Love changes everything, p.28
Love Changes Everything, page 28
Sam was shocked. “That’s it?”
It was Kirby who responded. “That’s it! You did it.”
Sam took her bag, and Kirby walked her down the hallway. At the end, they stopped, and Sam looked into Kirby’s eyes. “Thank you,” she said.
“I think we’re done, Sam. You nailed that, and I don’t think there’s any way they’re going after you. Congratulations.”
“Thanks.” Sam felt such relief, her legs almost felt weak.
“Do you have plans tonight?” Kirby hesitated for a second. “We could get dinner, to celebrate.”
Sam felt an altogether different sense of relief. Deep down, she’d been waiting for Kirby to ask her that question since their first meeting. Ever since they saw each other, for the second first time, Sam had felt the energy of their connection coursing through her. Her answer required no thought. “I’d love to.”
“What’s good around here?”
“Rustic Kitchen, at the casino.”
“Small world. That’s where I’m staying. Half an hour?”
Sam felt the weight of the day—of all the days since she’d walked into Julie’s office and learned about her deposition—ease from her shoulders. If it weren’t Kirby, and she wasn’t facing the possibility of Kirby leaving forever, Sam would have gone home and curled up with a good book. And now, as she began to relax, she might actually read it. It was Kirby, though, and the thought of never seeing her again was much worse than Sam’s fatigue. She needed a shower, and a change of clothes, and she’d be ready to go. “Actually, could we make it a little later? I’d like to get out of this suit and into something more comfortable.”
Kirby sighed. “I’m with you.” Glancing at her watch, she puckered her lips. “Six thirty?”
“See you then.”
Sam drove home singing to the radio, and after showering and slipping into jeans and a light sweater, she walked into the restaurant right on time. She found Kirby sitting at the bar, watching the sports news.
“Hey,” she said, feeling the same joy she always felt when she saw her. She had changed clothes as well and looked relaxed in a Henley and jeans.
Turning, Kirby appraised her. “Hey.”
“What are you drinking?” Sam asked.
“Just water. I didn’t want to start without you. The table’s waiting for us, but they’re not crowded, so we can have a drink first, if you’d like.”
Sam moaned and plopped onto the barstool. “I’d like.”
“Champagne?”
“Nah. They make a wicked pomegranate martini.”
Kirby smirked. “You’re so girly.”
Sam swallowed her retort. You used to like that. Her response was much safer. “What do powerful Harrisburg lawyers drink?”
The bartender arrived, and Kirby placed their drink order. “A pomegranate martini, and a Ketel and tonic, with a splash of lime.”
“I see,” Sam said. “You’re all grown up.”
“We’re all grown up.” Kirby winked.
“I’m really happy that you asked me for dinner.”
“I felt as if we should talk,” she said softly.
Sam nodded. “Me, too. I’ve been waiting half my life to talk to you again.” She paused and turned in her stool so she was facing Kirby, and put her hand on Kirby’s forearm. “I want to apologize, Kirby.”
Tilting her head, Kirby shrugged, and the hint of a frown appeared on her face. “For being straight?”
Sam shook her head and looked into the dark pools of Kirby’s amazing eyes. “No. For not being brave enough to be gay. It took me a long time—almost ten years—to realize that I couldn’t bury my sexuality. By then, I’d hurt a lot of people I cared about. Doug, who I not only married but had children with. My mom, my friends—because I lied to them and avoided them, so I didn’t have to tell them the truth. But mostly, you. I treated you horribly, and I’ve regretted it for the past twenty-seven years.”
Their drinks arrived. “Talk about timing,” Kirby said as she sipped her cocktail.
“What, no toast?” Sam asked.
Kirby sipped again, then raised her glass.
“Thank you for today. Thank you for twenty-seven years ago,” Sam said softly.
Kirby rested her head on her palm as she leaned into the bar and turned to Sam. “So, let me see if I have this straight. You’re not straight?”
