscles of her forearm danced as though pressing as hard as she could. Sabine let out a soft gasp, and bent to the right, still holding her side.
I pushed up from the bed, reaching for her. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” she said breathlessly. “I need to make sure Titus is locked in the house.”
“Sabine!”
“Please don’t, Bec. I’m fine. I swear. Just drop it. Please.”
I was left stunned as she strode from the room, still bent to the side, a quiet stream of expletives following in her wake. I blinked, trying unsuccessfully to force the brimming tears away. It had been a long time since I felt this helpless, and the unfamiliar sensation had me almost paralyzed.
Should I just trust that she was working through it, that the treatment plan an old friend had worked out for my life partner was the right one? I had to. What else could I do when she was blocking me at every turn? Closing my eyes, I let out a breath. I’d drop it, for now, but I was not going to let her just walk away from me, and I wasn’t going to leave her alone with whatever was in her head. Swiping at my face, I squared my shoulders and hurried to catch up to her.
Chapter Fifteen
Sabine
Bus trip day. Yay…
There’d been no text from Bec advising me as she usually did if she thought she’d be late getting home. Assuming she hadn’t been caught up in a last-minute emergency, and factoring in time for her to clear up paperwork and change back into street clothes, I should be waiting for her when she came out. If I missed her then I’d just take the bus or Metro home. Awesome.
Buildings, cars, trees and people outside the window flashed by as the bus wound its way through the streets. Just ordinary stuff on an ordinary day. For everyone else, maybe. The jiggling of my leg accompanied the beat of the music in my ears, which was intentionally loud enough to make it hard to focus on anything else. Yep, I was the asshole with the music everyone around me could hear, but this time I was unapologetic—it was helping suppress my anxiety and I hadn’t felt like peeing for almost fifteen minutes. Whatever it takes, right?
As the bus approached my stop, I stood, grabbing the rail above my head when the vehicle lurched to a halt. I yanked an earpiece from my ear, thanked the driver and jumped from the top step to the sidewalk to land lightly on the balls of my feet. Should have done a backflip. It was only when I had my feet firmly on the ground that I realized what I’d just done.
Yeah! You took a planned fucking bus trip, Sabine. A long one. Unmedicated. You sat in the back of a vehicle with a bunch of people you didn’t know and you let someone drive you somewhere. And nothing happened. Except that guy coughing on you. Self-fixing regime is working. Just forget what happened the other night with Bec pushing and nearly making you spill just how really, really weird things are in your head. You’re practically cured! I fist-bumped myself, hiked the backpack holding my uniform and boots higher on my shoulder, and strode toward the hospital entrance.
In the parking lot to the right of the path, I spotted Bec’s dark blue convertible. My girlfriend leaned against her car with a hand on the soft-top, and next to her stood a tall, elegantly-dressed blond woman, close enough to seem like they knew one another. Closer actually. Or maybe the blonde was just an aggressive invader of personal space. I paused near a bench seat, far enough away that I couldn’t hear the exact content of their conversation, and waited for a lull where I could step in.
I fished out a small notebook and added “Riding the bus” along with the date, time and a scaled anxiety level. Six-point-two-five out of ten. Uncomfortable, but not puke-inducingly unbearable. In another few weeks I might have some chartable data to use and show Pace in support of my self-imposed therapy. With all the extra I was making myself do to get better, surely some sort of breakthrough was imminent.
I scanned the pages listing all my other forced activities. Letting Bec drive, sitting in the backseat of the car while it was in the garage, checking my weight, most definitely not counting my steps at work, deliberately pushing my surgical instruments out of alignment on trays. And then there was the one I hated. The one that made me feel sick to my stomach because it should not be on a list of things causing me anxiety—twice making love with my girlfriend when I wanted to but some part of me also hadn’t wanted to.
We hadn’t even had sex on our anniversary last week, because I’d panicked when she’d talked about rings, and for a few seconds I thought I might ask her, until I realized I couldn’t. Then we’d kinda sorta argued because I’m an idiot, and despite her obvious frustration, the whole time she was trying to tell me how much she loved me and how much she wanted to help. And instead of staying and talking it through, I’d had to leave the room because her probing me about my brain shit made the pain in my torso so bad I could barely breathe.
