Searching for Forever, page 18
awkwardly on the shoulder and walked out of the room.
*
“Brown, huh?” I said, quietly walking up behind Charlie,
where she sat at a nearby computer.
“Brown. Who’d have thought?” she said proudly.
“I would have.”
“Natalie, I want to thank you. I just don’t know how. I
never would have even tried to do this if you hadn’t pushed
me. You believed in me when I couldn’t believe in myself.
How can I thank you enough?”
I leaned over and whispered softly in her ear. “You’ve
given me more than enough in return.”
Then I walked away, leaving her looking bewildered and
pained in a way I hoped meant she still wanted me like she
used to.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
To say I wasn’t completely fixated on Charlie’s upcoming
departure to Brown would have been a blatant lie. I spent the
next several hours seeing patients, going through the motions,
doing what needed to be done—but my head, or, at least my
heart, was elsewhere.
It wasn’t difficult to picture her future either. I could see
her, clearly as any reality, clad in a white coat with an even
whiter smile, treating patients—saving lives. And I was elated.
But a selfish, unyielding depression quickly followed my
elation. Charlie was fulfilling her calling, chasing her dreams.
And I was no longer a part of that.
Michelle was as vivacious and beautiful as I’d ever seen
her, hanging off Charlie’s arm whenever she got the chance,
like they were on a red carpet somewhere.
I tried being angry with Charlie—who was she to cast me
aside like nothing? But really, I had no one to blame but
myself. Admitting I was wrong had never been a regular
practice of mine. But that afternoon, I was ready to accept that
I’d made a mistake. I wasn’t exactly sure what that meant, but
I knew, somewhere in me, I’d lost something invaluable.
*
That afternoon, a young girl named Emma Reed came into
my ER. I remember her, and will always remember her,
because she was five and looked eerily like Sammy. They
shared the same dark, wavy hair and bright blue eyes, but
more than that, they seemed to have similar spirits—similar
souls.
Emma’s mother had brought her in for very routine
reasons; she hadn’t been eating much for the past week and
was unusually tired. Her exam was, essentially, normal, except
for a low-grade fever and a fast heart rate—neither of which is
particularly unusual in a sick, unhappy child.
I sat at my desk, making quick, mundane notes in Emma’s
chart, stopping periodically to watch Charlie and Michelle
giggle and flirt and swoon like they were the only ones in the
department. As I watched, trying to figure out what was
happening in Charlie’s head, Jen whirled around the corner,
pushing the pediatric crash cart.
Of all the equipment in an emergency room, this is the one
you hope to never have to use.
Instinctively, I jumped up from my post. “Where are you
going with that, Jen?” I tried to keep my tone steady.
“It’s the little girl in 5.” Her voice was tense with urgency
—Emma’s room.
Charlie must have been paying closer attention than I’d
thought, because she immediately grabbed more supplies and
followed us.
On the bed in room 5 lay little Emma, white as the
fluorescent lights above her. A half-eaten turkey sandwich was
still next to her, and two of the other nurses were already
hooking her up to the monitors and listening to her chest.
“What happened?” I asked, the bewilderment surely
evident in my words.
“She was just eating,” one of the nurses said. “She said she
didn’t feel well, turned blue, and stopped breathing.” Emma’s
mother, who couldn’t have been a minute older than Charlie,
had just finished a tearful recollection of the last few
excruciating moments and was sobbing wildly in the open
doorway.
The monitors showed a quick, steady heartbeat, but I knew
that wouldn’t last.
“Let’s get her tubed,” I said.
Keeping calm in an emergency is a skill you have to
develop. But I don’t think anybody ever becomes skilled in
watching a child die.
Charlie was at the head of the bed, preparing medications.
“Here. You should do it,” I told her quietly, handing her a
breathing tube.
“She’s so small…” She was hiding it well, but I’d never
seen her so frightened.
“This is going to be you someday. You can do it.” I put a
gentle, tentative hand on her shoulder. “I’m right here.”
It took several unnerving seconds, but Charlie eventually
secured the tube.
“Good.” I offered her a cordial smile and checked back on
the monitors above the now-lifeless Emma’s head.
“Let’s check a pulse,” I ordered.
“I can’t find one…” Jen shook violently.
“Start CPR.”
And for an hour and a half we pushed on her tiny chest and
shocked her still heart, every now and then bringing it back to
some semblance of life.
“What did we miss here?” I asked again, to no one in
particular, as we struggled to keep Emma with us.
“I thought it was just a GI bug,” Charlie mumbled,
sounding defeated.