“No,” Sam said softly.
“You’re gay.”
“Yes.”
“You’re sure?”
“One hundred percent.”
Kirby raised an eyebrow. “One hundred percent sure, or one hundred percent gay?”
“Stop it,” Sam said playfully, but Kirby’s response was all business.
“I think it’s a fair question.”
Sam sighed, and it turned into a chuckle. “Okay, you’re right. I am one hundred percent sure that I’m one hundred percent gay.” Sam sighed. “Would you like the whole story?”
“I can’t wait.”
Sam sipped her martini as she tried to frame her thoughts. “Where do I start?” she asked herself out loud. How did you cover half a lifetime over the course of one dinner?
“How about two days after Memorial Day, 1993?”
“Hmm,” Sam said. That was the last time they saw each other, and apparently, Kirby remembered the day as well as Sam did. What an awful time, with her mother near death, and extracting that awful promise from her at a time when Sam was so vulnerable. Then the surgery and cardiac rehab afterward. They ended up canceling her graduation party, and Sam almost delayed medical school. In the end, she went to Philly as scheduled, and buried herself in what she did best—studying. Studying helped her deal with her fears about her mom and helped her grieve the self-imposed loss of Kirby. And time, of course, did the rest.
“You know, Kirby, it’s still kind of hard to talk about that. Would you mind if I fast-forward a little?”
Kirby nodded and squeezed Sam’s hand supportively. “Whatever you want to share. I’m just really happy to be here with you.”
“So you know, I moved to Philly for medical school.”
“You moved in with Lori and Jim, and all of Uncle Tony’s furniture.”
“I think it was Uncle Louis, but yes.”
“How’d that go?”
“It was difficult, but we made it. We split up after our second year, but we’re all still friends. It was my fault. I’m an only child and extremely difficult to live with.”
“Good to know, about the living-with-you thing, in case I’m ever homeless or anything. And good that you’re still friends.”
“I really didn’t date in medical school, but in my third year I was working on the pediatrics service, with this really great resident. Click, click, click. I ended up in bed with her, but it was sort of the same situation as with you. I just didn’t want to deal with the truth. I finished my month, and off I went. Never saw her again.”
“I detect a pattern here.”
Sam bit her lip. “Yes. It wasn’t like with you…truthfully, I think she was just a player. It was fine. Except…it wasn’t, you know? I didn’t want to be gay. That was the bottom line. So I just kind of gave in to the heterosexual pressures, and I married Doug. I ran into him at the church picnic, of all places, and we started talking. Doug seemed like a good idea at the time. Right after graduation.”
Sam looked at Kirby, whose face was a big blank. “I know it sounds stupid. It was cowardly. I was just overwhelmed, I think. Does that make sense?”
“Yeah. Strangely, it does.”
They both sipped and Sam continued. “Residency is everything you imagine it to be. Exhausting. My third year, first month, I was assigned to the trauma service. Two first-years were under my wing—Glen and Tara. Glen came out to me about five seconds after we met, and we had a ball together. Tara and I clicked. I had a huge crush on her, but at the same time, I knew Tara wasn’t…right for me, I guess. But she made me think, mostly because I loved the way I felt when I was with her. I was happy. Just like I’d felt with you. And I was definitely not happy with Doug.”
“So what happened with Tara?”
Sam shook her head. “Nothing sexual, but she’s one of my best friends. I introduced her to one of my classmates, and she ended up marrying him. They live here in the area. She works in the ER with me.”
“That’s cool. So you’re over your crush?”
“Oh, yeah. But I realized there was a pattern to my…feelings? Or crushes. I don’t know what to call it. I was just attracted to women, and no matter who I married or what I did, I just finally realized that wasn’t going to change.”
“So what did you do?”