Standing at the kitchen counter with my hands resting on top of it, stretched forward to try and get some air into my lungs had helped. Unexpectedly, Bec followed me downstairs and I’d panicked, unable to stop the paranoia that insisted she was about to tell me she was done, that she’d finally reached the point where she couldn’t deal with my shit anymore.
Instead, she’d wordlessly put her arms around me, with her breasts pressed to my back while she held me from behind. She’d kissed my neck, the soft spot under my ear, the edge of my jaw and murmured again and again that she loved me and that she would always be here for me. Within minutes my panic had frayed at the edges and fallen away. But I still hadn’t been able to let myself go enough to take her to bed and show her all the ways I loved her.
My butt vibrated, and after a quick glance at Bec, still conversing with Tall Beautiful Blonde, I fished my phone from my jeans. Text from Mitch. Rumor is they’ve moved promotions forward to within the next few months. Sorry Sabs, but it’s time to get used to saying Major Fleischer.
Shit. Double shit. There was no excitement or pleasure, or even a sense of accomplishment to accompany this news. Just dread. I didn’t want this automatic promotion, and in a childish way, I’d hoped I could somehow slink out of the Army before it happened. The promotion wasn’t unexpected, in fact it was guaranteed because Mitch and I had entered the Army as Commissioned Officers, but I thought I’d have more time to psych myself up into a believably excited reaction.
Thankfully Mitch’s elation would be more than enough for both of us. This was one more rank on his way to Lieutenant General and his dream of becoming Surgeon General of the United States Army. But for me, the thought of the upcoming promotion, and all it would entail, turned my stomach. It would be a huge deal, especially to my ex-military father, and my parents were certain to attend the ceremony. Bec would be excited and trying to pretend she wasn’t because she knew how I felt about the whole thing.
For me, the military was nothing more than a means to an end, and the fact I didn’t enjoy it more had always bothered me. I was the last Fleischer in line and while I loved being a surgeon, I didn’t love the Army. Despite Dad’s reassurances to the contrary, I always felt I’d let him down by not being a gung-ho Army-loving daughter. Not to mention the fact I wouldn’t have a child to carry on the tradition for a fifth generation Fleischer in the armed services—and the way Jana was going, she probably wouldn’t either.
Bec’s laughter snapped my eyes up from my phone just in time to see the other woman smirk and grasp my girlfriend’s arm. She held it for a few seconds, and a strange nervous sensation snaked into my stomach, overriding my dread at the news I’d just received. Lull or not, that was my opening.
I strode over and Bec glanced my way, as anyone would to note a newcomer. Then she half-started. A genuine, dimpled smile of pleasure followed a fraction later and she dropped her hand from the roof to reach out to me. The blonde took a step back, and I felt her eyes on me as I grasped Bec’s hand. I tugged my girlfriend closer and in a childish display of pos
sessiveness, kissed her hard and long. Brilliant, Sabine. While you’re at it, why not pee on her leg to mark your territory?
When I let her come up for air, Bec murmured, “Hi, I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”
“Thought I’d surprise you. Looks like I did,” I couldn’t help but add.
“Mmm.” She pulled back slightly and gestured between me and the blonde. “Vanessa, this is my partner, Sabine Fleischer.” Bec turned to me. “Darling, this is Vanessa Moore. It’s her son who’s considering joining the military.”
“Oh, wonderful.” I looked back to this very attractive woman. She was checking me out, but not entirely in a sexual way. It felt like she was checking me out as a rival. Hmmph. I slipped my arm around Bec’s waist, waiting until Vanessa’s eyes returned to mine. I held eye contact, refusing to back away. “Has Nicholas made a decision?” The name drop was a bit of dick move, but I couldn’t suppress the urge to remind this woman that Bec and I would have talked about this. To remind her that Bec and I were a thing.
