Emily agreed that, since her birthday was on Sunday, she would come to dinner at Brian’s house and finally meet Paul. The two master chefs were busy about their preparations when she arrived.
Brian greeted her with a kiss at the door and whispered in her ear, “Are you okay about this?”
She smiled at him and said, “I’m looking forward to it.”
After the introductions were completed and happy birthdays said, Paul and Brian got back to their cooking. Emily grinned, “I’ve never seen men cook before, except to roast a pig. What are you making?”
“Beef Wellington, duchess potatoes, salad nicoise, and chocolate cream torte,” Brian replied.
“My gracious, I’m impressed.”
Paul chimed in with a grin on his face, “Wait until you taste it before you say that. We may be in a little over our heads with this one.”
Emily found herself fascinated by the sight of Brian carefully assembling the crust for the beef. He was as dexterous with his prosthesis as he was with his right hand. When she realized that he was noticing her staring, she smiled shyly and said, “I saw a chef on television make a Beef Wellington once, but you do it better than he did.”
The dinner turned out very well, and all three ate a lot more than they had intended. They were relaxing over coffee while a fire warmed the room. Brian’s house was uniquely suited to his tastes and lifestyle. There were no steps anywhere. The great room with its cathedral ceiling was the central part of the house with the kitchen and dining area at one end and two bedrooms at the other. There were striking contrasts of color and texture throughout the space. The paneling was a smooth, light pine, while the fireplace was fronted in a rough stone. There was a stunning Monet print on one wall with soft pale blues and lavenders, while the upholstery of the chairs and couch was a deep, rich blue. There were hundreds of books along one wall. A panorama of the city’s center with its brilliant light show could be seen through the bank of windows that comprised virtually the whole front wall. It was a comfortable, charming house. Emily commented on that fact.
“I agree,” Paul commented, “but then, Brian has very good taste.”
“You know,” Emily said, “I think I’m going to like you, Dr. Lawrence.”
“Well then, call me Paul. Why don’t you tell me something about yourself?”
Emily looked in Brian’s direction as if to say, “See, he’s trying to analyze me already.” What she actually said was, “There’s not very much to tell. I was born, grew up, became a librarian, ran into a tree in a snowstorm, and was rescued by a good Samaritan.”
Brian had tensed slightly at Paul’s question, but relaxed at this point, figuring that if she could come up with an answer like that, Emily could handle anything. He also figured that it would be unwise to take his role as rescuer too seriously; Emily was a fragile person, a delicate sort of soul. Behind a fairly thin veneer of order and self-discipline, there was a mass of insecurity. She was fearful and shy, but she was searching. He could see that in the way she approached their relationship. It was all new to her, and she obviously relished new experiences, as long as she had some measure of control. She was curious about things, and the temptation was to instruct her in the way of the world as he saw it, but Brian knew that she would enjoy life more if she could find her footing on her own. There was a beautiful, innocent charm in the way she searched that touched him, leaving him amazed at the ease with which she had cracked open a heart he thought he had armored too well to be penetrated. While these ideas occupied him, Paul was speaking.
“Rather strange circumstances in which to begin a relationship, weren’t they? I mean, you became friends with Brian before you’d ever seen him.”
“Now where do you suppose he’s going with that?” Brian thought.
Emily was speaking. “I guess that was sort of unusual, perhaps even a little melodramatic.”
Paul went on, “I guess a person’s appearance really isn’t that important, it’s what’s inside that makes for a good relationship, don’t you think?”
Brian began to suspect that Paul was definitely up to something. If Emily was in any way suspicious, she didn’t show it. She said, “I don’t know as I’d say that. What first appealed to me about Brian wasn’t his mind so much as his voice. Of course, I appreciated his intellect and his wit and everything, but I can’t honestly say that his appearance wasn’t important. I certainly looked forward to getting a good look at him.” At this she smiled and turned in Brian’s direction.
“And what was your reaction when you did?” Paul had the ability to ask questions about very personal things without seeming impertinent.
“Well, I was impressed by his red hair, and...other things. Emily was blushing and said with a nervous little laugh, “I reckon that makes me shallow or something.”
Brian spoke quickly, “Not in my book, it doesn’t.” He turned and spoke to Paul, “I promised her you wouldn’t act like a shrink with her, and now listen to you.” He spoke lightly, with a grin, but there was just enough edge to his voice to make Emily think he would like to change the subject.
“Speaking of books, I read your book, Paul,” she said, hoping that the abrupt change of subject didn’t offend. “I believe everybody in the county must have read it, judging from the number of requests the library got for it.”
“Well, I’m flattered. What did you think of it?”
“I thought it was very interesting, though a bit difficult to understand. You’ve read it, haven’t you, Brian?” When she turned to hear his answer, the look on his face immediately told her that she had said something wrong. Paul’s book had featured many case studies of veterans of the Iraq war. For all she knew, Brian was one of them. She wished she could have been sensitive enough to have figured all this out before she opened her big mouth. “I’m sorry, maybe you’d rather talk about something else.” It was clumsy, but it was the only thing she could think of to say.
