The Second Wave

by Jean Copeland

  “It’s not that you’re still figuring out what you want. You’re figuring out what you want next, and that’s the mark of a truly interesting life,” Mary Ellen said.

  Alice stood up and stretched. “I think uninteresting is underrated. Good night.” She kissed her sister on the head.

  “Good night,” Mary Ellen said. “Tell Dave to come back outside. The coast is clear.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Alice was convinced Leslie’s daughter, Rebecca, had some sort of special telepathic lesbian powers. She’d been home for only two days, been able to focus on something other than Leslie for only one, when Rebecca texted to let her know Leslie was being released from the rehab facility.

  The news had left Alice giddy. She put an old disco album on the turntable that had been preserved on a shelf in the family room, loving the crackle of the needle on vinyl through the oversized hi-fidelity speakers. She grooved to Abba’s “Take a Chance on Me” while feather-dusting lamps, shelves, and end tables dulled beneath a layer of months-old dust. The next time she’d see Leslie, it would be in a normal setting—no hospitals, rehabs, or barely palatable institution meals. Leslie’s physical limitations aside, they’d be free to do anything they wanted. They could go to dinner by the shore, talk for hours, and maybe, just maybe, if the chance presented itself, share a kiss.

  By Wednesday night, Alice had cleaned her house from top to bottom, bribed Jim and Patty next door to keep her two cats for another week or so, and concluded that she would accomplish no serious contemplation about life as long as the possibility of a real, live date with Leslie existed.

  *

  Friday night Alice sat at the makeup table in Mary Ellen’s bedroom applying mascara. She observed her sister’s reflection in the mirror, her lips puckered, hands pressed together at her breast like a minister’s wife. She turned around to see if the real Mary Ellen matched the reflected and somewhat bizarre version.

  “Are you all right?” Alice asked cautiously.

  “I haven’t been this emotional since the boys’ weddings,” Mary Ellen said, capturing a tear with her finger before it rolled down her cheek.

  “Why?”

  “Alice, you’re going on a date,” she said dramatically. “And not with just anyone—with the one that got away.” She yanked a tissue off her nightstand and blotted her eyes. “It’s exactly like this Hallmark movie I watched with Tom Selleck and Roma Downey. See, they fell in love when she was in college but her father—”

  “Can you go downstairs and wait?” Alice said calmly. “You’re making me uncomfortable.”

  “But I’m your sister. It’s my duty to give you my emotional support.”

  “You’re giving me a panic attack. It’s just dinner.” Alice walked to the full-length mirror and threw on a sheer beige blouse over a black V-neck top.

  Mary Ellen’s head popped up behind Alice in the mirror. She rested her chin on Alice’s shoulder as she gazed at their reflections. “Oh, it’s so much more than dinner.”

  “Thank you for that,” Alice said dryly. “Don’t wait up.”

  She headed downstairs with Mary Ellen trailing closely behind. “And by ‘don’t wait up,’ I mean don’t stay awake past nine.”

  “Maybe I won’t see you until tomorrow.” Mary Ellen’s eyebrows spiked.

  “I’ll see you in a few hours,” Alice said and kissed her on the cheek.

  *

  How strange it felt approaching the front door of Leslie’s townhouse, but far less eerie than it would’ve been going to see Leslie at the house where she and Bill had raised their family—and she and Alice had almost ended her marriage. Alice nudged the thought from her head. Those days were over, and this night was about appreciating the present with a woman she’d once believed she’d never see again. With a deep breath, she pressed the doorbell.

  After a moment, Leslie opened the door. The bottle of wine almost slipped through Alice’s fingers and smashed on the concrete porch. How could this be? How could Leslie, at sixty-nine years old, be more appealing than she was in her thirties? Yet the truth was undeniable as she stood there smiling, her age delicately beguiled by makeup and lipstick, her hair freshly coiffed, and her slender frame draped in a silky white button-down and khaki linen pants.

  “Alice, you look wonderful,” Leslie said, beating her to the compliment. “Please come in.” She slowly stepped aside to let her in, clinging to her small, two-wheeled walker for support.

