“Can you breathe?” Clara asked.
Mabel pointed at Amy’s finger and said, “Look! A ring.”
The others stared at Amy’s hand. Amy resisted the urge to tuck her hand in her pocket.
“Did you get married?” Bernie asked.
“Not yet. But you’re all invited when we do. This is my engagement ring. Parker has one just like it,” Amy explained.
Millie put her hand on her heart. “I thought for a minute there that you eloped and I was ready to be heartbroken.”
“You don’t want me to marry Parker?” Amy asked.
“Of course I do! I was going to be heartbroken if I missed the wedding,” Millie said. She pulled Amy into a hug and patted her on the back, saying softly, “You’re the daughter I never had. I want to be at your wedding.”
“You will be,” Amy said, her voice full of emotion.
“Do you know who’s going to walk you down the aisle?” Bernie asked, pouring cream in her coffee and intentionally not looking at Amy.
Amy put her hand over Bernie’s. “I was hoping you would.”
Bernie’s face lit up. Amy knew how important it was to Bernie to give her this small honor. She’d missed so much of Amy’s life that giving her this was the biggest gift Amy could bestow on her aunt.
“When’s the big day?” Clara asked.
“I don’t know yet. Parker’s planning the whole thing,” Amy said.
“Why are weddings always in the spring?” Mabel muttered, dumping two lumps of sugar in her coffee.
Clara didn’t stop her in time. “The doctor said you’ve got to cut back on your sugar.”
“The doctor can piss off. This is a special occasion. Where are you registering for gifts? Should we get you a griddle? Do you have a griddle?”
“Why would she want a griddle?” Millie asked.
“To make pancakes,” Mabel said. “And serve them to Parker in bed.” She looked at Amy, “It will keep your sex life revved up.”
Clara smiled wickedly. “I remember when you used to do that for me.”
“Buy me a griddle and I’ll do it again,” Mabel said, adding a wink.
“Is it suddenly hot in here?” Clara asked, fanning her face with a napkin.
Everyone laughed.
***
Rosa made it to the end of the parallel bars. It had taken three weeks but she did it. Her rallying crew of Anne, Parker, and Rascal, who barked his approval, cheered her on. Once she was done she was a sweaty mess. Her triceps burned, her sweat-soaked T-shirt clung to her back and stomach, and her legs quivered and shook. Parker had the chair ready. Rosa slowly turned around—this was the second hardest thing after walking the bars.
“That was good, Rosa, but…” Anne hesitated.
“But I dragged my feet,” Rosa said, easing down into the chair.
“Yes. But you still have made incredible progress,” Anne said, not looking up from her notebook where she charted Rosa’s progress.
“I knew you could do it,” Parker said, handing her a bottle of water.
“I’m glad someone did. If you’d asked me two weeks ago if I thought I could do it, I’d have called bullshit,” Rosa said.
Rascal nudged Rosa’s hand and laid his head in her lap. She scratched his ears, his favorite spot. “Did you think I could do it?” Rosa asked him.
He barked. Rosa chuckled.
“Okay, time for deep breathing,” Anne said.
“Ugh, meditation,” Rosa said.
“You need to get your lung power back and deep breathing exercises help. You know that.”
“That doesn’t make sitting still and not thinking any easier.”
“Yeah, I love it, too,” Parker said.
“It’s easier for you,” Rosa countered.
“And why is that?”
“Because you’re still in the thinking about sex stage of your relationship. You meditate on having sex with Amy,” Rosa said. “I know you.”
Parker’s face flushed. “I’ll get the mats.”
“Since you brought it up… Have you had sex yet?” Anne asked.
“What?” Rosa said.
“Since the accident. Have you had sex?” Anne bluntly asked.
This time Rosa blushed. Parker laid out the mats and didn’t look at either of them.
“We’re not teenagers, here,” Anne said. “I’m asking because there are ways of making love that will not be painful and there are things you should definitely not be doing. I brought this,” she said, pulling out a pamphlet and handing it to Rosa.
