Heart of the Matter

by KI Thompson

  “It’s a shame she had to leave.” Janice sighed. “I’d completely forgotten she and Cheryl had broken up. She’d be perfect for you, Ellen. She’s smart, funny, attractive, and sexy as hell, don’t you think?”

  “Oh, I suppose.”

  It was a game she often played with herself. Reject before being rejected. It was the only sane thing to do, especially in Sandra’s case.

  Ellen had to admit her heart rate had picked up a bit upon seeing the sparkling blue eyes, the tiny dimples, and trim figure. But when she saw Sandra was obviously not interested in her, all her systems had shut down and her defenses had gone up. Her heart was safe and relatively undamaged from the encounter. Not for the first time she wondered why she ever allowed Linda and Janice to talk her into coming to these things—to try to give her hope.

  “You suppose?” Linda asked. “Geez, don’t you think your standards are a bit high? What’s wrong with Sandra?”

  “Nothing,” Ellen exclaimed defensively. “She’s obviously not interested, so why bother?”

  “Not interested?” Linda’s eyebrows shot up. “What makes you think that? She was barely here a minute.”

  “Exactly my point,” Ellen declared triumphantly. “If she was interested, she wouldn’t have left.”

  “Oh, Ellen, come on.” Janice chortled. “You’re reading too much into it. She was on her way to the door before she even ran into me. But I’ll tell you what, I’ll sound her out next week at work, see what she thinks of you.”

  “No. Don’t you dare.” Ellen was embarrassed at the prospect.

  She could only imagine what a sorry figure she would present to Sandra. She had to have her friends get her a date because she couldn’t get one on her own. Oh, yeah, that would make her even more appealing.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll be discreet.” Janice sipped her Cosmopolitan.

  “She’ll never know.”

  “God.” Ellen dropped her head into her hands.

  ❖

  Ellen stepped off the elevator into the hallway and shoved her key into the lock. It was a little after eleven, and she was looking forward to washing the cigarette smell off and climbing into bed with Beau. But when she heard a muffled crash from Kate’s condo, she rushed down the hall, her pulse accelerating with each step.

  Tapping briefly, she called out, “Kate, are you all right?” Silence. She couldn’t hear anyone move or speak. If Kate had somehow injured herself and was unconscious, nobody would know about it—at least she didn’t think anyone else was inside. She felt the heat rise to her face, wondering if perhaps Kate wasn’t alone.

  But if that was the case, why didn’t anyone answer the door? She knocked a little more forcefully now, sure that anyone inside could hear her.

  When there was still no response, she tried one last time. “Kate, if you’re okay in there you’d better let me know. Otherwise I’m calling the police or an ambulance, or something, to break this door down.”

  After a few more minutes of silence, Ellen could barely make out the shuffled sounds of footsteps approaching the door.

  “I’m okay.”

  Ellen sighed with relief. “Can I do anything to help?” She pressed her ear to the door, trying to hear Kate on the other side.

  “No.” Kate’s voice sounded more distant than it was.

  “Are you sure?” Ellen persisted. “If you need anything, I’m right down the hall. I’d be happy to help any way I can. If you need me to run errands, I can do that, or—”

  “I said no.” Kate’s voice was a little stronger. “Now go away.” Stung, Ellen muttered, “Sorry I disturbed you.” Beau came running as soon as she was back home again, rubbing his sleek body against her legs and purring. She picked him up and kissed him, scratching behind his ears as she walked into the bedroom. But as soon as he caught the scent of cigarettes, he extended his front legs into her chest, pushing against her and writhing to get away.

  “All right, I know, I’m going to shower as fast as I can.” She was in and out in five minutes, threw an oversized T-shirt over her head, and crawled into bed, followed quickly by Beau, who curled up immediately between her legs. She picked up the Lincoln biography, but put it back down again after a few minutes when she couldn’t concentrate. Thoughts of Kate kept running through her mind. She felt sorry for her, for what she must be going through, and it bothered her that she couldn’t help. It bothered her even more that no one else seemed to be helping her.

