by Elena Graf
“He’s out of the picture, honey. Let’s just forget him, if you don’t mind.”
“He never deserved you, Mom.” Maggie’s heart was warmed by her daughter’s loyalty, but she’d already known she could always count on it.
After she got off the call with Sophia, Maggie spent some time looking over the condominium by-laws to see what her rights were regarding rentals. She was relieved to see there were no major restrictions. Next, she went around the apartment taking mental inventory of the items that would need to be moved or put in storage if she decided to rent.
So many of the things she had once treasured—mountains of books, linens for formal entertaining, high-end pots and pans only useful for cooking in a huge kitchen—had been donated or sold for ridiculous prices in tag sales when the Connecticut house was sold. The girls’ childhood memorabilia had already been passed on to them. The few valuable items from her parents were in active use rather than stored away in a curio cabinet. Maggie had already done her last meaningful purge. Rather than feel depressed by this idea, she felt lighter, glad that she felt no need to inflict the stuff she had collected on someone else.
She was in the kitchen washing the dishes and almost didn’t hear the knock at the door over the running water. Only a few people had the code to get into the building. Thinking it might be one of her neighbors, wondering where she’d been for months, Maggie opened the door without looking though the peephole.
In the hallway stood Tom Meier.
“I just saw Laura Maglione over at the office,” Tom quickly explained. “She told me you were back in town.”
“Apparently, I am.”
“How are you?” asked Tom cautiously.
“I’ve been better.”
“What’s the matter?”
“I’ve had some health issues.”
“Oh? Anything serious?” He frowned with concern.
“Potentially. But so far, I seem to be okay.”
“That’s good. May I come in?”
“I’m kind of busy right now,” said Maggie, thinking of the piles of books and files all over the apartment. There was hardly any place to sit down.
“I could really use a sympathetic ear. There’s a lot going on.” Tom gave her his lost boy look, and Maggie felt sorry for him.
“All right. Come in.” Maggie stood aside and gestured for him to enter. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
“I’ll have to put on a new pot. It will take a few minutes.”
“I have time.”
Maggie and Tom spent the next hour catching up on their lives since their abrupt good byes in Maine. Old habits die hard, and it was difficult for Maggie to cut him off, even when he went on and on about how much he hated his department chair. She patiently listened to his concerns, as she always had when they were a couple, and as she listened, she realized that most of their conversations had been about him. When she was married, most of her conversations had been about Barry. She frowned as she recognized the common denominator. Tom seemed not to notice her change of expression. He just went on talking.
“You know, I’ve been thinking…” Tom began with a sly look.
Maggie raised a brow. Thinking had never been Tom’s strong suit.
“I was an idiot to take up with a student. Nowadays, I was opening myself up to serious liability. She could have filed a formal complaint against me.”
“Will she?”
“I hope not.”
“But she’s past tense?”
Tom gave her a quick, sharp look. He shrugged. “It’s over. She ended it.”
“What did you expect? You’re old enough to be her grandfather! What makes old men think they’re entitled to all the young girls? You played the power card as her teacher. That’s never a good idea.”
“When I was in graduate school, all the professors were screwing their female students.”
“Times have changed, Tom, in case you haven’t noticed.”
“Who needs kids? You and I were great together. We like the same movies, the same restaurants, we had great sex…”
“You thought we had great sex.”
Tom’s eyes widened. He looked both shocked and insulted. “But I always tried to pay attention to your needs.”
“My needs,” Maggie repeated cynically. Tom was strictly a penis-in-vagina kind of guy. She almost never had an orgasm during intercourse. With Liz, she came every time. “What’s your point, Tom?” she asked impatiently.
“Maybe…just maybe, you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me?” Tom gave her his most penitential look.
“I doubt it, but maybe someday, way in the future, we might be friends.”
“Really, I’m sorry,” said Tom.
There was a sturdy knock at the door. This time, Maggie checked through the peephole. Liz’s blue eyes peered back. Maggie took a quick step back even though she knew she couldn’t be seen.
She waited until her heart stopped racing before she unlocked the three locks and opened the door.
“Liz! I thought you were on your way back to Maine.”
“I was. I changed my mind,” said Liz with a scowl.
Maggie realized why Liz was scowling when she followed her line of vision to the kitchen alcove where Tom sat.
“You have company.” Liz frowned menacingly in Tom’s direction. “I’ll come back later.” She turned to leave.
“No. Wait!”
Chapter 38
Maggie’s grip on her forearm was like steel pincers. Her eyes pleaded with her. Liz dropped her arm to her side to reclaim it from Maggie’s grasp because it was becoming painful. She took in the scene in a glance, annoyingly reminded of the day she had first met Tom Meier and almost shot him as an intruder.
“Hello, Dr. Stolz,” said Meier. “How nice to see you again.”
Liz continued to glower at him. Maggie looked anxious. “You don’t have your gun, do you?” Maggie whispered under her breath.
“No, I can’t carry it here,” Liz whispered back. “No reciprocity.”
“Aren’t you going to come in and join us?” Meier asked cheerfully. “There’s more coffee.”