Rosa opened the pamphlet. She turned it upside down then sideways, looking at the photos. “Really?”
“Ignore the penis,” Anne said. “I know it’s a het pamphlet, but if you can ignore the penis, the positions still work.”
Parker was unable to contain her own curiosity and she looked over Rosa’s shoulder at the pictures. “What is that?” she asked, pointing at a triangular-shaped pillow.
“That is a wedge pillow. It can be your best friend,” Anne replied.
“Wedge?” Rosa said. She couldn’t imagine pulling out a wedge pillow and handing it to Steph during foreplay. It was too embarrassing.
“The chair thing has potential,” Parker said, pointing at another photo. “A regular chair not your wheelchair.”
“I’m glad you clarified that,” Rosa said.
“As well as some other positions. All that will keep your back straight, and you’ll find out it has other benefits,” Anne said. She clapped her hands. “Okay, you need to get on with your deep breathing. And maybe now you can think about sex just like Parker.”
“I thought we were supposed to clear our minds,” Rosa said.
“Then I suggest you go to Nepal and learn to do it properly,” Anne said. “I have to run. I’ll see you next week and I will expect you not to be dragging your feet.”
“Slave master,” Rosa muttered good-naturedly.
“Keep working. You’re doing good,” Anne said, lightly squeezing Rosa’s shoulder affectionately.
“I’ll try,” Rosa said.
“No, you will. Trying is a cop out,” Anne said. She exited the door of the garage. After a moment, they heard her Mustang start up.
“I like her,” Rosa said.
“Despite her being a hard ass?”
“She’s what I need.”
“I thought that’s what you didn’t like about Clayton,” Parker said. She helped Rosa out of her chair and down onto the yoga mat.
“He was patronizing and a homophobe.”
“Yeah, that’s not a good combo.”
“Time to close our eyes and meditate on sex,” Rosa said.
“After that, we need to order a wedge pillow with priority shipping,” Parker said.
“We?”
Parker shrugged and smiled sheepishly. “As your physical therapy partner, I think it’s only fair that I test it out, too.”
***
Rosa woke up to the smell of bacon. That could mean only one thing—Steph had finished her rotation and was back home.
It had been two months since her accident. They’d gotten through two month’s worth of her rotations and between Millie and Parker they’d managed. It wasn’t ideal, but it was manageable. Rosa was getting along with Steph better since the hovering and nagging had mostly stopped. Rosa was so excited about her therapy that she had stopped complaining about the difficulties the wheelchair presented in their small house. She knew that soon it wouldn’t matter.
Steph appeared in the bedroom doorway, a breakfast tray in her hand and a smile on her face. “Morning, babe.”
“I love breakfast in bed,” Rosa cooed.
“Don’t go getting spoiled. When you’re better you won’t be getting such good service.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Rosa said, as Steph put the tray on Rosa’s lap.
“You’re right. I love to spoil you,” Steph said. She reached over to kiss Rosa lightly on the cheek like she did every d
ay now. It was more of a sisterly kiss than a lover’s. Rosa intended to change that. The wedge pillow had arrived yesterday and Parker helped her smuggle it into the house. They put it under the bed where Rosa could easily reach it. She’d been embarrassed about it with Parker there, but Parker had been her usual unfazed self and seemed to view the wedge like any other part of Rosa’s recovery. Besides, she had her own wedge and had no room to talk.
Steph hopped into bed beside Rosa and snagged a piece of toast off her tray.
“Hey, get your own,” Rosa teased.
“Actually, I’m not supposed to have any bread. I’m on the no sugar, no bread, no beer, no pasta, detox diet for a week. It’s a group challenge thing we have going on at the station. Sal is twenty pounds overweight and he needs to lose it before his next physical,” Steph said.
“How’d that happen? You all exercise so much.”
“His wife is having a baby. He says he’s sympathy eating with her.”
“Now, there’s a line of bull,” Rosa said. She took a bite of bacon.
