Visiting Hours Read online

  “Nothing. How are you feeling? You look tired.”

  “I feel tired! I feel like I was in that operating room for days. Things were easier the second time around, though. It felt more relaxed in the OR this time. Jess even told me when Stephen was smiling at me from the gallery.”

  “Shouldn’t she have been paying attention to the massive needle in your belly?”

  “Don’t remind me. Anyway it was after the whole thing was over.” Beth squinted at her, her fingers moving to a new spot in her hair. “You don’t like her.”

  Alison shrugged, but even as she did, she knew it wouldn’t be enough.

  “Don’t shrug at me, Dr. Reynolds! What’s wrong with my doctor?”

  “Ugh! Don’t call me Dr. Reynolds! You know I hate that!” She looked at their interlaced thumbs for a moment, but saw no way out. “There’s nothing wrong with her. She’s just…”

  The pause drew out too long and Beth prodded her. “She’s just what?”

  Alison rolled her eyes, giving in as she always knew she would. “Come on! The tattoos. The hair. She looks like a barista, not a doctor!”

  “Okay, so she doesn’t exactly look the part.”

  “Doesn’t look the part? That’s an understatement. She looks like one of my undergrads. Or the girl who worked at the UR bookstore.”

  “You had a crush on the girl who worked at the UR bookstore.”

  “I was eighteen. I had a crush on everyone.” She shifted in her chair and looked seriously at her friend. “Are you sure she’s qualified?”

  Beth stopped twisting her hair. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  “Of course I am. I’m worried about you.”

  “Why didn’t you say something before now?”

  “I didn’t want to worry you.”

  “So you’ve been biting your tongue about this for five whole days.”

  “Six.”

  “That must be a new record for you. How did you manage?”

  “You’ve been asleep a lot.”

  “Funny.”

  “Okay, but Beth, I’m serious now.”

  Beth smiled in that indulgent way that mothers smile at a whiny child. “You’re really sweet, Ali. I love that you’re so worried about me, but I am in good hands.” Alison huffed and tried to stand up, but Beth held her hand tighter and continued, “Jess is a very well respected OB. She was trained by some of the best doctors in the country and spent the last five years at Legacy Children’s in Portland.”

  “She’s from Portland?”

  “Yeah. VCU worked really hard to get her here. She’s supposed to be one of the marquee names for the new children’s hospital they’re building. If they can ever finish it.” Her smile was back. “So, other than judging the book by its cover, what’s wrong with her? Did she use doctor talk with you?”

  “No. She didn’t. And I’m not judging a book by its cover. I just…I don’t know. I just don’t know if I like her.”

  “Well you’re just going to have to get used to her,” Beth said, leaning back into her pillows and closing her eyes. “You’re going to see a lot of her if I’m going to be in this place for two months.”

  Alison stood, and this time Beth let her. “Fine. I’ll try. But only because you and Stephen are my favorite people in the world.”

  “Headed home to grade papers?”

  “Yeah.” She hesitated a moment. “My grad student Jennifer and her girlfriend are going to Babe’s tonight. They invited me to come along but I think I’ll skip it.”

  Beth didn’t open her eyes. “No you won’t. You’ll go and you’ll dance and you’ll have a drink for me.”

  “I can’t.”

  “You can and you will. I’ve been nursing or pregnant for the better part of the last four years. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had a glass of wine?”

  “Six months, fourteen days. And then it was only a ‘half glass of a really disappointing chardonnay.’ You and Stephen started trying again the next day and you stopped drinking just to be safe.”

  “Fifteen days.”

  “Right. Sorry. I wasn’t counting today.”

  “So have a beer for me and have a good time.”

  Alison put the chair back in the corner and switched off the lights.

  “Yes. ma’am.”

  Chapter Seven

  The pound of a heavy bass line radiated from the massive speakers through Alison’s skin down into her bones. She felt the thud in her marrow and moved in unison with the bodies around her, not hearing the music so much as feeling it. She closed her eyes and smiled, raising her arms above her head as she moved. The plate-glass windows behind her rattled as the chorus kicked in again.