“Get rid of him,” Liz whispered. “I need to talk to you.”
Maggie replied with a severely disapproving look.
“I mean it,” said Liz.
Maggie remained silent.
“Meier, I need to talk to Maggie about something important. Would you mind?”
“Liz, that’s rude!” whispered Maggie.
“Too bad.”
Meier’s chair made a little scratching sound on the floor as he pushed it back. “Actually, I was just leaving.” He made himself small by hugging the wall as he slipped by Maggie to get out the door. Liz’s eyes followed him down the hall as he hurried to the elevator.
“What was he doing here?”
“What are you doing here? I thought you agreed to give me some space.”
“I did, but I need to talk to you before I go home.” She frowned. “This is not how I imagined it would go.”
Maggie put her hands on her hips. “Well, maybe you should come in and say what you have to say.”
Liz stepped into the apartment, and Maggie closed the door behind her. “I’d like to give you a kiss, but I’m a little afraid. You look like you want to kill someone.”
“The thought crossed my mind.” Liz raised a brow. “You can kiss me. I promise I won’t kill you or anyone else.” She smiled to confirm that it was safe to approach.
“Oh, Liz!” Maggie threw her arms around her neck. “You really scare me sometimes.”
Liz bent down to kiss her, and it didn’t take long for the kiss to become much more than a friendly greeting. Liz reached out to the wall for support.
“I gu
ess you missed me a little,” said Liz.
“You know I did. Come in and sit down.” Maggie tugged on her arm to lead her to the sofa. On the way, Liz surveyed the boxes full of books in front of the half-empty bookcases.
“Are you packing?” Liz asked in a hopeful voice.
“I’m organizing my things in case I decide to lease the apartment.”
“Really? Are you moving? Where are you going?”
Maggie gave her a hard look. “Don’t play that game with me, Liz Stolz. You know exactly where I’m going.”
“Just making sure I understand.” Now that Liz had the chance to look around more carefully, she saw there were stacks everywhere, piles of paper, files, books. This was not going to be a quick process. Maybe she should make arrangements with her partners to spell her for a few more days.
“So?” Maggie tapped her arm to get her attention. “What did you want to tell me?”
Liz cleared her throat to buy herself some time and to make sure her voice was strong and solid. She took a deep breath. “I want you to know that I will respect any choice you make regarding your treatment, including prophylactic surgery. When the surgery is done right, the difference between a natural breast and a reconstructed breast is hard to detect. If anyone, you’ll be the loser because the sensitivity in the…”
“Liz…” Maggie interrupted. “I know all that. I read your book.”
“I think a double mastectomy at this point is overkill. That’s not to say, I haven’t agreed to perform it when patients have asked. It’s your body and your life. If the idea of a recurrence is so terrifying that you’ll never stop thinking about it, then have the surgery, and I’ll support you.” She reached out and took Maggie’s hand. “What I’m trying to say is I will love you with your natural breasts or without them. It’s you I love, not your body parts.”
Maggie laid her open palm against Liz’s cheek.
“Why couldn’t you say that when I asked?”
“You caught me off guard. I didn’t think.”
“You gave me a spontaneous answer. Maybe that’s how you really feel.”
Liz sighed. “I have to be honest. If you decide to have the mastectomy, I will really miss your breasts.” To Liz’s surprise, her eyes filled, and her voice thickened. She swallowed hard in order to continue. “I love your body, but I will give up anything so that you can be happy.”
“It’s hard to be happy when you’re terrified. But one way or the other, I’m going to have to learn to live with this disease. It’s not a nightmare that I can wake up from. It’s going to be there every day.”
Liz nodded. “Yes, it will.”
Maggie looked directly into Liz’s eyes.“I trust you and your doctor friends. All their recommendations sound reasonable.”
“I appreciate your trust,” Liz replied, “but you’re still at high risk for a recurrence.”
“I know, and the double mastectomy would lower the risk, but I love you, and you take such pleasure in my breasts. Why should I deprive you or myself unless it’s truly necessary? Maybe someday I’ll need to make that choice, but not today.”
“As long as you’re making your decisions based on what’s good for you.”
“I am, and I’m aware of the risks. Liz, I’m willing to take a lot of risks where you’re concerned…as long as I know you’ll be by my side.”
Liz cleared her throat. The moment to say what she’d come to say had arrived, but for some reason, she was fumbling for words. “I have something for you,” she said more gruffly than she had intended.
Maggie’s eyebrows rose. Her eyes followed Liz’s hand as she searched in the pocket of her jacket. The receipt from the jeweler fell out on the floor. Liz snatched it up quickly, hoping Maggie wouldn’t see it, but she turned sharply and searched Liz’s face.
“Are you crazy?”
“Yes, I think I must be.” Liz held out the shiny, black box. “Here. It was made in Ireland. I thought you would like that.”
Liz watched carefully as Maggie opened the box. Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open. When she looked up, her eyes were bright with tears. “Are you sure you’re not doing this because you feel sorry for me?”
“Right. I just blew a lot of money because I feel sorry for you.”
