Forging a Desire Line

by Mary P. Burns

  “Okay, you two,” Jamie said. “We know your Laurel and Hardy routine.”

  “Charley’s seeing someone,” Brooke said. “Two someones.”

  Charley shook her head at Brooke and looked out the window at the traffic pouring up Sixth Avenue, a little ticked off.

  “What the heck?” Jamie asked.

  Annie poked Brooke’s shoulder. “You could’ve let her tell us in her own time.”

  “She wouldn’t have, then,” Brooke replied.

  “Are you?” Lindsay asked.

  “That’s why you left the table with your phone,” Jamie said.

  Charley cleared her throat. “I suppose I owe you an explanation after all the work you did so ceaselessly on my behalf in the last year, hoping to find someone for me,” Charley said sarcastically, “although I never asked you to.”

  “You’d have done the same for us.”

  “Would I, Jamie? Or might I have respected your process and let you come to your own conclusion about the timeline you needed to get over breaking up with Lindsay and finding someone else to warm your bed?”

  “Okay, you guys,” Lindsay interrupted. “We feel bad enough about our culpability all around, and maybe, Charley, we should’ve asked you first before trying to fix you up, but you would’ve said no, and we did it because we love you and you were stagnating.” Lindsay held up her hand when Charley moved to interrupt. “You were. You shut yourself off. And it was hard for us to watch your world getting smaller each year.”

  Charley looked down at her hands in her lap. Maybe it was hard for her to admit that they were right, as hard as it had been to tell Brooke she’d realized how lonely she’d become.

  “And now, look,” Lindsay noted. “Maybe we jarred something in you. Who is she?”

  “You mean who are they?” Jamie said. “Brooke said there are two someones.”

  “Well, she’s wrong. As of last night.”

  “What happened last night?” Brooke asked.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t call you, but I’m still processing. I slept with Neely and then I…I don’t know, I broke that part of it off with her.”

  “Wait a friggin’ minute,” Jamie interrupted. “I need to throw out the penalty flag here. I didn’t see any of that play and I feel like that’s a hit on a defenseless player. On all of us.”

  “Why don’t you start at the beginning,” Annie said, a protective hand on Charley’s shoulder.

  Charley quickly wove together the facts of the last few weeks, frankly told them about the note and the rose she’d left on Neely’s pillow, and about seeing Joanna again on Monday evening.

  “Holy shit,” Jamie said. “Where did this all come from?”

  “Somehow Karen jarred something loose,” Brooke said.

  “Something like that,” Charley said, leaning her elbows on the table.

  “Okay, so we succeeded,” Lindsay said. “Even if it wasn’t with any of the women we introduced you to.”

  “Something like that,” Brooke reiterated. “So, was Neely amazing in bed?”

  “Brooke!” Annie admonished her.

  “What? Inquiring minds want to know,” Brooke said shamelessly.

  Jamie laughed. “You can be so inappropriate, you know that?”

  Charley cleared her throat. “She was…yeah. It was smokin’ hot. I’m still sore.”

  There was total silence for a moment.

  “And you’re all jealous,” Charley added.

  She was met with a chorus of “No,” “Oh, hey, we’re good,” and one “I love my wife,” none of them convincing to Charley’s ear, and all of them tinged with embarrassment.

  “Glad you did it?” Brooke asked.

  Charley looked at her entwined fingers. “Not sure. Think so. There’s just so much going on right now, I don’t need any complications in my life.”

  “What’s going on?” Lindsay asked.

  Charley fiddled with a spoon, wanting the question to go away, but of course it wouldn’t, and she was going to have to deal with it sooner or later. The silence hung there. “Tricia called.”

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” Jamie said. “Destry rides again.”

  “Hush!” Brooke said.

