by Lisa Tucker
She was wearing a silky blue dress that Stephen was having a very hard time not being distracted by. When she crossed her long legs, he decided he needed to take a walk, have a smoke.
Ten minutes later, he came back in and found Jimmy sitting in front of the window and Dorothea standing behind him, humming and lightly rubbing his shoulders. She was really good-looking, there was no doubt about that. Especially when she was with her brother because her eyes got even brighter with her affection for Jimmy and she was always more relaxed in her body from the benzodiazepine. She was also one of the nicest people he’d ever met. She never saw a homeless person without rushing over to open her new purse and give them money. True, it wasn’t like she’d worked for the money, but then a lot of people hadn’t worked for money they had no intention of giving away. She was even nice to Nancy Baker, now that she’d decided Nancy was really trying to help Jimmy. Yesterday, she’d asked to stop at the flower shop so she could bring Nancy a plant. “It’s very plain in her office,” Dorothea had said. “The entire hospital is very plain, and I’m surprised. How can anyone get better without colors to see?”
Even Ellen would have liked Dorothea. It was a weird realization. His dead wife would have liked the woman who was staying in his apartment, the woman he kept trying not to think about having sex with.
It was off the topic (which was a good thing): he’d just thought of another reason he disliked Dorothea’s father. No matter how Dorothea’s mother died, he still had his kids. He had no right to let himself go nuts like that. Stephen would have held it together if Lizzie were still here. It would have been hard as hell, but he would have done it because his daughter would have needed more from him with Ellen gone, not less.
Dorothea and Jimmy were winding up when he remembered Dorothea’s angel moon last night. He’d been a little disappointed that she hadn’t finished showing him why he was wrong. Not that she could have really convinced him, but the idea was certainly agreeable. If only what you believed was as important as what was real, then he could have kept believing that the day he drove Ellen and Lizzie to the amusement park was a great day.
The restaurant he took Dorothea to that night was a little neighborhood Italian place. The food was good, and it was only two blocks away from his apartment, wedged between a pharmacy and a used-CD store. On the way over, he almost made the mistake of taking her hand again. It was swinging right beside his hand as they walked. He crossed his arms.
During the meal, she kept flashing him those irresistibly genuine smiles. He wondered why she always seemed so happy when they were together. It made him feel very relaxed, and he had to keep reminding himself not to get too comfortable.
When they left the restaurant, she pointed to the pharmacy and asked if she could go in before they walked home. He said sure, but before he could follow her inside, she stopped him.
“I was hoping I could shop privately.”
“Not a problem,” he said. He figured she needed Tampax, though knowing Dorothea’s feelings about privacy, it could be mouthwash or deodorant or even shampoo. He stepped over to the side of the building and leaned against the wall. While he waited, he thought about how Dorothea handled these awkward things. Most people would try to manipulate the situation, but Dorothea just told you in the most straightforward, open way that she wasn’t going to be open with you. It was another thing he liked about her.
After she came out of the pharmacy with a small bag, they turned toward the apartment. They walked slowly. She was talking about Jimmy. “I don’t know why he’s so interested in what Father used to do for a living. Why does it matter?”
“It’s part of knowing someone to know about their past.”
“Is it?” It was already dark, but he felt her glance at him.
“Sure,” he said. “For example, if I told you what I used to do, then you would know me better.” It was only a hypothetical, but then he found himself telling her. “I used to be a doctor. I did my residency at the same hospital where Jimmy is.”
“Oh,” she said. She sounded surprised and he felt bad that he hadn’t mentioned this earlier. Anyone else would have known from the things he’d said about working with Jay and Nancy, the med school textbooks he’d kept and probably even the way he talked in general. But Dorothea wasn’t like anyone else.
“Did you enjoy the work?” she said.
“Sometimes. Yes, I did.”
“Why did you stop then?”
A car down the block was honking. He waited until it quieted down before he said, “Long story.”
“Do you miss it?”
“I think I do. I miss so many things, it’s hard to know which thing I’m missing now.”
She sounded confused. “But you like driving your taxi?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “About half the time, I’m not even sure why I’m doing it.”
It was true, but it wasn’t the whole story. But how could he explain what he rarely thought about and didn’t really understand himself? It was as if one day, the world he knew had been replaced by a world of nothing but accidents: the ones that happened and the ones that were narrowly avoided, which most people didn’t even see. Even his medical training became irrelevant compared to the accidents, which could turn everything a doctor could do into too late. Sometimes he thought he drove the Checker like bullfighters get back in the ring: not necessarily to prove they’re brave, but to stop hiding from their fear. Other times, he thought he drove because it was the only thing he could think of to try. If it didn’t make any difference in the long run, what did?
He glanced in Dorothea’s direction. “Maybe it has nothing to do with me.” He forced his voice to become light, teasing. “Maybe it’s for you, part of your charming coincidence.”
