A Perfect Life nd Other Stories (8 page)

When they got to the lodge grounds, Denny led them behind the
utility buildings and to the staff bunkhouse. She wasn’t thinking logistics,
just proximity. She slipped in the back door, Alice quiet beside her. As soon
as they were inside her room, Alice reached under Denny’s shirt. Her hands on
Denny’s skin made her swoon.

They fumbled to undress each other. Alice tugged on Denny’s shirt
but couldn’t get it off because Denny was busy trying to undo the button to
Alice’s shorts.

“Wait,” Denny gasped, finally. “One at a time.”

Alice stepped back, glanced around, and giggled. “A bunk bed,” she
said. “I haven’t done this since college.”

Denny blushed. “I guess we should have gone to your cabin.”

Alice shook her head. “No, I like it.” She kissed Denny’s throat
then undressed her, slowly, tenderly. Then Denny did the same for Alice,
kissing and touching her bare skin as she removed each item. Gently, she guided
Alice down onto the narrow bed.

In a delicate, carefully balanced choreography, they made love. As
though it could be manufactured. No, Denny already loved. She was not someone
who engaged in sex, casual or otherwise. For her, this level of intimacy meant
expressing love, not making it. Loving a woman was as close to flying as Denny
could get while earthbound, and this was a perfect flight. Alice was confident
and fearless, gentle and playful at just the right moments. Denny was undone and
remade in her arms.

Later, Denny lay awake, still soaring above the clouds in the
midnight dusk of the far north summer. So this is what it feels like, she
thought. She had forgotten. Alice lay draped across her, breathing softly.
Denny stroked her hair. Impulsively, she whispered, “I love you.” Alice didn’t
stir. That was okay. This was just practice. She would say it again.

DENNY WOKE TO bright sunlight streaming in the
window. She was alone. She rubbed her eyes while sorting dream from reality.
The clock jolted her. Seven. She bolted up, grabbed her bathrobe, and ran
outside in her bare feet. Erin was crossing the yard, where the bus would have
been parked.

“Erin! Has the bus left?” Denny called.

Erin looked at her with concern. “Yeah, like an hour ago. Josh is
looking for you. Oversleep?”

Denny stared at the blank spot where a bus
should be. Where Alice should be waving to her from the window and blowing
kisses. They would have promised to write and make plans to visit in September
when Denny returned home. Fall on the Cape was beautiful. Alice had the time
now.

“Oh, fuck!” Denny put a hand to her mouth and let out a cry. “No!”

“Hey.” Erin ran to her. “What’s wrong?”

Denny pulled away. “Nothing. Never mind.” She stumbled back to her
room and sank to the floor against the door.

Erin knocked softly. “Denny? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Leave me alone. Please.”

“What about Josh?”

“Tell him I’m coming.”

She heard Erin move away and pressed her
forehead onto her arms across her knees, crying helplessly. You only just met
her, she told herself.

After a few minutes she wiped her face and
looked around, at the bed with sheets rumpled and damp, the memory of last
night so vivid, her clothes heaped on the floor. A piece of paper on her
nightstand caught her eye. She groaned to her feet and picked it up. It was
torn from a spiral-bound notebook. Alice’s. In her neat script, she had
written,
Dear, sweet Denny. You are a wonderful, beautiful lover, but I
wasn’t looking for anything more, so please don’t contact me. I can’t love you.
Alice
.

Stunned, Denny read it three more times. Alice had heard her. She
crumpled the note and flung it into the trash. Figures. What a bloody idiot
she’d been. Again.

In a fury, she pulled the sheets off the bed and threw them in the
pile with her other laundry. She didn’t want any lingering trace of Alice.
Then, remembering Josh, she grabbed her bath kit and headed to the shower.

I can’t love you
.

Denny mulled Alice’s words while she washed up and dressed. What
did that mean? Not, I don’t love you. Can’t. She shook her head, frustrated
that she’d never know.

“WHERE THE HELL have you been?” Josh greeted her in the lobby.

