by Lois Lavrisa
“You don’t like it?”
“The lake water must have screwed up my taste buds. I’m sure they’re great. Listen, I have to run. Mark is waiting to do his makeup magic on me. I’ll see you at home later on. Love you.” I gave her a kiss and patted Skipper’s head. “Oh, I almost forgot. What about this letter you got?”
“It’s no big deal, I’ll tell you about it later.” Estelle called after me, “Get out of those wet clothes.”
***
I strolled into the locker room, grabbed my dry outfit and went back to the restroom and changed. When I entered the locker room, Mark had the makeup from his mortician school spread out on one chair and he motioned for me to sit in the other chair.
The locker room didn’t have a mirror, and the restroom mirror was permanently fogged. “I hope you brought a mirror so I can see myself after this experiment?”
“That’s one thing I don’t have with me.” Mark began with a sponge full of dark orange brown foundation on my face. “Trust me.”
Glancing at the makeup, I realized none of the colors would match my complexion. Actually, none would match any human’s complexion, dead or alive.
This could be trouble. Was a free Reuben on rye worth it? As if on cue, my stomach growled. I was here for the duration of the makeover, even though I had a fleeting second thought about going through with this. But, Mark needed the practice, and it’s only makeup. I could always wash it off.
We chatted while Mark sponged, brushed and rubbed makeup onto my face. An hour later he was done with me. He took a few pictures. “You’ve helped me out so much. Once I show my instructor that I’ve got this down, I get to do the next client myself.”
“That could’ve been me.” I grabbed a paper towel and began to wipe off the goo. It stuck to my face like cement. I had to get some industrial strength soap. As I left the locker room, my cell rang. I answered.
“You need to get to the hospital now,” said Ken.
“Actually I have this horrible makeup on that I have to take off, and then I have some things at work to finish up…”
I heard him sigh into the phone. “Please? Come here now.”
“Actually, I want…” He hung up before I was allowed the opportunity to fully respond.
Chapter Four
“Dr. Kenneth Wilson, please come to floor three,” the unit secretary said over the pager.
When I saw Ken emerge from the hallway, my heart skipped a beat. As always, his tousled sandy brown hair, light blue eyes, and tall stature had the power to grab my attention.
“I heard about your accident,” he said as he walked over and kissed me. “I’m ordering a CT scan.” He tugged me into an exam room.
Deciding not to get up on the exam table, I sat down in a chair. All six foot three and two hundred and fifty pounds of him hovered over me. He reached into his white lab coat pocket and pulled out a penlight.
I winced as the light blinded me. “Who told you?” I grimaced. “Mark?”
“Mark. Estelle. Hazel. Damn near the whole town.” He leaned over me, touching the cut above my eye. “It isn’t deep, you don’t need stitches. But you did hit your head so I want the CT.”
“I don’t know what they told you, but I don’t need a CT. I’m a little hungry for a BLT though.”
He smiled. “Did you know that Francesca is back in town?”
I shrugged my shoulders.
“Earlier today I saw her heading up to the executive offices.” He pointed to the ceiling. I’m assuming that is where the hospital’s CEO and other high up administrators had their offices.
“I saw her this morning after I took a swim,” I said under my breath.
“Isn’t it great to see her again? It’s been years.”
“Yup.” And not one second of the past four years has gone by without me wanting to undo what we did that last night we were together.
“Hey I have an idea. I had gotten us concert tickets to see that band you love. You know, the same concert you went to on Francesca’s eighteenth birthday? I was going to surprise you and take you, but why don’t you and Francesca go together? It’d be a perfect way for you two to reconnect after all these years. What do you think?”
I felt like a sand bag had slammed into my gut. That is the very last thing I wanted to do. “Sounds great, but um…”
“So it’s settled then.” He took my head in his hands. “Looks like you got some color today.”
Quickly recomposing myself, I tilted my head back in a pose. “Mark practiced with his mortician makeup on me. What do you think? Should I let him do my wedding day makeup?” I batted my eyes.
