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“You said it was benign.”
Deborah doesn’t expect what she sees when she finally works up the courage to lift her head. Incongruent; Ava looks furious, arms crossed, foot jiggling, eyebrows furrowed. Deborah feels swimmingly out of context, because Ava’s jaw is set like she’s about to throw a punch. Shit.
“Well," Deborah’s voice is suddenly trapped in her parched throat, “that is what they said, initially, and then the doctor took another look, and they had someone else review the scans and the biopsy, and so they asked me to come back in-"
“Are you telling me they missed it?” Ava’s nearly gasping for air at this point.
Deborah’s confused. Isn’t this what she is supposed to be doing? Look at me, I’m communicating. For once! So why isn’t it working? “I mean, they did. They missed a small portion of something, something inconclusive. They want to go back in and remove a larger section, just to make sure. They just said it was an ‘irregularity.’”
“What the fuck.” Ava smacks the marble countertop with both hands. “What the fuck - ow!”
“Hey, hey, calm down!” Deborah feels compelled to rub a hand over Ava’s heaving shoulders. “Those giant hands of yours are going to shatter my countertop if you’re not careful.”
Ava goes stiff. “Nothing about this is funny, Deborah.”
“Look, it’s just a precaution! Even the doctor didn’t sound that concerned! Hell, she just sounded annoyed. I think they were worried I was going to sue for malpractice. I guess my reputation precedes me.” It’s a reach, Deborah knows, but Ava’s obviously upset, and she has no clue how to wind her down. I’m not good at this. They stand in the kitchen in silence.
“I’m going with you this time,” Ava finally says, voice weary.
“Okay, yeah, sure.” Deborah says quietly. I’ve never been good at any of this.
Ava goes with Deborah to LA the night before the surgery. She buys Deborah a healthy meal from Erewhon without a monologue on disordered eating, and with the exception of vaping on the balcony, is generally on her best behavior in the hotel. Ava’s sweet to Deborah, but mostly funny, cracking as many jokes as she can, like she’s chain-smoking them, until the moment her head hits the pillow. Deborah tries not to think too hard about how Ava knows this is exactly what she needs right now. Having Ava in the bed next to her helps.
The next morning, Ava is up and ready at least an hour before she has to take Deborah to the hospital, making a bit too much of a fuss out of it for Deborah’s liking. It’s not as if anyone else is fighting her for the privilege of spending a very early morning with a hungry, un-caffeinated, aged diva. Deborah snaps at Ava because she can’t eat and she can’t drink. I’m not scared, I’m just grumpy. Ava ignores all of Deborah’s barbs and spends the short drive to the hospital doing a bit as if she’s a Hollywood bus tour operator. Deborah laughs and laughs, and by the time she walks into the hospital, the pit in her stomach is gone.
“Deborah?”
“Yes, that’s me.”
A short, muscular, undeniably gay nurse walks in, scrubs so tight across his pecs they may as well be painted on. He smells like Neiman Marcus. “Good morning,” he says, slightly too cheerfully for both the time and the occasion. Deborah manages to give a genuine smile. After all, he could be a fan.
“I’m not supposed to say this, but I am a huge fan,” he says sheepishly after checking Deborah’s vitals.
“Well, you know, they seem to have my birthdate wrong in my chart, maybe a huge fan could fix that,” Deborah cracks.
The nurse laughs giddily, his brown eyes sparkling. “Look at you. Can’t keep a diva down, not for a second!” The rest of the intake is a lot more fun, with more laughter. Ava eventually joins in the banter, which makes Deborah feel relaxed for some reason.
“Okay. So that’s all the information I need to share with you. Your, um," the nurse sizes up Ava and glances at Deborah’s chart, “partner will be waiting for you in your room - your private room - after we get you out of recovery. We’ll keep her informed during the surgery as well. Do you have any questions before we take you back?”
I don’t have a partner. Deborah opens her mouth to correct him, then remembers Ava has been her primary emergency contact for the past three years.
