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To top off a truly craptastic day, the hospital administrator sailed her way into Wendy’s lab.
“There you are!”
“This is my workspace.” Wendy wanted to glower at her. Everything was wrong, and this wouldn’t be good news. No chance of that. “And?”
Her mom furrowed her brow. “Someone is cranky. I thought you were happy with the apartment renovations.”
“Ecstatic.” Wendy sighed, hating that she’d spent the last two days doing nothing but thinking and pacing. “Property value is way up.”
“That’s always good news.” She smiled, but it was tentative now, and then she squared her shoulders. “Here. I’d like you to attend this year.”
Wendy opened the envelope, tugging out the fancy invitation. “The hospital donor’s ball?” She stared in horror. “Why would you do this to me?”
“You work here, a little bird told me that you might have a boyfriend, and let’s be honest.” Her mom put her gentle hand on Wendy’s. “You could easily make a nice donation.”
Banging her head on the laptop would be an overreaction, but Wendy was tempted. Then she ran all those words back again. “I don’t have a boyfriend! Or a girlfriend! Or even, apparently, a best friend!” She knew Karen had blabbered to her mother about her unicorn. “You know I don’t fit in, please continue to hide me in the closet, or this tiny lab space, whichever.”
“You’re a valued member of the staff.” And the hospital administrator was back. “In these economic times, we need all the help we can get.”
“Well, shit,” Wendy muttered, never good at accepting guilt gracefully. “No promises. Go away before people think you like me.”
“Be there.” And the bossy mom made a final appearance. “Your father has an extended leave at Christmas. His ship will be docking in Bremerton. Please plan on coming home. That means putting in for vacation time now.”
Wendy had to rub her face, stuffing down a riot of emotions. “I’m going home for the last part of this shift.”
“Wendy.”
Her response was to pull up her phone and clock out. Her supervisor could yell at her later. She shoved her stuff in her backpack and used the back door, knowing her mother was glaring at her. But instead of leaving the hospital, she tromped along, looking for Dr. Tillman, finally finding her on the third floor. Next time, Wendy was having her paged.
“Got a minute, doc?”
“Sure.” Dr. Tillman led the way into a patient's room, blessedly empty. “What do you need?”
“Are you taking Harold to the donor’s ball?” Wendy just laid it out there but seeing Dr. Tillman drop a wall between them ten feet thick, she rushed on, “I was thinking of asking John, but you know those guys.”
Dr. Tillman swallowed. It was a strange reaction. She hesitated one more second. “You could ask him?”
“Did you want John as your date then?” Wendy pushed that much harder. She needed to make this happen for her mother. “Since Harold’s a zillionaire, and John is loaded, I thought they’d be a good catch for the hospital.”
“Oh!” Dr. Tillman seemed so relieved, and for the first time, Wendy wondered if she were gay, or queer, or something. Dr. Tillman sat down on the stool and crossed her legs. “I could call him?”
“Ask him to bring John for me?” Wendy played up the awkwardness. “He’s a little old, but...” She let her voice trail away.
“He’s really not.” Dr. Tillman finally smiled, just a little. “And you and I need to schedule some time to talk about your future in medicine, possibly more education. I’ve pulled together some materials with a lot of exciting choices. I’m not sure I agree with your high school counselor’s suggestion that you have ADHD, so we have much to discuss.”
Wendy felt her skin burst into flames and peel off. For one horrible moment, she could see her future clearly, being micro-managed by Harold and his money. Her mother, who wanted her to be a nurse, which was a hard no, and now Dr. Tillman, another wanna-be mentor who didn’t really approve of Wendy’s choices. Even Karen seemed skeptical.
Wendy had made the mistake of talking to people, caring about them, and now those people felt comfortable arranging her life for her. She was sure even John (still a unicorn) had opinions she didn’t want to hear. What she was – who she was – was never good enough for anyone.
That stupid counselor had been the school’s way of shutting her away for being mouthy, pushing her out of the accelerated classes where she didn’t fit. Her mother had refused to have her tested, for once agreeing that the school was being ridiculous. She might not be neurotypical, but she wouldn’t disrespect her friends who had ADHD by claiming it herself. A part of her was glad to hear that Dr. Tillman knew it was false, but the rest of her was pissed. Everyone was so nosy these days!
