Flowers from Iraq (The Storyteller and the Healer Book 1) Page 4
A sudden feeling of shyness swept over her and she hesitated before knocking softly on the door. It felt natural for Gayle to open her arms and for Kathleen to rest her head against her chest. “I’ve missed you, Gayle.”
Gayle whispered, “Baby, I’m so glad to see you. I’ve missed you too.”
She shook Robert’s hand. “And I’ve missed your lunches, Robert. You are the best cook.”
Robert grinned. “Gayle, I like this girl already.”
Sundays with Kathleen became their weekly ritual. Sometimes she would bring a book, and sit quietly in the den, studying. After a while, Gayle made one of their guest rooms into a bedroom for Kathleen. It didn’t make sense for her to go home on a Sunday evening, only to take the long bus trip to Westwood the next morning.
Gayle looked forward to waking early on Mondays and making the waffles and eggs that Kathleen enjoyed so much. The emptiness that plagued her, for so many years, disappeared and, after a while, she forgot that Kathleen had been her patient and began to think of her as the child she never had.
Gayle opened the kitchen curtains and watched Robert and Kathleen with their heads together, analyzing a chair with a broken leg that Gayle had bought at a garage sale. She chuckled softly; they were both so serious, looking at what needed to be repaired and deciding how they would bring something damaged back to life.
They showed Gayle the finished product. “Better than new,” Robert said. Kathleen grinned a lopsided grin that matched the tool belt hanging from her waist.
Gayle said, “You two inspire me. Wait until you see what’s in the trunk of the car.”
Gayle saw Kathleen growing stronger, coming alive.
Gayle saw Robert becoming happy in a way that had been lost, long ago.
From time to time, Gayle thought of the rules she had broken: feeding Kathleen during treatment, contacting her after she left, having her stay at her home.
Was it wrong, when growth and healing occurred?
Was it wrong if the healer also got healed?
What if there was a predetermined course of events that brought people together?
What if there was a way people healed each other?
What if kismet did exist?
CHAPTER 7
Gary knocked on Kathleen’s door. “Come on, enough studying.” He playfully shook her foot. “Off the bed and into your bathing suit. It’s summer vacation, we’re officially seniors, and we’re going to the beach.”
Kathleen put the book down, raised her head, and rubbed her eyes.
“Are you studying for classes that haven’t even started?”
“Not exactly. Just reading a couple of textbooks.” She yawned, opened her eyes wider and stared. “What are you wearing?”
“They’re my official Baywatch trunks.” Gary did a quick pirouette, showing off his bright red lifeguard trunks. “How do I look?”
“Fab. You may be ready for the chorus of Swan Lake, but I don’t think you’ll be mistaken for a lifeguard.”
“Hmm… is it my early middle-aged paunch?” He patted his stomach and made a sad face before grabbing her hand. “Even a genius has to take a day off, and I can tell your eyes are ready to fall out. I’m giving you five minutes to get your bathing suit on. Mom’s packing a lunch and I’m going to get my buckets and shovels.”
“Are you serious? Buckets and shovels?”
“Kathleen, you can’t go to the beach and not make sand castles.”
Isabel lent them her car and filled a cooler—enough for a family of six—with food and drinks. Jorge gave Gary sixty dollars with the advice to “Take her someplace special for dinner.”
They drove to Santa Monica and parked at the pier. They strolled down the walkway and stood in front of the fully restored 1922 carousel as calliope music, the most cheerful music on earth, made Kathleen feel like a kid again. Children climbed on their favorite steed and rode around and around, big smiles blooming on their faces as they reached for the brass ring.
Gary looked at Kathleen and smiled slyly. “Let’s ride. We’re only going to be young once.”
They jumped onto the carousel as it began to move, looking for their perfect mount. Gary picked a tiger and growled mock-menacingly at Kathleen, pawing at her playfully. Kathleen picked one of the most ferocious looking horses, with wild eyes and its mouth opened wide, as if it were screaming into battle. She undid her braid and let her hair fly free. Kathleen leaned back, feeling the breeze on her face, and became an Irish warrior from one of her father’s long ago stories.
