Fire & Water (16 page)

“What about my residency? All I’ve ever wanted was to be a surgeon. I’m so close.”

“Marry me, Kat. There are two of us in this. You’ll be a surgeon. That’s
your
art. I’d never get in the way of that. We’ve got everything. Thanks to Burt I have enough money so you can work as much or as little as you want. I’ll change diapers and make baby food. We’ll make a home like I never had, right in San Francisco near your family. We’ll surround our baby with love and art and—” He jumped to the top of the rock, flung his arms out wide, and resumed his howling.

“I didn’t do this on purpose, Jake. I wouldn’t—”

“This is the happiest accident I’ve ever known,” he said. His face glowed.

My brain kept clicking through my list of worries, trying to sink my rising glee. “What about your father?”

“He’s never mattered less.”

Jake took the cherry wood box that I still held and pulled out the ring. Taking my hand, he pulled me up onto the rock with him. Our bodies pressed against each other. Jake lifted the ring to his lips, warming it with his breath. Then he raised my hand and slipped it onto my finger. “Make us a family, Kat.”

My kisses gave my answer for me.

Loose Ends and Love Knots

Once we got home from Japan, I avoided going back to our Haight Street flat until it was unavoidable. I tried to call half-a-dozen times, but Mary K hadn’t answered. She had finished her internship rotation at the hospital as well, so I had no other way to reach her.

The house was locked up and she wasn’t home when I stopped by. I worked there for hours, sorting through nine years’ worth of belongings. Scattered around my room were the casualties of moving—piles of books, clothes, and a huge mound of once valuable items, now debris.

“Looks like you’re wrecking the joint,” Mary K said, peeking into my room. She entered, doing her best to hide a decided limp.

“Where’ve you been?”

“Queens. Needed to mend a few fences. Other than that, I’ve just been ducking your calls.”

“So I noticed.”

“Thanks for the postcards. And the messages.”

I wanted to bridge the chasm of our distance, but didn’t know how. Most of all, I wanted to tell her about the baby and how I felt nearly explosive with happiness, despite my earlier panic about the whole thing. An ocean of good news held back behind a dam of unexplainable hesitation. I silently folded clothes into even stacks.

Mary K plopped onto my clothing-strewn bed and picked up a pink cotton peasant blouse from the discard pile. “Geez, it looks like the
Brady Bunch
wardrobe department got barfed up in here.”

I threw a balled-up pair of socks at her. “What about you? I seem to remember a lot of army surplus overalls and undershirts.”

“Yeah, but I made that work.” She scooped the hair from in front of her face, tucked it behind her ear, and delivered a grin.

I closed the box I’d filled. I twisted my hair into a bun, poked a couple of stray pencils into it to secure it, and lay down at the end of the bed.

“Thanks for sending the dogwood tree,” she said. “I planted it in the backyard where I scattered Ben’s ashes. Dogwood.” She gave a one-syllable laugh. “Pretty good. Ben would’ve liked sleeping under it.”

“Mary K, I—”

“Water under the bridge.” She looked directly into my eyes for the first time. “You don’t have to move, Murphy. It was a bad day.”

“I know I don’t have to. But maybe it’s time.”

“I suppose.” Mary K surveyed the room. “Wow, a decade worth of shit. I’ve lived with you longer than I did most of my siblings. How’s that for a kick in the head?”

We lay on the bed for a while, eyes to the ceiling. “It’s been brought to my attention that I can be a tad harsh when sharing my opinions,” she said.

“Who shared that little tidbit with you, and to what funeral home do I send the flowers?”

“My mother is alive and well. No FTD required. Told me that since I was a kid, when I’m hurt or sad I attack the ones I love most.”

“Yeah, well, we’ve all got our flaws. I’ve recently learned that I’m judgmental and stubborn.”

“No kidding.”

We lay there quietly, street noise from outside the only sound in the room.

“Ben wasn’t your fault. It was a shitty thing to say. He just died, plain and simple. Old dogs die. Maybe he didn’t want to die in front of me. You know, to protect me. I’m glad he was with someone who loved him.”

I reached across the bed and took her hand. She squeezed mine before she pulled away and searched her pocket for cigarettes. She’d always honored my request not to smoke in my room, but the agreement now seemed moot.

She sat up and struck a match.

“I’ve been thinking about your residency,” I said. “It’s discrimination. They can’t just dismiss you because they found out about your condition. You’ve demonstrated impeccable skills. There are laws. The Americans with Disabilities Act. They can’t just—”

“Cool your jets, counselor. Nobody at UC dismissed me. I made a choice.”

“But—”

“I was kidding myself.”

“But how about radiology? There’d be no risk to patients there.”

“I’d lose my mind looking at film every day. I want to do surgery, even if it is on corpses. Besides, working with the dead probably takes best advantage of my stellar people skills.”

A swell of sadness formed in my chest, thinking of Mary K’s talent and of how living patients wouldn’t have the benefit of her skills. I wanted cry together over the lost dream, but I knew it would piss her off. I sat up and looked into her eyes.

“Lose the face, Murphy. You’re killing me here. The ME’s office fits with my sunny disposition. Just do your job right and don’t give me any customers. Got it?” Taking a deep inhale from her cigarette, Mary K sat up and pointed to the stack of mail on my side table. “Looks like you’ve got some pretty ritzy correspondence to open.”

On top of the stack sat an envelope with a Park Avenue return address. The paper seemed less like a note than a work of art. Linen letterhead displayed the gold monogram “AJB.” The evenly penned black script of the note at first appeared machine-printed, but soon I could see that it was just the most uniform, perfect hand lettering I’d ever seen.