“There’s time,” Wendy managed to croak out. She had to pull this together, and she waggled her phone at her. “Call them, Harold and John. My mother will love you for it.”
Dr. Tillman took an audible breath. “I will, and you can dance with them both.”
“Harold dances?” Wendy had a hard time picturing it.
“I assume so!”
“Nice.” Wendy half-turned towards the door. She had to say one more thing because she was grateful, even if it had all gone sideways. “Thank you, Dr. Tillman.”
She nodded, and Wendy fled. There. She’d done her best for her mom’s fundraising efforts. Now, she’d deal with Karen. She loved Karen, and she’d never yell at her for anything, but Wendy needed some distance between them. Time to forget that Karen enjoyed gossiping with Wendy’s mother far too much.
***
“Are you sure about all this?” Karen made a sweeping gesture at the apartment.
“The only reason I didn’t push before was because of the electrical. That’s fixed.” Wendy never lied, and she sounded sincere, but Karen wanted to be sure before she got excited. Wendy gave her a nice hug. “You know you’re sick of your parents. I have so much room. We’ll fix up the second bedroom and make you an office area in the living room. It’ll be fun! Biggee loves you, and he’d appreciate the company when I’m at work.”
“If I move my office here, I might actually make some money this year!” Karen resented working for a real estate company that didn’t provide offices. She’d tried working at her parents’ house, but her mother had made it impossible to think, and office space was never cheap. “Wait.” She took a deep breath. “I could start my own company!”
“You could. I’d be happy to throw some money your way to make it happen. I could be a silent investor!” Wendy nodded like her mind was made up. “No rent money. Help with the electrical bill and call it good.” Then she pointed at Karen’s guts. “My aunt loved you. She’d want this for you.”
“I could, maybe, get ahead instead of breaking even.” Karen slowly nodded, starting to believe. “You’re sure? I know your rave fam doesn’t like me.”
“They’re never here. We hang at Josiah’s place. He’s got a sick collection of bongs.” Wendy got up and went to the fridge. “We’re all headed to see Liquid Stranger soon. You could watch Biggee for me. It’d be a huge help not to have to worry.”
“That van of Sam’s is a disaster waiting to happen.” Karen had to say it. She’d tried to make them like her, but she couldn’t hold her drink and the times she’d been high had been awful. She’d decided some people just shouldn’t try to inhale. It was hard to relate to people who were constantly stoned, not Wendy, of course, she had a job and a life. “And it smells.” She wouldn’t get in that van for a McDonald’s run, much less a music fest.
“I have a tent.” Wendy shrugged. “I’m off the next two days. Let’s get busy. No weed until we’re finished.” She grinned. “Maybe an edible.”
“Wendy!” But Karen laughed. This was so exciting. She’d even get to update her web page.
***
Macy put her coffee down first. It was far too precious to spill. She’d splurged on the good stuff. The rest of her things she tossed behind her desk. She’d sort them out later. Right now, she had ten blessed minutes of silence and coffee.
It was always stressful right before the donor’s ball, and she refused to think about it for another nine minutes. When there were four minutes left and not near enough caffeine in her system, there was a knock on her office door, and she sighed.
“Come!”
It was Dr. Patel, the head of the lab, and he looked apologetic, so this was bad. She motioned him to sit and took a very deep breath. “Yes?”
“This was on my desk.” He handed it to her. She read it twice before meeting his eyes. He shrugged and looked away. “She’ll be back.”
“I’ll remove her from the payroll.” There was nothing else to say, and she made sure her face betrayed no emotion. “Post internally for the position first.”
“Will do. Sorry, Dr. Kaminski.” He beat it out the door. She picked up her coffee and focused on that, ignoring the racing pulse and familiar lump in her stomach. Wendy was an adult. She could handle herself. It was late September. She’d be home by Christmas, guaranteed.
Holding her head high today would be difficult. There’d be questions, but she had no answers. She knew her daughter. Someone (probably her mother) had pushed too hard, and Wendy had decided it was easier to run than deal with it. Macy wiped a tear away, threw her coffee in the trash, and got to work.