“No questions, thank you.”
“Okay, I think that’s everything. I’ll give you two a little moment before we come back and get you.” The nurse winks as he leaves the room.
“Thank you so much,” Ava adds.
The Ava of today seems a far change from the person who was angrily pacing in her kitchen a few days ago. She’s been remarkably grounded since, downright gracious to every single person she’s interacted with at the hospital despite her hatred of early mornings.
“Here.” Ava is digging through Deborah’s purse. She triumphantly pulls out Deborah’s favorite travel jewelry pouch, from the Deborah Vance Everyday Glamour for QVC collection, then digs a finger gun into Deborah’s side. “Put all your gold in the bag and nobody gets hurt.” Silly, sure, but Deborah laughs heartily as she slips off circles and circles of gold. She reaches for the lobster claw clasp behind her neck, only to brush her fingers against Ava’s.
“I got it.” Ava’s fingers stay connected with hers, as the gold chain slinks from behind Deborah’s neck to their joined hands, to disappear into the soft bag along with the others like an eel swimming into deeper waters.
Deborah stands wigless, jewelry-less, in nothing but a hospital gown with the awful grabby socks. She catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Maybe this is it for me. Oh well. It’s been a pretty good run. At least if I go, I won’t keep getting older. As exposed as she feels, it’s nothing compared to the lurching in her stomach when she locks eyes with Ava.
“All right.” Ava takes her hands, and for a second, Deborah is terrified that she’s going to have to say something emotionally intelligent on an empty stomach. “Just remember, if you start to see the ‘Big Light’,” Ava does exaggerated air quotes, then starts to deliver punchlines with her whole body, “just veer sharply to the left, okay?” She jerks her arms around like they’re playing charades and Deborah is too dumb to follow along. “To the left. Stay away from the light.”
Deborah slaps Ava on the outside of the thigh, harder than she intended. They’re both still laughing as Deborah is wheeled down the hall.
Finally, she’s in the surgery room. All I have to do is lie here and make it through.
The anesthesiologist claps his gloved hands. “All right Deborah, here we go! Let’s count down from twenty.” God, what’s got everyone in this hospital so giddy today?
“Twenty… nineteen…”
“That’s it, that’s it. You’re doing great. This’ll take no time at all. Gonna be so easy. We’ll have you back in that nice, cushy, private room with your partner before you know it. Hey now! Keep counting.”
Insufferable. “Fourteen… thirteen…”
“They got the good crushed ice on that wing. Here we go!”
“She’s not my partner,” Deborah mumbles futilely against the anesthesia mask.
“She lives!”
Deborah blinks. She’s been through enough surgeries to know that, as the voice has declared, she is currently alive. A familar Ava-shaped blob appears to be seated next to the bed.
“I’m underwater.”
“Nar, me lovely matey! Yar’ perfectly above ground, indeed. Might I interest ye in a sip o’ the ice water?”
A tiny plastic cup materializes in front of Deborah’s face, far enough away that, without readers, she can verify that yes, this wing does have the good ice. Ava’s hand is warm on her chin as she tips the water directly into Deborah’s mouth.
Deborah groans. “How long was I out?”
A gentle swipe across her lips, not a drop spilled. “Surgery was about an hour, you’ve been in here for hmm - two hours, give or take? You’ve been in and out of it for about thirty minutes, I’d say.”
“Okay.”
Ava scoots closer, sets her hand on Deborah’s arm. “You were saying some stuff about how you wanted to rob the antique store down the street. Like a smash and go type thing? And um, you know, I’ll say it. I’m down if you are.”
That gets a true laugh from Deborah. Thank god they didn’t do my stomach.
“So down.” Ava continues the nearly imperceptible motions of her fingers over Deborah’s forearm. It’s so calming, so comforting, that Deborah is suddenly overcome with the urge to cry, which is cut off by the clicking heels of her surgeon.