“No, that’s all right. I did read Paul’s book, of course. I had trouble getting through parts of it myself.” There was a sense for both Brian and Emily that somehow, for at least a moment, their normal situation had been reversed. She was supposed to be the one dealing with old ghosts. He was the rock, the one who had everything under control; his period of recovery from old hurts was supposed to be over.
Paul had known Emily for only a few hours, but he had known Brian for many years and so sensed something of what was going on. He had been aware for a long time that Brian was not as secure in himself as he let on, and that the work of getting beyond the past was still to be completed in his old friend.
Suddenly jumping up, Brian said, “I forgot something important,” and left the room. He reappeared with a beautifully wrapped package in his hand.
“Happy birthday!”
She opened the package to find a sterling silver pendant in the shape of a snowflake.
“I thought it would remind you of the time we met,” he said somewhat sheepishly.
“As if I could forget,” she said.
When Emily and Brian were alone later that evening, she said, “I like Paul. I do think he was trying to get into my head a little, but he was nice about it.”
“I like him too. He’s a good person, he’s scrupulously honest and yet very compassionate. That’s not always an easy combination to find. He’s also a very good doctor.”
Nervously, unsure of how he might react, she threw out, “You don’t like to talk about the time when you met him, do you?” As she said it, she realized she was playing with the buttons on her sweater, avoiding his gaze for fear of an angry look.
“It was a very unhappy period for me,” he said carefully. “But if you think we need to talk about it, we can some time.”
“It’s just that occasionally I see a particular look come over your face, a look of pain and grief, and I wonder if those times still have the power to make you unhappy. You’re the one who says it’s better sometimes to talk about things than to ignore them.�
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There’s a certain smile, not entirely a happy one, that people have when they hear their own words quoted back to them. Brian smiled that smile now. “I guess I did say that. I need some time to get to the point where I can deal with those matters with you. In some ways, our relationship has brought up things that I haven’t thought about in a long time, but I need to think some more before I’m ready to talk.”
“When you get finished thinking, I’ll be ready to listen.”
Brian had been looking forward all day to a nice, serene evening with Emily. The nature of his work was usually fairly quiet, but on this particular day people kept dropping things, and subordinates seemed incapable of doing anything without consulting him. As the day finally was drawing to a close, the secretary buzzed him to say that Emily was calling. It was unusual for her to call him at work.
“I’m sorry Brian, but I don’t feel very well. I think I’d better stay in tonight.”
“What’s the matter?” he asked solicitously.
“Nothing, I’m just a little under the weather. I wouldn’t be very good company.”
“You know, I’m a doctor, I could probably come up with a better diagnosis than ‘under the weather.’ Why don’t I stop by on my way home?”
“That’s really not necessary, but if you want to, it’s fine.”
Brian didn’t consider it the most gracious invitation he had ever received, but thought it best to overlook that. When he arrived at Emily’s apartment, he found her in the midst of what looked like a natural disaster sight. Every pot, every dish, every single item from her kitchen drawers and cabinets was either on the floor or stacked on the table.
“Spring cleaning?” he asked.
“Something like that,” she said crisply.
“You going to tell me what’s going on?”
“Nothing’s going on. I’m doing my spring cleaning, like you said. This place is a mess, and I’m tired of it.”
As she talked, she scrubbed the insides of the cabinets with strokes that implied that she had a personal animosity towards the germs within. He watched her work in silence. After ten minutes or so, she said, “Do you want something to eat?”
“Are you having anything?” he asked.
“No, but that doesn’t mean you can’t.”
“I’m not hungry. What I mostly am is puzzled. Are you mad at me, your cabinets, or the whole world?”
“I just had an awful day, and I got the inspiration to clean house.”
“We did have a date tonight, didn’t we?” he asked.
That got her. Her guilt button properly pushed, she stopped cleaning and looked at him for the first time since he arrived. “I’m sorry. I guess this is rude. No, I know this is rude. I really didn’t think I’d be very good company, that’s why I called.”
“As long as you’re already in a bad mood, I think I’ll take a chance and ask an improper question. You see, I only remember one other occasion when you went on a cleaning binge and that was just about a month ago when you went after my fireplace like you had a grudge against it. Is there something wrong, or do you get like this every month about this time?”
Emily blushed a color Brian didn’t know was possible, right down to the roots of her hair. But there was no gracious way to get out of the situation except to answer his question. “You’re right. That is an improper question. The answer is, only some months, and don’t ask me why some months and not others because I don’t know.”
“Have you talked to your doctor about it?”
“What doctor?” she asked.
“Your gynecologist.”
“I don’t have one.”
Brian’s eyebrows rose, and his jaw dropped, with that expression doctors have when they hear something unbelievable. His reaction would have been similar if she had said that she consulted a witch doctor and a Ouija board whenever she had a cold. “What do you mean, ‘I don’t have one?’ Where do you have your PAP smear done?”