  Charley paid no attention to Jamie’s remark. “She’s been calling me for weeks. And it was too hard for me to call her back. But she finally caught me last Saturday.” Putting her hand into her pocket for the balance stone, Charley looked at each one of these friends that she’d known for so many years, certain she could count on them to help her get through what she was about to tell them. They’d been there for her every time she’d needed them, and they would be now. She poured herself another scotch and gave them the news.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Charley had called Tricia Sunday night to invite herself to the radiology appointment Monday morning, and when she hadn’t protested, Charley confirmed her suspicion that Tricia was frightened and actually wanted someone around. Now, as she leaned against the building waiting for her, she hitched her canvas bag up behind her shoulder blades and moved a little to the left to get out of the morning glare. Glancing up Sixty-Sixth Street, she spotted Tricia in the mix of people heading toward the front door.

  “Whoa. Did you take a bus? I didn’t see you getting out of a cab.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I left it at Third Avenue and walked over. I figured I could use a little exercise.”

  Charley snorted. “I always hated your metabolism. Whip-thin, ate anything you wanted, didn’t even glance at a gym as you walked by.”

  “Some of us are genetically lucky and some of us aren’t. I guess I’m both now. So,” Tricia said, hitting the revolving door, “how was the rest of your weekend?”

  “Fine.”

  Tricia eyed her in the elevator. “ Fine was always your smoke and mirrors.”

  Charley faced her, one eyebrow raised.

  “I know something is up. I knew it on Saturday.”

  The elevator doors opened, and Charley looked around. “Which way is Radiology?” Tricia found a map on the wall and they studied it together.

  “Oh, here.” Charley pointed to a line on the map. “Green hallway over here.” She headed down the hall.

  Tricia followed. “Come over to dinner tonight. We can talk about this radiology and you can tell me what’s going on. Because something is going on.”

  “I’m not doing this with you, Tricia.” Charley opened the door to the Radiology Department, almost let it slam on Tricia, and went to the desk. “Tricia Sullivan, a seven thirty appointment with Dr. Chadha.”

  The receptionist checked a list and picked a file off the top of the stack on her desk. “Right this way, Miss Sullivan, Dr. Chadha is ready.”

  “No, she’s Miss Sullivan, I’m here to observe,” Charley said, pointing at Tricia.

  “Only if you agree to come to dinner tonight. Otherwise you can sit out here,” Tricia said as she took her file and walked through the door ahead of Charley.

  “Radiology One is on the right,” the receptionist advised her.

  Charley grabbed the door handle before it shut.

  “I hear footsteps,” Tricia said. “You must be coming to dinner.”

  “You are completely insensitive, you know that?” Charley hated when Tricia did this sort of thing to her. She’d always hated when Tricia won, too. “I can’t come to dinner. I…have to work. Emily’s going to the Middle East. I have a lot to do to get her ready.” She wasn’t about to share Joanna with Tricia.

  “Again? You may not think so, but from where I stand, Emily sure as hell owns you. All I want is for you to open the door for me.” She held the door open for Charley, who went through it, glowering at her as she did. “I need you and you just might need me. It’s that simple.” Tricia went into the changing room and picked up the paper gown sitting on the table. There was no vulnerability to her argument. Simply her truth. “So, come down after you finish, and we’ll have a light supper. We’ll order out.”

&nbs
p; “Do you want me to come down because you’re afraid of the radiology?”

  “Wouldn’t you be?”

  Charley took notes as the simulation unfolded in front of her, the technicians making small marks on Tricia’s chest, further delineating the area to be radiated with blocks and plastic cutouts until they had several tiny precise circles mapped out. While they worked, Dr. Chadha, the radiology doctor, came in and explained how this would play out for the next two weeks, how the maps created today could change as the radiation had the desired effect, if it did, of shrinking the tumors and what the possible next steps could be. When the technicians finished, she and Charley stepped out into the hallway to wait for Tricia. It was the opportunity she’d been seeking.

  “What kind of fatigue will she be facing from all this? I know we talked about it in that first meeting, and about a lot of other effects she’ll be feeling, but I’m not sure I understood as much then as I do now.”