***
“You guys look so handsome!” Meg beamed at them, and John knew not to adjust his bow tie again. Harold might slap him. She boldly reached and tweaked Harold’s bow tie, which made John smirk. “I’m so glad you both made it.”
“Thank you for the lovely invitation.” Harold started schmoozing early.
John took possession of Meg’s hand, wrapping it around his arm, because he knew how Harold worked, and he was not escorting Wendy all night. She might have on those crazy boots. Meg smiled up at him, a bit strained, but she didn’t complain.
“Come this way. There’s someone you should meet, Harold.” Meg skillfully navigated them around the room. “Dr. Macy Kaminski, our lovely hospital administrator, and these are my friends, Harold Wren and John Warren.” Meg pinched John’s arm to get him moving. “You two have fun!”
John almost laughed as he was dragged away. “Wendy’s mom?” he whispered, seeing Meg’s nod. “She’s married.”
“She’s a Navy wife. It’ll be fine.” Meg steered them to the food and drink. “Let’s get a bite, and we’ll discuss how much you’ll be donating.”
“Sweet talker.” John played the gentleman, getting her settled with champagne and finger foods. “How about I drop some money into the silent auction? Those are always fun.”
“But what if you lose?” Meg was all smiles, and it was great to see her feeling better.
“Don’t hurt my fragile ego.” John hadn’t thought to have fun tonight, but this was nice. “I know Harold intends to write a large check.”
“Good. Macy works hard to keep this hospital funded.” Meg leaned forward and lowered her voice. “She’s been upset, so I hope tonight is successful for her.”
Keeping an eye on Harold and Macy, John nodded absentmindedly. He could see Harold was smiling, but lately, they’d been tiptoeing around each other, and he didn’t want to let him down.
“John, Harold’s fine.” Meg tapped him on the hand. “You can relax.”
“I struggle with that.” John kept his tone light. “Where’s Wendy? I suppose I have to dance with her.”
“You make it sound like a chore.” Meg sighed, frowning. “You don’t know? I thought you knew.”
Now Meg had John’s full attention. If Wendy was in trouble, John would be... he narrowed his eyes... very angry. Meg raised her eyebrows. “Wendy quit, up and disappeared. No one has seen her or heard from her. Rumor has it she gave her apartment away.”
Words clogged in John’s throat. He needed to act casual, but he wanted to go shake Harold down for answers. Harold always knew everything.
“Well, you do care about her.” Meg sounded stunned.
“She’s a friend. She’s helped me out at least twice, you know.” John smoothed the emotion out of his face. He’d been surprised, or he wouldn’t have been caught like that. “I worry about people.”
“I know you do.” Meg patted John’s arm. “I spoke to her boss in the lab. He said Wendy has done this before, and the hospital always hires her back. It’s a shame. I was getting her lined up to have a real career as a nurse or a doctor.”
John hoped his eyes didn’t convey his anger at such casual dismissal of Wendy’s job. “Not everyone is cut out to be a doctor.”
“She could do it. I wanted to help.” Meg finished her champagne. “Let’s hit the silent auction.”
He’d tackle Harold later. Another couple of hours wouldn’t make any difference, if Wendy was long gone. Something in John’s gut told him that he and Harold had set wheels in motion without considering consequences, but time would tell. He got them both another champagne and tried to smile as they perused the usual bits of auction-worthy material.
“You need a car, John?”
“Not that one.” John would rather walk than drive a Tesla. “How about a cruise?”
“I could never take that much vacation.”
“I get seasick.” John lied easily. He just hated boats. “Side of beef?”
“Who could eat that much meat?” Meg smiled. “This is fun.”
John nodded. He’d buy something stupid and donate it back for the next highest bidder. Then he saw a collection of bow ties in a small glass case. “Oh, that’s ridiculous.”
“Starting bid is three thousand. They’re works of art, designed and handmade by a local artist.”
“They’re bow ties.” John wrote a high bid down. Harold would love them.
***
Knowing he’d been served up as a sacrifice to the hospital’s altar of cash made Harold less than enthusiastic about chaperoning Dr. Kaminski, but something in her eyes gave him pause.
“The decorations are quite lovely.” Harold saw that she needed reassuring. “And I’ve been to a number of fundraisers in my time.”
