by Ronica Black
Johnnie changed lanes when she could and breezed by the other vehicles. The day was overcast but mild. Phoenix was drenched, and all the rain had been the big news. She’d avoided most of it by staying in her loft or venturing out to work in her studio. But truth be told her nerves were frayed and firing off inside her like live wires. She felt more alive than she’d felt in a while, and it made it difficult to settle and work. But somehow she had, painting one subject only. She was also anxious about her upcoming visit with the woman. She was still quietly debating the whole thing, going over and over the possibilities, the exposure. Did she really want someone to see that far inside her? A woman like her? So beautiful and confident and sexual?
An answer wasn’t simple, and ideas weren’t forthcoming as to what to do. Her one day of painting had produced another image of the woman. This time lounging on the couch, with her long bare legs leading up to a tease of a garter before the skirt. Desire had thrummed through her as she had painted so quiet and intense, as if the woman could really feel Johnnie touching her skin with her brush. Johnnie had worked for hours nonstop, so much so that her legs, back, and shoulders ached when she finally finished and crashed on the twin bed in the corner. She’d spent the night there in her studio, dreaming of her, hearing her voice as if she were there, and whispering in her ear. When she awakened she studied the painting closely and wished the image were real. But what would she do if it were? Would she have the courage to let her in? Would she have the courage to touch her? She knew if she did all would be lost. And she’d worked too hard for this life, for this castle of safety. She would be crazy to let it all come crashing down.
She’d been considering that when she went digging for a canvas along the back wall of the studio. Old paintings she’d kept for nostalgia lived quietly there, and sometimes she dug them out to remember. She found the large sketch board with all her charcoal drawings clipped to it. She kept every sketch of every painting she’d thought of. And some of the sketches were of life itself or people she knew. She had been flipping through them when she came across the one of Jolene. Her heart had warmed instantly, and she’d carefully removed it and lightly touched it. It was a portrait she had done years ago. They’d been at the park, sitting on the grass under a tree. The bright sunlight had caused Jolene to squint, which showed off the deep grooves in her sun weathered skin. Johnnie had found her beautiful and soulful, and she’d had to sketch her.
Studying the drawing brought back a flood of memories, and suddenly, Johnnie had needed to see her. After placing the sketch in a folder to protect it from the rain, Johnnie had laced up her boots and locked the studio behind her.
Now she was speeding in the sporadic rain, anxious to get there. Jolene lived outside of Phoenix, on the far west side. Johnnie always liked the drive. It went from three lanes of packed cars to one, bypassing old farms and empty fields. Once you were past those it was mostly desert, save for the mountain range directly ahead. Jolene liked the mountains. She preferred them over people. They were her guardians, her fortress.
As she approached Jolene’s turnoff, she slowed and crunched into the dirt and gravel. Jolene lived on land that had yet to be snatched up by developers. She’d inherited the five acres from an uncle, which had given her a refuge from the streets she and Johnnie had lived on. Johnnie had even lived with her for a while, and she’d learned to love the desert and its wildlife. It’s where she’d started to paint.
Johnnie crawled toward the small house and smiled at the plethora of wind chimes. She pulled up and parked in front of the house where she could be seen, killed the engine, and then sat and waited. Jolene had yet to see her new truck, so she knew the visit might make her nervous. She gave a wave out the window and waited some more. It was rude to walk up to the house uninvited. You must wait to be welcomed. Johnnie smiled when the front door opened and Jolene’s curious face poked out. Johnnie waved again, but Jolene wasn’t convinced. She stepped out on her porch and bent down to see if she could see through the windshield. Johnnie reached up and tapped the dream catcher Jolene had made for her. It swayed from her rearview mirror. Jolene saw and walked slowly across the desert landscape to the truck. She shaded her brow though there was no sun. Her skirt was long and cool looking and ended at her bare feet. Her belt was thick and made of turquoise that showed off her loose fitting blouse as it billowed in the breeze. She approached the driver’s side cautiously and then lit up with a smile when she saw Johnnie.
“What are you doing here, white girl?”
Johnnie laughed and crawled from the truck. She embraced her in a tight hug. Jolene smelled of wood smoke and fragrant herbs. Johnnie could inhale her for ages.
“You look…” They pulled apart and Jolene scrutinized her. “Skinny.” She squeezed her arms and touched her cheeks. “I don’t like it.” She turned and waved her hand toward the outlying desert. “My coyotes look better fed than you.”
“I know, I know.”
Jolene led the way toward the house. “If you know, why don’t you eat?”
Johnnie reached in and grabbed the folder and the drink from her console. “I brought you your favorite.”
Jolene turned and her eyebrows rose with amusement. “Oh, you did didn’t, you.”
Johnnie handed her the horchata and watched her suck on the straw. She gave a long sigh, smiled, and then stepped onto the porch and sat in a lawn chair. Johnnie joined her, and soon they were staring out at the wet desert.
“I brought you something else,” Johnnie said, handing over the folder.
Jolene opened it and carefully removed the drawing. She studied it closely, and her hand trembled.