“He says it’s a real syndrome,” Steph said. She moaned as she took another bite of toast. “I never thought I’d miss bread so much.”
“Doesn’t this mean you’re cheating?”
“It doesn’t count if no one knows about it,” Steph said. Her cell phone rang and she pulled it out of her pocket. It was Ruth. “Whassup?” she answered.
“You’re eating toast,” Ruth said.
“I am not,” Steph said, swallowing quickly.
“Yes, you are,” Ruth said.
“Are you peeking in my window?”
“No, but I’m having toast because I can’t stop thinking about bread. I figure that since we don’t need to lose weight we can cheat while we’re not at work,” Ruth said.
“You realize this makes us partners in crime.” She snagged another piece of toast off the tray.
“Hey!” Rosa said, covering the plate with her hand in protest.
“I’ll make you more,” Steph said.
“Is that your lovely wife?” Ruth asked.
“It is.”
“Tell her I’d like to meet her someday,” Ruth said.
“I will.”
“No more bread,” Ruth said. “We’ll end up gaining weight. Then how would we explain that? Catch you later.”
Steph laughed. “See you later.” She clicked off and set the phone aside.
“Who was that?” Rosa asked. She scooped up the last of her eggs with her fork.
“The new girl, Ruth.”
Rosa looked at her inquisitively.
“You’ll like her. And, no, I am not attracted to her in any way. Before you go there, what happened before will not happen again. That was in my pre-Rosa life.” Steph had had a romance with one of her coworkers which turned out to be a huge mistake—never to be repeated. Sal had warned her that she should never “Eat her meat where she made her bread.” It was an ugly euphemism, but effective.
Rosa cuddled in next to her. “I trust you implicitly.”
“I know you do.”
Steph kissed her cheek. “You want to go downtown and have lunch with Amy and the girls this afternoon?”
“Girls as in Millie and Bernie?”
“Yes. I was kind of hoping you could allay their fears of being overrun by drug lords. Did you know they’ve mobilized nearly every retired person in town to keep a lookout for any suspicious activity?”
“I hope all of them don’t have guns,” Rosa said. She didn’t want to imagine an armed force of senior citizen vigilantes.
“Ever since the shooting, Mrs. Smithers has done multiple ladies’ teas at her house to recount the shooting in detail. She’s never been so popular.”
Rosa sighed deeply. “I know I need to go see her. I just haven’t felt up to it because it means talking about Gary.”
“You sent her a card. Millie told her that you’re still in bad shape that’s why you haven’t come by,” Steph said.
There was a part of Rosa that blamed Mrs. Smithers for Gary’s death. If she hadn’t come out of her front door waving a shotgun around, then Gary wouldn’t have rushed in to save her. Rosa knew that dwelling in the land of might-have-beens wasn’t a good idea, but she couldn’t stop herself.
“But you and Millie know it’s not that,” Rosa said.
“Yeah, I know how you feel,” Steph said.
Rosa might have leapt on that, saying you have no idea how I feel, but she stopped herself. Steph really did know. As a firefighter, there were times when Steph lived in the land of might-have-beens, also. She’d spend months going over how she could have assessed the situation better so no one would have gotten hurt. It was an occupational hazard. But cops and emergency personnel were people and people dwelled in those places no matter how hard they tried not to. They were lying when they said they didn’t dwell there. Everyone knew that, too.
“I can’t wait for you to see Amy’s new ring. It’s simple but perfect for the two of them,” Rosa said. She sipped her coffee and patted her stomach. “That was delicious.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, what ring?”
“Their engagement rings,” Rosa said.
“They’re engaged?”
“Yes. And before you get all bent out of shape, they aren’t telling people because Parker is being her usual weird-ass self. She wants people to discover it on their own because then it’s like a million little surprises every time someone notices their rings or something like that. It’s not the way I’d do it, but it’s their thing.”
“When we get married, there will be a wedding shower, an engagement party, and a wedding, followed by another big party,” Steph said. “The whole kit and caboodle.”
