Chapter 3 7 страница

"Do you have any lesbian friends?"

Kylie shook her head. “Not by choice, but, no, I don’t. Stacey got all of our mutual friends after the divorce."

"Really? That amazes me!"

"Nah. It made sense. She's much more social than I am. She used to call our friends and ask them to dinner. She was always our social director. I've just never taken the time to seek out lesbian friends since Stacey left."

"Isn't that kinda … funny?" Blair asked.

"It's not that I don't want gay friends," Kylie said. "I just don't do the things I’d have to do to hook up with women. I don't belong to any social groups or clubs. I don't like to exercise or go on nature hikes or any of that stuff. I do volunteer work, but only as a surgeon. There are women at the hospital I could date, but I don't want to do that. I like to keep my private life separate from my professional life."

"Well, real estate is full of gay men, and some of them have to have lesbian friends. God, my list of things to do just keeps getting longer and longer. I have to find you some lesbian friends, then I have to get you a girlfriend.” She shook her head. “Let me see that list of dogs you like. I have a feeling I’m gonna have to do that, too,” she teased playfully.

„G

By the time dinner was finished, the pair had narrowed the list down to two. “I think it’s between the wheaten and the bichon,” Kylie decided. “My books say they’re the best with kids and strangers.”

“They both have to be groomed professionally,” Blair warned.

“That’s okay. I don’t mind paying to have the dog groomed. Neither one sheds, which is worth a lot to me. I don’t want to hire a housecleaner, and I don’t want to be vacuuming every day.”

“No housecleaner? Are you mad?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head, “I don’t really like having strangers in my house. I’ve always cleaned my own place.”

“You’ve never had a home this size,” Blair reminded her. “When you change your mind, I’ll ask Isabella if she wants to take you on. She’s wonderful.”

“All right,” Kylie said, then continued with her dog analysis. “Which one do you like best?”

“I’m not sure I’ve seen either one up close,” Blair said. “Let’s do what that one book suggested and find a dog show somewhere around here. Then we can see a bunch of them.”

Giving her a bit of a pout, Kylie said, “I’m not gonna get a dog next weekend. either, am I?”

“Not likely,” Blair said. “But I guarantee you won’t regret your decision when you do get one. Isn’t that worth waiting for?”

“Surgeons don’t like delayed gratification, Blair. We’re a special breed.”

“Yes, Kylie, I understand how special you are,” Blair teased. She kissed the top of her head as she stood and said, “Now get your special butt over here and help me with the dishes.”

„G

When Kylie came home from work on Monday, Blair's door was closed. Must be taking a nap, the doctor thought. By dinner time, when her friend still hadn't appeared, Kylie went to the door and knocked, hearing a mumbled, "Yeah?"

She opened the door and saw her friend lying in bed with a pillow over her face. "You'll never get to sleep if you nap all night. I have dinner just about ready."

"I'm not napping. I'm still in bed."

"Blair!"

The pillow was lowered, and Blair focused as best she could. "I don't wanna be an asshole, but I can't stay here if you try to mother me. I told Mandy that I was pregnant and that I've been having dreadful morning sickness. She's gonna cover for me this week. So I plan on lying in bed and indulging myself in any way I see fit. Please let me make my own choices, Kylie."

"I'm sorry," the doctor said, feeling like she was about to cry.

Blair saw the look on her face and immediately regretted her words. "C'mere," she said, patting the bed. Kylie walked over and sat down, trying to make her face follow her instruction to smile. "I'm sorry for snapping at you. But I feel like I've lost control of my life. I'm pregnant, and from the looks of things, well on my way to being a single mother — something I never would have chosen for myself. The baby's sapping all of my energy and my concentration, and he's ruined my stomach. I just want to have a week where I'm not responsible for anything or anyone." She took Kylie's hand in hers and squeezed it. "Can you understand that?"

"Yeah, yeah, I can," the doctor said.

"I like being here, Kylie, and if we were both just starting out, I'd love to share a house with you. But as much as I like you, I had to leave my husband to be here. I'm sad. Sadder than I've ever been. If I weren't pregnant, I'd go to my doctor and demand some Prozac. But I can't do that. I have to just fight through this, and I have to do it on my own."

