Never Too Late (18 page)

Carla clasped her hands behind her back to keep from reaching for Jamie. Would a quick hug be wrong? A sharp pain went through her heart as Jamie walked away. She’d done the right thing, the only thing. Fatigue from the long sleepless weekend washed over her. A hot bath, leftover lasagna, and a glass of wine would help. She’d have to settle for being part of Jamie’s work life. How could fate be so cruel?

*

Jamie set her keys on the kitchen counter and opened the refrigerator. “Hey, Sheryl?” she hollered toward the back of the house. “Didn’t you pick up something for dinner?”

“Sorry,” Sheryl said, walking into the kitchen. “My secretary took me over to the dealer so I could get the loaner, and I took her to dinner as a thank you. She’s single, and works hard for me. Never hurts to build loyalty in your employees.”

Jamie bent over, hands on her thighs as the refrigerator door slowly closed. She took her secretary out to dinner and didn’t bring anything home for her. “I’m going out.” She picked up her keys and stormed from the kitchen. When had Sheryl become so clueless? Or was it careless?

*

Jamie nursed a beer as she watched the A’s get trounced on the big screen on the wall of the sports bar. The pepperoni pizza had soothed the hunger but now sat heavily in her stomach. So did her mood. How could she get Sheryl to put their relationship first?

At least she hadn’t given Carla her “I don’t cheat” speech. She’d misunderstood, and how embarrassing would that have been? She wouldn’t have to find a new office manager, and Carla had solved the problem with the insurance company in one day. It was about time she got a break.

Televisions filled the walls, and any direction she looked someone was winning and someone was losing. Which side was she on? In softball it was easy to make that call. Where was the scoreboard that told her where she was in life right now? It felt like she was losing, but she had no idea what skills she lacked.

Watching baseball always made her want to be on a diamond, grass under her feet, the sound of bats connecting with balls. She pulled out her cell phone and called Penni.

“What’s up, girlfriend?” Penni asked.

“When’s your Bobby Sox practice this weekend?”

“Who is this, and what have you done with Jamie?”

“Funny.” Jamie finally had to smile.

“Saturday. Ten o’clock.”

“Damn.” If she went in an hour earlier, moved those scheduled between ten and twelve to later, she could sneak out for practice and then go back. It could work. “I’ll be there,” she said as the restaurant broke into cheers. The A’s had just hit a home run.

“Where are you?”

“Sports bar. Felt like pizza.”

“More like you got home and no dinner was waiting for you. Why do you—”

“Don’t start.” She raised her arm in salute as the batter crossed home plate.

“Oh, all right. I’m too happy to argue with you. See you Saturday.”

Jamie stayed until the game was over. The A’s rallied to win. Never give up hope. She packed the leftover slices in a box for lunch tomorrow. Couldn’t she have a business and still have time for fun? There had to be some middle ground.

Mike held the door for Carla as they walked into La Foret, the elegant French restaurant they loved. They were going to start their last weekend together with a celebration of their marriage. Mike looked handsome, as always, in his gray suit with the royal-blue shirt. She took his arm as they were led through the dimly lit restaurant to a table set with white dishes on a white tablecloth.

They hadn’t talked much during the fifteen-minute drive to the restaurant. Carla didn’t know what Mike was thinking about, but she was remembering the day last fall that had led them to this dinner. She’d come home to find Mike crying on their bed. Afraid he’d been diagnosed with a serious illness, she’d held him. He finally composed himself and admitted he was attracted to a manager of another department.

Carla’s shock had been diffused when he said the manager was a guy, and she’d felt oddly relieved when he confessed he was afraid he was gay. Their mutual homosexuality explained so much about their relationship—as close as two people could be but lacking the sexual spark Carla had assumed only she missed. They’d talked late into the night, and his honesty had prompted her to confess her doubts about her own sexual preference. They’d fallen asleep early in the morning after tears turned to peals of laughter at the irony of their situation. Many more conversations led them to agree that honesty and self-respect were more important than appearances. In three months their divorce would be final.

Mike took Carla’s hand as the waiter poured champagne. “To the love of my life.” He slid a small black box across the table.

“Are you celebrating your anniversary?” the young man asked brightly.

