Providence (The Velvet Series Book 2)

by Diana Kane

  “No, but you need to admit that you need help. Help that I, nor your friends, can give you.” She briefly stands in defiance before the fight goes out of her. Her shoulders slump and her head drops down, shame taking over her body.

  “I know. I’m going to find a grief counselor.” Her voice morphs into a quiet mumble as she admits this.

  “Good.” I think about my next words and loathe them before they leave my mouth. “Katrina, I’m not big on ultimatums, but I’m going to give you one anyway. I leave for Ghana Saturday morning. I will be unreachable while I am away. I don’t want to see you again until you get help. My natural instinct is to try to help you, and I know I won’t stop trying, even as you spiral further downward. You’ll get help when you’re ready, but I’m asking you not to contact me until you do. This is your journey, but if the trajectory of your path is only a downward slope, then I can’t continue on it with you.” The blood in my veins turns to ice as shock settles itself across her features. I have to walk away when I notice tears starting to pool in her eyes. At that moment I know that I am a terrible human being, that I’m walking away from her when she likely needs support more than ever. Self-preservation trumps self-sacrifice at times, no matter how shitty it makes you feel. I get in my car and find myself wishing that tomorrow were Saturday, and I would be getting on the plane to Ghana.

  Chapter 9

  I step off the plane and plant myself on familiar terra firma. I’m exhausted, but filled with a sense of fulfillment from having helped the patients in Ghana, grateful for the luxuries that I have and take for granted, but most of all I feel a renewed sense of spirit, I feel at peace. My colleagues and I pile into our shared ride and make our way out of long term parking. Right now I want nothing more than a long hot shower, the comfort of my bed and 12 hours of uninterrupted sleep. I can almost feel the pulsing warmth of the water on my neck and shoulders, that is until I see Katrina’s car in my driveway. The pinpricks of irritation I start to feel only intensify as I pull my suitcase from the trunk of the car. By the time I slip my key into the lock, the peace I had been feeling is gone. I drop my suitcase by the door and kick off my shoes before following the sounds emanating from my kitchen. I discover Katrina preparing food of some sort, headphones in, completely oblivious to my presence as she sings and dances along to whatever is playing. I’m not sure how long I stand there, watching her while I process my conflicting emotions. Irritation and anger vie with exhaustion and the amusement I feel watching her dance around. She turns to make her way to the refrigerator and finally sees me leaning against the wall. Her fright quickly transforms into perhaps the first genuine smile I’ve seen her wear since Jill’s accident.

  “You’re home! Welcome back!” Seeing her smile is nice, but I’m exhausted and questioning why she’s in my home. Has she forgotten my simple request or is she just choosing to ignore it?

  “What are you doing here?” I ask, managing to keep my voice even.

  “I wanted to do something nice for you, so I picked up some groceries and I’m making you dinner.”

  “Ok, but what are you doing here? I thought I made my feelings clear the last time we spoke.” Despite my even tone, my words wipe all traces of the smile from Katrina’s face. She looks at the floor, and for a few seconds, I’m certain she has no intention of responding.

  “You did, and I heard you. I didn’t want to, but that Friday night I got blackout drunk. I woke up Saturday afternoon in my bathtub with a blood stained towel wrapped around my forearm and an empty bottle beside me. I had no idea how I ended up there or what I’d done to my arm. A quick tour of the house clued me in on a part of the evening’s events as I discovered several destroyed pieces of art, the pieces Jill had acquired that I never liked. Paintings, sculptures, blown glass, all of it was fair game. I worked on cleaning the place up as I fought my pounding hangover. I realized then that you were right, I needed help. I messaged Catherine and asked if she could put me in touch with anyone. In under fifteen minutes I was on the phone arranging an emergency meeting. Not only did she recommend someone, it seems she called in a favor. I’ve been seeing Dr. Sutton twice a week. He has me trying all sorts of stuff, journaling, meditation, writing letters to Jill, stuff like that.” Catherine did well, Sutton is well known for being one of the best. I make a mental note to thank her the next time we speak. “You’re still upset, I get it. I’ll just clean up and write down directions for everything, then I’ll be gone.”

