Turn Back Time

by Radclyffe

  *

  “Hey, Rifkin,” Mark Perlman called to her. “How about a game of pool?”

  Perlman was a second-year surgery resident, and his first rotation upon arriving at Penn had been on service with Pearce. He’d been green and arrogant, a rich boy from Brown who still wore Ralph Lauren polo shirts and fabric belts with ducks on them. Six weeks into his residency he had called her in the middle of the night on the verge of a nervous breakdown, literally weeping because he never got home before ten at night and didn’t have time to work out and how was he supposed to study when he didn’t have time to sleep? He had said he was going to walk out of the hospital and never come back.

  She’d debated telling him to switch to anesthesia or, better yet, internal medicine, but she considered maybe it wasn’t his fault that no one had prepared him for what a surgical residency was really going to be like. She’d gone to the hospital, helped him finish his night work, and pretty much held his hand for the next six weeks. He’d adjusted, like most did, and now his arrogance was tempered with a little humility. And Pearce had earned his undying gratitude.

  “Maybe later,” Pearce replied, lifting her glass and indicating her beer. She didn’t want to call attention to her hand by trying to play pool, and she doubted that she would be able to shoot with her usual proficiency. It was a rare night that she didn’t win twenty bucks if she was playing seriously. “I just got here.”

  Here was O’Malley’s, the neighborhood bar two blocks from the hospital and across from the high-rise dorms. Students, residents, and nurses congregated there after work during the week and most weekend nights. She usually made it by a couple of times a week, especially when, like tonight, she wanted casual company and a diversion from the relentless pace of her life. And, she admitted, she’d been too content just relaxing with Wynter to face her empty apartment quite so soon.

  “If you change your mind, look me up,” Mark said exuberantly. “I feel like winning a few rounds tonight.”

  Pearce laughed and leaned back against the bar. “Still dreaming, I see.”

  “Maybe. And maybe not.” The thin, sandy-haired man, whom most women considered very handsome with his sharply carved features and brilliant blue eyes, sidled closer to Pearce. “So what’s the inside story on the new resident on your service?”

  “Story?” Pearce sipped her beer, her fingers tightening around the handle of the glass mug.

  “You know—with Thompson. First I heard she’s married, but then one of the nurses told me she’s divorced.”

  “Do I look like I’m the newsroom?”

  “I just figured you’d know. A couple guys already tried to feel her out, but she kind of blew them off. So I thought I’d give her a—”

  “Look,” Pearce said so abruptly Mark jumped, “she’s a surgery resident. What more do you need to know? She probably doesn’t have time for a social life. Go sniff around one of the nurses.”

  “Some of us don’t have your luck,” he said good-naturedly.

  “Maybe if you tried not to drool quite so much, you’d get somewhere.” Pearce wanted him off the subject of Wynter. She’d seen the attention Wynter got from the male residents when they all hung out together in the surgeons’ lounge between cases. If they weren’t blatantly staring at her, they were striking up a conversation. Circling her, like a pack of dogs around a new bitch in the park. Feeling her out, trying to get a sense of whether she was interested. Pearce hadn’t seen any sign of Wynter returning the interest, but she wasn’t entirely certain she would recognize the subtle signs between women and men. It wasn’t something she usually paid any attention to. Most of the time the men’s attention to Wynter made her so antsy, she had to leave the room. She kept having fantasies of stuffing their heads in the freezer.

  “Can I ask you something?” Mark asked.

  Pearce regarded him suspiciously. He swayed, even though he had an elbow on the bar, and his gestures were expansive, as if he were an actor on a stage playing to the audience seated in the back row of the balcony. He’d clearly had one too many beers. “Are you driving somewhere tonight?”

  “Nah. I’m staying at José’s over at Forty-second and Spruce.”

  Pearce made a mental note to make sure that José, another resident, was actually riding herd on Mark. “Where are your car keys?”

  “He took him…them.” Mark smiled beneficently and bumped Pearce’s shoulder. “How did you know you were…you know.”