  “I think the cumulative effect will get to her by the end of the first week. The sessions will be less than fifteen minutes, and she could be fine until the end of the day. She may need someone then. She’ll certainly need support by the end of the week. She could experience some epidermal burning, and some soreness deep in her body that might manifest itself outwardly.”

  “She thinks she’ll be okay, that nothing will really affect her.”

  “These are pretty sizeable tumors and I’ll be going after them with all I’ve got. We don’t want this to metastasize. She will be affected.”

  Tricia came out of the changing room and eyed Charley with Dr. Chadha. “Same time the rest of the week?” she asked the doctor.

  “Yes. The technician can take care of you. I’ll be back on Friday,” Dr. Chadha said.

  Tricia turned and walked away. “Coming, Sancho?”

  Charley caught up to her.

  “I know you’re about to protest or be noble about this, but really,” Tricia said as she pressed the elevator button, “I don’t need your help with this part. Go to the pool.”

  “Tricia, it’s a lot of radiation they’re throwing at you. Wasn’t this sort of thing the whole reason you called?”

  “I spoke with Dr. Gerard this morning. We went over everything radiology. I’ll be fine to do this on my own. I don’t want help yet. I don’t want it until I absolutely need it. And I wish you hadn’t questioned Dr. Chadha.”

  “Well, if you’re not going to share information, where else do I get it? You know what?” Charley stepped into the elevator that had just opened and held the door for Tricia. “I’m happy to go back to my life.” Sure enough, Tricia had pushed a button. And Charley was instantly furious. “But you are aware you have a track record of waiting too long to ask for help. And then, you’re halfway over the cliff’s edge and I have to chase you and clean up the mess.”

  “That elevator is going up,” Tricia said quietly. “We want to go down.”

  Charley looked at the green “up” arrow on the panel, apologized to the people standing behind her, and got off.

  “I’ll strike a bargain with you,” Tricia said as the arriving down elevator pinged.

  Charley regarded her warily as they descended, working to check that familiar anger.

  “I will ask the nanosecond I feel the need, and I won’t bury it and try to be strong if you open the door. Just as a friend. You can put up the stop sign any time you want. And you can help me all you want, then. Come down every night if you feel like it.”

  Charley felt the sigh coming all the way from her toes. “Oh, Tricia. You never stop, that’s the problem.”

  “I’ll take your secrets to the grave, I promise.”

  “Not funny!”

  “I kind of thought it was.” Tricia walked through the revolving door. “Look, I promise you, everything will be on your terms with us now.”

  Charley concentrated on the cabs coming down the street as Tricia put her arm out to hail one and wondered how anything between them now would ever be on her terms when everything for the foreseeable future would be about Tricia’s needs. She sighed again, knowing the answer. “You will ask, and not make me guess and chase you or pull you back from the precipice?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “And when I tell you ‘enough’ you will back off from my private life.” Tricia crossed her heart and then opened the door of the cab that had pulled up. Charley got in and Tricia followed.

  “What time can I expect you, then?” Tricia asked.

  “Probably close to nine o’clock.”

  * * *

  Pietro’s wasn’t busy when Charley and Joanna got there. It was what she’d been counting on, wanting the kind of quiet she liked for talking. They were both rather taken by the beautiful young bartender, watching her as she worked until finally Joanna said, “I know I’m an inveterate girl-watcher but somehow, I didn’t expect it from you.”

  “You didn’t think I was a second home kind of person either, so I guess I’m as full of surprises as you are.”

  “I’m not full of surprises, Charley. I’m exactly what you see.”

  Charley thought of the handcuff necklace. “Well, I was a child bride and moved in with Tricia almost right out of college. All I could do for years was look.”

  “Seems like you’re making up for lost time now, and since tonight is supposed to be about unanswered questions from last week, ‘young and a writer’?”

  Charley told her about Neely, leaving out the events of Friday night. And then she told her about the novel, its birth in graduate school, the long drought, and how invaluable Neely had become as she worked anew.

  “You never let your dream go, did you? Even when it walked away from you. That takes deep reserves. I like that about you.”

