by Kyra Davis
“Isn’t it?” Mary Ann looked up at the painting lovingly. “It was painted by an orangutan at the San Diego Zoo!”
Dena opened her mouth, then closed it, then started rocking slowly back and forth like a mental patient trying to comfort herself. “Maybe I should pour us all something to drink,” I suggested hopefully. “Something strong.”
“In a minute,” Mary Ann promised. “First I have to show you this.”
She crossed to the side table by the couch and lifted up a delicate little treasure box. It was made of porcelain and was as smooth and beautiful as Mary Ann’s complexion. On its lid stood a small figurine of Tinker Bell. Her delicate but spirited face was upturned and her little wand was arched high above her head as if she was trying to command the stars to dance.
“It’s pretty,” Dena begrudgingly admitted.
Mary Ann nodded solemnly. “It’s Lennox. It was at Disneyland that I knew I was truly in love with him. Tinker Bell flew over Sleeping Beauty’s castle and the sky lit up with fireworks….” Her voice trailed off and she took a deep, shaky breath. “He kissed me then and the way I felt when I was in his arms…the entire experience just opened my eyes to a whole new world!”
Dena grabbed my wrist and gave it an urgent squeeze. “She’s going to burst into song!” she hissed. “It’s like some kind of nightmarish scene from Mamma Mia!”
Mary Ann shot her a quick dirty look. “I’m not going to sing. But it was magic. Disney magic. And whatever you may think of it, that magic woke me up to what an amazing guy I had standing next to me…holding my hand. And now just look at us! We’re living the fairy tale!”
“The Disney version or the Brothers Grimm?” Dena asked.
“Why do you always have to be like this?” Mary Ann snapped. “You and I both know that Disney never made a movie about any brothers named Grimm and if you’re talking about Brother Bear, well, that movie wasn’t romantic at all!”
As they continued to argue I picked up the Lennox box. There was room in it for something small…and possibly very valuable.
“Mary Ann,” I asked carefully, “was there anything in here when he gave this to you?’”
Mary Ann, who had been yelling at Dena, abruptly stopped…and blushed.
“Is that the reason you’re wearing the gloves?” I persisted.
Her blush deepened and she pulled off her right glove and then her left. None of us moved a muscle as we collectively stared down at the large heart-shaped ruby on a simple platinum band.
“Oh. My. God.” They were the only words I could manage.
Dena’s eyes widened slowly and the fine lines of surprise popped up on her forehead one by one. “Mary Ann,” Dena breathed, “is that what I think it is?”
Mary Ann only nodded, her eyes still on her ring.
“But you’ve only known him for—”
“We’ve known each other for almost a year.” She looked up at Dena, her anger replaced with a gut-wrenching vulnerability. “I am totally and absolutely in love with him.”
Dena pressed her lips together and I found myself holding my breath as we all waited for further reaction. Dena was the sole proprietor of an upscale sex shop and she was currently involved in a polyamorous relationship with two guys and a hippie chick named Amelia. The very idea that she was going to be able to embrace her cousin’s acceptance of a heart-shaped gemstone presented in a Tinker Bell box seemed preposterous. But it was also necessary. For Mary Ann, Dena was more than a cousin, she was the older sister she never had, and despite all their differences she would want her blessing.
Dena took Mary Ann’s hand and lifted the ruby to the light. “It’s a good quality rock,” Dena said as she tilted the gem this way and that. “It’s almost like glass and the red is fantastic. It’s Burmese?”
Again Mary Ann nodded. “It’s over a full carat. He got it from Goldberry’s on Sacramento Street…you know Bob Dylan’s former longtime girlfriend designed it. I thought you’d like that. I thought maybe…maybe you could be happy for me?”
Dena took in another deep breath and then looked straight into Mary Ann’s eyes.
“You tell him that if he ever hurts you I will get a rock five times this size and shove it up his ass. Got it?”
And that was Dena-speak for “I’ll support you in this.” Mary Ann threw her arms around Dena’s neck and burst into tears. “I love you so much,” she sobbed.