"No, you don't," Kylie said. "You could find someone to talk through this with, Blair. You don't have to do this on your own."

"Look, Kylie, normally, I'd agree with you. But I don't have some deep-seated psychological stuff going on. I'm going through a crisis, and I don't have control over most of the elements. Seeing a therapist isn't going to do much for me at this point."

"I still think that you could benefit ¾"

Blair squeezed Kylie's hand and said, "I know you care. But you can show you care by letting me do this my own way."

Kylie nodded, fighting the urge to argue her point. "I do care." She leaned over and kissed Blair's forehead, then got up. "My offer of dinner holds, but I won’t bug you about it."

"Thank you," Blair said. "I could use one thing, if it's not too much trouble."

"Anything."

"Would you be uncomfortable lying with me for a little while? I'm so lonely."

Kylie hopped to her feet and kicked off her shoes, then took off her skirt and blouse. She was wearing a very pretty, black full slip, and when she climbed into bed, Blair sighed, feeling the silky fabric against her legs. "You feel nice. Soft," she said, cuddling up to her friend. "Very nice."

Kylie patted her hand and slid her fingers through Blair's. "Sleep now. Try to forget your troubles. Just sleep,"

"Thanks … for everything," Blair said through a massive yawn. "You're the best."

„G

On Wednesday afternoon, Blair drug herself from bed at 2:00, took a long shower, then dressed in the coolest thing she owned — a pale blue, Oxford-cloth shift. Normally she wore a T-shirt under it, but it was so hot and sticky that she didn't bother. She drove to her home, her heartbeat picking up when she saw David's BMW in the driveway. She didn't quite know how to behave, so she rang the bell. After a minute, she realized he must be in the back, so she walked down the driveway by the side of the house. She heard the spa motor whirring and smiled, thinking of how happy David always was when he could relax in the hot tub after a stressful day. As she expected, he was sitting in the tub, an unhealthily large glass of Scotch in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other.

Blair stopped so quickly that her neck hurt a little. He must have seen some motion out of the corner of his eye because he turned to face her. He tried to look relaxed, but she could just see his mind working, trying to think of a way to remove himself from her glare.

She walked over to him and sat down on the chair that he had his towel lying on. For a moment, she busied herself by neatly folding the towel and placing it on her lap. The few moments this took allowed her to compose herself and speak in a calm voice. She twitched her head towards his hands, asking, "How long did you stay smoke-free?"

He looked so guilty that she almost felt sorry for him. "Couple hours after you left."

She exhaled loudly. "After the pain you went through to stop? All of those weeks of anguish?"

"I was upset," he said. He took a drink, then another drag on his cigarette. "I don't know any other way to calm down, Blair."

"That isn't a way to calm down, David. Drinking as much as you do is just a way to avoid feeling — anything!"

"Hey!" His dark eyes were filled with anger, shocking her completely. "You can't leave me and still tell me what to do! If you're gonna boss me around, you have to live here to do it."

"Boss you around?" She stared at him, dumbfounded.

"Yeah. You heard me. You boss me around. You always have." He took another drink, gulping down nearly a third of his scotch, then gave her an insolent glare. "You lost your right to do that when you left."

She put her elbows on her knees, then dropped her head into her hands, unable to stop herself from crying. He didn't say a word or move a muscle. He just continued to stare at her. She cried quietly, angry with herself for showing him how upset he'd made her. When she felt like she could drive, she got up and started to walk away.

"Hey! Don't you dare leave!"

"Why not?" She swung around and looked at him like she'd be happy to shoot him right between the eyes. "So I can sit here and have you insult me? So you can blow smoke in my face?"

"My whole world is coming apart," he said, his teeth clenched together. "I've lost my wife, I'm never going to have a child and now you've got my mother turning against me! Why don't you just cut my balls off, too?"

"Don't tempt me," she spat. Wiping her eyes, she took in a breath, squared her shoulders and strode back down the driveway, ignoring his shouts. She was able to guide her car a few blocks away, then she turned it off and rolled the windows halfway down. Turning on the classical station, she lowered her seat and cried until she fell asleep.

„G

When Blair walked into the house, Kylie was in the kitchen, making a dinner that normally would have had Blair salivating. She was so upset, though, that she couldn't bear the thought of eating or conversing. "Hi!" Kylie called out in her normal cheery manner. "Did you go to work today?"