  Babe’s of Carytown was either a Richmond institution or completely unknown, depending on your point of view. The bar had occupied the same dark corner in the fashionable Carytown shopping district since the days when women had to sneak in after dark to avoid being seen. The windows were tinted almost to blackness and nothing about the exterior announced that it was the city’s only lesbian bar.

  Times had changed dramatically since it first opened. Now it was a popular spot not only for gay women, but also for straight ones who wanted to dance without the burden of aggressive men. Whether the invasion of straight women was a good thing or a bad thing also depended on your point of view. Still, with the dwindling number of lesbian bars operating across the country, Babe’s was doing well to still exist.

  The interior was separated into three distinct areas. A collection of booths and a relatively quiet, if a bit divey, bar waited right next to the front door for customers. The older crowd spent their nights there, drinking and reminiscing over the good-bad old days. A little further on was the dance area, with its loud music and pool tables shoved into the back corner. The bar there was where you went to watch but not talk. The butches leaned against the pool tables and sipped their beer, always keeping at least one eye on the sweaty dancers. Past the dance floor stood a row of bathrooms that rarely held only the single occupant at a time demanded by the signs on the door. The hallway itself was dark enough to lend enough privacy for some of the goings-on. Past the bathrooms was a door to the back patio, a spacious area with yet another bar, several picnic and patio tables and a sand volleyball court.

  No matter what the night of the week, these areas were predictably populated. The quiet bar for the older crowd, the dance floor for the ones who didn’t want to go home alone, and the patio for the sporty types and the few holdouts who still smoked the Marlboros manufactured on the other side of a town all but synonymous with tobacco products. Times changed, but the ebb and flow of Babe’s was a constant.

  Alison had been coming here since she was a student at the University of Richmond. In truth, she tried to sneak in once with a fake ID when she was still at St. Catherine’s. The owner, Vicki, hadn’t been there to give her the lifetime ban she issued to anyone who threatened her liquor license by breaking the law. The bouncer took pity on her, sending her away with a lecture on patience. Once she hit eighteen Beth came with her because she was too timid to show up alone. They danced with black marker X’s on the back of their hands until last call and laughed all the way home. She had moved to Boston and then to England, both more gay-friendly than Richmond, but the lesbian bar she loved would always be Babe’s.

  Tonight, since her heart was back in Beth’s hospital room, she had decided to give her brain the night off too. She’d had a beer and a few shots with her friends at the loud bar, and then moved to the dance floor. She let the thump of the bass move through her like the ocean. It shuddered through her bones and eased the ache of her tense muscles. Her breathing synchronized with the beat. She danced with anyone who was around. Her thick, auburn curls caught in the sweat on her shoulders and the spaghetti straps of her tank top. Her strappy sandals occasionally smacked on the painted concrete floor.

  She had no idea how long she’d been dancing, but she was thirsty and fighting to catch her br
eath when the music abruptly changed to a much slower beat. The revelers partnered off and a short woman with a wonderful smile wearing a red tie held out her hand to Alison. She tried to be polite when she refused, but felt a twinge of regret to watch her shrug and leave the floor. Looking around, Alison saw that she was the only person alone. She moved as quickly as the crowd would allow to the back door. Her overheated skin craved fresh air, and she guessed correctly that she would find Jennifer and Courtney on the volleyball court.

  She got a beer and half-emptied it in one swig, basking in the ice-cold liquid rolling down her throat. Rather than sitting down alone, she leaned against the railing in an unoccupied corner. The patio was busy tonight. She drank the rest of her beer slowly as she looked around.

  The gay community in Richmond was small enough that she usually ran into someone she knew at Babe’s, but tonight she didn’t see any of the usual faces. She had just drained her bottle when she felt eyes on her. Turning, she saw with a jolt of surprise Dr. Jess Baker standing in a small group across the patio looking at her with a lazy smile.