“Hey,” I said, gently nudging Mary Ann as she loosened her grip on Dena. “I’d shove a rock up a guy’s ass if he hurt you, too, you know.”
“Like Monty could ever hurt anyone.” Mary Ann laughed and gave me a swift, hard hug. “He’s not like the other guys I’ve dated. He is always so kind and gentle and he would never cheat on me. Not in a million years.”
“Ah.” Dena stood up and crossed her arms across her chest. “So what you’re saying is he’s not like Rick. Is that asshole still calling you?”
Mary Ann pressed her ringed hand against her chest and looked away. It had been almost exactly one year since Mary Ann had found her now-ex-boyfriend Rick Wilkes in the arms of Fawn, the rather lively and ironically named female taxidermist. It had been a particularly tragic discovery since it had not only ruined Mary Ann’s relationship but also her love of natural history museums.
“Rick calls occasionally. He even happened to call the night Monty proposed. Can you believe that? He actually thinks we can be friends or something.” She shook her head in disgust. “Monty’s nothing like Rick and not just because he’s faithful. Monty sees the world differently. He’s so…hopeful and enthusiastic about everything. He makes life more fun and…Dena, he makes me so happy! And now you’re both happy for me like I knew you would be…or I thought you would be…or…I hoped. I guess I didn’t really know what to expect. Neither of you believe in marriage.”
“That’s not true,” I protested, perhaps a bit louder than was necessary. “I just don’t believe in marriage for me…not a second time.”
“But that was with Scott,” Mary Ann reminded me. “If you married Anatoly—”
“Okay, seriously?” I asked. “The man hasn’t even given up his apartment! Did you know that? He won’t even sublet it to someone who plans on staying for more than six months!”
“But you’ve said that Anatoly never actually sleeps there,” Mary Ann pointed out. “He always stays with you—”
“And according to him that’s what really matters,” I practically yelled. “As far as I’m concerned what matters is that he resorts to bullshit justifications in order to explain himself.”
Dena raised her eyebrows. “So what you’re saying is you had another argument earlier today.”
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I was getting off course. “Anatoly and I love each other and we’ll work it all out. But as for marriage…it just isn’t our thing. You’re different, Mary Ann. You were meant to be a bride with a killer dress and all the rest of it. Don’t you think, Dena?”
Dena took Tinker Bell into her hand and ran her finger over each of her curves and angles as if searching for some clue to her magic. “It took me thirty-three years to find the willpower to limit myself to two men,” Dena said slowly. “And there are days and nights…lots of nights, when I wonder if I’m going to be able to keep it up without throwing some new guy into the mix. So marriage…” She sighed and cast a dubious glance at Shamu. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to fully wrap my mind around why so many people think it’s so friggin’ fantastic. But if it’s what you really want—”
“More than anything,” whispered Mary Ann.
“Well, that’s something I can celebrate, a woman getting what she wants. Particularly if that woman is you.”
“Have I ever told you that you’re the best?”
Dena smiled. “Not even once. Can we drink now?”
Mary Ann bounced up and down on her toes as if she was preparing to jump off a diving board. “I have a bottle of champagne chilling in the fridge.”
“I�
�m on it.” I went into the kitchen and quickly found the bottle and within minutes we were standing around Shamu with our champagne flutes raised high.
“Cheers to Mary Ann,” Dena said. “May your marriage be…highly sexual in nature. I’m serious, Mary Ann. Don’t turn into one of those weirdos who would rather watch American Idol than play ride the orca with your husband.”
“I’ll try not to,” Mary Ann said solemnly.
We drank and then I raised my glass again. “My turn. This is to all of us. Three strong women who know how to make our very different dreams come true.”
Both Dena and Mary Ann broke into huge grins and our glasses came together in one clear clink.
