The Second Wave

by Jean Copeland

  “We better get back to the office. It’s almost five,” Leslie said. She ran her fingers through her hair to fluff it up. “I’m really looking forward to Finnegan’s shepherd’s pie. I’ve heard so much about it.”

  Alice narrowed her eyes. Shepherd’s pie? Was she serious? “Uh, yeah, I had it once. It’s delicious.”

  Leslie’s eyes lit up as she opened the door. “Great.”

  *

  As their evening of fond farewells with coworkers at Finnegan’s was winding down, Alice’s head pounded, and it wasn’t from the tequila shots. Leslie had drunk more mai tais than her conservative constitution could handle, and they had produced the curious side effect of an unassuming, irresistible sex appeal. As she laughed with some of the salesmen at the bar, her body swayed to the sassy rhythm of “You Sexy Thing.”

  Alice couldn’t take her eyes off her.

  “Whoa, Leslie, if we knew you were this much of a hot tamale, we wouldn’t have let you quit,” Steve Briller said. “Right, Engle?”

  Mr. Engle smiled and raised his Jack Daniels on the rocks. “Leslie, you’re the woman I’ve been looking for my whole life. Marry me.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Engle, but I’m already attached.” She waved her bejeweled ring finger at them.

  “C’mon, Alice,” Mr. Engle said. “Help me drown my sorrows in another shot.”

  She moved closer to the group. “No, thanks, Mr. Engle. I’ve reached my limit for the night.” She found something so provocative about Leslie’s delicate fingers as they cradled her cocktail.

  “Here’s my friend,” Leslie slurred. She threw her arm around Alice’s shoulder and jerked her close, nearly smashing their heads together.

  The pub’s loud music rang in Alice’s ears as the shine on Leslie’s lips whenever she licked them between sips of her drink had driven all rational thought from her brain. She worked free from Leslie’s grip and rushed off to the ladies’ room.

  As she dabbed her face with a damp paper towel, her appearance unnerved her. She knew the face, but she didn’t recognize the woman staring back at her. She sucked in deep breaths, trying to calm her racing heart.

  “There you are,” Leslie said as she peeked around the open door. “Are you okay?”

  “Fine. Are you?” Alice tossed out the paper towel and regrouped.

  “I’m spectacular,” she slurred with conviction. “But I think it’s time to go. The fellas are trying to get me to dump my husband.”

  Alice shook her head. “What comes after that? Engle dancing on the bar in his boxer shorts?”

  “Heavens, I hope not.” Leslie giggled as she held up the wall.

  “Okay, Tiger, let’s say our good-byes and get you home.” She hooked her arm under Leslie’s for support and led her out of the ladies’ room.

  Alice trudged alongside Leslie through the parking lot kicking stones as they headed to their cars. All evening, she’d managed to fend off vivid flashbacks from their moment in Engle’s washroom earlier in the day, but at that hour, the will of the lonely was about as stable as gas prices during the ’73 oil embargo. What had Leslie thought about it? Had she thought about it at all since? Through a haze of Miller High Life, Alice considered that maybe what had occurred between them meant nothing more to Leslie than an affectionate exchange between friends. She’d certainly been acting that way all night.

  “I had such a good time tonight,” Leslie said when they stopped at her car. “We should’ve done this with the crew more often.” She fanned herself through the humid July-night air.

  “I’m sure we could do this again some Friday night. I won’t have to twist any of their arms to join us.”

  Leslie hiccupped and let out a sigh. “I have more fun with you than anybody, Alice.”

  “Me, too,” she replied instantly.

  They stared at each other for an endless moment.

  “Listen, about what happened earlier…” Alice said.

  Leslie waved her off. “Don’t worry about that. It was nothing.”

  It didn’t feel like nothing, but then Alice should’ve been grateful for the pass Leslie was presenting her.

  “I just feel a little silly. And I want to make sure we’re okay.”

  “Of course we are,” Leslie said, swaying a bit. “Outta sight, sister,” she added with a chuckle.

  “Hey, you don’t seem ready to drive home yet.”