“I don’t.” She couldn’t have been more curt if she’d worked at it. This was clearly something she didn’t want to discuss, but Brian plowed ahead with all the certainty that AMA membership can bestow.
“Emily, this is serious. You should be having a PAP smear done every year. When did you last have one?”
“I’ve never had one.”
It took an effort for Brian not to raise his voice. “It is really important that you see a gynecologist once a year. It’s a very simple exam, the test is painless, and it could save your life. I know of several very respected doctors. Let me make an appointment for you.”
“I don’t want to.”
“You can’t just pretend that it doesn’t matter. You have to take care of yourself. Why don’t you want to?”
“I would die of embarrassment.” There was a petulance in her voice that Brian found both irritating and pathetic. He didn’t want to make her mad, but he wasn’t about to let this pass.
“Sweetheart, you won’t die of embarrassment, but you could die of cancer. I want you to see a doctor. I know of several female gynecologists. Would that help?”
“I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it.”
“I’ll help you clean up your kitchen if you say yes.”
She looked around at the mess and smiled. “That is a noble gesture.” After a pause, she asked timidly, “If I go, would you go with me?”
The question took him somewhat aback, but he didn’t show it. “Yes, of course I will.”
As it turned out, it was to Paul that Brian turned when looking for a recommendation for a gynecologist. He explained the whole situation and Paul looked thoughtful.
“I would recommend that you take her to Ellen McGinnis. She’s a little older, and matronly to the point of being maternal. I don’t recommend her to patients with flexible sexual attitudes because she can be judgmental, but Emily would love her.” After a pensive pause, he asked, “Does this whole thing bother you? I mean thirty-two is a little old to be going for her first check-up. What do you suppose is behind this?”
Brian chewed on this for a moment, then said, “I do sort of wonder if there’s a problem, but don’t you suppose the real reason most women start seeing a gynecologist is to get the Pill? That was never an issue with Emily.”
“Old friends and psychiatrists are allowed to ask nosy questions, but people don’t have to answer them. That said, I’ll ask, Emily’s not on the Pill?”
Over the years that Paul and Brian had been friends, they had talked about every subject imaginable. Each thought the other the easiest person to talk to that they had ever met. They had shared their doubts, they had argued about deep philosophical questions, they had wept over one another’s losses. This was not the sort of locker room, smirking-over-female-conquests kind of friendship. Brian would have been offended from such a question coming from anyone else in the world, but he had in fact been wanting to discuss this with Paul.
“No. We’re not sleeping together. Emily is old-fashioned.”
“So you’re saying that you’ve talked about it and come to a joint conclusion that there won’t be any sex in your relationship at this time?”
Brian reddened a bit. Talking about sex with his old friend didn’t bother him. He was uncomfortable, however, having to admit that he had evaded discussing such a fundamental question with the woman he loved. “No. We haven’t actually talked about it, it hasn’t really come up. I don’t know how Southern women look at this kind of thing. I figured since she’s so old-fashioned, it might embarrass her even to talk about it.”
“Is she the only one who’s embarrassed to talk about it?”
“Oh come on, you know I’m hardly a prude.”
“I know you’ve been with plenty of women, though Emily’s the first one you’ve had any interest in for quite a few years. But don’t you think sometimes it’s easier for guys to have sex than it is for them to talk about it, at least with women? I know that’s true for me. Maybe you should make the effort in this
case. Perhaps she would be embarrassed, but she might still be willing to talk about it, and it would be good for the relationship for you to get it out in the open.”
This conversation was very much in Brian’s mind as he sat in the waiting room of Dr. McGinnis’ office. Emily had gone into the examining room with the look of a calf going in to become veal parmagian. Brian had tried to be reassuring, but he didn’t want to imply that her fear was childish. He figured that once the experience was behind her, it might be easier for her to talk about why it scared her so badly. He waited for about half an hour and grew impatient. The thought struck him that although he had relied on scare tactics to get her to keep this appointment, it had never occurred to him until this wait got longer and longer that there might actually be something physically wrong with her. Maybe the reason she hadn’t wanted to come was that she was having symptoms that frightened her. But she emerged smiling, and he gratefully forgot those fears. The thought of his life without Emily in it was a picture he didn’t want even to imagine. In many ways, it was amazing to him that she could become so important a part of his life in nine short weeks. “It’s not so much that my life is all that different.” he thought. “I go to the same job, I live in the same house, I have the same habits, the same friends. I spend my evenings mostly at home still, although now I spend them with her. It’s just that she’s the only fragrance in my life. When I pass by a mirror and see myself smiling, I know that I’ve been thinking about her.”
“How did it go?” he asked as they walked out to the car.
“Fine. She says I’m perfectly fit. I’m sorry I was so silly about this. It wasn’t really so bad.”
Blackberry Winter Page 4