Maggie looked surprised at the impatient tone. Then she smiled. A single tear ran down Maggie’s cheek. “Aren’t you going to say something?”
“You mean, I have to say the actual words?”
“Yes, I think you do. Don’t you?”
Liz took a deep breath. Her hand was shaking when she reached for Maggie’s. “Margaret Mary Fitzgerald, will you marry me?”
“Yes, Elizabeth Anne Stolz, I will marry you.”
“There’s only one condition” Liz snatched back the box. “I am not marrying a woman who still has her ex-husband’s name. You have to go back to your maiden name.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I am not. I may have gotten over my jealousy of that prick, but I won’t marry you if you still have his name.”
“What if I don’t want to go back to my maiden name?”
Liz shook her head. “No deal.” She closed the box and put it in her pocket.
Maggie looked defiant. “What if I wanted another name?”
Liz eyed her. What game was this?
“What if I wanted to take your name?”
Liz had never considered that idea. “Maggie Stolz?” She said aloud purely to hear the sound of it. “Not bad,” she said, nodding. “My mother will die when she hears it.”
Maggie made a face. “Let’s hope not. Despite the grief she’s caused you…and me, I don’t wish her any harm.” She reached out her open hand. “Can I have my ring back now?”
Liz mimed debating the question. Then she smiled and pulled the box out of her pocket. She put the ring on Maggie’s finger.
“Fits perfectly. How did you manage that?”
“Remember when you took your ring off to mix chopped meat for meatballs? I tried it on.”
“Oh, but you are sly, Liz Stolz.” Maggie held her hand up to admire the ring. “So, when should we have this event?”
“Tomorrow. Before I change my mind.”
“No, you don’t. I want to invite my family. And I’m sure it takes time to change your name.”
“Not long. I have connections.”
“We’re not getting married tomorrow, but we will soon.” Maggie gave her one of those Maggie the cat smiles.
“No, Maggie. No big wedding and NO white dresses.”
Maggie continued to smile.
Five Years Later
Epilogue
Bev Birnbaum frowned slightly as she looked over the paperwork in the folder. The frown made Maggie a little anxious, although she already knew there was no cause for concern. Liz had been copied on all the reports and had reviewed them with her beforehand. Officially, Cathy Pelletier, the other female member of Hobbs Family Practice was Maggie’s doctor, but Liz managed all the care related to her cancer. Somehow, the two doctors never tripped over one another in the process.
“Your MRIs and mammograms look great,” said Bev. “Your tumor markers are low. Everything looks perfect. Congratulations, Maggie, it’s been five years, and you are now officially a survivor.” Bev clicked open her pen, ready to take notes. “So, the Tamoxifen is still working for you. No new side effects? No increased vaginal dryness? No decrease in your libido?”
Maggie glanced at Liz, who suddenly found the ceiling tiles extraordinarily interesting.
“No,” Maggie assured her doctor. “Everything is fine in that department.”
Liz continued to stare at the ceiling. Bev looked over her glasses in Liz’s direction. “Liz, did you have anything to add?”
Liz sat up straight. “No, as Maggie said, she’s tolerating the T
amoxifen well.”
Bev glanced at Maggie. “A good thing. Unfortunately, you’ll probably be on it for the rest of your life.”
“It’s gotten me this far without a recurrence. I’ll take it forever if I need to.”
Bev gave her a warm, encouraging smile. “I’m going to miss seeing you. Both of you.”
“You could come to Maine,” said Liz. “You know you’re always welcome.”
“I know, and I’ll get there. This summer, I promise. I have a lot of catching up to do in my retirement.” She closed Maggie’s file and moved it to the side of her of desk, a casual thing, but to Maggie, an act with great significance. “What about you, Liz? Are you going to go through with selling your practice to your partners?”
Liz raised her shoulders. “They can’t seem to get the money together, and honestly, I’m not ready to let it go. We keep getting offers from the local health network. I’ll close the practice down before I sell it to them.”
“Liz will never retire,” confided Maggie behind her hand.
“Oh, I don’t know.” Bev gave Maggie a doubtful look. “Now that she’s finally getting her money out of the Guilford house, she might think differently. The two of you might want to travel the world.”
“We did think about buying that little cottage in Ireland,” said Liz, “but I don’t want to be tied down to one place.”
“You live in Maine, where it’s always cold, and you want to buy a house in Ireland, where it always rains? How about someplace sunny and warm?”
“Like Tuscany?” Maggie nodded enthusiastically to encourage this line of thought.
“Exactly.”
“Bev, don’t encourage her,” warned Liz. “She doesn’t need any encouragement.”
Bev got up .“I’ll see you at Jenny’s wedding next month.”
“At least, she’s wearing a white dress.” Maggie gave Liz a hard look.
“Oh, for God’s sake! Still?”
Bev looked from Liz to Maggie. “Well, she did wear white. It just wasn’t a dress.”
“Thanks, Bev. And Jenny is the last person who should wear white. Fortunately, her little plastic surgeon fiancée doesn’t know any better.”