“Thank you. We always handle it ourselves since hiring someone seems counter to a charitable cause.” Mrs. Kaminski glanced back at Dr. Tillman. “She seems to have abandoned you to my mercies.”
“It’s John’s cheekbones.” Harold smiled because it was true. “You will be merciful?”
“Not with your checkbook.” And her answering smile was pure Wendy.
Harold laughed, unable to help himself. “May I be your chaperone this evening? Me and my checkbook?”
She hesitated and then nodded. “It’d be my pleasure.”
“No, the pleasure is all mine.” Harold would spend enough money here to wipe away some of his guilt for having... relations with her daughter. And with that blush on his cheeks, he waved over the champagne.
Much later, with plenty of champagne consumed, Harold caught John’s eye and looked a question, just checking in with him. John gave him a hand signal that made Harold sigh. Something was up, and he sincerely hoped it wasn’t time to get under a table.
The crowd began to ease their way to the seating, where awards would be given out, and Harold reassured Mrs. Kaminski that he’d be fine if she went about her duties. He had yet to write a check, but it could wait.
John appeared out of nowhere, and they went together towards the restroom.
“How is Dr. Tillman this evening?”
“It’s good to see her doing well.” John led the way, and they ducked into an empty corridor. “Wendy took off, quit her job. No one knows where she is.”
“That would explain Mrs. Kaminski’s demeanor tonight.” Harold was sure the Machine would’ve told them if Wendy was in danger. “Perhaps she’s at a rave?”
“She gave her apartment away.” John started pacing. “Harold.”
“I’ll look into it before I sleep.” Harold would track her down for John’s sake. “She can’t give her apartment away. We have a contract. She can only sell it to me.”
“Does she know it’s you?” John’s eyes were dark, serious.
Harold considered all his interactions. “I can’t guarantee Ms. Gilchrist’s silence on the matter.”
“Karen saw me leaving Wendy’s hotel the other morning. Her face was easy to read.” John stopped. “I have a bad feeling about this, Harold.”
“Then I’ll give it top priority.” Harold was worried now. “Let’s say our goodbyes. Did you win in the silent auction?”
“Of course.” John paced Harold’s steps back towards the affair. “Did you write a fat check?”
“I’ll put something in the box, but I want to do something about the ambulance situation. People depend on that service.” Harold would fix it, especially if Wendy might be employed in that area again. “And I’ll call Ms. Gilchrist.”
***
It wasn’t that she was angry. Or embarrassed. It was like, Wendy fumed, she just couldn’t look at them another second without screaming. So, it was easier, on them, if she left. At some point, she’d get over it, and it’d be safe for them to exist again.
That day wasn’t today, however. All her life, she’d had a temper, and people loved to tell her to calm down. Nope. She never did. She was mad, and for their sake, it was time she hit the road. She carefully sorted through her regular clothes and her rave clothes, checked the weather across the United States, and went to buy a larger backpack. On the way, she saw the guy on the corner who sold phones, and she might’ve let her anger buy one.
Picking out a backpack took a while, but she decided to get a good one, spending the cash. That done, she went to her apartment and packed, ignoring the glares of her cat. She turned off her phone and stuffed it in her sock drawer. She didn’t need it; didn’t need them or their stupid approval.
“I’ll be back, Mister Biggee, High Prince of Purinas.” She hugged him so tightly that he grumbled. “Take care of Karen. She needs your help.”
Biggee meowed loud and long, and Wendy put him down. She wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t. She put a note on Karen’s computer.
Heading out. Don’t worry. Bye.
There wasn’t any reason to write a thesis or anything. They’d talked. Karen would look after the place, and it wasn’t like Harold would evict her. Leaving her collection of platform boots made her light-headed, but she had her coolest sneakers, (and a backup pair), and she’d be back.
The backpack wasn’t too heavy, and she patted Biggee on the head once more before leaving her keys on the counter and shutting the door behind her. The Greyhound bus wouldn’t wait.
***
Picking up Wendy’s keys, Karen sighed. She hung them on the hook and looked over at the cat.
“You didn’t even try to stop her?”
Biggee yawned.
“Yeah, I know.” Karen refused to worry. Wendy did this, loved her raves, and she was smart. “She’ll be home soon.”