“I did what I thought was the right thing. I told Doug I’m gay. He pretty much laughed at me and talked me into having a baby.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“Nope,” Sam said, and took another sip. It was her life, and even she couldn’t believe it. What had she been thinking? “Wow. I’m going to need another martini soon.”
“How about we get our table?” Kirby suggested instead.
Sam left money for the tab, and they asked the hostess to seat them. She took them to a corner booth big enough for four, yet they sat intimately close to each other. After she left them, Kirby leaned forward. “Continue,” she commanded.
Sam smiled. “Where was I?”
“The baby.”
“Ah, yes. He reminded me how much I wanted children and convinced me that if I was gay, I would never have children, and that if I had a child with him, I would be content. My attraction to women would go away because I’d be too busy to be gay. That strategy had worked before, for a while, so I thought I’d try it again. That was my third and final year of residency, and I figured it was good timing. If I got pregnant then, the baby would have been born just as I was finishing in June. As it turned out, it happened in May, and I started my job back here in July, then had my boys in February. I loved them, but I still wasn’t happy. Doug and I separated when they were a year old.”
“Wow.”
“It was really for the best. I was sad, Kirby, but not depressed, because I loved my kids and my job. I just didn’t want to pretend I was with Doug. I didn’t necessarily want to be out as a lesbian, but I didn’t want to pretend to be married, either.”
“So, have you ever dated women?” Kirby asked, as if she didn’t believe her.
“Yes, of course. Many.”
“Many?” Kirby asked, her jaw hanging open.
“Well, probably not as many as you, but yes. I refuse to get too serious. I’ve never lived with anyone, but I’ve brought some of my girlfriends around to meet my boys.”
“So you’re out to your kids.”
“Yes. How could I hide that part of me?” That had never been an option for Sam. Her goal was to raise well-rounded, open-minded children, and she had.
“How about your mom? Did you ever come out to her?”
Sam puffed out her cheeks and blew out a long breath. “Sort of.”
“Sort of?”
Sam told her about the conversation she had with her mom when she was thinking about divorcing Doug. “Then, when the boys were about ten, I was dating a teacher, a friend of Teddy. Teddy is my own private dating app. I really liked this woman, and we’d been together about six months, and I wanted to go away with her. So I talked to my mom. And before I could actually say the words and tell her the truth about my relationship with Yvonne, she stopped me. ‘There are some things better left unsaid,’” she told me. “And that was that.”
“So she knew.”
“Yes. And she knew about you, Kirby. I never told her. She just knew.”
Kirby sighed. “Moms know, right?”
“Of course we do.” Sam picked up her menu. “We should order. I’m famished.” She placed a hand across her forehead. “Or maybe drunk.”
They spent a minute talking about the menu, and then their server checked on them and took their orders. They both declined another martini and instead accepted her offer of water.
“It’s a remarkable story, Sam. Thanks for sharing it with me.”
“I don’t know how remarkable it is. I regret a lot of things, you know? But ultimately, if I hadn’t done the stupid things I did, I wouldn’t have my sons. So I suppose I wouldn’t have done anything differently at all.”
“You’re right. In the end, we’re where we’re supposed to be.”
Suddenly her recent conversation with Doug came to mind. “Would you be betraying a confidence if you tell me what happened to Harry Johnson?”
Kirby looked perplexed at the seemingly unrelated comment and was quiet for a moment before she answered. “Something with his heart valve. He needed surgery.”
Sam laughed. “How about that?”
“About what?”
“K, my mom’s heart valve tore us apart. And good ole Harry’s brought us back together.”
Kirby stared at her for a moment. “I guess we’re meant to meet again, Sam.”
“I think so,” she said softly as she sat back to just stare. It was like the bears on the mountain, another sign.
“Is he doing okay?”
“He’s great. Retiring, so he can enjoy life a little.”
“So it worked out for everyone, then.” Sam was happy to know that. Her mother had lived twenty years after her surgery, and nineteen of them were good ones.
“It did. So, you’re still friends with Teddy?” Kirby asked.
