Chain Reactions

by Lynn Ames

  “What happened to the heartfelt things we said to each other yesterday? Was that post-coitus bullshit on your part, then?”

  She recoiled as though she’d been slapped in the face. Whatever guilt she might’ve felt for her injudicious choice of words evaporated in an explosion of pain and anger. “That right there? That’s why I didn’t want to have this conversation.” She was mortified that tears threatened. “If you only learn one thing about me, Diana, it should be that I never lie or ‘bullshit,’ as you put it. If I say it, I mean it.” Except for making it sound as though what we shared meant nothing to me. That I said in self-defense to protect my heart. The truth is, I’m in love with you, Diana.

  “I-I’m sorry. That was an unfortunate turn of phrase. That was my hurt talking. I apologize.”

  Diana attempted to take her hands, but she stepped back. “I think we both need some time. Emotions are running high. We’re mourning Nora, and you’ve got a lot on your plate and a short timeframe in which to accomplish it before your bereavement leave is up.”

  She strode out of the kitchen and up the stairs to the third-floor bedroom where she’d left her suitcase. Her heart hammered in her chest and her legs felt like Jell-O. How had it come to this? How had the situation spiraled so far out of control?

  She hoisted the suitcase onto the bed and threw in the few things she’d unpacked. Then she snatched up her toiletry kit from the bathroom and tossed that in the bag, as well.

  She’d noticed a T stop at Harvard Square. She could take that…

  “Wait.” Diana stood in the doorway. “Wait. Where are you going?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  “Don’t go. Please, let’s talk through this.”

  “Talking hasn’t gone all that well for us.”

  “Aren’t you the one who told me not to run? That’s exactly what you’re doing.”

  She zipped the suitcase. “No. What I’m doing is trying to keep us from saying anything more damaging than already has been said. I’m trying to salvage—since you seem to like that word—any chance of a relationship of any kind between us.” She raised the handle and rolled the suitcase toward the door. “Please, get out of the way.”

  “What about Aunt Nora’s journal and her requirement that we go through the items in the trunk together? What about the details of her funeral and burial?”

  Brooke’s temper flared. “That’s what’s foremost in your mind? Very well. Let me know when you’ve selected a date for the service and I’ll take care of securing a venue. I’d recommend that it be somewhere here in the metro-Boston area, since that’s where she lived for most of her career.”

  “That makes sense.”

  “I’ll see to it today that Nora’s colleagues and professional friends are informed of her passing and talk to them about who should speak at the service, if you want any of her work associates to deliver a eulogy. You take care of getting the obit placed in the newspapers.”

  Diana continued to block the way. Her arms were crossed and her chin quivered. Brooke knew that if she was going to find the strength within to go, she needed to do it now.

  “As for the journal, Nora’s just going to have to forgive me.” She choked on the words. It was unthinkable to let Nora down, not to mention Diana, but to stay would only make things worse.

  “You don’t mean that.”

  She swallowed hard. “Right now, all I know is that staying here with you is not an option. I’m sorry. I’m sorrier for that than you can imagine. Now please, let me go.”

  Reluctantly, Diana stepped aside and allowed her to pass.

  Brooke hustled down the stairway, exited out the front door, and didn’t stop walking until she was several blocks away. She spotted an empty bench in a green space and sat down. Her whole body vibrated with a mixture of anger, hurt, and despair.

  Diana’s question echoed in her mind. “Where are you going?”

  “Excellent question,” she muttered aloud. She had no car, since they’d driven Diana’s car to Cambridge. But you have a best friend who works a few miles away. She pulled out her phone and called Daniel.

  “Hello?”

  “Are you at DFCI right now?”

  “Hello to you too, BFF.”

  “I’m sorry. My manners are sorely lacking today. Hi, Daniel. Do you happen to be in your office today and would you have lunch with me?”

  “Yes, and yes. I’ll have my scheduler make a hole. If you don’t mind my saying so, you sound rough.”