He smiled and shook his head.
“Do you have some strong industrial strength soap here?” I asked.
“Sure, I’ll get you some in a minute.” He then felt the area above my eye. It hurt, but I wasn’t going to tell him that as I smiled through the pain. I wanted to get on with my life and forget this morning.
“Any vision problems?” he asked.
“No,” I said.
“Dizziness? Nausea? Pain?” He raised an eyebrow and leaned back against the exam table next to me, arms crossed over his chest.
Right after I was rescued from the lake, I had coughed up water, but I didn’t consider that nausea. And the aspirin Hazel had given me had taken care of the head pain. And I hadn’t had dizzy spells. No lies here. “All good.”
“Hmm.” Ken felt around my skull, and again looked at the cut. He placed a stethoscope on my chest and had me breathe deeply in and out. “Lungs are clear.”
“See, I’m fine.” I walked to the exam room door. I performed a quick one-foot in front of the other and finger to nose driver sobriety test. “So, I’ll see you later tonight then?”
“Okay. You’re not drunk.” His eyes twinkled as he smiled. “You’re just a stubborn nutcase.”
Rising on tiptoes, I hugged him and then grabbed the door handle.
“Not that fast. I’m still ordering the scan.” Ken scrawled something on a script pad, ripped it off and handed it to me.
Shoving it in my pocket, I said, “Completely unnecessary.”
“With a head injury, you don’t have a choice.” He picked up his phone and made a call.
Ken’s deep baritone voice always comforted me and made me feel safe. In some way he sounded like my dad. “It’s all set. Third floor, they’re waiting for you.”
“You know I could go to the pediatric unit instead and entertain the kids. I’ve already got the funny face on.”
He pulled out a blue bottle from a cabinet and gave it to me. “This will wash off anything.”
“Thanks. See you later.”
He kissed the top of my head then patted my backside. “I’m working late this evening, and now I have to finish rounds. They’ll call me with your results.”
“But…” I stammered. Rats. I guess being chief resident allowed him some pull for an immediate scan.
“Go.” Ken turned on his heels and left me alone in the exam room. I watched him walk down the hall.
On my own for a moment, questions filled my head. Why didn’t Ken like Mark? If he never accepted Mark in my life, then could I live without Mark? No, I couldn’t. Could I live without Ken? That I didn’t know. Six months ago I would have said no, but now I wasn’t sure.
I trudged to the elevator, got in and reluctantly pushed the button to the third floor.
Sometimes, it’s a pain in the ass to be loved.
***
After the CT, I left the hospital and sauntered along the lakefront footpath back to Estelle’s house.
The City of Round Lake mandated that all lakefront homeowners provide an accessible shoreline path between their palatial homes and the lake. Some lakefront homeowners lined their paths with decorative, wide stone pavers, gravel or wooden plank walkways. However, other stretches along the lake were nearly impassable except for a thin strip of crushed weeds. As I walked on the grassy path, the late afternoon sun lit up t
he waves in shades of red and orange.
Along the shore side of the path were pagoda dogwood trees showing off their fragrant creamy flowers. With each small breeze, a shower of blossoms floated down, lining the ground in white petals and filling the air with a sweet bouquet.
As I rounded a corner of the path, I looked up. Walking straight toward me was the guy I saw fighting with Francesca this morning. I assumed he was trouble, and this put me on edge. He stopped right in the middle of the path blocking my way. His eyes stared me down as he crossed his arms over his chest in what I considered a territorial stance.
Estelle taught me to befriend all I met. I said, “So how’s the hammer?”
He frowned and scrunched his eyebrows together. “Hammer?”
“This morning I saw you with it hanging out of your … never mind.” What the hell was I talking about?
His expression didn’t change and he held his stance.
Sweat beaded on my forehead. My heart raced. “Maybe we can discuss the merits of screwdrivers the next time we see each other. I have to get going,” I said.