  The mix of good tequila and cheap beer in Alison’s blood reacted unexpectedly to her. She was wearing nearly the same outfit as when they had first met, a T-shirt and jeans, but the T-shirt was a rich cranberry color that perfectly complemented her lightly tanned skin. Her hair, which had seemed ridiculous at the hospital, in this setting was flattering to her high cheekbones and straight nose. Even the splash of color on her bicep had a different effect. Alison found herself examining the swirling shapes. One in particular caught her eye. It could have been a fish or a dragon. There were certainly scales and a sinewy body, but the overall shape was impossible to determine from this distance.

  After a moment, she realized that she was staring and looked away, but she knew she was still being watched. She tipped the bottle to her lips, forgetting it was empty. Embarrassed, she looked back to find Dr. Baker gone. Her disappointment surprised her, but she shrugged it off and headed back to the bar for a new drink.

  The need for alcohol seemed to have increased dramatically on the patio. The line was impossibly long for the single, harried bartender. Alison suddenly felt the heat of the dance floor on her again. She lifted the long hair off her neck, hoping the flow of air would help cool her down. The line did not move, and she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She looked to the door that led back inside, considering going to one of the other bars for her drink. The sickly sweet strains of another love song filtered through the portal, and she thought better of it.

  The line finally moved an infinitesimal amount as the person at the front stepped away, two beers in one hand, shoving bills into her pocket with the other. There was a sense of inevitability to her realization that the woman was familiar. Dr. Baker smiled and walked toward her, transferring one of the sweating bottles into her free hand.

  “I didn’t expect to see you here, Ms. Reynolds.”

  Alison dropped her hair, suddenly aware of the sweat on her brow. “Why is that, Dr. Baker?”

  “Please call me Jess.” She held out one of the bottles. “I didn’t peg you as gay.”

  “I’m not. I’m bi.”

  “My mistake.” She waved the bottle. “Close enough for me to buy you a drink, right?”

  Alison looked at the line and silently debated, but whatever was in the air tonight convinced her to accept the offer. The glass was cool on her skin and she nodded her thanks.

  “Wanna sit?”

  The table she indicated was small, just a disk of wrought iron with a single chair on either side. Warning bells sounded in Alison’s brain.

  “My friends look like they’re almost done with their volleyball game.”

  Jess looked over her shoulder just in time to see Jennifer dive for the ball, missing it by miles, but conveniently knocking Courtney into the sand beneath her. The catcalls and whistling from the crowd eventually got them back to their feet, but they took their time about it.

  Jess turned back with a wink. “I don’t think they’re keeping score. Come on. Keep me company for a while. My friends are both busy flirting with their exes. I’m new to town and I don’t know anyone else. Save this night from being a total bust?”

  Her words and attitude were completely open and the genuineness won Alison over. Considering her social options were also limited, it seemed worth a chance. She chose the chair that offered her an unblocked view of the court. The minute Jennifer finished her game Alison would have an excuse to make a hasty exit.

  “Beth told me everything went well this afternoon.”

  “It did. I can only hope it goes just as well in the future.”

  Alison felt the beginnings of anxiety, and fought to keep her tone light. “So you still intend to continue doing this blood exchange thing?”

  “It is the best option we have.”

  “Have you gotten a second opinion?”

  Jess smiled at her bottle. “Second opinions are something patients get independent of their physicians. Doctors will sometimes consult with each other. If you are asking if I have consulted with others about her case, the answer is yes. My training was a team-based style. I prefer that approach. Everyone I consulted approved of my diagnosis and treatment plan.”

  Alison nodded, unsure of what to say next. She considered confronting Jess about the Henry VIII theory or the holes she left in her explanation of Stephen’s condition, but found suddenly that she didn’t want to talk about Beth anymore. It was time to change the subject, lest the anxiety tingling in her chest bloom into something more distinct.

  “I’m surprised you wanted to sit with me,” Alison told her.