They took the steps from the pier down to the beach. The day was overcast, but Gary insisted on putting sunscreen on her back every hour. “I’ve never seen anyone with such fair skin,” he observed admiringly. “How do I love thee, let me count the ways, one two, three…”
“Gary, what the hell are you doing?”
“Counting the freckles on your back.”
Kathleen leaned over and kissed Gary on the cheek. “No one else would put up with you.”
They spent the day wading and splashing in the chilly water, building sand castles, and sitting on beach chairs, reading, and talking about their future. Occasionally they would glance at each other and smile.
Gary wanted to be a neurosurgeon and Kathleen hoped to complete a dual residency in Emergency and Family Medicine. They were both facing a financial crisis. Kathleen’s scholarship was for four years and Gary’s family would try to help, but it would have to be student loans and large debts for both of them.
They had attended a recruiting seminar, at UCLA, for the Army’s Health Professions Scholarship Program. They went out of curiosity and because they were offered a free lunch, but left thinking; This is not a bad deal.
Gary said, “I don’t know if I can learn to salute, but the package sounds awfully good. They’ll pay for our education and we’ll pay it back by serving. I wouldn’t mind the traveling. France, Germany, who knows. How do you think I’ll look in my uniform?”
“Stunning, I’m sure.” Kathleen became pensive. “I think Gayle will positively kill me for joining.”
“Roger that. My mom will have a heart attack and a stroke, both at the same time. You know, I think it’s a good program. I want to be the best neurosurgeon and the Army can give me the training. My folks have offered to help, but they both work so hard now …I really don’t want to take anything more from them. I’ll end up owing at least a million dollars and twenty cents.”
Kathleen laughed at his corny joke but spoke longingly. “Actually, I kinda like the idea of serving and there’s a lot of camaraderie in the military. In some ways, it can be like a family.”
Gary became serious. “Yeah, but in one way a dysfunctional family. You can’t always be who you really are.”
Kathleen looked at Gary, but quickly averted her eyes.
Gary became serious. “Kathleen, are you dating at all?”
She shook her head. “I don’t have the time.”
“I think my parents wish we were a couple.”
Kathleen looked directly at Gary. “Your parents are sweet and I love your family. I love you too; you’re my best friend.”
Gary leaned over and patted her hand. “I think people see us as a couple—maybe a bit of an odd couple.” He couldn’t resist cracking a joke. “I’m Felix. You’re Oscar.”
“Thanks a lot!” said Kathleen, laughing.
“I’ve never dated. That’s why my parents are worried, but it isn’t because of time.”
“What do you think it is?”
“Sometimes, I think I am… you know…”
“You mean…?” She said meaningly and raised her eyebrows.
“Yes. Do you ever think about having sex?”
“Uh, I guess.”
“With guys?”
“Sometimes.”
“With girls?”
Kathleen blushed. “Sometimes,” she admitted.
“You know, we’d have to really hide that part of ourselves if we joined the Ar
my. I mean, if it’s true, that we, I might be. Maybe we’re just really inexperienced, though I’ve read all the sex manuals and lots of sexy magazines and I don’t seem to get turned on.”
“Not at all?”
Gary sighed. “Well, yes, but not by the girls.”
Kathleen reached over and held Gary’s hand. “I’m sorry.”
They became quiet, lost in their thoughts, trying to digest the conversation.
Kathleen broke the silence. “How can you find out?”
“I guess the only way would be to try it with a girl and see if everything works.”
“I could try the same thing with a guy.” She shook her head. “But I couldn’t, you know, do it with just any guy.”
Gary asked, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“I can’t think of anyone I would rather lose my virginity to, than you.”
“So, what do we do?”
“Well, there are tons of hotels around here. Do you have any money?”
“My dad gave me sixty dollars.”
“I’ve got twenty.”