  “I’m not upset, just exhausted. I know that none of that could have been easy for you. I should apologize though. I had no right to treat you like I did or to lay down that ultimatum.”

  “You were right though, I was self-destructing and probably wouldn’t have stopped. You’ve done nothing but try to look out for me since Jill’s accident. I know I took advantage of that at times and I’m sorry. I won’t lie though, it isn’t easy, but I’m trying.”

  “I never thought it would be easy. I’m glad you were able to find some help. I’ll still be here if you need anything.” A partial smile returns to Katrina’s lips.

  “You will?” I nod and return her smile. “Thank you,” she utters as she pulls me in for a hug. I look over her shoulder as she wraps her arms around me.

  “What is all of this?” My eyes sweep over the litany of items strewn along my counter top. Various vegetables, sugar, assorted spices, and a lot of dirty dishes.

  “I told you, I’m making you a meal. I wanted to repay you for all the kindness you’ve shown me. Catherine told me you were due back today but wasn’t sure when. I figured it would be sometime this evening.”

  “What can I do?”

  “You can march down the hallway to your room and take a nap. You look spent. Things won’t be ready for a couple of hours anyway.”

  “I’m fine really, how can I help?” Katrina doesn’t answer. Instead, she takes a glass out of the cupboard and fills it with ice water using the dispenser on the front of the refrigerator. Thankfully she turns and hands it to me. I finally see the long cut down the length of her forearm as she presses the glass into my hand. Grabbing the glass with my right hand, I wrap my left hand around her wrist and gently push upward, eying the remnants of the wound.

  “I know, I’m lucky it wasn’t super deep, I could have been seriously injured. I’m ok though, really.” I could easily lecture her about her near miss, but her words feel genuine, so I don’t. “Alright you, take your glass of water and go to bed.” I open my mouth to protest but before I can say anything Katrina grabs me by the shoulders, spins me around and pushes me out of my kitchen. “Take a nap. We can have dinner when you wake up.” I want to argue, but my exhausted body begs me not to. My feet feel like they’re encased in concrete as I trudge my way down the hall. I close the bedroom door and unceremoniously strip as I cross the room to my beckoning bed. The last thing I recall is the soft caress of the Egyptian cotton sheets against my newly bronzed flesh as I quickly drift off.

  *****

  I roll over and inhale the tantalizing aroma that permeates the air in my bedroom. My salivary glands kick into overdrive as I take a deep breath and look at the clock. 6:30! I’ve been asleep for nearly four hours. I kick off the sheet and roll out of bed. I still want a hot shower and debate taking one before checking in with Katrina. Instead, I pull on a fresh pair of sweatpants and a comfy t-shirt and head towards the kitchen.

  “Hey sleepy head, I was wondering if you were going to sleep all night.” A smirk plays at Katrina’s lips as she teases me.

  “I probably could have. It smells amazing in here!”

  “Thanks. Dinner will be ready soon.”

  “Can I do anything?” I look around, the dirty dishes seem to already be in the dishwasher, the table is already set.

  “No. I’ve got this.” She eyes me, and that grin is back.

  “Ok. Do I have time for a quick shower?” Katrina turns away from me, and I see her shoulders shake as she stifles a chuckle.

  “Good idea.” I
hear the small giggle escape her as I walk away. I enter the master suite, catching a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror. No wonder Katrina was so amused. My hair looks like birds have nested in it, creases from the pillow still line my face, and I’m sure if I looked closely enough I’d find traces of dried drool around my mouth. I shake my head at my reflection, switch on the water and strip off my comfortable attire. I feel like Pigpen as I step into the hot stream and convince myself that if I look down the water will be cloudy with the grime it rinses off my body.