  “You mean, like, gay?” Pearce stared at him in astonishment. All the guys pretty much knew her story, because she was certain it was one of the first things they told the new residents when they started. The fact that the chairman’s daughter was a fellow resident and a lesbian was too good a topic of conversation not to share. But it was rare for one of them to really ask her about it, other than the occasional joke or innuendo.

  “Yeah. That.”

  “When did you first start thinking about girls like they were different than boys?”

  Mark’s brow creased as he considered the question. “I don’t know. When I was six, maybe?”

  “Me too.”

  “No shit.” Mark grinned. “Cool.”

  “Yeah.” Pearce didn’t see any point in disillusioning him. Instead, when Mark ambled away in search of more loquacious company, she watched the crowd, listening to the sound level increase as the night wore on and the liquor flowed. She was nursing her second beer when Tammy walked in. The small, tight-bodied blond cut a path straight through the crowd toward her.

  “Hey there,” Tammy said, turning sideways against the bar so her inside thigh slipped behind Pearce’s leg.

  “You’re kind of late getting started, aren’t you?” Pearce said, aware of Tammy’s crotch pressed against her hip.

  “Oh no. I’ve been partying, but it broke up early. We ran out of coke.”

  Pearce glanced around quickly, but it was already going on two and everyone was pretty well lubricated. No one was listening to their conversation. “You might not want to advertise that.” She took a closer look at Tammy’s face and saw the pinpoint pupils and the flush that suffused her neck. “How much have you been doing?”

  “Enough to get me really jazzed.” Tammy snaked a hand around Pearce’s leg and cupped her crotch. She squeezed, her thumb working the lower edge of Pearce’s fly over her clit. “I’m so horny.”

  “Chee-rist,” Pearce muttered, slamming her beer down on the bar. She peeled Tammy’s fingers from between her legs and kept a grip on her wrist to prevent another grope. “Who did you come with?”

  “Alice. I think. Or maybe she left before we got here. We hit a few other places on the way.”

  Pearce started off into the crowd, Tammy in tow. “We’re getting out of here.”

  “That’s exactly what I was hoping.”

  “José,” Pearce called in passing.

  “Yo.”

  “Watch Perlman.”

  “Yo, boss.”

  Pearce flagged a cab and they piled into the backseat. She would have walked had she been alone, but there was no way that Tammy was going to make it on foot. As it was, Pearce had all she could do to keep Tammy’s hands out of her pants and her tongue out of her mouth. She kept up a steady defense all the way back to her apartment. She tossed the amused cabbie a ten when he pulled up in front of her apartment. “Thanks.”

  She pulled Tammy out of the backseat.

  “Good luck,” the cabbie called.

  Pearce could hear him laughing as she slammed the door. She took Tammy’s hand again. “Come on. Let’s get inside.”

  Tammy continued her assault all the way upstairs, and when Pearce finally managed to get her apartment door open, Tammy picked up the pace. The instant Pearce closed the door, she was on her, her hands in Pearce’s hair, her teeth on Pearce’s neck. She thrust her pelvis between Pearce’s legs, grinding into her, her breath rasping. “I’m so hot. Mmm, I’m gonna come so hard for you.”

  “Tam, let’s take this over to
the couch,” Pearce said, jerking her neck out of range and twisting away. She could feel Tammy’s pulse hammering beneath her fingers as she continued to hold her wrist. She was willing to bet her blood pressure was through the roof, and the last thing she wanted was to precipitate a confrontation. What Tammy needed was to settle down, not get more excited. “Come on.”

  “Oh yeah. Better over there. Come on, baby. Hurry.” Tammy rushed to the sofa and, the instant they were seated, threw her leg over Pearce’s and half climbed into her lap. “Play with my nipples, baby. I love it when you do that.”

  “Let’s go slow. There’s no rush,” Pearce said soothingly, easing Tammy down beside her and turning so they faced one another. She kissed her gently. “That’s nice. Nice and easy.”

  “I don’t wanna go easy,” Tammy protested, her hand on her own breast, tugging feverishly. “I wanna fuck. I wanna fuck so bad.”