“It’s true that if you hadn’t decided to drive the cab, I wouldn’t have met you. But it can’t be only for my sake. The pattern would have to include us both, or it wouldn’t be a pattern, it would be solipsism.” She laughed. “ ‘Solipsism’ comes from the Latin solus, for ‘alone,’ and ipse, ‘self.’ I can’t imagine a word more unsuited to describe the discovery of a connection.”
He laughed too, and a moment later they were at his building. As they walked up the front steps, his forearm brushed against her hair. She’d taken it down when they came back from the hospital. She was wearing it down most of the time now because he’d told her it looked better that way.
They hadn’t rented a movie for tonight. Earlier, Dorothea had spotted a deck of cards in one of his kitchen drawers and asked if they could play when they got home. They sat on opposite ends of the couch and used the middle cushion for the deck. Dorothea knew a lot of games, especially variations of poker, which she said her father loved. They played for nearly two hours. It was fun, but the main thing for Stephen was it kept them busy and kept him from getting too close to her. Even last night, in the few minutes at the window, he’d almost kissed her.
When the cards ended, he immediately suggested that they watch TV. One hour of TV, he figured, and the night would be safely over. She said fine, but not five minutes into the program, she gestured to the middle cushion. “Would you mind if I moved here?”
He said he wouldn’t mind. How could he really say he did? And the thing is, he wanted her to move closer to him. She’d been sitting with her legs tucked underneath her during the card games, and he thought maybe she would want to stretch them out now, and they might somehow end up in his lap. He could just touch them, which wouldn’t have to lead to anything major.
Of course she didn’t do this, and he distracted himself as much as he could with whatever they were watching. A half hour went by. Some kind of comedy had come on. Dorothea was laughing more than usual. He thought she had such pretty lips. Maybe they seemed redder because the rest of her face was so pale, but he thought she had just about the prettiest mouth he’d ever seen.
When he leaned forward to kiss her, he wasn’t thinking. If she’d pulled away or even acted hesitan
t, it would have ended right there. But instead she threw her arms around him so tight he had to loosen them a little to breathe. And she kissed him back. It was a little awkward at first, but not awkward enough to stop him. The show came back on, and then ended; he heard the music. Another one started. Still Dorothea had her arms around him, and they kissed and kissed and kissed for what felt like forever.
Any guilt he might have felt about betraying Ellen was obliterated by the strength of his desire. He hadn’t had sex for almost two years. Dorothea was a beautiful woman and she was right here, in his house. He wanted her as much as he could ever remember wanting anyone, even in college.
He could have slept with Dorothea right then and he knew it, that was the toughest part. She trusted him so much after the week they’d spent together. If he’d taken her hand and pulled her into his bedroom, she would have gone. If he’d started undressing her, she would have let him.
But instead, he finally did what he thought was the right thing. He pulled away and told her good night.
It was her turn to be on the couch. She’d insisted that they alternate, so she wouldn’t have to feel bad about taking his bed. He slumped into his room, and forced himself to read the most boring article in the driest medical journal so he could fall asleep and forget how frustrated he was. He was sound asleep, dreaming about her again, when he suddenly realized he wasn’t having a dream at all. She had climbed into bed with him. She was in his bed, next to him—and she’d taken off her clothes.
He already had his hands on her body. He had no idea how long he’d been touching her in his sleep, but long enough that his desire was so obvious, it had to be obvious to her too.
When she realized his eyes were open, she whispered, “I want to do this with you, Stephen. I’m not afraid.”
Talk about reminding him she was a virgin. Shit. But she was naked, and he had his hands on her breasts. Her breasts were so soft.
He managed to move his hands away, but then she said, “Have I done something wrong?”
“Not at all,” he breathed. “It’s just … I’m not sure you’re ready for this.”
“I am ready,” she said, and rolled away from him. At first he thought she was upset, but then he realized she was reaching for something on the bedside table. It was the bag she’d bought at the pharmacy, and he couldn’t have been more surprised when she opened it and pulled out a box of condoms. She’d obviously put some thought into all this, but how did she even know to get condoms?
When he asked her, she said something vague about educating herself on the “responsibilities of serious dating.” Then she said, “May we continue now?”
He would have laughed except he didn’t. He moaned instead as she kissed him.
Fifteen minutes later, he’d gotten her to the point where she was moaning too. He really thought he might not make it until they had sex when all of a sudden, she shuddered and he knew she was coming already. He held her close afterward, and tried to calm himself down a little. He owed it to her to make this special. He didn’t want to hurt her with how desperate he was for this, for her.
“You okay?” he said.
“Very,” she said. He could feel her smiling.
When he tried to touch her again, she giggled. He moved his hand down her thighs, and started over, but this time when she began to moan, he asked if he could make love to her now.
“Yes,” she said. Her voice was small, a little nervous, but then she said, “I’d like that.”