Johnnie looked away as emotion overcame her too. “Remember the day I drew that?”
Jolene, too, looked away from it to stare out at the desert. “We were living off a loaf of stale bread. You looked skinny. Like now. I didn’t like it then and I don’t like it now.”
Johnnie understood that seeing her so thin reminded her of bad times. Times they’d both like to forget.
“Why did you bring me this?” Jolene asked, lightly touching the drawing.
“Because it’s beautiful. You are beautiful.”
Jolene scoffed a little and then laughed.
“I think you should have it,” Johnnie said. “It makes me smile to see your face.”
“Even then?”
“Especially then.”
Jolene tucked it back into the folder.
“We’ve come a long way,” Johnnie said. “It should feel good.”
“It doesn’t.”
Johnnie watched a young jackrabbit run around a bush. “I know.”
“Tomorrow it could change.”
Johnnie knew she was right. And it had been on her mind a lot lately. “Yes.”
“You still dream,” Jolene said.
Johnnie nodded.
“Me too.”
Johnnie sat back and crossed her feet. “Remember that man who kept giving us six-packs?”
Jolene laughed. “Made me love beer. Hot beer.”
“Yep.”
“I won’t drink it now.”
Johnnie was silent. She didn’t used to either. But times were hard again.
They stared out into the increasing rain. Both of them lost in thoughts of long ago.
“You have troubles,” Jolene said.
Johnnie closed her eyes. “I do.”
“They are clouding your head. You need to sweat them out.”
“I’ve been thinking about it.”
“You’re thinking too much. It gets you in trouble.”
Jolene was right. She often was.
“I’m worried,” Johnnie confessed. “That all I’ve got now…what I’ve worked hard for…I’m worried it’s going to come crashing down.”
Jolene sipped her drink and then placed it beside her chair. “You are attached to material things?”
“No, I couldn’t care less about that.” She knew she could live without those. “I’m t
alking about my home. My safe place. My safe world.”
Jolene seemed to think long and hard. “We will both worry about that. Always. It has stained our insides and we can’t wash it away.”
“I can’t go through it again, Jolene, I can’t.”
“You won’t. You will find a way. You did last time; you will this time. And you know you have a home here.”
Johnnie turned to face her. “What if it’s a person, Jolene? What if it’s a person scaring me like this?”
Jolene looked at her with deep, dark eyes. “Someone is trying to take something from you?”
“No, not exactly. She’s trying to get in. To see me. The real me.”
“Is she a danger?”
Johnnie shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t know her that well. She says she can help me.”
“You need help.”
“Yes.”
“With what?”
“To paint.”
“Your troubles are your feelings for this woman aren’t they?”
Johnnie clamped her mouth shut. She turned and stared out at the desert. Listened to the patter of rain.
“If you didn’t have feelings for her you wouldn’t care if you let her in. It wouldn’t bother you because she would mean nothing to you. What would it matter what she thought? But this person, this woman, she means something to you.”
“I like her.”
“I know.” She paused. “People like us, it’s hard to let the outside in. We don’t trust it. It’s too much. We feel it all.”
“You’re the only one who understands.” Jolene knew exactly how she felt, which was why they had bonded together on the streets.
“You can talk to me anytime.” She touched her temple. “In here.”
Johnnie reached over and squeezed her hand. “How about you? Are you getting out?”
“I don’t go out unless I have a reason.”
“And you can’t find a reason can you?”
“No.”
Johnnie chuckled. “I figured as much. Is your nephew still helping you out with supplies?”
“He is a good boy.”
Johnnie blew out a breath. “I should come by more. Check on you. You never answer that cell phone I gave you.”
Jolene patted her hand. “You come when we need each other. And you are doing well, Johnnie. Getting out. Talking to people.”
“I’m really not out all that much. I stick to small places and avoid crowds.”
“You’re finding your way. Living how you need.”
“And your way is here. In the desert.” She smiled.
“Yes. With my mountains.”
Johnnie rose and stretched. “I brought you some groceries, figured you weren’t getting out much.” She crossed to the truck while Jolene protested. It was hard for her to accept things, even when she needed them. Johnnie opened her cab and retrieved two large brown bags full of goods. She closed her door with her hip and hopped back onto the porch. Jolene stood and pulled open the screen door. Johnnie walked inside and placed the bags on the small kitchen stand. The house was dim and lit by two small lamps. Homemade blankets covered the windows, and Jolene only had one pulled back a bit. A small fire burned in the fireplace. A loom stood before a soft looking chair. A rug looked to be half-finished on it.
Jolene disappeared into a back room and came out with a large dream catcher. She placed it on her palm and gave it to Johnnie.
“For you.”
Johnnie took it carefully. She knew the important sentimentality of it. “Jolene, this is incredible.”
“All we seek can come through dreams. This you know.”
“Yes,” Johnnie whispered. “That I know well.”
“Touch your woman friend. See what you feel, what you sense. It has never failed you and it won’t fail you now.”
Johnnie embraced her and held back tears. For two years, they’d only had each other. She didn’t know what she’d do without her.