***
The cleanup after the ball always seemed to take more shifts than setting it up. No one complained about the work, but Macy always made sure there were treats and drinks available. These people worked hard so other people could stand around in suits and eat fancy food. Getting a donation out of each person was crucial, but this year Macy hadn’t put the effort in that she usually did. It had been hard that night to work up the enthusiasm when her daughter was God only knew where.
“Congratulations, Dr. Kaminski!” The president of the board, Nancy Lake, smiled and gave her a tiny hug. “Our best year ever!”
Macy blinked in surprise, not having run the numbers herself yet. “It’s all due to our team.”
“And whoever bagged Harold Wren,” Nancy grinned like a shark.
“Dr. Tillman gets the kudos there.” Macy made an excuse and hurried to her office. She could count on her people to finish the cleanup, and now she was curious. Harold had been gone after the awards ceremony, and she’d been too busy to worry about him.
When the number came up on her computer, she sat back in surprise. Mr. Wren, Harold, hadn’t put on airs like the super-rich will do, but he’d been very generous. Any more generous and she’d have to get him a plague for the wall of donors.
Her phone rang, and she picked it up. “Yes?”
“You have a call from a Harold Wren, line two.”
“Thank you.” Macy took a deep breath before pushing the button. Hopefully, he didn’t want something she couldn’t give for his donation.
***
The diner was more than half-empty when John got there, and he was glad to see Harold had coffee on the table for him. He slid into the booth and added sugar, drinking it all before even looking at him.
“You’re angry at me.”
John pushed his cup and saucer towards the edge of the table, so it’d be refilled. “Did you order for us?”
“Of course.” Harold sighed. “I’d apologize, but I’m not sure what I did.”
“You just had to buy her building.” John rolled his eyes, which he knew Harold hated. “Her mother pushed her from one direction, Dr. Tillman another, and I’m very sure she thought we were breathing down her neck.”
Harold gave him a long look. “I suppose the hotel was a step too far.”
“It really was.” John rubbed his face; glad the waitress was coming with the coffee pot. “Wendy is a free spirit.”
“And you like her.” Harold waited until the waitress was gone. “I am sorry, if I was pushy.”
John sighed. Harold would never get it. Some people didn’t want to conform to other’s expectations. It hurt too much. It felt too much like failing. John did everything possible to fulfill expectations – he always had – and it was rarely enough, but he’d never quit trying. He was just wired that way. He admired Wendy’s ability to live her life her own style, and he hated seeing other’s expectations drive her away.
“Well, she’s in the wind now.”
“Her phone is in her apartment where I assume she left it. I’m certain she bought a burner.” Harold wasn’t meeting John’s eyes. “If she uses her credit card, I’ll-”
“Just, stop.” John was tempted to get up and leave. “Yes, I liked her. As a person. As someone living her own way and tough enough to be herself. And it doesn’t matter. The numbers are what’s important.”
Harold opened his mouth, but the waitress was back, and the food looked good. John dug in, hungry and tired, and not understanding why Harold didn’t listen occasionally.
“Next time, if I say leave it alone, do me a favor and leave it alone.” John wanted to throw things. Harold didn’t answer, but his jaw tightened, and John knew that he was wasting words. Harold did what he wanted, meddled when he thought he could make things better, and he wasn’t going to listen to John. Chances were good that Harold was driven by his own expectations, and John was tired of thinking about it. He’d do his best going forward, and maybe Wendy would be fine.
***
Harold stood in front of his map, analyzing and considering it all again. The map had to come down, or John might never get over it. But the idea, and the real estate market in that area, was still a good investment. It’d been wrong to push his money into Wendy’s life for no reason other than guilt at having thoroughly enjoyed watching her and John... Harold had to wipe his brow. He didn’t suppose John would ever feel that way about Harold again. That trusting.
Suddenly, there was a shadow looming over him, and Harold managed to control his flinch of surprise, or at least, he hoped he did.
“It wasn’t a terrible idea,” John said in a quiet voice.
“I can help many people in this general area.” Harold paused. “I suppose I am too busy.” He took a breath. “With the numbers.”
John faded away, and as usual, Harold didn’t know what to do, what to feel. John always left him tied in knots.