“No, our divorce,” Mike said. Their eyes met a second before they burst out laughing.

Carla opened the box. “Oh, Mike, it’s beautiful.”

He fastened the gold watch around her wrist. “For all the good times.” He leaned over and kissed her.

They chatted and shared memories as they worked their way through one wonderful course after another. While waiting for dessert, Carla noticed the couple being seated in the far corner of the small room. “I can’t believe it,” she whispered. A blond, slightly pudgy thirty-something man was pulling a chair out for the principal she’d done battle with last year.

“Don’t let her spoil the evening.”

“I feel sorry for that poor guy.” When Sheryl glanced her way, the look of surprise that turned sour made Carla laugh. The poor schmuck, her husband, she assumed, was undoubtedly about to get an earful from the sharp-tongued principal.

*

Friday night’s celebration gave way to the thankless grunt work of moving. Rob, the guy Mike had met during a 10k a few months ago and was now dating, had gamely agreed to help. As the day wore on she was both grateful for his help and increasingly fond of the man who might replace her in Mike’s life. Would she find someone who put that look on her face? She still hadn’t worked up the courage to call Vanessa. In spite of Mike’s encouragement, dating scared her. But she’d joined a book club and a running club. Meeting lesbians she might become friends with seemed like the place to start.

By the time they called it quits for the day, Carla was tired and her back hurt. Declining Mike’s offer to join them for pizza, she opted for a glass of wine and a hot bath. She woke stiff and tried to soothe her back into cooperating with another long soak in her Jacuzzi tub.

She might have gotten away with just soreness if it hadn’t been for the fifty-inch plasma TV she and Mike moved at the end of the day. Mike lost his grip going up the steps to the front door, and Carla lurched sideways to keep it from falling against the doorframe. Something popped in her lower back, and she gritted her teeth against the pain until the TV was safely in place. Then she slumped to her knees and clutched her back.

“Carla? What’s wrong?”

Carla tried to stand but couldn’t as muscle spasms grabbed her with a ferocity she couldn’t have imagined. “My back. Ow. God, that hurts. I can’t get up.” Mike put his arm around her waist and helped her to the couch.

“I’m sorry, honey.” Mike rubbed her lower back. “I knew we should have waited for Rob. Do you want some Advil?”

Carla tried to stand, but biting pain dropped her to the couch again. “You won’t find it in all these boxes. I’ll take some at home.” Mike supported most of her weight as she shuffled out to the truck he’d borrowed for the move.

“Maybe we should take you to emergency,” Mike said after they’d repeated the maneuver to get Carla into the house.

She gripped the kitchen counter for support but kept her voice light. “I’m sure it’ll be fine with some Advil and a night’s sleep.” She’d never had more than a minor backache from too much gardening and was scared, but she didn’t want Mike to know. He’d offer to stay.

“Why don’t we call Jamie?”

“I’m not bothering her on a Sunday.”

“But—”

“I’ll be fine. You have a date. Don’t forget the bag of peanut-butter cookies.”

“With crunchy peanut butter?”

Carla laughed at the little-kid face he always made over cookies and regretted it as her back seized up. What did Jamie tell patients to do? “Can you get the ice pack for me?”

“Promise you’ll call if it gets worse,” Mike said after he helped her to the couch. “It feels weird saying good night and then leaving.”

“We’re still the best friends we were always meant to be.” Now that the moment was here, letting go was so much harder than she’d expected. He knelt in front of her and they held each other for a long time.

An hour later she was able to get up, albeit slowly. She stood at her kitchen counter and ate salami and cheese and French bread for dinner. A hot bath sounded heavenly but she didn’t think she could get in the tub, so she settled for another dose of Advil. She got into bed, stuffed pillows behind her, and opened one of the lesbian fiction books that arrived yesterday. She smiled at the cover—two women holding hands, looking longingly into each other’s eyes. She wanted that.

Her eyes filled with tears, and she reached for a Kleenex on the nightstand as her back protested. Her first night in her new life and she was alone with a book. Would one night be all she ever knew of passion?