“Shall we?”
“Let’s.”
The first two hotels were too expensive, but one of the desk clerks gave them the address of a motel in nearby Venice. They took showers. Kathleen took hers first and Gary closed his eyes while she got into bed. She kept the blanket tucked under her chin until Gary joined her under the covers.
Gary rested on one elbow and stared into her eyes. “You’re beautiful,” he said, as he leaned over to kiss her.
Gary was worried he might have hurt her. After all, he had read all the books. They stayed in bed; one more silent than the other until waves of giggles began to form.
Gary said, “Oh, Kathleen, I know I am, I know I am.”
“Me, too. It was,” she searched for a word that wouldn’t hurt his feelings, “pleasant, but I did feel like something was missing.”
“Me, too! Oh, shit, what am I going to do? I kept thinking about guys the whole time. Were you thinking about girls?”
“Oh, God, this is really embarrassing. Gary, I’ve never liked all the hair guys have on their bodies and, well, you…”
“It’s okay. I know I don’t have a lot of body hair. It’s all on top of my head.”
Kathleen leaned over and rubbed her hand through his black, straight hair. “Girls would die for your hair.”
“That would be great, except it’s not girls I’m interested in. So, when you touched me…”
“I thought about, you know, I kept pretending… Oh, Gary, I need to bury this. If I don’t focus, I won’t finish school.”
“Ditto. What I said before about guys, I can’t put it aside. I do love you, and I always want to be there for you. You’re my best friend, and you’re like a sister to me.”
“I’m awfully glad my first time was with you, but I don’t think we should be talking about being brother and sister, considering what we’ve done. Gary, do we have any money left?”
“About thirty dollars.”
“Let’s get something to eat before we go home.”
They drove to the Third Street Mall, near the beach, and sat at an outdoor restaurant. People walking down the street would see a sweet young couple, perhaps in love. They were a couple that loved each other, but could never be in love.
CHAPTER 8
Wearing the “Real Men Cook” apron his colleagues had given him as a gag gift, Robert barbecued steaks to celebrate Kathleen’s graduation and acceptance to the David Geffen School of Medicine at UCLA.
Robert hummed as he turned the steaks over. “Medium for you, Kathleen?”
She smiled, “Yes.”
“Big doings, huh, Kathleen? Class of ’93. Way to go! Not to mention getting accepted to UCLA’s med school.”
“Yeah, I have to admit, I’m pretty proud.”
They dined on the patio, where a folding table groaned underneath the weight of bowl upon bowl of Robert’s handiwork.
Gayle complained, “Too much food, Robert. How will I ever lose this weight?”
“I know, I know, I way overcook—it’s my one flaw.”
“Oh, I might be able to think of one or two more,” she replied with a sparkle in her eyes.
Robert reared back in his wrought-iron chair, savoring his last bite of rib eye smothered in A.1. sauce. He turned to Kathleen and said, “Gayle and I have been talking about something and we’d like your opinion.”
Kathleen became serious, put her fork down, and sat up straight.
“Once you start med school your bus commute is going to be impossible,” Robert continued, “and once you start working at the hospital you’ll have all kinds of crazy hours.”
“UCLA has student apartments in West Los Angeles and I’m on the waiting list.”
“Still a big distance. What would you think about moving in with us? We’re only a couple of miles from UCLA. We’ll give you a deal on the rent, and I’m already cooking for three…”
Gayle interjected, “or four…”
“I don’t know what to say.” Tears formed and rolled down Kathleen’s cheeks. She wiped them away with the back of her hands. She began to cry, her head in her hands, her shoulders shaking softly. “I’m sorry, I’m just so grateful to have you both in my life.”
Gayle placed her hand on Kathleen’s shoulder. “It would mean the world to us. We’re so proud of everything you’ve achieved. Your room is ready; it even has the pink floral wallpaper you wanted, and you’ll be helping me by eating that extra food before I do! Why, it’s a win-win situation!”