“I didn’t like it when I thought you’d had sex without me.” John’s voice carried clearly from the shadow where he was lurking. “Now that I’ve met her. I know you didn’t, with Karen Gilchrist.”
“Of course not.” Harold counted that prideful moment as a mistake. “And I was upset when I thought you were with Wendy, even though you’re both consenting adults, and honestly, it’s none of my business.”
Silence ached between them. John moved, quick like a cat, all potential and energy that left Harold gasping. “I wouldn’t, not without you. Not even if we’re, you know, arguing.” He very gently traced his elegant finger along Harold’s jaw. “Even if I’m angry.”
“Even then.” Harold could feel his heart pounding in his throat. He thought he might fall to the floor. John put his hand down, tracing down Harold’s vest until he rested his hand on the curve of Harold’s side. Reaching for him was impossible. Letting him do whatever he wanted was the only possible answer to the ten thousand questions that buzzed in Harold’s mind.
***
The venue at Red Rocks was the best in the country, just the sky at night was incredible. Wendy used her laced hands as a pillow and watched the light show, feeling the music running through her veins. She’d made friends, of course, and the pre-rolls were superior.
Life pounded around her, and she got up to dance, yowling her spirit into the sky. No one important could hear her, but her life was screaming out of her, demanding that no one tell her what to be. Who to be.
Cursing the sun, Wendy rolled over to pull her sleeping bag over her head. Someone laughed, and she took a long stretch before remembering that she’d met up with a girl she knew from Instagram. It was crazy, but they’d bumped into each other in the restroom, instant recognition. The screaming had been epic. They were real friends before their hands were dry.
“You alive?”
Wendy grunted and found the strength to sit up. “I suppose.” She sighed, rubbing her eyes. “I gotta find a ride somewhere.” She wasn’t sure she cared where, but they wouldn’t let her stay here.
Clarice, not her Insta name, shrugged. “Come home with me.”
“Denver?” Wendy wasn’t sure. “I guess rave season is about over.”
“Not much left, just Seattle.” Clarice nodded. “The place I live? I’m a caretaker for a horse rescue that offers horseback riding lessons to disabled kids. They’re hiring. You’ll have to shovel poop, but I have dogs, and a cat, and I could use the help.”
Tired, cranky, and needing coffee, Wendy was still interested. “Will it snow?”
“Not yet.” Clarice laughed. “I’ll get coffee.”
“Thanks.” Wendy flopped back down. She’d get up in a minute. She had money, but she liked Clarice, being a sucker for redheads. Clarice had a boyfriend, but he was nice, so... Wendy decided to live in Denver for a while, just until Zeds Ded (their visuals were the best) hit Seattle.
***
“What do you mean she’s gone?”
Macy got up to shut her office door. She’d been dreading this call from her husband. He hadn’t been home all that much when Wendy was growing up, but he was very protective of her. “Dan, she had Karen move into her apartment, quit her job, and left town. No one has heard from her. And I’ve called everybody.”
The silence on the other end of the phone was full of accusations. Macy didn’t want to hear them. She felt guilty enough. She’d pushed too hard, and she’d known better.
“She’ll be back. She knows you’re coming home for Christmas.” Macy had to believe that. “Karen said there was a rave.”
“Rave season is over, mostly.” Dan sounded tired now. “I keep telling myself she’s an adult.”
“She is.” Macy didn’t know what else to say. “We could hire a detective.”
“If she’s not home by Christmas, we’ll do it.” Dan paused. “Will you be home for Christmas?”
He sounded worried to her ears, and her heart melted for him again. No matter how far he went, she always waited, always loved him. Wendy had never understood, and honestly, neither did she. Taking a deep breath, she told the truth. “I resigned yesterday. Put in my two weeks’ notice. This is my last hospital.” She heard Dan give a muffled gasp. “I’m tired.”
Dan was quiet so long that Macy thought the call had dropped. Finally, he said, “Good for you. I’ll call soon. Bye. Love you.” And he hung up before Macy could say it back. But she’d quit, and she hoped he understood all the reasons why. Not to mention that she was tired of the commute. It was brutal, and if Wendy didn’t work here, well, it was time to go home.
***End