“How are you doing, Deborah?” The surgeon — a gorgeous, tall woman with thick, black curls down her back — searches for a rolling stool and glides to the side of Deborah’s bed not being occupied by Ava.
“Go with it,” is what Deborah thinks she hears as Ava leans in and kisses her on the cheek.
“So far, I think she’s doing great.“ Ava turns the full force of a loving gaze onto Deborah and it’s like the sun, nearly blinding. “How are you feeling, my love?”
“I, um-" I can’t breathe when you’re like that. “I feel okay. I’m alive, at least.”
“And your pain?”
“It’s okay. It’s not too bad.”
“It’s okay?” The surgeon reviews her notes. “You’re due for some more pain medication in about - looks like a half hour. You’re okay? Not too much pain?”
Deborah nods. “Yeah, I’m okay. That’s fine.”
“She is a little hungry though,” Ava says at the exact moment Deborah’s stomach lets out an otherworldly, echoing groan. “Is she cleared for some food?”
“Of course, I’ll ask the nurse to bring you a menu.”
“And the surgery?” Ava continues stroking Deborah’s arm. “Did you get everything?”
“Yes, yes. I am so sorry to cause you unnecessary worry,” the surgeon says sincerely, “I know how difficult it can be when we call you up and tell you that you need to come back. It was very important for us to have a clear picture of what’s happening in there.”
“So she’s good?”
“Yes, she is. Deborah, you are indeed good. We removed the entire irregularity today. Some of that was some scar tissue left behind, possibly from another operation. We removed a little more than we thought initially, but everything irregular is gone now. It’s being sent to pathology for full analysis.”
“That’s great,” Deborah says weakly.
Ava continues to press. “You removed the entire mass?”
The surgeon smiles. “Yes. We removed the entire mass.”
“And she’s okay?”
“Yes, she’s okay.”
Ava lets out a single broken sob, instant, emotion quickly peaking before she puts it away, pulls herself together. “Thank god,” she says into Deborah’s shoulder.
“We do need to see Deborah again in three months for an ultrasound, and a scan. It’s important we continue to monitor the site, just in case. But I’m not worried. Really.” She smiles broadly. “And you shouldn’t be, either,” she says to Ava - not to Deborah, who is feeling warm and woozy as Ava keeps touching her, holding her.
The surgeon stands. “It’s always better to be proactive about this kind of thing. You're in good hands.”
Deborah smiles. “Thank you, sincerely.”
“We are going to keep you at least overnight, but I think you’ll be able to leave tomorrow. I’ll make sure to get her discharge instructions to you,” the surgeon says directly to Ava, “She will need to take it easy for at least two weeks.”
Ava gives a thumbs-up. “No problemo. And thank you.”
The surgeon smiles. “You’re welcome. And Deborah, I’m so glad your partner was able to be here this time. It makes such a difference in the healing process.”
“You’re absolutely right.” Ava leans in and kisses Deborah chastely on the lips. “And thank you again, so much, for taking such good care of her,” Ava continues while gazing into Deborah’s eyes.
The surgeon waves as she walks out the door. “No, no, thank you for taking such good care of her! I’ll check on you two later.”
The click-clack of the surgeon’s heels fade and is taken over by the relative silence of hospital beeping and hissing. Ava is still smiling at Deborah like she hung the moon. And Ava had kissed her. Again. In front of other people. Again. It was nothing like the kiss they shared in front of those wild lesbians, but Deborah still found herself affected.
“Yeah, I know. Sorry I kissed you.”
You don’t sound sorry.
“I’m sorry. I do know you’re not even a teensy bit bisexual. I do, really. I promise.” Ava’s not even upset when she says it, just sincere; more sincere than Deborah deserves, after all she’s put the girl through. “No means no,” Ava adds, face contorting into a humored nonchalance so precise it can only be rehearsed.
Deborah feels a sharp stab of pain to the left of her sternum, far from her surgery site.
The ease immediately fades from Ava’s face. “Hey, you okay?”