  Alice greeted her with a chaste peck on the cheek. “It’s hard to believe a month ago you were lying in a hospital bed, unconscious. You’re a medical marvel.”

  “No, just stubborn,” Leslie said. “But I still need this.” She regarded her walker with a frown. “We can order in if it’s going to be too much of a hassle going to a restaurant.”

  “Are you kidding?” Alice said. “After what you were forced to eat for the past month, there’s no chance we’re ordering take-out. Seafood by the shore, right?”

  Leslie instantly perked up. “How about Dockside?”

  “And Branford Point after?”

  “Perfect,” Leslie said.

  “Forgive me for sounding corny, but that’s exactly what I thought the moment you opened the door.”

  “Oh, Alice.” Leslie batted her lashes in the most delectable shade of bashful. “I wish I could believe that even if I wasn’t leaning on this walker.”

  “I wish you could, too.”

  Leslie rendered her helpless with a vulnerable smile. Alice’s gaze cascaded from her mesmerizing azure eyes to her glistening pink lips. Did they still taste the same? Could they still send shivers through her body the way they had years ago? She leaned in a little, suddenly dying to find out.

  “Would you like a glass of the wine you brought before we go?” Leslie asked.

  With Leslie looking that elegant, even one glass of wine on an empty stomach would be dangerous. “I’m pretty hungry,” Alice said. “Maybe we can save it for dessert? It’s a pinot noir.”

  “Okay,” Leslie said. “Let me get my purse.”

  *

  The sun lowered over the marina, casting a golden glow across Leslie as they sat at an outdoor table. It was the last thing Alice needed—something else to make Leslie appear even more angelic. Sweat formed on her upper lip as she forced herself to stay focused on their conversation while still pondering Leslie’s lips, now more enticing as they glistened from vinaigrette dressing. She absently fanned her face with a folded napkin.

  “Do you want to eat inside where it’s air-conditioned?” Leslie said.

  “No, it’s so beautiful out here.”

  “But you look like you’re having a hot flash.” Leslie seemed amused by the idea.

  “Maybe I am,” Alice said. “Maybe all this talking about our past has reactivated my ovaries.”

  Leslie giggled. “Wouldn’t that be just our luck?”

  “I’d rip them out with this shrimp fork,” Alice said.

  Leslie laughed even harder. God, why did she still have to be so stunning?

  “By the way,” Leslie said, “this dinner is on me tonight. I’ve wanted to thank you for all you’ve done for me, especially for being there for Rebecca those first couple of days. I still can’t believe you drove all the way down here when she messaged you.”

  Her blush deepened. “Pffft. I didn’t come down for you. I came to visit my sister.”

  “If you say so, but I still insist on treating.”

  Leslie bit her lip in her struggle to look stern—the result of which was an unexpected level of sexiness that temporarily derailed Alice’s train of thought.

  “Uh, well, um, you’re not treating,” Alice said, collecting her wits. “But okay, if you must know, I did come back to see you. Don’t tell my sister.”

  “I don’t know if I can ever express how much I appreciate it.”

  “I’d like to take the credit for being as altruistic as you’re making me out to be, but this trip back home has been the
best thing for me. I’ve reconnected with my sister, my old friends, and you. I feel like the fog has finally started to lift.”

  “Yes, but your journey started out with the most selfless of intentions.” She touched the top of Alice’s hand. “Thank you.”

  Alice smiled and picked at her broiled filet of sole. “So,” she said. “What were you up to before the stroke?”

  “Where do I begin? A lot’s changed in twenty-eight years. I went to school and became a paralegal for almost twenty-six years before I retired two years ago.”

  Alice smiled like a proud mother. “Good for you.”

  “That career saved me in more ways than one.”

  “I felt the same way when I became an insurance actuary,” Alice said. “But you know what’s funny? It seems like I lived more in the year and a half I knew you than in all the years since.”

  “Boy, is that the truth,” Leslie said, pausing in thought. “Do you know what I’ve thought about recently?”