  She turned off the bedside lamp and slid under the covers, momentarily unsettling Beau. Determined to stop thinking about her neighbor, she steered her mind to Sandra Powell. Maybe she’d been too quick to dismiss her. She was definitely attractive, but it seemed she hadn’t been interested in her. Oh, well, Janice would feel her out next week, whether Ellen liked it or not. If Sandra was interested, she’d find out soon.

  As Ellen drifted off, Kate’s face replaced Sandra’s. The gash was no longer there, and Kate’s lips were sensuously close to her own. Even in her dream she felt herself get wet, just as their lips connected.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The harsh jangle of Kate’s bedside phone jarred her from her drug-induced sleep. Though her ears registered the sound, her brain didn’t engage for another few seconds. She was home, in her own bed, and it was almost noon. Finally aware of her surroundings she picked up the phone.

  “Hello?” Her first word of the day came out dry and broken.

  “Kate? Are you sleeping? Hey, sorry, I’ll call back later.” It was her agent. He had visited her in the hospital the day after her accident when her face had still been bandaged, and he hadn’t been back to see her. He blamed his reluctance on a deep aversion to hospitals and being out of town, but Kate knew better.

  She cleared her throat and sat up. “No, it’s okay. What’s up, Dean?”

  “Not much. I lobbed a call into the station last Wednesday to let them know I’d seen you and you were recovering rapidly, ready to get back to work and all that, right?”

  “Yeah, right.”

  Kate had received a huge bouquet of roses from the station, followed quickly by visits from both Mike and Sheila. None of her visitors had seen her without the bandage, and she had kept it that way. The only person who had seen her without it besides medical staff was her neighbor.

  The woman’s intrusion last night annoyed her. She had probably wanted her to open her door so she could stare at her wound again and had already spread the news all over town that the thing looked hideous. Kate imagined her standing before a barrage of cameras and reporters, lights flashing as she revealed all the gory details.

  “They asked me if I knew when that might be, Kate. Not that anybody’s pressuring you.” Dean backpedaled quickly. “They don’t want Bob Stelling sitting in the chair too long. They think their ratings drop a point a day while that guy stumbles around his copy.”

  “Bob reads every word from the TelePrompTer. If that thing broke down, he’d be lost.”

  “Which is why they’re asking me when you might return.

  They’re afraid a news event will break and viewers will change the channel in droves when they realize Bob can’t speak extemporaneously.”

  Kate threw the covers off and got up unsteadily. Her left leg was throbbing but she managed to hobble to the large mirror above her dresser. The disfigurement startled her—she was surprised to see it was still there—and her fingers went to it of their own accord.

  It reminded her of strip mining in an otherwise pristine landscape, a shock to the eye and a jolt to her heart. It mesmerized her.

  She knew her voice was devoid of emotion when she spoke.

  “Tell them I’ll call them as soon as I feel up to it.”

  “Uh, Monday, Tuesday…any idea when?”

  “Tomorrow, okay?” She was getting irritated again and her voice rose in pitch.

  “Okay, okay, I’ll let ’em know. They’ll be happy to hear from you.” He paused awkwardly. “Well, I’ll let you get back to sleep. I
know you’re still recovering, and everyone wants you to get well soon.”

  Sure you do, Kate thought, knowing everyone was losing money by the day.

  “Oh, and uh, Kate, if you need anything, let me know.” It was an afterthought, an offer made out of obligation rather than kindness, and Kate recognized it for what it was.

  “Thanks, Dean, I’m fine.”

  “Great, just great.” She heard his relief. “Okay then, I’ll talk to you later.”

  She hung up and continued to stare at her face, her eyes never having left it. Then she returned to the bed and sat down, trying to think, but she had no idea what her next steps would be. Before long she would have to decide about work, but she couldn’t go back on air like this. Her brain still felt jumbled, as though she was trying to see through a thick fog, and she shook her head to try to clear it.