"No." Blair walked into the kitchen and walked up behind Kylie. She put her hand on the doctor's shoulder and said, "I went to see David and it was horrible. I don't want to talk about it, or anything else, for that matter, so I'm going to bed."

"It's only six o'clock," Kylie said. "Are you sure?" This last sentence was directed at Blair's back and only received a nod of the head in reply.

„G

On Friday morning, Blair came out of her room just as Kylie was leaving for the hospital. "Hey, how ya doin’?" the doctor asked.

Blair looked horrible. She hadn't washed her hair since Wednesday, and it stuck out at odd angles all over her head. Her eyes were blood-shot and puffy from crying and bore smudges of a purplish-blue hue on her lower lids. She was wearing lovely salmon-colored, silk pajamas, but they were form-fitting, and the bottom button wouldn't fasten, allowing her tummy to show. "I'm great," she said, her sarcasm dulled somewhat by a wry smile.

"Other than staying out of the way, can I do anything to help?" Kylie asked.

Blair walked over to the refrigerator and stuck a glass into the dispenser on the door, watching it fill with water. "Why've you been home every night this week? You usually go out."

Kylie gave her a puzzled look and replied, "I didn't feel like going out. I like my new house and don't want to leave it."

Leaning against the counter, Blair crossed her ankles and gave the doctor a long look. "Bullshit."

"Pardon?"

"That's bullshit. You always go out. Sometimes once, sometimes twice, more likely three times a week. You're hanging around here because of me."

Exasperated, Kylie said, "Well, Jesus, do you blame me? For all I know, you're committing suicide in there. I've never known anyone who was so withdrawn when she was upset!"

The blonde put her glass down, and Kylie was a little afraid as the smaller woman walked over and stood right in front of her. "Can I have a hug?" Blair put her arms around her friend and held on tight.

"Sure you can," Kylie said. "Anytime." They held each other for a long time, and Kylie could feel Blair's body start to shake as she started to cry.

"I'm so lonely," she sobbed. "But I don't want to talk. I just want to make it all go away."

"I know you do," Kylie said. "I know that."

Blair looked up at her friend, her green eyes filled to overflowing with tears. "Can you make it go away, Kylie? Make things like they used to be?"

"I wish I could," Kylie said, tears forming in her own eyes. "I'd do anything in the world to help you through this, Blair, but I don't think I can change the past."

"That's why I want to sleep through the future," Blair said. She released the taller woman, patted her on the side, and shuffled back to bed, closing the door behind herself.

„G

That night Blair was lying in bed, watching a three-hanky DVD and crying, as usual. To the gentle knock on her door, she said, "Come on in, but it ain't pretty in here."

Nick stuck his head in, making Blair leap to pull the covers over herself. "Jesus! Where'd you come from?"

"Sorry," he said, blushing a little. "I should have announced myself before I came in."

"No, no, that's all right," she said, obviously flustered. "I thought it was Kylie. I'm not dressed for company." She ran a hand through her hair, then gave him a suspicious look. "Did Doctor Worrywart send you?"

"No, not really," he said. "I've been asking about you, and Kylie keeps saying that you're depressed. Are you doing anything to feel better?"

"Sleeping all day?" she said hopefully.

"No, that's one of the symptoms of depression, Blair, not a remedy."

"Nick, I can't take any drugs —"

"I know that," he said. "But there are other ways to fight your way out of this."

She put her hand on his arm, giving it a squeeze. "It's not that I doubt your abilities, Nick, but I don't want a therapist."

"Blair, I couldn't be your therapist if I wanted to be, so that's not an issue. I'm your friend, and I care about you."

Nodding, she said, "I'm your friend, too, Nick. But I don't want a referral, either."

"How about a non-therapeutic conversation?" he asked. "No harm in that, is there?"

She gave him a slight scowl. "You're very persuasive, Doctor Scott." She put her hands behind her head and lay back against her pillows. "Whaddya wanna know?"

"Well, as a friend, I'd like to know how you've been spending your days. Kylie tells me you didn't work much last week and not at all this week."

"Stoolie," she grumbled. With a sigh, she said, "I've been lying in bed, watching sad movies so I can cry about someone else's miserable life."