“So did I…”
My shift ended at three that day, but I stayed until Emma
was stable enough to be transferred out to a teaching hospital
in Boston—the same hospital we often took Sammy to.
As the paramedics wheeled her away, small breathing tube
still in place and face still white as light, I thought about losing
Sammy. And I thought about my life so far. What had it been?
A career and an amazing little girl I adored. A mediocre
marriage built around that little girl, and the stability of that
career.
And as I watched Charlie, standing outside Emma’s room,
with an expression so beaten and broken I wanted to run to
her, I thought about losing her as well.
I had already given her up. I had already lost her, but to
nothing as permanent as death. And finally, I was able to be
angry, even downright furious. Life was fleeting. I, of all
people, should have known that. So how could I be so intent
on letting Charlie go, hoping for a reunion at a better time?
Who could say there would ever be a better time?
A week later, we’d received a beautiful, handwritten card
from Emma’s mother. It turned out she’d been cursed with a
rare, congenital heart defect that we couldn’t have found, no
matter how hard we looked.
She never made it out of the hospital.
*
“I know how I can thank you,” Charlie said with a smile,
walking up to my desk as I finished up Emma’s transfer
paperwork. She squatted to the ground and spoke softly.
“Come over tonight. I’ll make dinner. Anything you want.”
Charlie was a terrible cook. We both knew this. On the one
occasion she’d attempted to make dinner for us, she’d burnt
the pasta so severely the upstairs neighbor’s fire alarm went
off. But I didn’t care. The idea of spending an evening with
her—even if it was just one more—was enough to fill me with
more elation than I had words for.
“I’d like that.”
“My place. Seven p.m.” She put a hand on the back of my
neck and then walked away with that familiar swing in her
step that brought me to my knees.
*
“I need you to order a pizza tonight for you and Sammy,” I
said to Peter, only moments after I’d walked in the door that
evening.
“You’re going out again?”
“Staff meeting tonight. It’ll be late, I imagine. There’s a lot
going on this month.”
“Who is he, Natalie?” I stopped dead as Peter spoke.
“Who is who, Peter?”
“Who is this guy you’re having an affair with?” His tone
was sharp and cutting.
“There is no guy.” I wasn’t lying.
“Bullshit. Look me in the eye and tell me honestly that
there is no other man.” His face was red and his fists were
clenched tight against his thighs. I put my things down again
and looked at Peter head-on. “There is no other man in my
life.”
We stood there for a long time, as he stared at me hard.
“Okay. I’m sorry. I believe you. I’m sorry—”
“Don’t ever accuse me of that again.”
“I won’t. I’m sorry. It’s just that you’ve been so distant
lately, even for you. And you’re gone all the time. This last
year, you just haven’t been around at all.”
“I’m a physician. I’m busy. You knew this when you
married me. Now, I have to go. I’m late for my meeting.” I
picked up my keys and my purse, and walked out the door.
I arrived at Charlie’s ten minutes later, bringing along with
me a state of unreasonable excitement. I rang the doorbell,
thinking that if I wanted to change our situation, I had to
change old habits too. My trip to Phoenix had left me with a
lot to ponder. It would never be too late for us. And when I
was ready, I’d come around. And Charlie would be there.
“It was unlocked, you know,” Charlie said, opening the
door to greet me. She wore a pair of black slacks, polished
dress shoes, a freshly ironed blue button-down shirt, and I
instantly wanted her more than I’d ever wanted anyone, or
anything.
“You look really nice.” I fought the need to undress her
right in the doorway.
“Oh, yeah, well, I figured a little ironing doesn’t kill
anyone.” She led me in the house and into the kitchen. I’d
been there a hundred times before, but that night, I could
hardly recognize the place. Not a single dirty dish was out.
The counters were clean. The table was set with matching
plates and silverware. Candles lined the room, leaving nothing
but a soft, flickering light in the place. And brass instruments
hummed jazz music from the nearby stereo.
“Sit down. Let me get you a glass of wine.” I was still
looking around in awe as Charlie pulled my chair out for me.
“That’d be nice. Thanks.”
She poured me a glass of what looked to be fairly
expensive pinot and brought it to me at the table. “How does
salmon with hollandaise and asparagus sound to you?”
“It sounds like you had some help.” I was teasing her, and
she laughed with me.
“Yeah. Paula Deen. It’s amazing how these science courses
have helped me follow a recipe. They say you can’t learn
anything practical in school. Who’d have known organic
chemistry would help me charm women?”
“I don’t think you need any help in that area.” I grinned
suggestively at her and took another sip of my wine, allowing
the warmth to envelope me like a blanket.