  Fresh from the shower, I realize I’m famished as I make my way back to the kitchen. “Perfect timing.” Katrina grins as I take in the spread on the table. Chicken and steak fajitas with all the fixings, rice, refried beans, chips, pico de gallo, guacamole, and a picture of margaritas. “Catherine and Alex told me it’s your favorite meal.”

  “It is. You made all of this?”

  “Yeah, well not the chips or the tortillas, but everything else. Here, sit.” She motions to one of the chairs and pours me a drink as I take a seat. She pours one for herself and takes the seat across from me. Her expression turns serious as she eyes the drink and then me. “I swear that I haven’t had anything to drink yet and promise I’m not going to get drunk.” I shake my head, knowing I can’t deny that both thoughts had crossed my mind.

  “It’s ok. I don’t have the right to police your behavior, but that doesn’t mean that I won’t worry.” Katrina looks at me, her thoughts unreadable, the silence threatening to become uncomfortable. “This looks amazing, shall we?” We both start preparing plates for ourselves. “That’s a lot of guacamole.” Katrina laughs, seemingly relaxed once again.

  “Catherine warned me that you have a tendency to go crazy with it. I argue that it’s nearly a food group on its own. I figured it would be better to make too much than not enough.” Curiosity about the unknown connection between Catherine and Katrina is taking over my brain.

  “I didn’t know you had been in regular contact with Catherine.” Katrina eyes me momentarily, trying to assess what I’m really asking her.

  “I hadn’t. When I called her that Saturday afternoon, it was the first time I spoke with her since we were all at the brewery. I didn’t even know if she would respond to my message since we had our falling out, or whatever you want to call it, before you left. She messaged me that evening to see if I wanted to join Abby, Alex and herself for dinner that night. The invitation surprised me, but I accepted.” Katrina pauses as she takes a sip of her margarita. “She’s quite shrewd, isn’t she? At dinner, the cut on my arm busted open and bled through the dressing. She didn’t make a scene or say anything at the time. When Alex and Abby went to bathroom together, she interrogated me. I was shocked that she was unaware of how I’d been behaving, that we had fought. Anyway, she examined my wound and reprimanded me, explaining the numerous ways I could’ve caused serious injury to myself. That woman can give quite the lecture. She cleaned it up and put some glue on it that burned like mad. The three of them just sort of kept tabs on me these last two weeks. I thought it was because you asked them to, but you didn’t, did you?”

  “No, I did not. I don’t make a habit of broadcasting other people’s private business. That’s just how they are though. We look out for one another.” Katrina eyes me; like she’s trying to see if I’ve spoken the truth. Her brow furrows suddenly, and I can tell she is debating whether she should ask the question plaguing her mind. “What?”

  “Why the questions about Catherine and I? You don’t think that we…” I laugh uncontrollably, nearly choking on a grain of rice as I do.

  “God no!” My reaction stings Katrina in some way. She looks down, and a frown settles over her lips. I realize then that she thinks I’ve insulted her. “It isn’t that. I mean come on, surely you’ve seen how she and Alex are with each other. Neither of them has even thought of another woman sexually since they got together. It’s nauseating on the one hand and jealousy inducing on the other. No one stands a chance of coming between those two.” Katrina’s mood shifts back to relaxed.

  “It’s impossible not to notice isn’t it?” She chuckles to herself before going quiet. I wonder what’s on her mind, but don’t press her. “I wonder if people ever felt that way about Jill and I.”

  “I know they did. I admired your relationship every time the two of you came to her appointments. Some of our other staff did as well.” I can see Katrina’s eyes turn glassy and know she is fighting the tears.

  “Thanks.” She sniffles and clears her throat. “Ok. Tell me about your trip, if you’re allowed to talk about it.” I laugh again as I wonder what kind of trip she thinks I went on.

