Wingman, part two

“Riding around with the car top down and the radio on...” Her lips moved to the lyrics automatically. It required no conscious effort on her part to listen to Billy Joel while she studied. That particular odd quirk of her brain got her through high school and college, and she was relying on old habits to push her way through medical school. Studying in silence was next to impossible. Without the noise, without the subconscious distraction, her mind would wander, unable to focus on the words in front of her until she would suddenly find herself staring into space unable to articulate the daydream that had just passed. It could have been disconcerting, but she took it as a sign that she needed to keep her mind overstimulated.



“...and we never knew we could want more than that out of life...” Overly large flannel pajama bottoms hid the ankles crossed casually at the end of the couch, and the grey fuzzy slippers attached to those ankles were also keeping time with the music. A thick book lay open on her lap as she reclined on the couch. Sheets of paper were strewn over the back of the couch and the coffee table and occasionally she would shuffle through to compare her notes to the text.



“...everyone said they were crazy...” The apartment buzzer rang. It startled her, and the book dropped from her lap. She glanced at her watch as she walked to the intercom. She pushed the button and leaned into the speaker, “Yeah?”



“It’s me.”



She pressed the button to unlock the entry door, unlocked her front door and walked out to the central staircase. She leaned over the railing from her fourth floor walk-up. “Miss Golightly, I must protest.”



Allison smiled up at her and started trudging up the steps. Beverley left the door ajar and went inside to make a pot of coffee, stopping the CD player as she passed it. It had just started to drip when she heard the door close. She deftly ran a dishtowel over the droplets of water that never seemed to make the transition from the carafe into the coffee maker and was tossing it on the counter when Allison popped her head into the kitchenette.



Her mascara-laden eyes widened. “Why are you in pajamas?”



“Because I’m not going out again tonight. I already told you.” Beverley pushed past her and sat at the tiny, cracked table centered in the few square feet she designated as the dining room. Allison flipped the other chair around and straddled it, leaning over the back to rest her chin on the table.



“C’mon. You know you want to go out.” She batted her eyelashes and pouted.



“No. I don’t. I didn’t want to go out last night or the night before that. What I want is to pass the test we have next week. Anyone who was my quote-unquote friend would respect that.” She had lifted her hands to gesture accordingly and let them drop heavily on the table.


“You’re going to pass the test. You always do. Stop worrying about it.”



“Easy for you to say. I never see you study.”



“I study.”



“When? In between drinks? Or in between men?”



“I study, damn it.” Allison pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her pocket and proceeded to light one. Beverley leaned to her right and pushed open the window before the smoke started to drift into the main part of the room. “Come out with me tonight.”



“No.” The coffee pot hissed and sputtered, and Beverley rose to make herself a cup of coffee.



“I just can’t sit in my apartment all alone. I can’t do it.” Her voice took on a slightly hysterical edge, causing Beverley to stop and turn around. She placed a hand on Allison’s slumped shoulder.



“Al, what’s going on?” Allison jerked her head up.



“Nothing...” She took a long drag, exhaling as she spoke, “I just want to go out.” She shrugged her shoulder out from underneath Beverley’s touch. Beverley pretended she didn’t hear her sniffle. She edged into the kitchenette, reaching to the shelves above the narrow stove to grab coffee mugs.



“Want a cup of coffee before you go?” A ringing ceramic clank echoed in the small space as the mugs tapped each other before she set them down.



“Sure.” Beverley watched her from behind, Allison’s small movements betraying some momentary emotional upheaval that had led to ephemeral tears.



“Black with a little sugar, right?”



Allison stood to exhale out the open window. “Yeah.” She turned and smiled at Beverley. “Thanks.”



She handed her the mug, and the two sat quietly at the table alternately blowing and sipping at the hot beverage. Allison finished her cigarette and as she was stubbing it out in the ashtray, she met Beverley’s eyes. The redhead stayed motionless through the examination unsure of the reason behind the perusal.



Allison let a puff of air escape her lips as she ran her hand through her hair. “Earlier this week...” She stopped to take a sip of coffee. Beverley bit her tongue, keeping quiet to prompt Allison to keep talking.



“Earlier this week...” Allison ran her finger around the rim of her coffee mug and dropped her voice to a whisper. “I found out I had a miscarriage.”



Beverley reached across the table and put her hand over Allison’s. “I didn’t even know you were pregnant. Are you okay? I mean, physically okay?”



“No, I mean, I’m fine. I... it was years ago.” Beverley’s mouth opened and closed several times as she weighed what to say. She settled on silence.



“What?” Allison’s eyes narrowed at Beverley’s vacillations.



“I have no idea what to say. I’m confused.”



Allison slammed her hands on the table and stood up. “Right. What the fuck am I upset for? I’m going out. See you later.” Beverley grabbed her wrist, halting her exit.