Denny apologized and said she’d forgotten to set her alarm. She
suspected Alice had turned it off.

“Well, I have a customer for you,” he said. “This lady missed the
bus. She needs a flight to the train depot.”

Denny looked to where Josh indicated. Alice shifted uncomfortably
in a chair, pallid, her expression unreadable. With Josh standing beside her,
Denny couldn’t say what she wanted,
Why did you leave? What did I do wrong?
Why did you say you can’t love me?
She could only plead with her eyes. But
Alice looked away.

Denny cleared her throat to see if she could summon a voice and
asked only, “When is your train?”

“Noon.”

“Then I have time for breakfast.” She retreated to the dining
room. Her hands shook as she poured the coffee.

Other guests trickled in. Denny was sitting with a plateful of
eggs and sausage when Alice entered and peered at the buffet. She poured
herself a cup of coffee and took a seat by a window across the room. Denny
sighed and reached for her orange juice. When she finished eating, she thought
about ignoring Alice, but then went to her.

“Did I do something wrong?” She stood over Alice, hoping to appear
more intimidating than she felt.

Alice stared out the window, hands wrapped around her mug. “No.”

Denny sat across from her. “Then what’s this all about?”

Alice looked at her. “What’s what all about?”

Denny cocked her head and waved a hand between
them. “This. The cold shoulder. The note.”

“I’d like to fly with someone else. If that’s possible.” Alice’s
eyes were cold.

Denny leaned back, stunned. “I’m sure it is.
I’ll take you to the airfield. You can make your own arrangements.” She stood.
“Be ready by nine-thirty.”

AT THE AIRFIELD, Josh met them with the news that the winds had
picked up and no one would be flying out. He’d arranged for a van to drive to
the park entrance.

“But I’ll miss my train,” Alice pleaded, but Josh was unmoved.

Denny was off the hook. She could leave now. This wasn’t her
problem anymore. Instead, she said, “I can take you.”

“How?” Alice asked, glancing from Josh to Denny. “He just said
it’s too windy.”

“That’s a business decision, not a flying decision.” She paused.
Josh wasn’t protesting. “They’ve never had an accident and that’s because they
reduce the risk to zero.”

“You think the risk can be higher?”

“I do. But it’s up to you.”

Alice looked away and shook her head slowly as though weighing the
options, of which there were few. There was no way to meet the train without
flying, and no way to fly without Denny.

“How long will it take?” Alice asked.

“Thirty minutes.”

Alice closed her eyes briefly then looked at Denny, her expression
sad. “Okay.”

They prepared for the trip in silence. Denny
used her own plane, stowing Alice’s suitcase in the back, and growing more and
more frustrated. Unlike Alice, she couldn’t pretend last night hadn’t happened.
As they took off, the plane bucked in the wind and Denny focused on maintaining
control. Once they cleared the ridges, the plane settled. It would be a bumpy
ride, but Denny could handle it. Alice stared out the window. Wind or no wind,
this would be thirty minutes of hell. Circling over the Kantishna Hills to turn
east, Denny spotted the old mine and on impulse dropped the plane to land.

Alice looked at her, fearful. “What’s wrong? Is something wrong
with the plane?”

Denny didn’t say anything until she rolled to a stop and cut the
engine. “Nothing’s wrong with the plane, but something’s wrong with me. I need
to know what happened between us.”

Alice hesitated. “Nothing happened. It was a
fling. Haven’t you had any other flings this summer?”

“No, I haven’t. I don’t do flings. And I don’t recall you
mentioning anything about a fling.”

“Well, I’m sorry. But that’s all it was.” Alice looked away but
tears welled.

“I don’t believe you. Why are you jerking me around?”

“I’m not jerking you around, Denny. I’m protecting you.”

“From what?”

“From me.”

“Oh, please. What is it? A husband? A wife? Are you straight?
What?”

“Stop it.” Alice began to cry.

“No. Tell me or we sit here till you miss that
train.”