  “I don’t? How come?”

  “Close your eyes and stand on one foot.”

  Leslie snorted with laughter. “Okay. I can do that.” She made the attempt and staggered into the side of her car.

  Alice led her by the elbow. “We’re going down the street to the diner for some coffee. C’mon. Let’s take my car.”

  “You don’t have to go through all this trouble on my account. It’s so late.”

  “It’s nine forty-five,” Alice said, checking her watch as she led Leslie to the passenger side of her car.

  “You’re a sport,” Leslie said as she settled into the bench seat in Alice’s Ford Galaxy. “I can’t thank you enough.”

  As Alice turned the key in the ignition, Leslie hooked her arm around Alice’s neck and pulled her into a kiss on the mouth—not as deep as O’Neal and MacGraw in Love Story, but delayed enough and moist enough to destroy any room for interpretation.

  Alice tasted Leslie’s gloss on her lips. “If you keep thanking me like that, you’re going to get us arrested.” She checked her rearview mirror for coworkers or anyone else who might have been wandering out of Finnegan’s.

  “I’m sorry,” Leslie said through a hiccup. “I think I’ve had too many mai tais.”

  “I think so, too. What do you say we get some black coffee in you?”

  “If you insist.”

  Alice flung her arm on the seat behind Leslie as she backed out of the parking space. Driving to the diner, she fought to stop gawking at Leslie, whose eyes sparkled in the flash of each passing streetlight. She was happy Leslie was in no condition to drive yet. Despite a dizzying evening filled with alternating flares of panic, confusion, and shamefully wonderful lust, she didn’t want the night to end. The thought of Monday morning and every other weekday morning without Leslie crushed her.

  She pulled into the diner parking lot, threw the gearshift into park, and slapped her thighs. “Two cups of black coffee coming right up.”

  “Can we throw some Bailey’s in it?” Leslie asked as she climbed out of the car.

  “I like your style.” Alice smiled at her.

  “I like yours, too,” Leslie said. “I want a Denver omelet.”

  Leslie rested her head on Alice’s shoulder as they walked through the parking lot toward the diner’s entrance. Alice made a secret, solemn vow then that what she’d done earlier that day in Engle’s washroom would never happen again.

  But it did.

  August 1977

  Alice had been crawling out of her skin all week, a consequence, she’d assumed, of Leslie’s absence in the office after working together for ten months. Finally, Friday had arrived, and thank Hera, it was a crochet Friday. Alice had deliberately taken her time getting ready, knowing Leslie would be as punctual as a tax bill and would have to come in and wait.

  As Leslie sat on the edge of Alice’s bed filing her fingernails, Alice scurried around her bedroom collecting the finishing touches—a spritz of perfume, a dab of hand lotion.

  “I’m sorry for making you wait,” she said. “I should’ve called you when Engle asked me to stay late. I had to make some phone calls for him about a shady claim.”

  “I’m surprised,” Leslie said. “Doesn’t he always try to cut out early on Fridays?”

  “Why do you think he asked me to make the calls?”

  “Typical,” Leslie said.

  “You want a glass of wine?” Alice asked as she put on her earrings.

  “I’ll just have a sip of yours. I’m sure we’ll be having cocktails at Kathy’s.”

  “I’m sure we will, too.” Ali
ce handed her the glass of merlot resting on her dresser.

  Leslie swirled the wine over her tongue before swallowing it. “I’m actually glad you’re the one running behind. I hate being late, that awful look hosts always give when you finally show up. Tonight I can blame it on you.”

  “Oh, I see how you operate,” Alice said and dropped two pairs of sandals on the floor. “Which ones?”

  “They’re both nice. Which ones are more comfortable?”

  “Ah, you’re learning. Comfort over sex appeal.”

  Leslie perked up like the student who always had the right answer. “Misogynistic sandals are as big of a threat to the feminist movement as constricting panty hose.”

  “Your newfound social awareness is impressive,” Alice said. “The ones with the rubies are more comfortable.” She slipped her feet into them and tossed the other pair into her closet.