  Charley was a little surprised by Joanna’s reaction, and her insight, and studied her drink. “It’s all I ever wanted. But I had nowhere else to go but into the nine-to-five workforce when the writer’s block became an immoveable force.”

  “Well, now it sounds like you have two jobs. You must do all your writing after work? That must be exhausting.”

  Charley thought about it for a moment. “No. It’s actually what I always imagined the gods must feel when they returned to Mount Olympus after they’d been gone for a while.”

  “Wow.” Joanna smiled.

  Charley’s phone rang. She glanced at it, saw it was Tricia, and excused herself.

  “You need to go, don’t you?” Joanna asked when Charley sat back down.

  She sighed. “I told you my ex recently came back into my life because she needed a friend.”

  Joanna nodded.

  “It’s really because she’s ill and she needs my help.”

  “Oh, Charley, I’m sorry.”

  Charley shook her head. “I told her I’d go down and see her tonight, so I should get going. But you realize one of us here didn’t take care of some unanswered questions, so we may need to do this again next week.”

  “I didn’t hear you ask any questions,” Joanna said as she put on her down jacket.

  Charley’s laugh was barely audible. “You wouldn’t tell me where in California you grew up when you reacted to the cold the other night.”

  “Oh, that… Kind of drove you a little nuts, didn’t it?”

  “Yes, it did.” In a quickly calculated move, she stepped in and zipped up Joanna’s jacket. “Something tells me you like driving women nuts, though.”

  “It does? So you’ve given that some thought.”

  “I’ve given a lot of things some thought, Miss Hair Shirt.” Only a few inches away from her, she could’ve kissed Joanna in this moment, wanted to, but the serious look that passed over Joanna’s face made her step back.

  “Oh, you don’t want to hear about that part of my life, trust me.”

  “Well, you have a week to think about it,” Charley said softly. She gave the bartender several bills after she told her what the damage was. “Keep the change.”

  Outside, Joanna ha
iled a cab for Charley.

  “Text me Saturday night again?” Charley asked. “I liked that you did that last weekend.”

  “I’ll think about that, too.”

  “Mmm-hmm.” Charley got into the cab and waved as it pulled away. She couldn’t help but wish Tricia had been okay on her own tonight. These snatched moments with Joanna just weren’t long enough.

  The doorman picked up the house phone the moment he saw Charley and nodded toward the bank of elevators. When the doors opened on the twenty-first floor, Tricia was waiting, a set of keys dangling from her finger.

  “Here. These are for you. The staff knows you have them.”

  Charley slipped them into her pocket, feeling odd about the transaction that was so reminiscent of the first time Tricia had handed her a set of keys to her apartment twenty-eight years earlier.

  In the kitchen, they plated the Indian take-out dinner. Charley was getting to know the layout of where everything was, and they worked in tandem almost as smoothly as they had on West End Avenue. She called her mother to check on her while Tricia whisked dressing for a salad she’d made.

  “She doesn’t know about this, does she?” Tricia asked when Charley hung up.

  “No, and she never will.” Charley caught the sorrow passing over Tricia’s face as she turned to open the refrigerator.

  Tricia took the salads and drinks out to the living room and turned on the game. Charley brought the plates of chicken vindaloo to the coffee table and they settled down on the floor.

  “That remote could fly a plane, but then your TV is the size of most movie theater screens.”

  “Reagan liked things big.”

  Charley glanced at Tricia and almost laughed, seeing the pleased look on her face.

  “What? Can I help it if I’m larger than life?”

  Charley laughed out loud. “I never thought I’d say this, Tricia Sullivan, but don’t ever change.”

  “As if. Listen, I’ve been reading the sports pages again. The Colts are going to lose tonight. Their offensive line has huge holes in it,” Tricia offered. “And normally I’d wait for your analysis, but I think this game will be over in the first four minutes and I want to know what you’ve been holding out on me. It’s much more than your young writer, isn’t it? Is it the other woman?”