  “Let’s just say I could use my favorite sounding board and some sage advice. Also, a comforting hug would be most welcome.”

  “You’ve got it. Where are you?”

  “I’m going to take the T from Harvard Square.”

  “Okay. Come on up when you get here.”

  “Daniel?”

  “Yes?”

  “I don’t ever think I say thank you often enough to you. So, thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Now get your butt over here.”

  Brooke pushed the beet salad around on her plate.

  “I bring you to my favorite lunch joint, offer to pay for your meal, and you can’t even pretend to enjoy it?” Daniel asked.

  Brooke smiled grimly. “I’m sorry. The salad is excellent, as always. I’m crappy company.”

  “What you are is a mess. Let’s hear it. Is this about Nora’s death, and what are you doing in town? Should I be offended that you didn’t let me know you were coming?”

  “Which of those questions would you like me to answer first? You know that at my age I can only remember one thing at a time.”

  “Very funny.”

  “Sorry. I’m all out of witty banter.”

  “Stop apologizing, for God’s sake. What the heck is going on with you?”

  She filled him in on everything that had happened since she’d called him to sign the death certificate. She hesitated about telling him that she and Diana made love, but since that was central to the reason she was sitting here with suitcase in hand instead of in the attic at Nora’s house, she included that tidbit too, albeit leaving out the intimate details.

  “Wow. Leave you alone for a second, and you find all kinds of trouble.” He smiled kindly. “First, bravo for recognizing Diana might be the perfect love match for you. I thought as much, but I didn’t want to influence you.”

  “You did?”

  “Duh. She’s intelligent, caring, not a serial killer, at least not that we know of…”

  “You’re a laugh a minute.”

  “Come on, Brooke. Anyone with eyes could see you two had chemistry.”

  “That’s part of the problem. Chemistry isn’t enough. You were by my side through three breakups, each one a result of me not putting the relationship first. Now I’m finally ready to make that the top priority, and she’s the one focused squarely on her career.”

  He sat back. A self-satisfied grin split his face.

  “What?”

  “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

  “You look like a shrink who’s led the patient right where he wants her to go.”

  “I am pretty proud of myself.”

  “Because…?”

  “Did you hear what you said? She’s in the exact position you were in, and you’re accusing her of the very same thing those three-who-shall-not-be-named accused you of.”

  “This is not the same…” Her jaw clicked shut. He was right.

  “Uh-huh. So, how did it feel when you sat on the other side of that conversation?”

  Misery roiled her stomach. “Like hell. Like I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Like I was being asked to make impossible choices.”

  “And how do you think Diana felt in that moment?”

  Her shoulders sagged. “About the same.”

  “Remind me what it was you said to her? Right before the part where she lashed out at you about what the intimacy did or didn’t mean to you?”

  She hung her head. She wasn’t proud of what she
’d said; it was so far removed from her usual measured, calm self. To repeat it now? That made her feel sick inside.

  “I said, ‘There’s nothing to salvage. We kissed a few times and slept together once.’”

  “Ouch. That was cold.”

  What could she say? He was right. It wasn’t cold—it was heartless.

  “Brooke?” Daniel briefly laid his hand on top of hers. “Don’t beat yourself up too badly. You felt exposed and raw, and Diana triggered you.”

  “I knew better. In my head I kept telling myself to walk away from the conversation without saying a word.”

  “You’re human, my friend. Congratulations. We all say things at one point or another that we wish we could take back.”

  “Not me,” she said quietly.

  “Excuse me? Not you? What? You’re perfect?”

  “I’m better than I showed in that moment.”

  “Yes, you are. I’m willing to bet she is too. Your initial instinct to let emotions cool before having the conversation was correct. You ignored your gut because she pushed you to talk. Next time, I’m confident you won’t make the same mistake.”

  “You’re assuming there’ll be a next time,” she mumbled.