“Go now. You’ve scared off my coyotes.”
Johnnie turned at the door and smiled. Jolene returned the smile.
Johnnie walked out the door and stepped back into the rain. This time she didn’t cower.
Chapter Thirteen
Elaine stepped through the inner office door, smiled politely at the medical assistant, and followed her to a large room draped with curtains. The woman stopped halfway in and yanked open a curtain before pointing to a red chair. Elaine set down her purse and took a seat. She began unbuttoning her blouse as the woman closed the curtain.
“Anything change since the last visit?” she asked as she typed at a computer.
“You’ll have to be more specific.”
The woman looked at her. “How are you feeling?”
Elaine pulled open her blouse. “A little tired sometimes.”
Her fingers flew across the keyboard. “Chest pain?”
“Some.”
Elaine sighed and eased out of her blouse.
She reached back and unlatched her bra, pulled it off, and placed it on top of her blouse on the small table next to her.
The woman looked at her without a second glance. “Any medication changes?”
“No.” She didn’t mention that sometimes she missed her blood pressure pill and that she was often dizzy when she stood.
“Still a nonsmoker?”
“Of course.”
“What about alcohol?”
She bit her lower lip. “Occasionally.”
“Okay.”
The woman rose and came to stand on her right side. She began pulling out cords and straightening them. Then she placed them accordingly across Elaine’s lap. Next, she began peeling and sticking electrodes along Elaine’s chest.
“You look better since the last time I saw you,” she said, gently lifting her left breast to place an electrode beneath.
“I thought so too, after weeks of the antibiotic. But now…”
“You feel a little tired.” She smiled and stuck the remaining two on Elaine’s lower legs.
“Yes.”
Elaine relaxed as she connected the chords to the electrodes.
“Okay, you know the drill.”
She pushed buttons on the EKG machine, and after a moment, it printed out results. She tore it off to look at it. Elaine watched her, but her face was unreadable. She initialed it and placed it in Elaine’s file.
“All finished.” She unhooked the chords and left the electrodes to Elaine, who pulled them off quickly.
“You can get dressed and go in to room four.” She smiled. “I hope you feel better.”
“Thanks.” Elaine heard her scrape the curtain rings along the rod to exit. She stood to dress and then pulled back the curtains and walked confidently to room four, where she found fresh butcher paper laid out for her on the examination table. She avoided it and sat in the chair instead.
Doctor’s offices and hospitals were now her new kryptonite. She hated them and avoided them at all costs. She had never been a good patient, mainly because being one actually required a lot of patience. Something she had very little of. And this, this appointment was not a good start to her day. She glanced at her watch and scowled at the slim magazine selection. She had an appointment with a client soon.
She crossed her legs and pressed her palms along her skirt. They were clammy, which was unusual for her. Nervousness didn’t often trouble her.
“Well, look who finally came back,” Dr. Klein said as she entered the room with a smile. She extended her hand and took Elaine’s softly. Elaine found it warm and welcoming, just as always. “How have you been?”
She sat at the small counter and opened her laptop. She typed a few things and then opened the file folder to retrieve the EKG reading. Her face, too, was unreadable.
Before Elaine could answer, she spoke again, meeting her eyes. “We’ve been trying to get you back in here. We’ve tried calling, sent letters.”
Elaine clasped her hands. “I’ve just been very bus
y.”
“I see. You’re one of those huh?”
“One of those?”
“A workaholic. Using work as an excuse for everything.” The corner of her mouth lifted to show she was teasing her.
Elaine tried to smile, but she felt guilty. A feeling she knew all too well. It cramped her stomach.
“I won’t berate you for not coming in for your follow-up. People get scared. White coat syndrome as they say.”
Dr. Klein was kind and intelligent. Beautiful in a classic way. If she weren’t happily married with three children, Elaine would’ve let her thoughts go to a private meeting in a hotel.
Dr. Klein continued studying her computer. “How long after the antibiotics did you start feeling this way?”
“You mean tired? I don’t know. I felt good for a while. Then this started…a couple of weeks ago.”
She glanced up at the calendar. She looked concerned.
Elaine struggled to explain. “I didn’t think anything of it at first. I thought it would take a while to get my strength back you know? And at first it wasn’t bad.”
“And you did finish the last treatment, right?”
“Yes.” She recalled how the home nurse had come, hooked it to her PIC line, and waited until it had emptied.
Dr. Klein stood and offered her a hand. “Can you sit up here for me?”
Elaine did so carefully, the paper crinkling beneath her. She wished she were anywhere else but there. Dr. Klein listened to her heart for a long while. When she stepped away she asked, “Any fever?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Nausea?”
“Some.”
“Can you stand in place?”
“Yes.”
“How long before you need to sit?”
Elaine closed her eyes. “I’m not sure.”
“But you’re able to walk.”
“Yes.”
She again offered her hand and helped Elaine back into the chair.
“Any lightheadedness?”
“Sometimes, when I stand to walk.”
She took her blood pressure sitting, then took it again as she stood. When she finished she returned to her computer. “I think we need to take a look at some things. Run some tests.”