He put on a condom, climbed on top of her and entered as slowly and carefully as he could manage. He asked her several times if it hurt and she said, “A little,” “Not much,” and finally “No.”
It felt so good to him that he almost didn’t want to move because once he moved, it would be closer to being over. If he could have pushed a button right then and made it last the rest of his life, he would have. Once he got going, it wasn’t hard to remember to stop every once in a while to kiss and caress her because he was so damned grateful to her for giving him this. When it was over, and his brain could form words again, he told her so.
They were lying next to each other. “You’re welcome,” she said. “And thank you. I appreciate what you’ve done for me as well.”
He couldn’t help laughing a little. “Trust me, you have nothing to thank me for.”
“I don’t understand,” she said, and yawned.
“I just mean it was great.”
She didn’t say anything, but she patted his arm in a light, almost shy way, especially given what they’d just done.
After she yawned again, he said, “Tired, huh?”
“I’m sorry, but I am so sleepy. Perhaps I’d better get going before I drift off.”
“Going?”
“To the couch.”
“Dorothea, you don’t have to do that.”
“But it’s my turn,” she said, lifting herself up on her elbow. “I’ve told you, I don’t feel comfortable taking your bed each night.”
“What if we both sleep here?” He put his arm around her and arranged her head against his chest. “You and me together, just like this.”
“Oh,” she said softly. “That would be nice.”
He kissed the top of her head. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them, it was morning. He woke up still holding her and wanting her all over again.
The next three days passed in a daze of meals and talking and laughing and sex and more sex. They went to see Jimmy every afternoon, as before, but the rest of the day, they spent any way they wanted, mostly in bed. One of their favorite things to do was to stay in bed all morning and read aloud from the newspaper. Stephen loved the way Dorothea talked about the news because it was both smart and weird. Even a simple sentence like “The American people want a new tax plan” would turn into a discussion about the politician who said it, and who was he saying it to, if not the American people, but then why would he be telling the people what they themselves wanted—wouldn’t they already know?
After Stephen explained that a lot of these guys lie, not just often but always, he said, “Maybe your dad was right to keep you from the news.”
“Poor Father, he was always so worried about everything. He really didn’t have a choice in how he acted, I think.”
Stephen had no intention of saying anything negative about O’Brien, but he couldn’t help asking her something he’d been wondering for days. “What did he say would happen when you grew up? Did he expect you to live with him forever?”
“We never discussed what would happen.” Dorothea paused. “I suppose it was a weakness in Father’s plan for us.”
To put it mildly, Stephen thought.
“But for myself,” she said, pulling the blanket up to her chin, “I never doubted that my future would include everything I needed.”
“Never?”
“Almost never.” She smiled. “I guess I was exaggerating a little, for conversational effect.”
He touched her hair. “And what do you need in your future, Dorothea?”
“More books,” she said. “Many, many more books. Eventually, a job where I can use whatever talent I have. That’s assuming I have a talent, other than reading. Is there a career for that? Perhaps to those who are blind?”
“Not really. But you could always read another article to me.” He adjusted the pillow behind him and lay back down. “I’ll close my eyes if it’ll help.”
“You’re silly,” she said, giggling. “Silly, but beautiful.”
He shook his head, but the truth was, it touched him. Who else but Dorothea would ever call him beautiful?
Sometimes he wondered if there was something else he should be doing for her. He would walk into the bedroom and find her staring at nothing, with an expression on her face he could only call lonely. Yet when she realized he was there, she always broke into a smile. And when he asked if there was anything wrong, she said no.
“If you did need something,” he said once, “would you tell me?�
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“I think I already have.” She gestured around the apartment. “I wouldn’t even be here if I hadn’t.”
He let the topic drop, but then on Friday morning it came up again, when they were sitting on the bed, and she mentioned that she was still reluctant to contact that woman, Janice Fowler.
“Why don’t you tell me what you’re supposed to do?” he said, lifting up her hair and kissing the back of her neck. “I might be able to make it easier.”
“I’m sure you would.”
“Then why not use me?” He laughed, then kissed her. “That’s what I’m here for.”
“I would never use you,” she said softly, taking his hand. “I do appreciate the offer, but I don’t think it’s the right time to ask you for something like this.”
He wanted to defend himself, to tell her he’d do anything to help, no matter what it took, but something stopped him before he could say the words. The last few days had been great, but this was hardly a normal relationship. Dorothea called what they were doing “serious dating,” and he figured “dating” was as good a term as any for what they were doing, even if in their case it was obviously going to be short lived. He never thought about their future and didn’t even know what would happen to them tomorrow. Maybe she’d sensed that he was in no position to make any promises, and maybe she was right.
“Don’t you need to get moving on this though?” he said, looking at her. “For your brother’s sake?”
She nodded. “I’m going to talk to Father the next time he calls. And you’re right; it must be started soon. A few more days at most.”