  “Why? Because we’ve gotten along so well?”

  Alison gave her a tight smile. “Partly. Mostly because the minute I tell a lesbian that I’m bisexual, she runs in the other direction.”

  “Really? Why?”

  Alison rolled her eyes. “Come on. You don’t have to act like you don’t know. It doesn’t hurt my feelings anymore.”

  “Now I’m really confused.”

  “Gay girls don’t like to play with bi girls. It’s a thing. Everyone knows that lesbians are the most biphobic people out there.”

  “Ouch, that’s harsh. Besides, I don’t think it’s true. At least not in my experience.”

  “Oh really? How many bi women have you dated?”

  “None, but it wasn’t on purpose.” Alison shook her head and she protested, “It’s true! I just haven’t ever had the opportunity. I don’t think I have, at least.”

  Alison’s eyes slid to the volleyball court, praying the game would end. “Then you may be the only lesbian in the world who is willing to date a bi woman.”

  “I think that may be a bit of an exaggeration, but you seem keen on this so I’ll play along. Why do we all hate you?”

  “Take your pick.” She ticked off the reasons on her fingers. “We don’t really know whether we’re straight or gay. We’re greedy. We’re just experimenting. Mainly, we’re just stringing you along until we find a man. Every lesbian I’ve ever dated has been convinced that I’m going to cheat on her with a man.”

  The doctor looked as amused as she was thoughtful. “Because lesbians don’t cheat?”

  “Not with men.”

  “What’s the difference? Is it somehow supposed to be worse if my girl cheats on me with a guy? How is it better with a woman? It’s still cheating.” She shifted her gaze to the table. “Still hurts like hell.”

  It was tantamount to a confession and surprisingly honest. After an uncomfortable moment of silence, Alison offered, “Beth tells me that you just moved here from Portland.”

  Jess sighed. “Yeah I did. VCU made me an offer I couldn’t refuse, but I’m not sure if this is really the place for me.”

  “You don’t like the work?”

  “Oh no, I love the work.” She spun her bottle between her hands, her eyes fixed on the wave of liquid sloshing around inside. “It’s just that I expected things
to be different.”

  Alison glanced over at the court, watching the arc of the ball over the net. “How so?”

  Jess was quiet, and Alison looked back at her. The green eyes fixed on her were appraising. She finally said, “I hope I don’t offend you here…May I call you Alison?” She waited until Alison nodded her permission. “I hope I don’t offend you here, Alison, but Richmond…I mean, you guys have this whole ‘rah, rah RVA’ thing going, and it’s cute, don’t get me wrong.”

  “Cute?”

  “Yeah. I think it’s great that everyone here loves your city so much. It’s just that I come from a very different place. I mean, you guys have one art museum, one gay bar, one moderately successful college sports team and you think you’re, like, the up-and-coming city in America.” She paused to take a sip from her bottle before continuing. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard people say ‘Richmond is the next Portland.’”

  “And?”

  “And I just have to assume that the people who say that have never actually been to Portland. I’m sorry to tell you, this place is nothing like it. Never will be.”

  “Ah, yes. Because Portland is the greatest city in the world. Rome, New York, Paris, London—forget them. Portland, Oregon is the center of the universe.”

  Jess laughed, and there was definitely a note of self-deprecation in it. “Well Rome yeah, forget that town. It smells like sweat and garlic. New York is loud and suffers from an unfortunate excess of New Yorkers. Paris is overrated. London, on the other hand…Even Portland can’t top London.”

  “I love London so I can’t argue with that.”

  Jess leaned forward. “Now you see, we do have something in common.”

  “I don’t mean to offend, but it may be the only thing.”

  “I suppose I deserve that. After all I did just take a shot at your hometown.” She paused, color creeping up from the collar of her shirt. “I’m sorry. I’m not very good at talking to women.”

  Alison could feel the alcohol in her blood, and it warmed her pleasantly. “That seems unfortunate, given your career choice.”