“I think his decision was already made and talking with Rebecca simply cemented it.” Even her voice was elegant, a soft alto, and for the first time I could recall, I felt self-conscious about the fact that when I spoke I sounded like someone battling a wicked case of laryngitis. Vanessa smiled at Bec. “She could talk a man into donating his last penny.”
Bec smiled a private smile as Vanessa turned her attention back to me. “So, what do you do, Sabine?”
I straightened up, squaring my shoulders. “I’m a surgeon too, still in the Army.” I had the sudden urge to big-note myself, so swallowed the dread of my promotion and added, “And according to a text I just received, apparently soon to be promoted to Major.”
Bec’s surprised O turned quickly to a broad smile. “Congratulations, sweetheart.” She stretched up to kiss my cheek, her hand tightening on my hip.
“Thanks.” Despite my micro ego-trip, I was suddenly hit with a wave of discomfort. Next to these two, I looked like a scruffy college student in my hoodie, jeans and Converse. Bec looked as beautiful and well-dressed as always, but Vanessa looked like she’d just come from a photo shoot for a couture catalogue. Well you know what, lady? You might be elegant and cultured and attractive and clearly rich, and maybe even into my girlfriend but I just rode a bus. So beat that.
Vanessa’s second appraising up and down look said it all. What the hell is Rebecca Keane doing with you? After another glance at Bec, she turned her attention back to me. “What specialty?”
“General, but once I’m finished with my Army contract I’m considering a change. Perhaps a trauma and critical care fellowship.”
“I see,” she said evenly. “From what I’ve witnessed, the Army turns out excellent surgeons. Are you as good as Rebecca?”
Before I could answer her borderline-rude question, Bec piped up, “Better actually.” Her hand made its way under my hoodie to scratch my back softly. “I’m sorry, Vanessa, it’s been a long day. We’re going to excuse ourselves and go home.”
“Of course, I’m sorry to have kept you.” She raised her leather tote and fished keys from the outer pocket. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Rebecca.”
Bec smiled. “Tomorrow, yes.”
“Nice to meet you,” I said cheerfully. Mental high five for fake enthusiasm.
“You too, Sabine.” Vanessa Moore nodded, then spun and walked off, her expensive heels rapping sharply on the asphalt. Guess she didn’t really think it was all that nice to meet me. Bec turned and pressed herself against me in a tight hug. “This is a wonderful surprise.”
The warm comfort of her filled me, pushing some of that strange feeling aside. “I couldn’t wait to see you.” I smoothed my thumbs under her eyes as though I could smudge some of the tiredness away.
Bec glanced over my shoulder. “Where’s your car?”
“At work.”
Her brows knitted together. “Is there a problem with it?”
“No, it’s fine. Mitch is going to drive me in tomorrow and I’ll collect it then.” After a beat, I added, “I took the bus here.” I tried to make it sound casual but the excitement slipped out on that word. Bus.
All Bec’s emotions flashed over her face in quick succession before she launched at me, wrapping her arms around my neck for another hug. Her lips pressed against my neck, and she made a low sound of delight. When Bec pulled back, she took my face between her hands and kissed me. “I am so proud of you.”
I couldn’t help the stupid, childish grin. “I’m proud of me too.” I loved her so much in that moment, for not asking how I was, or how the ride had gone. She made it an important moment, but not a big deal.
She stroked my cheek and with a small smile, pulled out her keys. “Do you want to drive, or…?”
“Yes please. I think one adventure is enough for today.” I held the passenger door open for her then slipped quickly back around to get in the driver’s side, leaning over to dump my backpack on the small backseat.
“How was therapy today?”
After what had happened on our anniversary, I’d sworn to myself that I’d try harder in therapy and harder at including Bec. “It was fine, helpful.” I started the car. “We talked more about rerouting my pathways.” Or rather, Andrew Pace had talked at me and I tried to take it in.
“That’s good, baby. I’m pleased.” She leaned back against the headrest as I pulled out of the lot. “God, I’m so tired. Today’s been crazy.”