"Have you been crying about yours, too?" he asked.

"Yeah. Of course I have. It's been a rough year, Nick," she said, giving him a wry smile.

"So … sleeping and crying, huh? Is that all? Have you been talking to friends or family or making any plans …"

"No. Just sleeping and crying." She shook her head, looking annoyed. "But I only sleep during the day. I'm up almost all night, worrying and wishing I could turn back the clock." She hit the bed with her fist. "I know I should do … something … but I can't make myself."

"Hey, I'm not criticizing you, Blair. Far from it. I just wanted to know what's going on."

"Short story," she said. "Daily agenda: cry, sleep, worry, repeat as needed."

He smiled and rubbed her knee. "I can't imagine how hard this has been for you. I mean that, Blair. I can't begin to understand how devastating this must be."

Seeing the empathy in his eyes, she started to cry again. "Damn it, Nick, I thought I was done for the day."

"How about a suggestion?"

"Sure." She took the tissue he offered and wiped her eyes.

"I know how insidious depression can be. And yours is mixed with grief. But you're not going to get better by lying here every day."

"I can't make myself do anything else, Nick. I've tried."

"How about this?" He looked at her for a moment, obviously thinking of a plan. "Your schedule is going to be screwed up unless you make yourself get up and stay up during the day. I can understand if you're not able to work, but you've got to get up and get out of here. You can go for walks, visit with friends, talk on the phone, listen to music, go to movies. Whatever gets you out of this bed."

"Okay," she said, nodding. "You're right. I've got to stop feeling sorry for myself."

"No, no, no," he said quickly. "You need some time to feel your grief and your anger. But you need to schedule that time."

"Schedule it?"

"Yeah. Set aside an hour, or even two hours, a day where you let yourself feel whatever comes up. Your sorrow and your anger and your depression are real, Blair, but you don't have to let them take over your life. Keep them contained, but don't deny them."

"How do I do that?"

"Do you have a laptop?"

"Sure."

"If I were you, I'd sit down at a designated time, not near bedtime, and write my feelings down. You don't have to keep the notes, you never have to read them again. Just write. Don't edit what you put down, don't worry about spelling or grammar. Let your feelings out."

"I'll try," she said. "That's not my style, but I'll try."

"That should help get you up and moving around. But you might need a little extra help at night."

"Yeah. Like a fifth of vodka."

"That would work, but it might have some side effects," he said, smiling at her. "How about trying this? Sit down at your computer again and write down the things you worry about at night. Don't leave anything out."

"How's that different from the other thing you want me to do?"

"The other thing is much more inclusive. I want you to feel your feelings as you do it. All of them. But at night, I only want you to name your fears. Write down the things that haunt your dreams. The things that make you afraid to lie down and close your eyes."

She gave him a look. "Who told you?"

"No one," he said with a laugh. "When people are depressed, they're usually afraid, too. That's one of the biggest reasons people have insomnia."

"I don't see how this can help," Blair said.

"I know it seems counterintuitive to put names to your fears, Blair, but I've seen it work — often."

"Okay. Sounds … odd, but I'll try anything at this point."

"One last thing," he said. "I want you to try some visualization."

"Oh, God, this sounds like therapist talk."

"It is, but it works."

"Hit me," she said, looking pained.

"I know you're stuck in the present, but I want you to visualize the future. I want you to think of your baby — your happy, healthy, chubby little baby. You're holding him or her in your arms and feeling his soft skin against your body. Imagine how completely happy you are now that your child is with you. You can think about nursing him, if you're going to do that, or giving him a bottle. Think of the peace and serenity you'll feel once he or she is here. Focus on that, Blair. Imagine every precious sensation. Keep those images in your head until you fall asleep at night. I guarantee that you'll be able to sleep if you can keep those pictures in your head."

She was crying again and found herself wrapped in his arms. "I've been afraid to think of him," she sobbed. "I'm afraid I'll lose him somehow, or he'll be stillborn. It feels like nothing good can come of all this pain."

"That's not true," he soothed. "That's just not true. Your baby is fine, Blair, and he or she is gonna be very, very happy to meet you."

"I love him so much," she whimpered. "So very much."