  “What?” Alice said, wishing she’d had another sauvignon blanc for Leslie’s answer.

  “How things would’ve turned out if Bill had gotten home ten minutes earlier that Friday afternoon in ’78.”

  Alice shuddered at her suggestion. “I know how they would’ve turned out. I would’ve died young enough to leave an attractive corpse.”

  April 1978

  Alice had slid into a stubborn depression since running into Leslie and Bill at the restaurant in late February, but she’d dismissed it to her sister as a nasty case of the winter blues. Yet even as that formidable New England winter finally lost its bite and spring’s presence speckled the trees, Alice was not rebounding. She’d requested a Friday off from work to see if some fresh air and solitude at her favorite place might help snap her out of it.

  She leaned back on a wooden bench overlooking the beach and let the sun warm her face, reflecting on how much her life had changed in the last year and a half. Never could she have imagined that a new hire in the steno pool at First American would revolutionize the way she viewed everything. But now that she had been awakened to a new way to love, and with a woman she could never have, where was she to go from there?

  The answer to that continued to elude her as she stood on Leslie’s side porch, watching her index finger float toward the doorbell, retreat, and then extend again several times until finally making contact. Like a child on mischief night, she was tempted to book down the sidewalk when she heard the doorbell chime.

  “Alice.” Leslie opened the screen door in a sweatshirt, her hair thrown up in a ponytail, and wearing almost no makeup. She looked exhausted, dejected, and more breathtaking than Alice thought possible.

  “I’m sorry for showing up like this,” she said, “but I don’t know, my car just kind of drove here of its own volition.”

  “Are you okay?” Leslie asked, studying her with concern. “You didn’t lose your job, did you?”

  Alice smirked. “Do I look like I’ve gone that far over the edge?”

  “No, I just, well, I didn’t expect to see you in the middle of the day, especially after almost three months.”

  “Look, if this is a bad time, I’ll go.”

  “No, no,” Leslie said, her eyes darting around the neighborhood. “Please come in.”

  Alice followed her inside, and they positioned themselves at opposite ends of the kitchen counter. Once Alice made eye contact, she couldn’t break it.

  “How are things?”

  Leslie shrugged. “I’ve missed you terribly. Other than that, life is grand. You?”

  Alice finally looked away, down at a small clump of beach sand on Leslie’s floor. “Could be better, could be worse. Mostly, I could be better.”

  “I fall asleep every night hoping tomorrow will be the morning you’re not the first thing I think of when I open my eyes.”

  “We fall asleep thinking the same thing,” Alice said with a sad smile. “Are you alone?”

  Leslie’s eyes said yes to the question and to the desire drawing them closer.

  Alice slid her hand down the counter, letting it make its way toward Leslie’s. When it was within reach, Leslie laced her fingers through Alice’s.

  “How do I stop loving you?” Leslie asked, moving closer.

  “I’ll let you know as soon as I figure it out,” Alice said, licking her lips.

  Alice grasped Leslie’s ponytail and kissed her hard, inhaling the clean scent of her skin.

  “I want you so much, Alice,” Leslie whispered.

  Tingles rushed through her, scattering any rational thoughts of moving forward and getting over Leslie. Why was she the only person with the power to do this to her?

  “I can’t get you out of my system,” Alice said.

  Leslie rested her forehead against Alice’s. “Some days I feel like it’s killing me. Sometimes I wish it would.”

  “Don’t say that, love, please don’t.”

  “Why can’t I just get on with it and forget you?” Leslie asked and started to cry.

  “Let’s go back to crocheting together,” Alice said, rubbing her back gently. “We’ll keep it just friends. At least we can see each other.”

  Leslie wiped her tears with her sleeve. Then she threw her arms around Alice’s neck and pulled her into a long, passionate kiss.

  “Let’s go to my house,” Alice said, groping at her under her sweatshirt.

  “I can’t. I won’t have time to pick up the kids from school and go grocery shopping.”

  “I want to make love to you, Les. Just one more time.”