  “I know there’ll be a next time, as surely as I know my assistant is going to kill me if I don’t show up soon for the next patient’s appointment.” He pulled out his wallet and caught the server’s eye. He motioned for the check.

  “I’m sor—”

  “No more apologies, do you hear me?” He glanced at the check and gave the server his credit card. “Now, what’s your plan of action?”

  She sighed. “I haven’t gotten that far.”

  “You said you’d help with the notifications of Nora’s colleagues, correct?”

  “I did, and a venue.”

  “The venue is easy. Book the Dana-Farber Chapel, and the Director of the Center for Spiritual Care can conduct the service.”

  “Wow, that would be perfect. Easy for the staff and the folks at Harvard to get there.”

  “I would pick a Friday or Saturday. I’m sure the chapel is busy on Sundays.”

  “Of course. I’ll call them and see what dates they have available.” She pulled out her phone and wrote herself a note. “This is one of those moments when I wish I still had an internal e-mail address. Then I could send out an all-departments e-mail about Nora’s death and the details of the service and capture everyone at DFCI who might be interested all at once.”

  “Brooke, Brooke, Brooke. You really aren’t thinking clearly, are you? We can use my e-mail.”

  “I couldn’t ask—”

  “Then it’s a good thing you didn’t. I’ll take care of it, unless my assistant volunteers to do it, in which case, she’s far more adept at this sort of thing than I am.”

  “Don’t you dare ask her. She’s not your personal assistant, she’s your employ—”

  “Are you done yet? Good Lord. What kind of boss do you think I am? Worse yet, what kind of human being do you think I am? You should know better.”

  “I’m sor—” He gave her a murderous glare, and she left the apology unfinished. “I snapped a photo of the handwritten obit Nora left. I’ll include the details of that along with the particulars of her service and e-mail it to you for dissemination as soon as Diana and I nail down the date and time.”

  Her heart ached even as she said Diana’s name, and she rubbed the sore spot in the middle of her chest.

  “What are you going to do about Diana?”

  She heaved a heavy sigh and slowly shook her head. “I don’t know. I can’t ask her to choose me over the job and the grant. That’s not fair. And if she did choose me, she’d always wonder ‘what if’ and resent me because she’ll never know what would’ve happened if she’d chosen differently.”

  “A reasonable hypothesis.”

  “But I also won’t sit around and twiddle my thumbs waiting for her to show up for a quick stolen weekend together here or there while her world otherwise stays unchanged.” She held up a hand even though Daniel hadn’t indicated he was about to interrupt. “And don’t even talk to me about relocating to New York. I would never be happy in the city, or even in the suburbs. Heck, Boston is bad enough.”

  He folded his arms.

  “What?”

  “I’m just waiting for you to run out of steam.”

  “I’m done, I guess.”

  “The short answer is, you don’t have any idea. That’s okay. Take your time. Let things settle down a bit. Get quiet. Go within. Sit in stillness with your heart and your head and find out how you really feel, what you ultimately want, and what you’re willing to do to make that happen.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “How very spiritually enlightened of you.”

  “I’ve been listening to you all these years. You’re surprised that I paid attention?”

  “I love you, Daniel.”

  “I love you, Brooke.”

  He checked his watch. “My advice? Catch the T to Logan and hop on a Cape Air flight to Provincetown. Go home. Heal. Breathe. It’ll do you a world of good.”

  “You’re pretty smart, you know that? Wise too.”

  “You should listen to me. Doctor’s orders. Now I’ve really got to get back. Keep me posted and I’ll await your e-mail with the Nora verbiage.”

  She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks. For lunch, and everything else. You’re the best BFF a girl could have.”

  “You’re not too bad yourself. Take care, Brooke. I’m here if you need me.” He waved and disappeared into the post-lunch crowd on the sidewalk.

  She watched after him for a moment and then dragged her suitcase in the direction of the T stop. The fresh ocean air might be exactly what she needed to clear her head.