“It’ll be ready in ten minutes or so,” she said, pulling up a
chair next to me and drinking from her own glass of wine.
“You know you didn’t have to go to all this trouble for
me.”
“I know I didn’t. But I wanted to. You’ve done so much for
me, Nat. And I know it’d be easy to be pissed at you, or hurt,
or whatever, but I can’t.”
“You can’t?”
“Don’t get me wrong. I was pissed about how things ended
with us—for a few weeks. I guess I couldn’t wrap my head
around why anyone wouldn’t choose me.” She laughed at
herself. “Ridiculous, I know. But I guess that’s the cocky butch
in me.”
“I think most people would choose you, Charlie.”
“But not you.”
“Most people don’t have Sammy to think about.”
“You know you’d never really lose her. No court is going
to take a child away from a mother like you—gay or not. And
you know how good I am with her.”
“Yes. I realize that.” Out of habit I took her hand in mine
and placed it on my knee. A familiar shiver of need ran
through me as her bare skin touched my leg. “Trust me,
Charlie. Don’t think I haven’t thought of all this. I know how
good you are and how much Sammy would love having you
around. But what if Peter tried to take her from me?”
“He would never.”
“Are you so sure? Because I’ve been married to him for a
while now, and I’ve seen people do some crazy things when
they’re hurt. And believe me, this would hurt him. I really
don’t know what he’d be capable of if he knew about us. I just
couldn’t risk that.”
“Even if he tried, no judge is going to take that little girl
away from you. She adores you.” Logically, I was sure she
was right. I was only prodding deeper for more excuses to
keep my life safe and secure.
“How do you do it, Charlie?”
“Do what?”
“Be so damn okay with who you are?”
She finished her wine and squeezed my hand. “It takes
time. That’s all. Just like anything else.”
“You’re awfully wise for your age, you know,” I said.
“Maybe that’s why it was so easy to fall in love with you.”
The oven timer rang, and shortly thereafter, Charlie
brought dinner to the table.
“Better than burnt pasta, huh?” she said with a smile.
“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you? You know, I went
out to Phoenix to visit a friend from college. A lesbian friend.”
“No kidding. Natalie has a dyke friend. Doesn’t that sort of
disrupt your Stepford Wife image?” She laughed.
“Very funny. Actually, Kate and I have been friends since
college. But she didn’t come out until she was in her thirties.”
“So what happened to her?”
“She’s been living happily with her partner for eight years
now. And I’ve never known any two people better suited for
each other.” We were both quiet for a while. “I went out there
mostly because I needed to talk to somebody. About you.”
“What for?”
“I’ve been holding this in for a year now. And the only
person who’s had any idea is you. Well, you and Jen. Though
God knows she’s not up for talking about it. But really. It
was…enlightening, to say the least.”
“How so?”
Did she know where I was going with this? Did I even
know?
“I saw Kate and Jane, and their life together. And I saw
two people who couldn’t love anybody else as much as each
other. I saw friendship and respect and affection, and all kinds
of things I don’t see in my own marriage. Things…things I see
with you, Charlie.”
“What are you saying?”
I touched her face. “I’m saying I love you, Charlie. I love
you more than I even have words for. More than I ever thought
I could love anybody in my entire life. You’ve given
everything meaning, where there was none. When you’re
around, I’m content and euphoric all at once, and not in a
fleeting way, either. I love you in a way I’m sure could last.” I
was drunk, and so was Charlie. The words I spoke were
honest, but they were also dangerous. They were the kind of
words that required action—action I wasn’t yet ready to take.
“I love you too. I’ve loved you for so long now. But if you
aren’t ready to leave Peter…”
I took her face in my hands and kissed her with all the
passion and urgency that had been building in me since
Phoenix.
Charlie grabbed my hips and guided me to a standing
position, running her hands down my sides and under my shirt,
pulling it away from my body. Her skin was warm, and her
lips were soft and wet as they traced eagerly along my neck
and down to my breasts. Her fingers skillfully unbuttoned my
top, while one hand gently tugged on my loose hair.
“I want you so much,” I gasped, as she pushed me onto the
table. I pulled my hands through her hair as she kissed down
my stomach. My body was lit up. The most visceral parts of
me cried out for her to touch me. She bit gently at my bare
shoulders as she slid off my bra and smoothed her thumb over
my breasts. “God, you know just how to touch me.”
Charlie laid me down on the table, taking time and care not
to leave a single inch of me untouched or unkissed. Her lips
moved fervently against mine, and her tongue gently and
masterfully found my mouth. Just kissing her could turn me on