“Since ninth grade.”
“Did she ever finish college?”
Sam pursed her lips. “She did. And she worked for one of the hospitals for a while before she was invited back to the family business.”
“She looked good. Is she married?”
“Interested?”
Kirby’s eyes grew darker. “Not in Teddy.”
Sam shrugged. “Well, you really should make amends. She’s grown up, and she’s a good person.”
Kirby nodded. “I hear you. I’ve been thinking about it since you said something at the golf outing. We’ll see. I just don’t know what the point is.”
“Fair enough,” Sam said as she sipped her water. “Tell me about you. I know you moved back to Harrisburg—Teddy told me she was at your going-away party. You have kids, and you’re a lawyer. What else?”
Kirby nodded. “That about sums it up.”
Sam gave her a stern look, and she continued.
“The bank had an opening, so I transferred. Applied to law school and got in the next year. I met a wonderful woman, and we moved in together, had the kids after we graduated. She works for a nonprofit, and I worked in malpractice defense. After fifteen years together, we decided to go our separate ways. Just like you…I really never left home.
“We’ve traveled all over but love to crash at my parents’ beach house. I tried to be a hands-on mom. I coached Kait’s softball team and Kyle’s T-ball, taught them both to golf. I’ve served as housekeeper, taxi driver, and chef until just recently. Now I feel kind of lonely—after going full speed for twenty years, no one needs me anymore.”
“I’ve felt the same way. We’re pretty pathetic,” Sam said as she turned to Kirby. However, Sam had to admit that since seeing Kirby again, and reconnecting with her, the sadness she’d been feeling for months had dissipated.
“Nah. We’re just good parents. Are you any different than yours?”
Sam thought of her mom, and of all the great things she could have remembered, she always seemed to come back to that one defining moment. “I would accept my kids no matter what.”
“It’s so different now. Easier for us, easier for our parents. And don’t forget what you just told me, Sam. If you hadn’t done things the way you did—because your mother did the things she did—you wouldn’t have your sons.”
“I know. I thought life would get easier, but it hasn’t. I just have different problems to solve. I still need my parents, and I’m almost fifty. I wish they could just give me some advice.”
“I talk to my parents all the time. They tell me I’ll never figure my kids out.”
“Really?” Sam asked, amazed.
“I think teenagers are always on a mission to defy their parents, no matter what era they live in.”
“Not me. I was a good kid.”
Kirby smirked. “Oh, I seem to remember a little defiance in you.”
Sam thought for a moment before replying, but other than her dalliance with Kirby, she’d never done anything off-script. And then, when her mother had asked her to stop seeing Kirby, she had. She’d followed the rules until she just couldn’t do it anymore.
“Maybe one or two episodes of defiance.”
“When did your mom die?”
“Six years ago.”
“That must be hard, being an orphan.”
“My mom was eighty, and she was failing. Sometimes, I see a patient who was born the same year she was. Very few of them are happy and healthy. They’re in nursing homes or dependent on their children. She wasn’t. She lived in her own house until the day she died. How can I be sad about that?”
The server brought their food—half a dozen appetizers they’d agreed upon—and Sam dug into a meatball as her stomach growled. She was famished. They both filled their plates and nibbled as they talked.
“It’s good about your mom. I worry so much about my parents.”
“Well, you’re very lucky, Kirby, that you still have them.”
“I know it.” Kirby paused, then reached across the table and squeezed Sam’s hand. “It’s so nice to see you, Sam. You’re still as easy to talk to as you were back then.”
“I’d like to say I haven’t changed much, but I know that’s not true.”
“You seem to be the same person, if you ask me.”
“I guess I am, at heart. I still eat Stookey’s.”
“I’ll never forget the first time you took me there. I was so hungry, and you kept asking me questions, and I didn’t want to be rude, so I was taking these little nibbles of the sandwich, while my stomach was growling.”