  While waiting for the T, she would buy her ticket for the 5:25 p.m. flight to Provincetown.

  Briefly she wondered if she should text Diana, tell her she was all right, and let her know where she was going. Brooke opened the messenger app and started typing. No. That’s co-dependent. Take the space you need and give her some room as well. Get your head on straight so that you don’t get sucked back in.

  She deleted what she’d written, closed the app, and opened her web browser. Several clicks later, she had a seat on the flight.

  Diana stared unseeing out the sunroom window. She checked her watch…again. Brooke had been gone for two hours. At first she convinced herself Brooke would turn around and come back. When that didn’t happen, she told herself Brooke would call or text any second.

  Two hours later, she had to admit Brooke was gone. She leaned her forehead against the cool glass. The place seemed so empty now. She couldn’t even bring herself to walk into the bedroom they’d shared. The bed remained mussed where Brooke had thrown off the covers this morning.

  Snippets of their lovemaking played like a romance movie in her head. It all had seemed so perfect. Somehow, Brooke knew exactly how to please her and vice versa. It was as if they’d been waiting for each other their entire lives.

  She groaned. This line of thinking wasn’t going to bring Brooke back. Maybe nothing would. Maybe they’d see each other once more at Aunt Nora’s funeral and go their separate ways with nothing but the memory of a brief moment in time tying them together.

  The thought of things playing out that way made her want to throw up. She strode out of the sunroom. Aunt Nora had given them an assignment. If Brooke reneged, so be it, but Diana was going to bear witness to Aunt Nora’s truths with or without her.

  She climbed to the attic, plopped into her chair, and pulled the pile of personal correspondence and the journal in front of her. Her fingers caressed the smooth leather cover. She tugged on the strap to release it from the leather clasp. Her fingers shook. This felt so wrong.

  She revisited the conversations between her and Aunt Nora about Brooke. How disappointed would Aunt Nora be to see how all of this was unfolding?

  “I can’t. I can’t do this to he
r. I won’t.” Diana threaded the strap back through the clasp, gathered up the entire stack of personal materials, and headed back downstairs.

  Carefully, she stowed them in her computer bag. She couldn’t stay here. Not now. Not with things the way they were. She pulled out her phone and crafted an e-mail to the head of department telling him she would be returning to work early—day-after-tomorrow, in fact, although she still might need a few days leave in the next couple of weeks to tie up loose ends.

  Next, she stripped the bed and threw the sheets into the washing machine. By the time everything was dry, she could be fully packed and have the house closed up.

  She texted Trent. “I’ll be leaving for New York in a couple of hours. Can you please resume your duties? I’ll be in touch before I come back. How much notice do you need?”

  The telltale three dots popped up almost immediately. “I’ll take care of everything, I promise. I don’t need more than a few hours’ notice, though a day in advance would give me a chance to really get the place set up nice and cozy for you. Safe travels.”

  She replied. “Thanks. I’ll be in touch. Let me know if anything comes up that requires my attention. Take care.”

  She stashed the phone back in her pocket and set about the task of packing. If she didn’t think too much, surely she could do this.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Diana collected her notes from the lectern and packed them in her computer bag, along with her iPad. It felt weird to be back here, as though nothing in her life had changed. In truth, in the span of less than a month, her entire world had been turned on its ear.

  Before, every aspect of her life had been predictable and orderly. She knew who she was; she had a purpose in her teaching and her research. While part of her longed for companionship and love, she’d resigned herself to a solo existence. She’d convinced herself that, in many ways, this was better. There was no one to answer to and her time and space were her own.

  One phone call from Charles Fitzgerald changed all of it. If she’d ignored the call, if she hadn’t agreed to go to Truro and see Aunt Nora… “If, if, if,” she muttered to herself as she headed toward her office. “You went. You fell under Aunt Nora’s thrall all over again, and on top of everything else, you met the woman you know you should spend your whole life with and promptly lost her. All in the span of one month. Way to go.”