  Her stomach rumbled loudly and she realized that, unable to stomach the midday meal the hospital staff called food, she hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning. She limped to the kitchen, her left leg still tender and sore, but thankfully not broken. Her hip and thigh were blossoming into an array of interesting colors, but those would disappear eventually. Opening the refrigerator, she saw the leftovers of a meal she no longer remembered eating, several bottles of condiments, a bottle of chardonnay, a few bottles of beer, and a chunk of molding Brie. The freezer was no better so she searched the pantry.

  A jar half filled with peanut butter caught her eye so she grabbed it, some saltines, and a spoon. She slid a beer from the refrigerator to wash it all down. She always ate out, never having the time or inclination to cook, so she rarely shopped for food. She would have to get to the grocery and restock soon, though. The thought stopped her cold. No way would she be able to go out in public. Her face was too recognizable. People would stare and point.

  Her stomach queasy at the thought, she pushed the food away, picked up the remote, and turned to Channel 5 for the midday news.

  Bob Stelling tried to make an off-the-cuff remark about the weather and failed miserably. The meteorologist helped him out with a quick change of topic, heading into the weather outlook for the next five days.

  “Christ,” Kate muttered.

  Taking a long pull on her beer, she clicked to their competitor on Channel 2. The anchor was reporting about a shooting incident in Southeast DC. She was good, Kate admitted, but too young and inexperienced. With the right mentoring she could make it to the big time. She also had a nice pair of breasts and a face that wasn’t hard to look at.

  Kate grinned. But she slowly let the grin fade when she realized she would no longer be chasing younger women like that—or older women, for that matter. The accident had affected more than her career. No one would be attracted to this face anymore.

  ❖

  Ellen pushed the shopping cart down the produce aisle, selecting the makings for salads as well as the freshest fruit she could find.

  She was determined to get a head start on her diet before the spring semester was over so she could work on it full-time during her year-long sabbatical. She also planned to begin a regular exercise regimen and would have no excuse not to when her time was her own. Each day she would walk, building up strength and speed as her body grew used to the exercise. She wanted to look and feel great by the time she returned to school.

  She fondled a cucumber, hesitating before putting it in the cart. Thoughts of Kate filled her mind and she giggled. She moved on to the dairy aisle. Ellen was a little worried about her attractive neighbor, whom she hadn’t seen all day. Of course she might have missed her comings and goings, but she didn’t think so. She also hadn’t seen anyone else there, which depressed her even more than not seeing Kate.

  If Kate hadn’t left and no one had visited her, she probably needed groceries. She might not be well enough to leave or perhaps didn’t want to because she didn’t want anyone to see her. Kate had told her to go away, but she would eventually have to either come out or have groceries brought in.

  Ellen picked up the rest of the things on her list, then set about choosing some things for Kate. She didn’t want to overwhelm the poor woman, so she bought only a few toiletries and items she knew Kate liked. Once when they were both heading for the trash, Ellen saw empty Diet Pepsi cans and a frozen pizza box in Kate’s garbage.

  So she grabbed a twelve-pack of the soda and a couple of frozen pizzas. But she also decided to make something for her, something she could get several meals out of and have the pizza just in case.

  Ellen’s mother would be proud of her domestic felicity.

  Once inside the building, she pushed her collapsible cart out of the elevator and entered her condo, dropping her purse and keys on the credenza. Beau jumped up on the counter where he knew he wasn’t supposed to be, but grocery days always meant a treat, and he constantly got in Ellen’s way until she gave it to him. Sure enough, with a Pavlovian response, she dug through a grocery bag and opened a can of Pounce cat snacks. As she put the rest of the groceries away, she set out all the ingredients for making lasagna.

  People always told her how great her lasagna was, and she wanted to show Kate she cared.

  By six thirty that evening, the lasagna was done and she carried it and the rest of the groceries next door. She took a deep breath, uncertain of the reception she was about to receive, and knocked firmly on the door. Like the first time, there was no immediate response, so she knocked again.

  “Kate, it’s me, Ellen…your neighbor. I brought you something to eat and a few groceries. I thought you might be able to use them.”