We spent the next hour listening to exactly how Monty had popped the question. We marveled that he had taken the trouble of flying to Palm Springs in order to get her father’s blessing. We laughed at how Mary Ann’s blue-collar, pragmatic father must have reacted to Monty, who had undoubtedly described his love for Mary Ann with all the flourish of a sommelier describing the floral notes of a wine. A few days later, when Mary Ann had been at a hotel dusting color on the pale face of a bride, Monty used the key she’d given him to slip inside her apartment and place a gift in almost every room. When she got home he acted as her guide, leading her to one whimsical treasure after another. The last present had been placed in her bedroom. Mary Ann recalled sitting on the edge of her bed, unwrapping the Tinker Bell figurine, her shoulders hunched over as she carefully peeled the tape away from the metallic silver paper. She had been totally mindless of Monty, who had knelt on the floor beside her…until she found the ruby of course. It was then that she realized that Monty wasn’t just kneeling; he was on bended knee.
Eventually I excused myself to the bathroom and Mary Ann went to her room where she was going to retrieve the bridal magazines she had already begun to collect. Dena stayed in the living room hoping that another glass of champagne would help make the pages of flouncy white gowns and ruffled bridesmaid dresses more tolerable.
I was washing my hands when I heard…something. A high-pitched pinging sound followed by something falling. It was heavier than the thud of a dropped book and much more substantial than the sound of a broken glass. I couldn’t even begin to think of what it was that had hit the floor, but for reasons I couldn’t begin to explain the sound of its fall had frightened me…and not just a little bit.
I opened the bathroom door at the same time Mary Ann stepped into the hall, balancing what looked to be twenty or so magazines in her arms. She looked at me questioningly. “Did you hear that?”
I nodded and looked toward the living room. “Dena?” I called out. “Everything okay?”
Mary Ann and I both waited for a response. The only sound was the rush of the heater coming on.
And all of a sudden something shifted. It wasn’t tangible and I couldn’t put a name to it but somehow the consistency of the air changed. It took on weight and it rushed down my throat and pressed anxiety into my lungs. Something was wrong.
Mary Ann dropped the magazines and I was at her heels as we raced out into the living room.
Dena was on the floor. One hand was grasping the corner of Mary Ann’s basket weave rug.
Both of us lunged to Dena’s side.
“Dena?” Mary Ann cried. “Dena, what happened to your back?”
My eyes immediately zeroed in on the small but growing circle of blood underneath her shoulder blade.
“What?” Dena managed, her eyes moving back and forth between us. “What?”
I had seen that kind of wound before. Not there, not in the back…but I had seen the wound. I had seen it in the chest of an attacker…right after I shot him. My eyes jerked up toward the front door. It was open.
“Don’t move!” I demanded in a hoarse whisper as I carefully scanned the room. There were no heavy curtains to hide behind. But the kitchen…could he still be in the kitchen?
“I can’t,” Dena whispered back. “I can’t move…my legs are cold! Sophie, why can’t I move my legs!”
And with those words the air grew even heavier. I heard myself make some kind of strangled cry but that was all I could manage. It hurt to breathe. I choked back my rising panic as my eyes darted around the room in search of something that would work as a weapon. There was a heavy vase, a letter opener, perhaps the poker by the fireplace…
But what good would any of those things be against a gun?
Our best bet was a quick response from 9-1-1. Mary Ann didn’t have a landline, only a cell.
“Dena, where’s your BlackBerry?” I forced myself to ask.
“In…my bag.”
“And yours?” I said, glancing at Mary Ann.
Her eyes went over to her own purse. All of our cell phones were in our handbags and our handbags were on the chair nearest the kitchen.
From my place on the floor I raised myself to a low crouch and went for the poker.
“Dena, please tell me what happened!” I heard Mary Ann say.
“Apply pressure to the wound,” I said urgently as I moved toward the kitchen. “And stay down.”
Mary Ann asked a question…or maybe she just whimpered, I couldn’t tell. My ears were clogged with the ringing sound of my own fear.
In one move I grabbed my handbag, threw it in Mary Ann’s direction and jumped around the corner swinging the poker wildly in hopes of knocking someone over before they had a chance to pull a trigger.
But the room was empty. We were alone after all.