Carla woke up at two A.M. needing to pee. It took her ten minutes to roll onto the floor and crawl to the bathroom. Getting onto the toilet was agony. Getting off was almost impossible. After swallowing more Advil she made it back to bed by grabbing onto every piece of furniture along the way. Tears ran down her cheeks as she tried to find a comfortable position. This wasn’t the new life she’d envisioned.

Jamie closed the patient file she’d been halfheartedly looking through and checked her watch again. It was almost nine, and Carla wasn’t here for their morning meeting. It had become a ritual—coffee in her office while they reviewed the status of the insurance investigation and any clinic issues that needed attention. Every day she was aware of what an asset Carla was. Thank God they’d gotten past that awkwardness at Lori’s party. Sure, her pulse occasionally jumped, but didn’t everyone have an ex-lover they sometimes reacted to? There was still the problem of Sheryl finding out, but for now she’d have to ignore that. She smiled at her father’s picture. Everything was going to be fine with the clinic.

Rubbing her neck, she thought back over the weekend. She still didn’t know how to feel about it. Sheryl had been in high spirits because of a lunch with the superintendent whom she described as her “winning ticket.” Their conversation had included the importance of family values for teenagers. Jamie’s questions about what constituted family values weren’t well received. Sheryl’s “does it matter as long as I get my promotion” left her queasy.

Jamie hated that Sheryl’s happiness depended on a homophobic jerk, but Sheryl happy improved their relationship. They hadn’t made love like that in months. They were spending more time together, and things often felt like they used to. Maybe after Sheryl got the promotion she wouldn’t have to suck up to him. She took a long sip of coffee. It was so good she moaned. That alone was worth hiring Carla.

She rolled down the sleeves on the red silk shirt she’d bought shopping with Sheryl yesterday and walked to the front counter. “Has anyone talked to Carla this morning?” No one had. Maybe she’d just overslept.

Fifteen minutes later Jamie was coming out of a treatment room when she saw Carla in the hallway—shuffling steps, tilted to the right, bracing against the wall. She dropped the file and rushed to her.

“Easy.” Jamie wrapped her arm around Carla’s waist. “Let’s get you into the treatment room.” She put Carla’s arm across her shoulder and inched her toward the treatment room. “Marci,” she hollered, “I need help here.”

“I’m scared,” Carla said, gripping Jamie’s shoulder.

“It’s okay,” Jamie said as she and Marci helped Carla sit on the adjusting table. Kneeling in front of Carla, she rubbed her hands over Carla’s knees and met eyes clouded with pain and tears. “I promise you’ll be fine.” Jamie gripped Carla’s knees tighter to keep from brushing the tears away. “How did it happen?”

Carla explained the incident with the TV. “I’ve never hurt my back before. It really hurts. Can you fix it?”

“Yes. I promise you’ll be standing straight by the end of the day and able to tie your shoes by Friday.” Jamie would do whatever it took to keep that promise. “Let’s get you facedown.” Marci moved to the other side of the table and they helped Carla lie down. “Tell me if the pain gets worse.” Jamie laid her hands on Carla’s back and did what was second nature to her.

“My back’s always been so strong.”

“The lifting you did Saturday fatigued your back muscles, and when you tried to catch the TV they weren’t up to the stress.”

“I should have called in sick. I’m sorry to take you away from your patients because I did something stupid.” Carla’s voice broke.

“You did the right thing by coming in, but you should have called. I would have picked you up. I want you here where I can take care of you.” There was heat and tension in the paraspinal muscles, and restrictions at L3, L4, and L5, bilaterally but worse on the left. This was bad. “You jerked to the left when the TV fell, and this is the most tender spot,” she said, pressing a little harder just to the left of the L4/L5 joint.

“How did you know?”

“It’s what I do.” Jamie was never sure how to explain it, but the minute she touched a patient she knew where their pain was. She massaged the muscles until she felt the telltale softening she was waiting for.

Carla sighed. “That feels good. Your hands are so warm.”

“I’m going to adjust you now. You might feel a little jolt of pain but I promise it won’t last. Okay?”

“I trust you.” Carla gripped the armrest.

Jamie did a quick downward thrust on Carla’s back and the table dropped away beneath her. She did two more adjustments, satisfied that the vertebrae had moved back into alignment. It would take a series of treatments to resolve the problem, but she was sure Carla would feel better immediately. “Okay?”