“No! That’s not what I’m saying. Talk to me.” Allison’s free hand splayed across her lower abdomen, and sobs started fighting their way out of her body. Beverley jumped up and wrapped her in a hug, holding tightly as the initial wave of Allison’s pain passed through them both.



When she caught her breath, Allison pulled back a little, noticing the damp streaks on Beverley’s cheeks. “Why are you crying?”



The slight remnant of a Southern twang in Beverley’s voice thickened. “No one cries alone in my presence.” Allison started giggling as Beverley continued, “See there? Laughter through tears is my favorite emotion.”



“You watch too many movies.” Allison ran her sleeve under her nose and sniffled.



“C’mon. We are officially abandoning all plans for studying and going out, and we are sitting on my couch with a bottle of wine until I understand why exactly we’re crying, okay?”



Allison nodded, and the pair cleaned up the notes and books, piling them out of the way. When Beverley went to open a bottle of wine, Allison fell onto the couch, took off her boots and curled into the corner. Beverley set the glasses and the bottle on the table and playfully tousled Allison’s hair as she walked to the bathroom. She returned with a box of tissues, holding one out to her friend. “You look like a raccoon. Buy better mascara.”



She poured generous glasses, handed one to Allison and curled up into the opposite corner of the couch.



“I...” Allison stopped as soon as she started. Her gaze fell to the floor, and her thumbnail went into her mouth. She chewed absently at the cuticle.



“Take your time. We’ve got nowhere to go.” Beverley grabbed for the remote and turned on the television. They went through a glass of wine and a sitcom rerun before Allison muted the sound.



“Who did you shadow on Monday?”



“Dr. Carpenter at the Cancer Center, you?”



“I was with Dr. Lenox.” She started chewing on her thumbnail again.



“Mr. Dr. Lenox, the psychiatrist? Or... ohh... Mrs. Dr. Lenox, the OB/GYN.” Allison just raised her eyebrow. “Right. Mrs. Dr. Lenox. So, what happened?”



“There was a young girl there, college freshman, freaking out because she’d just had a really unusual period.” Allison leaned forward, resting her elbows on her thighs and letting her hands dangle the wine glass between her knees. “She had never really been all that regular, but then she had this one day where she just passed this massive clot. It really scared her, she thought she had cancer or something.” She stared off into space for a minute until Beverley nudged her hip with a fuzzy slipper. “Dr. Lenox probed a little more and turns out she hadn’t had a period for at least two maybe three months.”



“So, she was...”



“Yeah, Dr. Lenox said there weren’t really any tests they could run, but that most likely she had been pregnant and had miscarried.”



“Wow, the girl must’ve freaked out.”



Allison winced, but continued, “Yeah. I mean, I know a lot of women miscarry without ever knowing it. At least, I’ve read about it. I just never put it all together before.”



“So, you...”



“Yeah, six years ago, college. Same thing, almost exactly.”



“Can I ask you something?” Allison nodded. “I don’t really understand how all of it connects. Why all the partying this week? I’d think sex would be the last thing you’d be thinking about.”



“Sex makes me feel good.” Beverley snorted, and Allison giggled. “I mean, being wanted by someone makes me feel good. Sitting at home, I just brood.”



Beverley sat up and put her arm around Allison’s shoulders. “But, it was just something that happened. You didn’t do it.”



“I failed. I had life inside me, and I failed. My body failed. One of the things a woman’s body is designed for and I failed.” She threw back the rest of her glass of wine, and her hand was shaking as she started to refill it



“Al, hey, hon.” Beverley took the bottle from her, grasping her hand quickly with a smile before smoothly pouring another measure of wine. “You didn’t fail.”



“Bev...”



“No, listen to me. I can’t know how you feel, I know that. But, it happened. It just happened.”



“Bev...”



“Where were you six years ago?”



“Scraping my way through college tending bar.”



“Were you ready for a child? Was your boyfriend?”



“Well, there wasn’t exactly one boyfriend.”



“So what? Who cares?”



“I care.”



Beverley let out a sigh. She gripped Allison’s shoulder and turned her so that they were face to face. “Grieve. Mourn. But take care of yourself. Don’t let this take over. There are so many things good about you, Allison...what’s your middle name?”



“Rebecca.” Allison lifted a tissue to her face and blew her nose rather indelicately.



“There is so much about you to be proud of, Allison Rebecca Murphy.”



Allison shifted out of Beverley’s grip and scoffed, “Sure.”



“Well, you seem to have a knack for picking friends.”



Allison whirled around in time to catch the corners of Beverley’s mouth twitching with mirth. “Dork.” She pushed Beverley off balance.



“Twerp.”



She blew her nose again. “For the record, I’m not giving up on men and sex. They’re too much fun.”



“God, no, just, I don’t know. A little moderation, maybe?”



“Deal.” Allison stuck out her hand.



Beverley looked askance at it, grabbed a tissue and wiped it off before gripping it and pulling Allison into a hug. “Deal.”