  “In a little while.” Pearce had seen Tammy like this before—it was one of the reasons they were no longer going out together. Pearce wasn’t into drugs, and although she didn’t mind when others indulged in a little recreational use, Tammy had been getting in deeper and deeper, and nothing Pearce said could stop her. She knew what Tammy would do when she was like this. She leaned over and pulled a light cotton blanket from the shelf underneath the coffee table and stood up, handing the blanket to Tammy. “I gotta take a shower, baby. Take your clothes off and cover up. I’ll be right back.”

  “You don’t need a shower. You’re just fine. You always taste so good.” Tammy was frantically peeling down her jeans. “Don’t go anywhere.”

  “Get undressed. I’ll be right back.” Pearce disappeared into the bathroom and locked the door. Despite the excuse to escape, she really did need a shower to get rid of the scent of the bar and the sweat she’d worked up keeping Tammy at bay. She washed her hair again, thinking that she’d had two women who’d been more than willing to hop into bed in the last month, and this time, she hadn’t even been tempted. Tammy was a skilled lover when she wasn’t coked out of her mind, and even high, she’d always managed to satisfy. Tonight, Pearce hadn’t felt anything except concern and sadness.

  When she judged enough time had gone by, she emerged in the robe she kept behind the bathroom door. Tammy was stretched out on the sofa, her body forming a soft curve under the blanket, her head pillowed on her bent arm. Pearce crossed to her and knelt on the floor by her head.

  “You shouldn’t have left me, baby,” Tammy said drowsily, her expression lax, her eyes dazed. “I couldn’t wait for you.”

  Pearce stroked her hair, having counted on this happening. “You feel a little better?”

  “Mmm. It was nice and hard.” Tammy clasped Pearce’s hand. “Do me again?”

  “Aren’t you sleepy?”

  “Feel kind of wrecked. Came forever.”

  Pearce leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Close your eyes for a while, then.”

  Tammy rubbed her cheek against the back of Pearce’s hand and moaned softly. “You’ll stay?”

  “Right here.”

  “All night?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Pro…mise?”

  “Promise.”

  Pearce waited until Tammy’s breathing grew quiet and her grip on Pearce’s fingers loosened. Then she carefully rose and settled on the far end of the couch. Wondering how she had ever been satisfied with these frantic couplings and hasty affairs, she leaned her head back, closed her eyes, and willed sleep to come.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Ronnie, honey, don’t put that in Winston’s hair,” Wynter said as she diverted her daughter’s spoon. “Here, you two drop these berries in the batter and then you can both stir.”

  Winston and Ronnie, both still in pajamas, stood on adjoining chairs with a huge bowl of batter between them. As usual, Winston took the task extremely seriously, carefully stirring in the fruit, while Ronnie preferred to use the food ingredients as missiles. Both had red and yellow striped dishtowels loosely tied around their necks as makeshift bibs. Ken and Mina’s seven-year-old daughter Janie sat on the opposite side of the table, out of Ronnie’s range, playing with a Game Boy.

  From the doorway, Mina, in her favorite pink chenille robe and slippers, laughed. “Oh, I can see that reinforcements are needed here.”

  Wynter smiled gratefully. “Good morning. You’re just in time.”

  “I’m not so sure about that. I can see from the looks of the floor just how well things have been going.” Mina skirted around the droplets of batter and crushed blueberries on her way to the stove. “You supervise the rest of the prep, and I’ll cook. Just give me plenty of room.”

  “You sure? We were going to bring you a tray in bed.”

  “I’m not going to lie in bed when everyone else is having so much fun. Besides, it looks like you made enough batter for three families. We’ll have pancakes for days.” She pursed her lips. “Why don’t you call Pearce and ask her to come over. We might as well be neighborly, now that we know she lives so close. Besides, it’s the least we can do with her getting all banged up helping with the move yesterday.”

  Wynter felt her face flush. She’d just been thinking that she’d walk over to Pearce’s as soon as breakfast was over and she’d cleaned up. She was looking forward to seeing her away from the hospital. When Pearce wasn’t working, she was easy to be around—far more relaxed and surprisingly tender. “I don’t have her home phone number.”

