Finding Bluefield (13 page)

“It’s nothing personal, but doctors and cooks don’t make good matches.”

“I’ll try to remember that the next time I meet a cook,” Barbara said, standing up. “I have rounds.”

“Look,” Carol-Ann said, “I just want to find Nicky. I want my sister back.”

“I can’t help you with that. She didn’t want me to know where she was going.”

“I could tell everyone here that you’re a lesbian.”

Barbara leaned on the table. “And how would that help you find Nicky? I still couldn’t tell you where she is,” Barbara said.

“But at least you’d be as miserable as I am.”

“The fact that I am not with Nicky means I am already more miserable than you.” Barbara sat back down. “You can spread whatever rumor you want about me, but I’ll be gone soon and forgotten. But think about what will happen when Nicky comes back with Paul and his father and she finds that none of them are welcome here because you had to punish me. How do you think Nicky will feel about you then? My guess is that she won’t be all that forgiving.” Barbara stood up again. “So do what you think you need to do and tell whoever you want whatever you want. But right now, I have patients that need my attention. Nice to see you again. Say hello to the girls.”

*

Right after New Year’s, Barbara finished her fellowship, finished covering holiday shifts, finished her very last shift at Bluefield Hospital, said her good-byes to her colleagues, and headed north. She flew into New York and headed for Manhattan to catch a train to Medford. She had to wait overnight for a train but didn’t mind. An evening in Manhattan would be like a decompression chamber, a way to transition between Virginia and Medford. Barbara checked into her hotel and took a cab to the Upper West Side where she visited her old medical school hangouts. After two very quiet bars, she found the bar on 72nd Street lively, especially for a Monday evening. She found a small table and ordered some wine. She was on her second glass when a tall, athletic-looking woman came over and sat at her table.

“My name is Rochelle,” she said, extending her hand.

Barbara had noticed Rochelle earlier. It was hard not to. She was wearing a black miniskirt that showed off her legs. Her black hair was braided and reached all the way down her black motorcycle jacket. Barbara shook Rochelle’s hand. “I’m Barbara,” she said.

“How about a dance?”

“Sure,” Barbara said, putting down her wine.

After a few rowdy tunes, the DJ put on a slow song. Barbara turned to sit, but Rochelle held her hand. “I asked her to play this for us.”

Barbara stayed. She liked being pursued. Rochelle pulled Barbara closer.

“Come home with me,” Rochelle said as the evening wore on.

What am I doing, Barbara thought. I’m not sure. Nicky slept with a guy; why can’t I sleep with this woman?

“You don’t have to stay the night. Just come spend some time with me,” Rochelle said, her arm around Barbara’s waist.

No one would ever know, Barbara thought.

“You’re very beautiful,” Rochelle said, and she kissed Barbara’s hand. “Your girlfriend is very lucky.”

“How could you tell?”

“The hesitation,” Rochelle said. “It’s only the ones with girlfriends who hesitate.”

Barbara laughed. “You are very beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Rochelle said. “Is she pretty?”

“Who?” Barbara said.

“Your lover.”

“Very.”

“She’s very lucky.” Rochelle led Barbara back to the table. “Are you afraid she’ll find out?”

Barbara had some more of her wine. “I’m afraid I’ll tell her.”

“Do you live around here?”

Barbara shook her head.

“It would just be sex. Great sex, I promise you.”

“I better go.”

“Why?” Rochelle said.

“Because I don’t know how much longer I can hold out.”

“I have a girlfriend too.”

“I don’t understand,” Barbara said.

“My lover is out of town. She’s free to do what she wants when she’s away and so am I.”

Sex with Rochelle was great. On the way back to the hotel, Barbara picked up Chinese food. She got in bed, opened up the containers, turned on the TV, and called Nicky.

“Are you okay?” Nicky asked.

“I missed you.”

“I miss you too, but it’s three in the morning. Can you miss me tomorrow? Paul’s been getting up at six thirty.”

“I lost track of time.” Barbara was ravenous. “I love you,” she said through a mouthful of food.

“What are you eating?”

“Lobster in black bean sauce.”

“You really missed New York, didn’t you?” Nicky said.

“Not as much as I miss you,” Barbara said. She heard Nicky yawn. “You better get to sleep.”

“It’s okay to miss New York,” Nicky said. “We’re close enough to visit now.”

“I know,” Barbara said. “Listen, I really need to tell you something.”

“Can it wait till tomorrow? I’m so tired.”

“It can’t wait,” Barbara said. “I can’t wait.”

“Okay. I’m listening.”

Barbara took a deep breath. “I love you. I really love you and I can’t wait to start our new life together.”

1968

It was the first day of spring, and though the weather was hardly behaving like it, Nicky had the Bel Air’s top down. She pulled into a parking spot in front of the Hilltown Day Care Center, stepped out of the car, and onto her cigarette. Pushing her car keys into her jeans, she reached over the door to place her sunglasses on the dash. She removed the rubber band that held her hair together against the wind and shook out her long strands. She unbuttoned her jacket and headed in to pick up Paul. With a deep breath, she pulled open the heavy door and joined the half dozen mothers milling around the hallway waiting to have their children returned to them. As Nicky leaned against a wall, a woman came over to her.

“Are you Paul’s mom?”

“Yes. I’m Nicky.”

“I’m Eddie’s mom, Judy. Eddie is so glad that Paul started coming here. He talks about him all the time.”

“Paul seems to be enjoying coming here.”

“You have a lovely accent,” Judy said. “Where is it from?”

“Virginia,” Nicky said, wishing Paul would be let out soon.

“You have the top down,” Judy said. “Isn’t it cold?”

“I freeze,” Nicky said. “But it’s the first day of spring and I have to.”