I came to a stop at the set of lights just outside the hospital and glanced over at her. “Wanna talk about it?”
Bec turned her head, which still rested against the headrest, giving the movement an odd windup toy-like jerkiness. “Not yet. I do want to take a long hot bath with you, and a glass of wine.”
“All of that can be arranged.”
She squeezed my thigh, then left her hand resting lightly on my leg. Bec’s eyes were closed, her breathing steady as she sat half-slumped in the passenger seat. We drove in silence for a few minutes until I couldn’t stand it any longer, couldn’t push that niggling feeling aside. I tried a casual, “Vanessa seemed nice.”
“Yes, she is,” Bec said without moving, or opening her eyes.
“She’s quite attractive. Elegant as hell.”
Her eyes opened slowly. “You think so?” At my nod, she made a musing sound, pushing herself up in the seat. “I suppose you’re right.”
“Seems like she thinks you’re pretty great too. I was surprised she didn’t whip out a cheerleading banner with your name on it.”
Bec laughed, a genuine sound of amusement and surprise. “That’s a little farfetched, darling.”
“Come on, Bec. Don’t tell me you don’t see the way she looks at you, how close she stands. It’s obvious she’s into you.” I chanced a quick look at her. “I thought she was going to challenge me to a duel for your hand.”
“I don’t think she has any interest in me other than as a work friend, and I certainly didn’t get the impression she was challenging you in any way.”
“Seriously, she was,” I insisted. How could Bec not see it?
After a long silence, Bec said, “Darling, I think maybe you’re misconstruing what was likely just curiosity. I’ve mentioned you at work, so it’s natural she’d be interested.”
“You talk about me? Why?” The thought of Bec discussing me with her coworkers, and especially fancy Vanessa Moore, made me annoyed, which in turn made me feel foolish.
“Because I love you and you’re a very important part of my life,” she said simply. Her eyebrows furrowed. “Look, sweetheart, Vanessa knows you and I are together. If she thinks something else then that’s her problem.” Bec turned slightly toward me. “Are you jealous?”
“No,” I answered automatically. I wasn’t jealous as such, but I was uneasy and uncomfortable. Standard state these days, really. In the back of my mind, I could hear Colonel Pace reminding me that evasiveness is dishonesty. As I pulled into our street, I took a deep brea
th and admitted, “I’m not jealous but she made me feel weird…and small, and that made me think about some stuff.”
“What kind of stuff?”
“Irrational things as usual.” Goddammit. Not thirty minutes before I’d been surfing a wave of self-congratulatory euphoria.
Bec reached into the center console for the remote. The garage door rolled up with agonizing slowness and the whole time she remained silent. I wanted to peek at her, so I could tell if she was angry or just thinking. But I chickened out and kept my gaze straight ahead.
Once I’d parked and we’d gathered our bags, she slipped around the front of the car. I followed, and tried again, attempting to spin it in a nonchalant way. “Look, all I’m saying is I can see why you’d enjoy, and return, flirting from a woman like that.” I could barely believe I’d even thought it, let alone just said it. You’re a fucking idiot, Sabine. Shut up. Just shut your damned mouth.
“Do not even go there.” Bec’s voice was quiet but with an edge I recognized and did not like. It’d been years since I’d heard that tone—the last time was when she was my boss, kicking me out of an OR. “I am not your ex,” she said firmly. “And that’s the only time I’m ever going to say it.” She unlocked the door that led into the laundry and stepped into our house.
I stared at her fleeing form, wanting to chase after her, but unable to make my feet move. “Bec? Stop, wait please.”
She did as I asked, then turned to face me. Bec said nothing, just looked at me in that calmly expectant way that made me want to reveal all my secrets.
Instead I blurted the first thing that came to mind. “I’m sorry.”
“I know you are,” she answered, and though this time her tone was gentler, the tension around her eyes was unmistakable. “You should be. It was a really shitty thing to imply.”
“I know. I don’t even know why I said it. I’m sorry. Every time I think I’ve got something under control, another thing falls apart. Fuck, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”