  She stood quietly, straining to hear any sound from within. For a moment, she thought she heard a slight movement, but wasn’t sure if it was Kate or the sound of her own heart beating. When she didn’t hear any acknowledgment, she tried another tack.

  “Kate, I’ll tell you what. I’m going to leave these here and when you feel like it, you can come get them. I’ll be next door if you need anything.” She propped the grocery bags against the door and set the lasagna on the dish towel she had carried it with.

  “Oh, and I should tell you I made lasagna. So you might consider eating it while it’s hot. It tastes best that way. Although, come to think of it, it’s pretty good cold, too. I like it the next day right out of the refrigerator after it’s had time—” Ellen shut her mouth so hard her teeth clicked together and she almost bit her tongue. What the hell was she doing? “Anyway…um, if you need anything, you know where to find me.”

  ❖

  Kate watched through the peephole as Ellen—so that was her name—retreated and closed her door. What a busybody. Kate couldn’t believe it. Who was this woman who thought she could randomly intrude where she was neither invited nor wanted? And groceries. Who the hell did she think she was?

  She was angry and embarrassed by what appeared to be nothing less than charity. I’m Kate Foster, for Christ’s sake. She was not some socially and economically deprived person who needed help from the outside. She was perfectly capable of taking care of herself.

  If she wanted help she could afford to hire it. If her inquisitive neighbor had any idea how much money she made, perhaps she would understand that simple fact.

  Still…Kate contemplated what the grocery bags might contain.

  Admittedly, earlier that day she had been wondering about this dilemma—needing groceries and not being able to venture outside.

  Kate leaned against the door, debating whether she should open it. Lasagna. She loved lasagna, but only if it was made the right way with ricotta cheese and a good béchamel sauce. No. I don’t need anybody’s help. Kate limped as fast as her leg allowed into the living room again. She’d been watching an old Audrey Hepburn movie, Wait Until Dark, and she flopped onto the sofa and focused on the television screen again.

  But after a few minutes in which she hadn’t absorbed anything in the movie, she got back up and strolled leisurely into the kitchen.

  After looking into the refrigerator door for the tenth
time that day, still expecting to see something she hadn’t seen before, she closed it.

  Damn. She’d eaten the rest of the peanut butter for dinner, along with a can of sardines, and the bottle of chardonnay was half gone as well. All that remained were two bottles of beer, some spices and condiments, coffee, and a little sugar. She leaned her head against the refrigerator, a lump in her throat. How had everything changed so quickly?

  “Ah, screw it.”

  She returned to the front door and opened it. After picking up the groceries in one hand while juggling the still-warm lasagna in the other, she kicked the door closed and put everything on the kitchen counter. The lasagna smelled heavenly, and she had to stop herself from taking a fork and digging into the large aluminum container.

  The frozen pizzas and Diet Pepsi delighted her, the microwavable popcorn surprised her, and the toilet paper and toothpaste, among other things, embarrassed her.

  She shoved the pizzas into the freezer, then scooped a large piece of lasagna onto a plate. The first bite was ecstasy, and she held it on her tongue to savor the full panoply of ricotta, oregano, and béchamel.

  After finding a bottle of cabernet on the wine rack, she filled a glass and took it and her plate back to the couch and the movie. Just this once she would accept assistance. But only because she was still recovering. One thing Kate had learned covering news stories was that people had a basic need to play Good Samaritan. What harm would it do to allow Ellen to indulge herself for a day or two? Kate would soon be back on her feet and in control again.

  God, I suppose now I have to give her a thank-you note or something. She took the last bite of lasagna, finished the glass of wine, and sat back on the sofa completely satisfied. By the time Richard Crenna returned to kill Audrey Hepburn, Kate’s eyelids drooped heavily and she felt herself drifting off.

  ❖

  Around eight o’clock Ellen couldn’t stand the suspense anymore. She quietly cracked her front door open and peered into the hallway. Yes. She pumped her fist and skipped back into her living room. General Beauregard eyed her suspiciously from his comfortable spot on the couch.