  Mina put her hand on her hip and regarded Wynter skeptically. “Now I know you can call the page operator and they’ll put you through. All you have to do is say you’re one of the residents. Ken does it all the time.”

  “She’s probably busy.”

  “At seven thirty?”

  “Sleeping, then.”

  “A surgery resident? You all get up early.”

  Wynter indicated her baggy Yale sweatpants and mismatched T-shirt. “Besides, I’m not dressed.”

  “We’re talking breakfast, not…” Mina narrowed her eyes even further. “Go call her, and then take a quick shower. I’ll watch this crew.”

  “Mina,” Wynter said with a sigh.

  “Go.”

  “All right.” Admitting defeat and not really minding, Wynter headed for the wall phone by the kitchen door. It took her several minutes to reach the hospital page operator, but once she explained that she was a doctor and wanted to be put through to Dr. Pearce Rifkin, carefully emphasizing the Pearce, she was immediately connected. The phone was answered on the first ring.

  “Rifkin.”

  “Pearce? It’s Wynter.”

  “Hey,” Pearce replied, obviously surprised.

  “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

  “No.”

  “I know it’s short notice, but we’re making breakfast over here, and I thought…we thought…Mina and I thought…” Wynter caught Mina staring at her out of the corner of her eye and added hastily, “Why don’t you come over? We’ve got lots. And good coffee.”

  There was a long silence before Pearce replied, her voice pitched low.

  “Thanks. I’d like to, but I—”

  Wynter heard someone call Pearce’s name. A female someone. “Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…look, I’m sorry. I’ll talk to you—”

  “Would fifteen minutes be too late?” Pearce said quickly.

  “Uh, no. It would be fine. Are you sure?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  Wynter hung up the phone and stood with her hand on the receiver, trying to sort out the awkward conversation. Obviously, Pearce had had someone there. Some woman. Some woman who had spent the night. “She must have them taking numbers.”

  “Them who?” Mina asked.

  “Oh,” Wynter said, giving a little jump. “What? Nothing. I’m going to run and take a shower. Will you be okay for ten minutes?”

  “Go. Go.” Mina made shooing motions. “I think I can manage.”

  *

  “You don’t have to hol
d her, you know,” Wynter said, snatching up Pearce’s coffee cup just before Ronnie, who was sitting on Pearce’s lap, careened her Batmobile into it.

  “She’s okay.” After Pearce had gotten over the shock of having the child climb into her lap and settle in for the duration of breakfast, she was glad to have the warm, sweet-smelling bundle of babbling energy to keep her mind off how good Wynter looked in a pair of tight-fitting blue jeans and a mint green crew-neck sweater. Surgical scrubs had a way of making everyone look asexual, but this outfit left no doubt as to what a great body Wynter had. Pearce tried not to stare, but as long as her heart was beating it would be difficult not to look now and then.

  “Did you get enough to eat?” Mina asked.

  “I’m stuffed,” Pearce said. “It was great. Thanks.”

  Mina looked from Pearce to Wynter, then pushed up from the table. “I’ll make a deal with you two. You walk down to the store and get me a gallon of Rocky Road, and I’ll clear the kitchen. Oh, and take little Ms. Tornado with you.”

  “I’ll get your ice cream,” Wynter said quickly. “I’m sure Pearce has things to d—”

  “Not really,” Pearce said quickly. “I’ve got my beeper, and if I get called, well—I get called. Otherwise, I’m free.”

  Wynter wondered about whoever was in Pearce’s apartment, if she was still there. Maybe she was snuggled in, taking a nap after a long night of…activity. Pearce certainly didn’t look as if she’d slept. She looked like she did after being up all night in the OR. The same shadows and slightly haunted look. Wynter tried not to stare at the pale expanse of skin above the collar of Pearce’s blue button-down shirt, but she couldn’t resist looking for bite marks. Nor could she deny her relief when she didn’t see any. Of course, it could be that this one just wasn’t a biter. Or maybe she liked to bite somewhere else. Maybe just above the top of those low-slung black jeans. Wynter shook her head, knowing that she was on the verge of making herself crazy with ridiculous thoughts.