  Leslie dragged her by the hand into the family room. Alice cascaded on the sectional sofa and pulled Leslie down on top of her. As they kissed and caressed each other, Alice’s sadness lifted, a departed soul set free by the solace of Leslie’s embrace. Savoring each kiss, she watched Leslie’s eyes watch hers. How she’d missed that dreamy look reflecting their complete and mutual surrender.

  She slipped her hands under Leslie’s shirt and began lifting it.

  “No, Alice, I’m too nervous,” Leslie said, pulling it down.

  But after several moments of hungry kissing, Leslie had Alice’s pants below her knees. As they made love, Alice had never felt more connected with Leslie or more consumed.

  After Alice made love to her, the thump of a car door shutting floated in through the family room window from the driveway.

  “What was that?” Leslie sprang up, fixing her clothes as she scurried to the window. “Oh my God, it’s Bill,” she said, her face a mosaic of panic and confusion.

  “Shit.” Alice leapt up, smoothed down her shirt and attempted to straighten out her wild hair. “What do we do?”

  “Get back in the kitchen.”

  They scrambled to the kitchen and into some sort of casual arrangement, Alice plopping into a chair at the kitchen table, Leslie sticking her face in the refrigerator.

  When Bill walked in he seemed surprised. “Hey, hon,” he said.

  Leslie popped up from the refrigerator. As Bill pecked her lips, his eyes were trained on Alice.

  “What are you doing home?” Leslie asked as she dragged out a bowl of grapes from the refrigerator.

  “It was a slow afternoon. Freddie and I flipped a coin, and I got to head out early.” He turned to Alice. “Slow day for you, too?”

  Was that a note of suspicion in his voice, or was Alice just being paranoid?

  “Uh, no, I actually had the day off and went to lunch with my sister here in Branford. So I thought I’d stop in and say hi to Leslie.” She forced a smile while scolding herself for that long, unnecessary explanation that reeked of guilt.

  “I was just about to put on a pot of coffee,” Leslie said, her face looking like it was ready to crack and shatter from her phony smile. “Want to join us?”

  Bill shook his head. “It’s so nice out, I thought we could pick up the kids a little early from school and take them to the aquarium in Mystic.”

  “Oh, well, uh, Alice just got here
,” Leslie said, glancing helplessly at Alice.

  “Hey, that’s okay,” Alice said, secretly crushed. “We’ll have coffee another time.”

  “Are you sure?” Leslie’s eyes pleaded with her not to be angry. “You can join us if you want.”

  Alice and Bill launched looks at her from both sides of the room.

  Bill threw his arm around Leslie’s shoulder as if Alice weren’t already keenly aware she belonged to him. “Come on, Les,” he said with a heavy glare. “I’m sure Alice has more exciting things to do on a Friday night than being a third wheel with us and our crazy kids.”

  “Of course she does,” Leslie said softly, taking Bill’s lunchbox from him and placing it on the counter.

  Alice stood up, as the room seemed to be getting smaller. “Thanks for the invite, but yes, I have big plans tonight,” she lied.

  “Call me this week, okay?” Leslie said as Alice breezed past her.

  Alice stopped at the door. “Next Friday we’re crocheting, if you’d like to come.”

  “Yes, I’d love to,” Leslie said.

  “Decent,” Alice said, unable to stop her smug eyes from drifting over to Bill.

  After Alice got into her car, the amusement of her perceived last word over Bill faded as reality set in. What the hell had gotten into her? She was on a collision course to utter disgrace being that reckless. Making love to someone’s wife in his own home? She shivered with disgust. It was only the fortune of an unseasonably warm April day that had spared them from Bill walking in and discovering the whole sordid scene. What if they’d been caught? She’d be humiliated, but Leslie would be destroyed. Alice could never live with herself. Things were going to have to be different.

  *

  “I don’t think anything ever startled me more than the sound of that car door closing,” Alice said. She stared through the windshield at the moonlight dancing over the calm waters of Branford Point.

  “The risks we took,” Leslie said, shaking her head. “Only true love could’ve brought out that kind of madness in us.”