Minutes ticked by. Winds buffeted the plane
and Denny worried that conditions might worsen. Finally, Alice sighed. “Have it
your way.” She stared at her hands in her lap. “I have Alzheimer’s.”

Denny felt the breath leave her. Pieces fell into place. She
sensed Alice was telling the truth. “Are you sure?”

Alice nodded. “Diagnosed last January with all the signs. Growing
forgetfulness, confusion, disorientation. It’s not just ditzyness. I’m no ditz.
At least I didn’t used to be.”

“Is that why the notebook, the photos . . . ?”

Alice nodded.

“I—I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say.”

“I’m the one who’s sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I had this
crazy notion I could have an affair, a bit of fun and you’d forget all about
me.” Alice met Denny’s gaze. “Because, you see, I’m the one who’s going to
forget you.” A tear slipped down her cheek. “And now I don’t want to.”

Denny pulled her into a hug. “I’m such an idiot. I’m sorry. I
thought it was me.”

Alice pushed away but put a hand on Denny’s leg. “It was you,
though. Don’t you see? You made me feel normal. After six months of being
poked, prodded, and scanned, the last thing I wanted to think about was my
diagnosis. That’s why I came to Alaska. Alone. My doctor warned me not to, but
I can be stubborn. I wanted to forget, ironically. But I’m the one who’s an
idiot, who’s too sick to get on a bus.” Alice’s voice began to shake. “They
made an announcement, but I let it go by. It didn’t register that I was
supposed to be on that bus.” Denny took her hand.

“When you said you love me, I panicked. It was everything I wanted
but knew I couldn’t have. Can’t have.” She looked at Denny. “You can’t possibly
love me. You’re infatuated, that’s all. You had some fantasy about who I was
and how we could be together, but you don’t know me. And I don’t know you. I’m
sorry I let it get out of hand. I won’t remember you. I wish to God I could, but
I won’t.”

Alice wiped her cheeks. Denny found a tissue and handed it to her.
She didn’t know what to say. Alice looked at her and shrugged. Denny needed to
think, so she started the plane, turned it around, and took off for the depot.
They flew in silence, except for radio calls checking for other pilots, but
they were alone. To the right, the mountain glowed.

THE MCKINLEY PARK airstrip lies next to the train depot, and the
Alaska Railways engine, pulling a line of glass-domed tourist cars, sat ready and
loading. Alice only had to cross the tracks and get on board. Denny taxied to
the side of the runway and cut the engine. She put her hand over Alice’s
seatbelt buckle.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t want your pity. I don’t.” Alice paused and shook her
head. “I didn’t expect to feel . . . I’d hoped you wouldn’t either. What
happened was a mistake. I never should have—”

“Shh.” Denny put her fingers to Alice’s lips. “It was not a
mistake.” She kissed her. “What happens now? Can I see you when I get home?”

“No.”

Denny leaned back in surprise. “Why not?”

“Because an ever dwindling me isn’t good enough for you. You
deserve someone whole. There’s no future with me. This is an incurable,
progressive, debilitating disease. This won’t be my body that will lose the
ability to make love to you. This will be my mind that will lose the ability to
love you. And that’s not fair.”

“Don’t I get a say?”

“No, you don’t. Alzheimer’s is grueling and cruel. I know. My
father died of it, and it nearly destroyed my mother. I’m making sure no one I
love has to go through that. I’m already taking medication that might slow the
progression—although this morning was a disheartening lapse. When I get back
home, I’m moving into an assisted living apartment where I’ll be independent
until the time comes that I need a nursing home. And that’s already been
arranged.”

“I can’t bear the thought of you alone.”

“I’m not. I have family. Brothers. Nieces. Friends. See, you don’t
know me, Denny. Not well enough to be in love with me. Not nearly well enough
for this.”

Denny pressed on. “Does it have to be this final? We could be
friends.”

Alice turned away and stared out the window. “I didn’t make love
to a friend.”