Gayle and Robert had a second gift in mind, one that Kathleen and Gary could share. The couple rented a bright red 1965 Mustang convertible for two weeks and gave them money for their vacation to San Francisco. Gary was accepted to the University of California at San Francisco and he and Kathleen planned to drive the coast highway, get Gary settled in his new apartment, and go sightseeing. They had other secret plans in mind, as well.
There were countless announcements during the graduation ceremony, but Gayle only heard two. Kathleen had finished second in her class. The other announcement came as a bigger surprise, one that put a rope around Gayle’s heart and pulled it tight. Kathleen and Gary had joined the Army.
It was 1993, they were official med students and they were on their way to San Francisco. The Mustang’s V-8 engine hummed along the coastal highway and the car fetched admiring stares from passing motorists. The top was down, the ocean breeze caressed their faces, and they felt carefree.
They stopped at Monterey and stayed at a small hotel where the sound of the surf met the smell of the sea. The clerk asked, “One or two beds?” Gary and Kathleen smiled and said in unison, “Two!”
Gary grinned as he bounced on his bed. “Are you still a virgin?”
Kathleen laughed. “Yes, in the way it counts.”
“Me too. I’m hoping that changes this week. I booked two rooms in the Castro District and we’ve got a list of gay friendly restaurants and bars. Do you think Gayle and Robert would take back their gift, if they knew?”
“Robert might be hurt, but Gayle’s more savvy. What if one of us…”
“Scores?”
“Don’t be crude! Let’s say, gets a date, and the other one doesn’t?”
“You can worry about that,” said Gary teasingly. “I’m confident I’ll get my dance card punched.”
“Mr. Lucky,” Kathleen teased back. “Remember, we need to be discreet. I don’t want to get discharged before we’ve even started. First names only. No personal details and nothing about being a soldier.”
They were giddy. Giddy with their newfound freedom, giddy with the thought of an MD after their names, and giddy with the possibility of discovering their sexuality.
They spent their first day in San Francisco cleaning Gary’s apartment. They stood in the middle of a small, dismal single, watching a cockroach scurry across the kitchen counter.
“Gary, this place needs to be scru
bbed and fumigated.”
“Yeah, my mom would die if she saw this.”
Kathleen touched his smooth, beard-free face. “Don’t be sad. We can buy cleaning supplies and snacks at the market. We’ll make it sparkle.”
By the time they finished cleaning they were tired, dirty, and the last thing on their minds was meeting a stranger, in a strange city. They returned to their hotel, showered, ordered pizza, and fell asleep.
Roman’s was a well-known gay-friendly restaurant within the Castro District. Tucked away on a dark, side street and barely visible from the road, its black door opened to shiny black Formica tabletops glistening with the reflection from art deco chandeliers. The lights were kept purposely low and music from the 1970s and ’80s loud created the atmosphere. Same gender couples sat at small tables, while others, sat alone at the bar waiting and hoping.
Gary and Kathleen studied the menu, ordered salads, pasta, and a bottle of the house red wine. Kathleen nibbled at her food. Her stomach was turning somersaults and her hands were shaking. After dinner, they sat at the bar and showed the bartender proof that they were over twenty-one. Kathleen was certain everyone in the restaurant was staring at them.
Gary disappeared first. Kathleen waited, alone. She sipped her glass of white wine until her liquid courage edged toward empty.
“Hi.”
Kathleen turned to see a pleasant looking woman in her mid-thirties sitting next to her.
“Here by yourself?”
Kathleen nodded.
“I watched you come in with your friend. A lot of us do it that way. You’re not Marines and you’re not Navy; must be Army.”
Kathleen froze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you. I’m Roseanne.” She held out a hand with a small tattoo—Navy—on her wrist. “There’s a quiet table in the corner. Do you want to have a drink and talk?”
Kathleen sat for a moment, unsure and frightened. Oh, what the hell, she doesn’t even know my name. She followed Roseanne to the table and ordered ice tea.