  “Perfect. Those are also the sexy ones.”

  “Hey, you said you just wanted a sip. It’s almost gone.”

  Leslie leapt up from the bed as Alice approached her. “I’m sorry. It’s so smooth, it went down too easy.”

  “I think we have time for another,” Alice said as she slipped the glass from Leslie’s hand.

  She gazed at her, surprised by the intensity in Leslie’s eyes. She leaned in and tasted the peppery berry in the wine on Leslie’s lips. Reaching behind, she placed the empty wineglass on her dresser and swept Leslie up in her arms.

  They kissed slowly, as though experiencing an exotic food for the first time, savoring the new flavors and sensations. Alice slid her hands down Leslie’s waist, trying to pull her closer, but their bodies already hadn’t an inch between them. The scent of Leslie’s skin, the warmth of her breath consumed Alice as they kissed long and hard, apprehending like a wild mustang their first real moment alone. As Alice shuffled her toward the bed, the only thing that could’ve broken the spell was the sudden ringing of the telephone.

  “Kathy,” she said. “Ah shit, I forgot to call her.” She scrambled over the bed for the phone on her nightstand. Amid profuse apologies, she assured her they were on their way.

  Leslie smoothed down her peasant blouse and gingham shorts, flushed and embarrassed.

  They hurried out of the house without a word, but on the ride over to Kathy’s, Alice fidgeted in the passenger seat as the silence grew oppressive. “We’re really late,” she said, clutching the bottle of wine in her lap to keep her hands still.

  “I know, but the girls will understand. You couldn’t help having to work overtime.” She sat straight up to the steering wheel, her eyes glued to the road.

  Is that why Leslie thought she was jittery? How could she be so calm right now when it was only Kathy’s phone call that had kept them from landing on her bed and then who knew what from there? She wanted Leslie to say something, to at least acknowledge what they’d done in Engle’s washroom, in the parking lot, and then earlier in her bedroom, but obviously, something stopped her. Alice was afraid to broach the subject since she wasn’t sure what it all meant.

  All she knew was that she was thinking about Leslie a lot. Frequently. Constantly.

  *

  Cupping a gift-wrapped African violet in her hand, Alice marched like a soldier from the parking garage, through the hospital’s main entrance, up the elevator, and down the hall toward Leslie’s unit. But as she approached the doors to the ICU, she slowed her pace nearly to a shuffle. In the past week, she’d thought of Leslie again as frequently and with almost as much fervor as she had when she’d first fallen in love with her. But why? Had she been sucked into a whirlwind of mere nostalgia, or had the fire in her heart for Leslie never truly burned out? Regardless of which scenario, was this really a road she’d want to walk down again? Fear assailed her, stopping her in the hall only yards from the doors that could reopen every wound she’d thought Maureen had healed in her decades ago.

  “Alice,” Rebecca said as she came up behind her. “Perfect timing. I just ran to get my mom a cup of coffee from the cafeteria. It’s better than what the kitchen delivers.”

  Without a word, Alice looked down at the straw sticking out through the lid of the Green Mountain Coffee cup.

  “She has some issues with fine motor skills,” Rebecca said in response to Alice’s expression.

  “Is she paralyzed?”

  “No, but her left side was affected. She’s going to need physical and occupational therapy to get her back into shape. They want her to use a straw until her hand is stronger.”

  Alice felt like sliding down the wall and bawling on the linoleum.

  “Don’t look like that, Alice,” Rebecca said with a smile. “She’s awake and she’s talking and, best of all, she’s leaving here.”

  “When?”

  “The doc said the sooner they discharge her and get her into a rehab facility, the better her chances for a full recovery. We’re just waiting for the word.”

  Alice stood there, crinkling the wrapper on the plant.

  “Alice, don’t you want to see her?”

  “Yes.” Alice relaxed into a cautious smile. “Yes, of course.”

  “Let’s go.”

  Alice followed Rebecca single-file through the doors, her heart grooving wildly in her breast, her mouth puckering with dryness. They rounded the corner into Leslie’s room, Rebecca first, Alice peeking over her shoulder.