“Of course, the first day of spring in Medford is a lot colder than Virginia.”

“That it is.”

“But I guess I know what you mean,” she said. “I put my peas in the first day of March, no matter what. Even if I have to clear the snow.”

“Exactly.”

“Eddie said you’re a doctor.”

“He means his Aunt Barbara. She lives with us.”

“And your husband?” Judy said. “What does he do?”

“There is no husband.”

“I’m sorry. What happened?”

Nicky looked at her watch. She took a cigarette out and let it dangle unlit from her lips while she searched for her lighter. “Nothing interesting.”

“It helps to talk about it. I’m divorced myself. Almost two years. After my husband left me for one for his students, I didn’t want to talk about what happened either. But I will tell you that she left him after he helped her get into graduate school. Served him right. Anyway, I almost lost my mind until I joined a support group. They saved my life. I wouldn’t have met my second husband if it wasn’t for that.”

“He was in the group?” Nicky said.

“You’re funny.” Judy laughed. “The group was for girls only. You know, Nicky, we live over by Clifton Pond. Eddie’d love to have Paul come over after school some day. I could pick him up with Eddie.”

“That sounds nice,” Nicky said. “I’m sure Paul would like that.”

Nicky poked her head inside the classroom. Kids were getting their coats on.

“You’ll come over and have coffee while the kids play,” Judy said, “and I’ll tell you more about the group.”

The children began to file out. “I’ll call you,” Nicky said.

“Let’s try for next week,” Judy said.

Nicky looked at the cluster of little boys and girls swarming out of the room. Paul’s school was as white as the one Nicky had gone to, but hers had been white by design. After she’d been out of high school for a couple of years, the Bluefield School District removed its segregation laws. Since there weren’t any private schools to retreat to, everyone stayed put and the schools integrated with much less fuss than many had expected. With the money the department saved from closing the Negro schools, they built new bleachers for the football field. With the larger student pool to draw on, the football team filled its new stands and even went to the state semi-finals for the first time in school history. One of the surprises for Nicky moving north was that so few blacks lived in Medford. She’d assumed there were blacks everywhere.

Paul ran into Nicky’s legs and hugged them.

“How was school today?” Nicky said, taking his snack bag from him and leading him out of the school.

“You put the top down,” Paul screamed. “Are we going for a ride?”

“We’re going to town to get you new sneakers.” Nicky lifted Paul over the door and into the passenger seat. “T-ball starts Saturday.” She snapped his seatbelt shut.

“I make believe I’m mad at the ball.” Paul swung his hands. “That’s why I hit so hard.”

The radio played Crosby, Stills & Nash as they headed east on Oak Street toward town. Nicky tapped her right hand on the shifter, causing ashes to fly about like snowflakes. “Hungry?”

“I want to get ice cream.”

“I meant food.”

“You said it’s the first day of spring and you put the top down and you said it’s a special day.”

“Ice cream it is.” Nicky found a spot in front of the drugstore. She helped Paul put pennies in the meter. They turned and walked east along Main Street toward Jimi’s. After a few steps, Paul stopped suddenly and pointed to a man sitting across the street by the bus stop. He was wearing a Mets hat, had dark black hair, and a jean jacket. “Is that my daddy?” Paul said.

Nicky didn’t wait to see if the man had heard. She lifted Paul and walked away quickly. “No, honey,” she said softly. “He’s not your father. I told you your father does not live around here. You weren’t born here.” Nicky tried to compose herself. “Come on. Let’s go get ice cream. You can get a banana split if you want.”

When he settled in at a table with his cone, Paul continued his train of thought. “What part does he live?” Paul said.

“I don’t know?”

“So he might live here?”

“I’m sure he doesn’t,” Nicky said.

“How do you know?”

“I know,” Nicky said, licking her ice cream.

“What does he look like?”

Nicky hesitated. “I don’t remember.”

“Then how will we know when we see him?”

“We won’t see him.” Nicky glanced nervously around the shop. “Eat your ice cream.”

“Does he want to see me?”

“He doesn’t know you were born, so it’s not like he doesn’t want to see you. If he knew, I’m sure he would want to see you.”

“Why didn’t he know?” Paul said.

“It’s hard to explain, but I really didn’t know him. He never knew I was pregnant or that you were born. I don’t know what happened to him; he just went away.”

“Can we tell him?”

“No.”

“Is he dead?”

“I don’t think so.” Nicky took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She was having the talk with Paul in an ice cream parlor. Not what she envisioned. Barbara should be here, she thought. Wished. She rolled her lighter around in her hand a few times and then slipped it back into the breast pocket of her jean jacket.

“Eddie said girls can’t make babies alone. Did Barbara help make me?”

“Okay,” Nicky said. “Let’s take our ice cream out with us.” She got up and led Paul out of the store. Out on the street, she tried to change the subject. “Let’s finish eating and get you sneakers.”

“Is Eddie right?”

“Yes,” Nicky said. “I grew you inside of me for nine months, and Barbara took care of me until you were ready to come out.”

“I got three parents?”

“Barbara and I are your only parents,” Nicky said a little stronger and a lot louder than she had intended to. She threw the rest of her ice cream into a trash bin and lit a cigarette. She blew out smoke and crushed her cigarette into the sidewalk. She wiped Paul’s mouth again and lit another cigarette. “You’ll understand when you’re older.”

“Eddie has three parents. He lives with his mom and stair-dad—”

“Step-dad.”

“His mother’s divorce and she’s married. Are you divorce?” Paul asked.

“No.” Nicky wiped Paul’s face.

“Are you married?”

“No.” She tried to give answers that if repeated in school would not ostracize Paul.