And the shooter had gotten away.
I turned to see Mary Ann pressing buttons on my cell. Her fair skin was even whiter than normal.
And the circle of blood continued to grow.
CHAPTER 2
Too frequently grief is nothing more than a pathway to anger.
–Fatally Yours
Sunday, May 6th, 9:00 p.m.
I have never hated the police as much as I did that night. Yes, there were questions to answer but they should have been asked in the ambulance. They shouldn’t have kept me away from my best friend. And Mary Ann…her screams had started less than a minute after she had gotten through to 9-1-1. And they kept coming. Mary Ann’s screams became a continuous soundtrack to the horror movie I was living in.
But what really scared me was Dena’s silence. She had to feel pain. The blood coming from under her shoulder blade was proof of that. But after her first few panicked whispers she had become deadly quiet, only opening her mouth long enough to answer the urgent questions of the paramedics.
And then they took her away and I was left with police questions that I had no answer to and Mary Ann’s ceaseless screams.
I needed to get to Dena. But it was Anatoly who got to her first. When he called to smooth over our latest quarrel I told him what had happened. He wanted to come to Mary Ann’s apartment and stand by my side while I answered the impossible questions, but I didn’t let him. I told him to go to the hospital and to tell the doctors that they had to fix her.
That they had to make her talk again.
That they had to bring the warmth back to her legs.
When Anatoly told me that he didn’t have any control over those things, I started screaming, too. He stopped protesting after that and went to the hospital. The next to call was Monty. I didn’t hear his part of the conversation but he somehow managed to quiet Mary Ann’s cries to gulping sobs.
And the police kept asking questions. When exactly did we hear the pinging noise? Did we hear footsteps? Was the door locked before the intruder came in or had we forgotten to lock it? Did we know of anyone who wanted to hurt Dena or anyone else in the room? I didn’t have answers. I didn’t even really have thoughts. I just had a need to get to my friend.
The clock told me that the police kept us for just over an hour but I was sure that God had somehow squeezed a year into that hour, and when I finally got Mary Ann into my car it was everything I could do to keep myself from running every red light as we zoomed toward USF Medic
al Center.
And when we arrived everyone was there. Anatoly had called each member of my nonbiological family…Dena’s family. Her boyfriend, Jason, had just finished doing three laps in the JCC pool when he heard his phone ringing by his towel. Dena’s other boyfriend, Kim, was backpacking across Nicaragua with Amelia. They couldn’t be reached. But Marcus was easy to find. He had been on his way to Napa for a short spa getaway. He had been singing along to Madonna when Anatoly brought him into the chaos.
No one spoke when Mary Ann and I entered that waiting room. Anatoly just looked at me and slowly pulled his hands out of the pockets of his motorcycle jacket and I fell against him. Nothing could make me feel better, but at least I knew he would hold me up.
“She’s in surgery,” he said, his voice low, his slight Russian accent much more soothing than his words. From the corner of my eye I could see Marcus turning away. “They said the bullet hit her spinal vertebral casing, the bony spinal column, and pushed a fragment of bone into her spinal cord.”
“What does that mean?” I asked. The fluorescent lights were too bright and bringing unwanted attention to the ugly pattern on the gray carpet and the cheaply upholstered red chairs. Mary Ann was now sitting by Monty’s side. He was just kissing her hair as she cried.
“It means,” Anatoly explained, “that she’s going to live. They have the head of neurology working on her and we’re in one of the top hospitals in the country.”
“So she’s going to be okay? Her legs are going to work and everything?” I asked.
Anatoly pulled away slightly, his brown eyes held me as if trying to steady me for the impact of a shot of bitter realism. “It means,” he said slowly, “that she has the best chance possible. It means we have the right to be optimistic.”
“But not certain,” I said angrily.
“Sophie, there is no such thing as certainty. It’s as fictional as human perfection.”
Marcus put a hand to his stomach and dropped his People magazine onto one of the dusty brown side tables. “I do believe I’ll be throwing up now.” And with that he quickly exited the room.