  “Mom, I got your coffee,” Rebecca said.

  Leslie opened her eyes, unaware of Alice standing in the background.

  “Thanks, babe,” Leslie said softly and clicked the button to raise the back of her bed. That was when their eyes met.

  “Alice,” she whispered.

  “Hey, Bella,” Alice said, stepping around Rebecca. Without contemplating the consequences, she bent over and kissed Leslie on her cheek.

  A frail giggle made its way out. “Hiya, Betty.”

  Alice clutched her hand and sat in the chair by her bed. Leslie attempted to sit up but couldn’t manage it.

  “Let me help you, Mom.” Rebecca and Alice helped her reposition herself higher in the bed.

  “Listen, if now isn’t a good time or you need to rest, I’ll just…”

  “Alice, stay,” Leslie said, her voice raspy. “I’m just a little pooped from physical therapy. They’ve already started with my arm and leg, and I haven’t even gotten out of bed yet. Can you believe it?”

  “It won’t be so bad once you’ve built up your strength,” Rebecca said.

  Alice and Leslie stared at each other like identical twins who hadn’t known of each other’s existence until that moment.

  “Uh, Jake, honey,” Rebecca said. “Let’s go down to the cafeteria for some ice cream.”

  “Okay.” He stood up, still focused on playing a game on his tablet. He kissed Leslie on the way out.

  “Thank you, baby,” Leslie said.

  “He’s a doll,” Alice said.

  “Thanks. All three of them are. I got lucky with my kids and grandkids.”

  “I’m sure luck had something to do with it, but you raised your kids right, Leslie. It’s clear to see how much they adore you.”

  Leslie offered a humble smile. “It was so nice of you to come down from Boston, Alice. Rebecca said you’ve been here every day since you arrived.”

  “I had to make sure one of my sisters was okay, Bella.” She raised the empowerment fist playfully. “I’m so glad you are.”

  “I feel like I’ve been run over by a bus a few dozen times, but I’m grateful it isn’t worse.”

  “Someday you’ll have to explain to me how you could’ve been in a stroke-induced coma and still come out looking beautiful.”

  Leslie waved off the compliment. “Even after three days in a coma, I can’t believe that. But thank you.”

  Leslie’s smile was springtime to Alice’s dormant heart. Everything inside her was coming alive, and it terrified her.

  “So now that you know what I’ve been up to,” Leslie said, “let me hear
about you.”

  “There’s not a heck of a lot to tell. I’m retired, turned the big seven-oh last year, and I’ve been getting in some traveling here and there.”

  “How is…oh, forgive me. I forget your partner’s name.”

  “Maureen. She passed last year. She had MS.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “As much as I miss her, it’s awful watching someone you love suffer like that and not being able to do a thing for them. The powerlessness was unbearable.”

  “I can’t even imagine.”

  Alice nodded in appreciation. “Have I mentioned how relieved I am that you woke up?”

  Leslie smiled. “Have I mentioned how surprised I was to see you standing behind my daughter?”

  “I bet for a minute you thought you were having another stroke.”

  Leslie laughed herself into a brief coughing fit. “Oh, Alice. Nobody’s ever made me laugh like you do.”

  Nobody’s ever made me feel like you do was on the tip of Alice’s tongue, but luckily, she managed to stop it from leaping out into the room.

  “Well, I should let you get some rest before your next round of therapy. It says on the board they’re coming in at three.”

  “How much longer are you in Connecticut?”

  “I haven’t thought about it. My sister and brother-in-law don’t seem to mind me staying with them. Maybe I’ll hang around there until I wear out my welcome.”

  “Please stop by again before you go home.”

  “I think I’ll have to. If I hang around their house all day, they’re going to cut off my free accommodations by the shore.”

  “Thank you for coming,” Leslie said.

  “Any time.”

  When Alice bent down to hug her, Leslie lifted her left arm and gave her a feeble squeeze, her arm trembling from the effort. “Take it easy, Bella.” She stopped and turned at the door. “By the way, did it affect your long-term memory?”