  “Well, it wasn’t exactly a top secret mission for the CIA.” She smiles and laughs as she refills our glasses, emptying the picture. We did somewhere around 180 procedures in the 10 days we operated there.” Katrina’s mouth drops open, the shock evident. “I didn’t scrub every one of them. I did scrub and assist on cases that I wouldn’t typically do here, but the staff and supplies there are so limited. We have top of the line everything, fresh supplies, and all the hands we can use during cases here. There the equipment is almost always donated from a company or hospital because it’s outdated. Skilled assistance can be even harder to find. But in some ways the work is more rewarding, you know that the people you’re helping wouldn’t likely receive treatment if you weren’t there to offer it. Cleft lips, cleft palates, mastectomies, hernias, so many procedures we take for granted here, that we assume to be basic medical care, are luxuries there. The people there are always so welcoming and kind. I love going to the market and seeing the produce stalls with all the fresh fruits. The chickens in the cages throw me off every time, I hate thinking about how the animals that we get our meats from are treated, but it’s just so different than the markets here are. Winneba Beach is spectacular, I went as often as I could. The weather was beautiful, always in the upper 70’s but the humidity was stifling at times. There was another plastic surgeon there that I got to work with, it was nice trading ideas with her, being reminded that there are many ways to approach a case.” I start to lose myself in my memories of the last two weeks.

  “Is that it?”

  “Huh?” I’m not sure what Katrina is asking me, yet she looks a bit perplexed.

  “It seems like you just spaced out in the middle of telling me about your trip. I was just wondering if that was it.” Katrina looks at me expectantly, and I feel my cheeks flush. I certainly don’t have to tell her about that part of my trip. “Oh, that’s so not it! Now you have to tell me, whatever it is!” More blood rushes to my face, and I know she isn’t going to let me get away with not telling her. “You met someone there, didn’t you?”

  “Yes…no…not how you’re thinking. I had a lovely, but brief fling.”

  “The other plastic surgeon?”

  “Yes.” Katrina grins at me, her eyebrows arching up. “What? It was the accent, ok! I’m a sucker for a sexy accent. It was just a little fun though, we both knew it. It was fun while it lasted, but it’s highly unlikely that I’ll ever see her again.”

  “You really aren’t going to give me any details are you?”

  “No, I’m not.” Katrina looks disappointed but doesn’t press me any further.

  “So is that all you are after? Just a little fun?”

  “No. Why are you asking me that?”

  “No reason really. You mentioned before that you had that fling with your old sparring partner and now this one as well. Do you have a habit of avoiding relationships?” I’m starting to feel like I’m being psychoanalyzed.

  “Why do I feel like I’m being slut shamed?” Katrina looks properly taken aback, but I don’t give her a chance to protest. “Have I had flings? Yeah, I have. I don’t actively avoid relationships though. I do approach them with a high level of honesty and try to be as realistic as possible. In both of the instances you know about, a long term relationship was never going to happen, the circumstances wouldn’t allow i
t to even be a possibility. That doesn’t mean that I didn’t have desires that couldn’t be fulfilled in those moments. For the record, I’ve never cheated on a partner, have never knowingly slept with someone who already had a partner, nor do I go out looking for the flavor of the week.” Dinner is suddenly losing its appeal.

  “I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean it like that, I just worded it poorly.” I take a deep breath and let my irritation out with it. We resume eating, the silence gradually becoming unbearable.

  “So what are your plans for the remainder of the weekend?” I’m so anxious to be rid of the silence that I’m resorting to small talk.

  “Honestly, I don’t really know. Some of my friends invited me to meet them at Velvet tonight, but it doesn’t even sound close to appealing. I’m not ready to be in that space, with all the noise and the strangers. I don’t want to be there and lose control and either blackout or breakdown. I don’t have any idea what I’m up to tomorrow. I’ve honestly just been taking it one day at a time.” I nod my understanding as I stuff the final bite of food from my once full plate into my mouth. “What about you?”