“I wasn’t aware we were getting married,” Rosa said.
“I’m going to talk you into it one of these days,” Steph said. She hopped off the bed.
“We’ll see.” Rosa put on her best coquettish smile.
Steph came around the bed, bent down, and gently wrapped Rosa in her arms. “I love you so much.”
“I love you even more.”
Steph picked up the tray. “Okay, round two, getting you bathed and dressed.”
“Can’t I read the paper first?”
“Oh, all right. I suppose we’ve got time.”
“Yeah, like several hours. Bring it back to bed and we’ll read it together. I’ll let you tell me my horoscope even though I still think it’s crap.”
“Deal,” Steph said. She raced off to get the paper.
Rosa wondered if her horoscope would say her love life was going to improve. She hoped so.
***
Steph opened the door for Rosa and walked into Molly’s behind her. Amy, Millie, and Susan were already there, waiting for Rosa and Steph to arrive. They were seated at the large, circular booth in the back corner and looking at menus.
After the hellos and hugs, Steph offered to help Rosa slide into the booth, but Rosa declined. “I’m fine right here,” she said indicating the end of the table.
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure,” Rosa said.
Steph slid in next to Susan. She didn’t want to, but it was the only open seat. She was still angry with Susan and didn’t relish rubbing elbows with her the entire lunch.
“Are we waiting on the others?” Steph asked.
Millie shook her head. “It’s just us. Bernie took everyone on an ammo run.”
“How much ammo do you all need?” Amy asked, alarmed.
“We’ve been going to the shooting range,” Millie said. “That uses up a lot of bullets. Some of us need more practice than others.” She put her hand beside her mouth like she was telling a secret, whispering, “I’m not naming any names, but her initials are Mabel.”
Rosa laughed. “That’s the truth. I think we should put blanks in her gun. Just to be safe.”
Steph forced a smile in Susan’s direction. “Are you taking the day off?” She tried to keep her tone even. Part
of her wanted to mend the rift in their friendship and the other half wanted to throttle Susan. Steph chastised herself for feeling that way, but it was there and it didn’t seem to have any intention of moving on. It was as if her anger toward Susan were a rock jammed in a tight spot and she couldn’t dislodge it. She wasn’t even certain she wanted to.
“No, I’m just taking a lunch break before heading off to Brookside. Millie is coming with me to visit some of the patients,” Susan said.
“I didn’t know you did that,” Amy said to Millie. After her mother had died of Alzheimer’s, Amy hadn’t been back.
“I go once a week. A lot of the residents don’t have family close or their families don’t like to visit. It makes them happy to have somebody to talk to. It’s good for me, too. I like to think it’s my way of giving back,” Millie said.
Amy put her arm around Millie and squeezed. “You’re such a good person. When I grow up I want to be just like you.”
Millie blushed. “I’m just doing my bit.”
Molly came over, pad and pen in hand. She was the owner of the bakery, but still waited tables 362 days a year. In fact, most of her customers had probably never seen her out of her pink-striped waitress uniform. She was round in all the right places and her cheeks were perpetually rosy. She always smelled like vanilla and cinnamon.
“Hey, gals. Rosa, it’s nice to see you again. You’re looking good.” Molly reached down and squeezed Rosa’s biceps. “You’re getting waitress arms.” She offered her own arm to Rosa to prove her point.
Steph worried that Molly’s comment would offend Rosa. Instead, Rosa laughed.
“Wheeling myself around is hard work. Not as hard as carrying plates around all day, but my arms are getting stronger.”
Molly looked over at Millie and winked conspiratorially, saying “You having your pie first?”
“Of course. When you’re my age, you’d better have dessert first,” Millie said. She nudged Amy who’d said much the same thing at her birthday party. “I’ll have the lemon meringue with coffee. In the book, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, lemon meringue pie is said to be the perfect breakfast.”
Everyone looked at Millie, astounded. “You read that book?” Steph asked.
“I’m old, not illiterate,” Millie said.
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