Dear
Dr. Murphy,

I determined that the newspaper was in error and that you have not yet married. This pleases me as I now have the opportunity to avert a catastrophe and to prevent you from undue suffering.

My son is not well. Entanglement in his life can bring you nothing but heartache once the first blush has passed. He disregards all help that I offer and rejects any course that would be healthy and productive for him.

As you are a well-educated person, I’m sure that you welcome information to inform your decisions. I am willing to provide full background and will compensate you handsomely for the time and any discomfort you might already have experienced. I’ve enclosed a business card with my private number. I’ll await your call.

With urgency,

Aaron J. Bloom

“Big Bloom, I assume,” Mary K sighed.

I handed the note to her and waited for her indignation on my behalf. Finally, she snuffed her cigarette in an empty coffee cup from my nightstand and spoke. “Jesus, you didn’t get married, did you?”

“That’s what you’ve got to say?”

“Shocker, Aaron Bloom is a dick. He tries to make a bribe sound like, what… compensation? And I told you his son was a head case.” Cigarette smoke added a fragrance to her insult. “Don’t tell me you got married.”

Every muscle in my body went rigid and my jaw tightened. I added artificial sparkle to my voice. “I didn’t, but I’m going to. Next weekend.”

As though shot from cannon, Mary K sprang from the bed. She stood with fists clenched, ready to punch anything that moved. “What the fuck, Murphy? You just met this guy. You’re just starting your residency. A residency I—anybody would kill for. And you’re playing bride? Where’s the fire? You act like you’re knocked up or something.”

I closed my eyes tight enough that I could see bursts of red on the inside of my eyelids. My mouth went dry. I opened my eyes to see Mary K still poised in the same fighting position. “You
are
knocked up. Jesus!” She kicked at a box with the foot she’d been favoring and winced.

“I think
pregnant
would be a better term. But I’d be marrying Jake whether I was pregnant or not. He asked me before he even knew.”

“What are you, in a trance or something? You’ve abandoned every bit of rational thought you’ve ever had. Of course you’re pregnant. That’s what happens when you fuck a guy while you’re unconscious.”

I stood and began flinging clothes into an open box on top of the ones I’d taken such time folding. “This is great coming from somebody who’s been through nine years of continuous one-night stands. Pregnancy isn’t exactly a concern you’ve had to face.” The words left behind an acrid sting on my tongue.

“Lucky me. I’m a needle-using dyke with a future poking around in rotting corpses. I guess I’m pretty fucking lucky not to have to fear pregnancy. You’re throwing everything away.”

“Don’t pull the pity card in front of me. You’re alone by choice.”

“What about Nigel? Did you tell him?”

“When have you ever cared about Nigel?”

“Couldn’t the kid be his?”

“I think I can track the paternity of my child, thank you.”

“And your folks? Did they at least advise you to slow things down?”

I looked away from her. Telling my family about an unplanned pregnancy had felt humiliating. But Jake had also taken my father aside, formally asking for his blessing for our marriage. Though concerned, Dad had come around. Given all of the family secrets that had come out, we had all learned to give each other a lot more leeway and understanding. “They were surprised at first. But they’re supportive.”

“Of course. What fucking choice is there? I’m the only one telling you the truth. Murphy, I’m begging you. Reconsider. You’re probably freaked. But you can have a baby without getting married. You’ve got family. Friends. A career.”

“I’ve also got Jake. Remember him? The man I’m in love with. The father of my child.”

Mary K shook her head and walked toward the bedroom door. She put her hand on the knob. “I’m begging you to think about this. Aaron Bloom may be the world’s biggest ass hat, but he also knows some stuff about his kid. You’re ignoring every warning here.”

“I’m ignoring nothing. Jake and I have no secrets.” I looked into my friend’s steady gaze. “I’m hoping you’ll be there stand up with me at the wedding,” I said. “It’s at the Palace of Fine Arts on Saturday at two.”

“No can do, Murphy. Can’t support something I know is doomed. Let me know when you come to your senses.”

“So you’re not even going to come? After everything we’ve been through together?” My blood pounded. “You’re haven’t given Jake a chance. He’s high-strung, but the most loving man I’ve ever met.”

“You might want to add ‘naïve’ to that list of your character flaws.”

“You can add ‘cynical’ and ‘paranoid’ to yours.”

“Done.” Mary K opened the bedroom door. “Let me share just one piece of advice, Murphy. I’m pretty goddamn sure that I don’t have a tail. But if someone who’s known me for nearly a decade, someone I
know
loves me, insists that I do, I’m at least going to take a look at my own ass.” She jutted her jaw toward me. “Just turn around and look, Murphy. That’s all I’m saying.”

The front door slammed. I jammed the remainder of my stuff into the last of the boxes. I crammed the last of the boxes into my Bug and drove away from the flat I’d shared with Mary K. I drove away from that life toward my new life with Jake.

* * *

I stood in my slip and bare feet, studying myself in the mirror of my mother’s vanity table. Alice stood beside me in lavender organza. Her hair was a subdued shade of ash blonde and her makeup was soft and subtle. Her face glowed in the golden morning light shining through the windowpanes. She smoothed the front of her dress and then clutched each of her hands. She looked over my shoulder at our reflections in the mirror. “Those fancy beauticians at Niemen Marcus work miracles, huh? Jake may have opened a whole can of worms with that present he gave me. I think some of the mad money I’ve squirreled away over the years might be going for some new clothes.” She shrugged. “Oh well, what have I got to be mad about?” Alice said, looking at me in the mirror.

“I think your makeover is magnificent.”

“In my case it was sort of a make-
under
.”

“You look beautiful.” I envisioned Alice’s cast-offs, a pretty colorful donation bagful of spangles and animal prints, arriving at Goodwill.