Standing less than three feet away from him, I noticed he wore a cross, made out of two finishing nails soldered together in the middle. It hung on a black rope that hovered just above his white t-shirt. Touching the top of his t-shirt was damp jet-black shoulder length hair that shone in the afternoon sun. The way he wore his faded jeans and flip-flops made him look like a suitable model for an American Eagle advertisement.
Up close he didn’t come across as the barroom brawl type I’d pegged him as this morning. But he wasn’t oozing with friendliness either.
His eyes scanned me from my brown roots to my pink toenails. A small smirk crept across his face. He shifted his stance, pushing up against the prickly bushes as he swung out his arm and stepped aside.
“Very gallant.” I looked into his emerald green eyes as I scooted around him and sped up my pace.
He turned and continued to walk on the path in the opposite direction.
I glanced over my shoulder as he turned to look back at the same moment. A flutter welled up inside my stomach. Flushed, I shook off the sudden dizziness and weakness that washed over me.
Maybe it was good that I got the CT scan after all, because I wasn’t feeling all that steady.
Chapter Five
As my cell rang, the caller ID lit up Ken’s name. I answered, “Hey babe, what’s up?”
“Not much,” Ken said. “What are you doing?”
“Heading home to shower. Since you told me you had to work late, Mark and I are going to grab dinner at H&K’s. His treat, since I let him give me a corpse makeover.”
“Do you have to spend so much time with him?” Ken asked.
I felt defensive, and hurt. “Yes, you know he’s my best friend,” I explained.
“I’m still not used to you having a guy as a best friend. Let alone a mortician,” he said.
“What’s your problem?” I asked. Sadness seeped into my soul. I so badly wanted Ken to accept Mark.
“Don’t you think it’s all little morbid?” Ken asked, his baritone voice rising to a high pitch.
He was demeaning Mark which made me defensive. I said, “The male part or the mortician part?”
“It’s just creepy.” Ken sighed.
“What, cut into people and take their hearts out like you? That’s not creepy?” I asked.
“But I save lives,” He said.
“And when you don’t, Mark is there,” I replied.
“Touché.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, your scan came back. It’s normal. Let me know if you get any severe headaches or anything else.”
“Sure.”
“Did you happen to see my new boat at the dock?”
“Yes. This morning I saw them putting it in the water. It looks great. Love the metallic red paint.”
“Good. Listen, I have to go now, they’re paging me. My shift ends at ten. Meet me at the pavilion so we can take my new toy for a spin. If you can, bring your video camera so we can document the maiden voyage.” He clicked off.
“Love you,” I replied into a dead phone. I also wanted to tell him that my video camera wasn’t working.
For some reason, I felt like a deflated balloon. Maybe it was because of seeing Francesca this morning, and my sadness that my relationship with Ken didn’t feel right anymore.
***
Ambling up to Aunt Estelle’s yellow two-bedroom bungalow, I took in the groomed lawns of all the well-kept pastel-drenched old Victorians lining the block. Chimes hanging on our front porch tinkled gently in the cool afternoon breeze as I stepped on worn wooden steps which creaked lightly under my weight. As I walked up the front porch steps, I grabbed the banister, and it gave way. Oops.
This had been Estelle’s home since she was a newlywed. Now a widow in her mid-sixties, she says it’s the only place she’d ever want to call home. Since my parents passed, this was my cherished home as well. I took a deep breath, soaking in the crisp clean smell of freshly mowed grass, as I cleared away the day’s chaos. It wasn’t long before Skipper barked my arrival.
“Want another cookie?” Estelle greeted me through the screen door.
“No thanks. I don’t want to ruin my dinner with Mark,” I said.
The smell of Estelle’s cooking enveloped me as I moved through the living room. It smelled like spaghetti sauce, one of her few edible recipes. “I’ve got something on the stove. Let’s go and chat in the kitchen.”