"I know you do. He knows that, too. Things will get better, Blair. I know they will." He pulled away, then brushed her hair from her eyes. "Now take a shower and come out and have dinner with us. Kylie's cooking, and then we're gonna watch a happy movie."

"I don't remember how to smile," she said, smiling involuntarily.

"Just as I thought," he said, cupping her cheek. "You've got friends, Blair. Let us be involved in your life."

"I will," she said, sniffling again.

"No more crying tonight," he said, lifting her chin and looking into her eyes. "It's not on your schedule."

„G

Later that night, Blair helped Kylie clean up the kitchen, both women bustling around the large space, neither speaking. They were nearly finished when Blair took a dish towel from Kylie's hands and started to dry. "I was pretty angry with you for dragging Nick over here tonight, but talking to him did help me."

"I know I should have stayed out of it," Kylie agreed, “but I knew you weren't eating regular meals and —"

Blair put her hand on her friend's arm. "It's all right, Kylie. I would have done the same thing if you were depressed. Sometimes you have to do what feels right."

"I'm glad you're not mad at me. I hate to be in trouble," the doctor said, looking charmingly juvenile.

"You're not in trouble," Blair said. She patted her arm and added, "I can't imagine staying mad at you, anyway." She crossed the kitchen to put the towel away and said, "Nick gave me some suggestions that I'm gonna try to use. But one thing I thought of during dinner might help, too."

"What's that?"

"I'm gonna try to make myself believe that David's on a really long business trip. It's so hard for me to walk around and act like nothing's wrong when he's only a few minutes away. I'm gonna tell myself that I can't reach him and put him out of my mind."

"Can you do that?" Kylie asked. "I don't think I could."

"Well, I can't fool myself, but I'm not going to ask him when he's traveling. I'm just gonna assume he's gone. And I'm gonna tell him that we can only talk or see each other once a week. And I want that to be on the weekend, so I can lie in bed and cry if it doesn't go well. I refuse to have this ruin my work."

"I think that's a good idea," Kylie said. "Limiting contact is probably a good idea, too."

"Yeah. The last time we saw each other was horrible. I can't afford to have scenes like that very often. I have to think of what's best for the baby, and having this much stress isn't good."

They walked into the den, and Kylie turned on the TV. Watching the evening news with half of her attention, the doctor said, "Earlier this week you told me that you'd had a very bad time when you went over to your house. Wanna talk about it?"

"There's not much to talk about. He acted like an asshole, then apologized the next day. I forgave him, of course, but it really … I don't know … I guess it made me wonder again just who he is. He was so angry with me, Kylie, and he accused me of things that I never did to him. He was so fucking self-involved, and that's not how he used to be."

"Really? I didn't think you could hide something like that for ten years."

"I know! That's my point! That's part of the reason I think he might get over this. He's not acting like himself, Kylie. I've known this guy for ten years, and I think I know him well. I'd hate like hell to split up and then have him go back to being the guy I love."

Kylie stared at the television for a long time, obviously thinking. She finally turned to Blair and said, "Ten years is an awfully long time. I wouldn't give up easily, either."

"Thanks," Blair said, patting her leg. "It's nice to hear that you don't think I'm being an idiot for hanging on."

"I don't," Kylie said. "I promise that I don't. I think you'd be an idiot to give up on a guy you love — especially when he's acting irrationally. Hell, maybe he should have a thorough check-up."

"Not every problem has a disease behind it," Blair said, giving Kylie a teasing look.

"No, but if he does, I can just open him up and take it out." She smiled at Blair and added, "Nick works with people for years! I could never do that. I like problems I can fix with a scalpel."

"I think Nick's a better doctor for our problems," Blair said, "but I wish you could fix this one quickly. I'd even let you operate in the kitchen."

"The lighting is really good," Kylie said wistfully, trying to imagine her home surgical theater.

„G

When Blair came home from work the following Wednesday night, she plopped her briefcase down by the front door, went over to sit next to Kylie on the sofa, and announced, “You’ve got a date for Saturday.”

“I do?” she asked, wide-eyed. “With whom?”

“Remember my telling you about Sheila, who works for me?”

“Uh-huh. Your secretary, right?"

"No. That's Jeanne. Sheila and Mandy are both agents."

Дата добавления: 2015-09-04