“I’ll get the banister on the front porch fixed. It’s just about to fall off.” Skipper circled me, and I scratched behind his ear. He stayed still long enough to enjoy the attention.
“You don’t have to. I’ve got someone coming over tomorrow to fix it.”
“Who?” I followed into the kitchen in the back of our house. Skipper pushed open his dog door and wandered into the fenced backyard.
“He’s new in town. And a handsome young man.” Estelle stirred a pot on top of the stove.
I sat down on a green stool next to the yellow Formica kitchen table. “As long as he can fix your banister, it doesn’t matter what he looks like,” I said.
A large picture window, covering nearly the whole back wall of the kitchen, allowed in daylight. I looked out the window and saw Skipper chasing a squirrel. Skipper almost made it over the fence to continue the pursuit. Then another squirrel ran across the yard. “So what about that letter you had this morning?” I asked Estelle.
Estelle glanced up from her pot. “Don’t you worry about that. Are you okay?”
“Ken made me have a CT. It came back normal.” I averted my gaze from Skipper’s chase and turned to Estelle. “So, about the letter?”
“Well, if you insist. It was from a lawyer. I gave it Hazel to look at. I don’t know what in the world they wanted. It was something about immigrant romaine.” She wiped her hands on the red flowered apron and adjusted the bow.
“What?”
She began to wave the worn wooden spoon in her hand. Drops of red sauce flew off the spoon and onto the stove. “Hazel knows all about legal stuff, you remember her first husband, or was it her third? No, it was Stanley, the first. Anyhow, he was an attorney.”
“But that doesn’t mean that she knows the law just because she was married to an attorney. Just like I won’t be any more qualified to practice medicine, simply because I’m going to be married to a doctor. Let me take a look at it for you,” I said, somewhat alarmed that she wanted to take things in her own hands.
“I’ll let you see it when I get it back from Hazel. She’s got it all figured out.” Estelle pushed her glasses up on her nose.
“I hope so,” I said.
“Oh yes, she’s already working on forming a group because of the letter,” Estelle turned her back and stirred the pot.
“A group? For what?”
“For what’s in the letter,” Estelle said. “We must not sit by, we will rebel.”
“This whole letter is beginni
ng to worry me,” I said.
“Now, now, don’t you fret about silly old me,” Estelle said. “I’m more worried about you and your accident.”
“I’m fine. No big deal.”
Estelle turned off the stove, put down her spoon and walked over to me. “You’re a big deal to me. Your parents, God rest their souls, left me in charge of you. I can’t let anything happen to you.” Her eyes welled up. She made the sign of the cross and then leaned over and grasped my hand.
I squeezed her hand back as a lump formed in my throat. Nearly ten years had gone by since their tragic deaths in a car accident, and not a day passed that I didn’t think about them. “I didn’t have the chance to see you this morning before I left for work to tell you how much I love you,” I said, my eyes watering. I wiped the dampness with the back of my hand.
“But you’re here now because you have angels in heaven watching over you.” Estelle lowered her glasses on her nose, and looked at me over them. “Your folks.”
“I know,” I agreed. Although I wished they were still here on earth looking over me.
“You know, that was awfully brave of Mark to rescue you,” Estelle added.
“Yes it was.” I fiddled with the salt shaker on the kitchen table.
“He’s always there for you and me, isn’t he?”
“Always.”
Chapter Six
“You look great!” I said. Mark had somehow managed to tame his normally wild red hair. A pale blue t-shirt, dark jeans and checkered canvas loafers rounded out his ensemble. “It’s a shame I have to pummel you.”
“What for?” Mark asked.
“Nearly drowning me; the horrid makeup job; where do I start?” I playfully punched him on his arm as we walked from his apartment to the restaurant.
“Hey, you volunteered for the makeup. As for nearly drowning you, that was an accident.”
“Okay. I’ll make your death an accident too.” I smiled.
He struck a pose. “So you think I look okay?’
I applauded as he modeled for me.