“Yes, I’m okay. Even the doctor said I’m okay! Stop fussing so much.”
“Not a chance.”
Deborah huffs. “Can I have the water back?”
“Absolutely.” Ava refills the tiny cup and places it on the hospital tray. She sits down on the bed, facing Deborah, and takes her arm into her hands. Ava’s so gentle with her. Not even a pinch from the IV as Ava caresses her tenderly. “It’s just that people are always nicer to you at the hospital when someone’s here. When they think someone is here who cares about you,” Ava clarifies. “When my dad…” Ava bites her lip and stares at the floor.
“It’s true,” Deborah agrees, “there was that time at-“
Ava picks it up perfectly with Deborah, easy as breathing, rhythm like the Nicholas brothers as they tap it out together -
“-time at Seven Graces.”
“-time at Seven Graces.”
Deborah remembers how she was taught to drop the “s” anywhere she was speaking or singing it with other people - god, who was it that told her that? - as the sibilance would always overlap and make it sound like “a room full of s-s-s-snakes.” Not so here, as she and Ava are so in sync, even notoriously difficult sounds are in lockstep.
“Look, it’s not that.”
“What?” Ava’s tired, Deborah can notice it now that the first round of the good stuff is starting to wear off. Her eyes take on a certain shape when she hasn’t been sleeping well. She’s got some dry patches on her chin and forehead; probably because she’s not using the super simple skincare routine Deborah had gone out of her way to procure. Cruelty-free, zero emissions, expensive as hell for something that smells like a barn, and still she falls asleep in my bed every night without washing her face.
“I-" She falls asleep in my bed every night. Deborah is frozen.
Ava gently pats her arm and shifts her weight like she’s about to stand. “Maybe you should rest up there, ya know,” she says. “Plenty of time for yakking it up once you’re off the pain meds.”
“No, Ava, it’s important.” Deborah holds her in place on the bed.
“What is it?”
The drugs and the pain start to mix with the fear, and Deborah takes a panicked breath. And then she realizes Ava’s still holding her hand. Her arms, actually; Ava is sitting on the hospital bed, facing her, caressing her. Ava’s not angry. She’s not angry now. But she will be.
“I… didn’t have a problem with the kiss.”
Ava tilts her head. “Just now?”
“Any of them,” Deborah says, too quickly.
It takes Ava a beat to respond. “Any of them.”
“Yeah, I-"
“You sure that’s not the drugs talking?”
“Do you know how many surgeries I’ve had? I’m barely sedated.” It’s close enough to the truth. “I could drive myself home right now if I needed to.”
“Okay,“ Ava raises a hand, “you are absolutely not driving anywhere right now.”
“No shit! I’m sitting in this hospital bed trying to talk to you, and you - you’re not listening to me!” Deborah sputters.
That gets Ava to pause. “Okay. Okay,” she says calmly, speaking to Deborah like the skittish wild animal that she is. “I’m listening.”
“I…” Deborah’s voice rarely fails her, except in times like these. Thankfully, any room in a hospital can only be so silent.
“I’ve never…” Okay, I get why they call it a frog in the throat.
Still, Ava waits patiently. Ava waits perfectly, actually - she continues her featherlight touches over Deborah’s arm and hands, occasionally looking up to scan Deborah’s face, gifting her rapt attention while not making Deborah feel like an ant being burnt to a crisp under a magnifying glass. Ava was the only one who could do that.
“I’ve never been this close to anyone before,” Deborah eventually says to the ceiling.
“Really?”
Deborah nods. Her vision goes blurry. “I’ve never had anything like this.” Her voice breaks. Tears spring from her eyes like startled rabbits, leaping quickly to hide themselves in the fabric of her hospital gown.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Ava folds Deborah into her arms with the ease of someone who’s done it a thousand times before. Has it been a thousand times? “No tears today, okay?”
I’m so scared.
“You got a lot going on right now, D. We can talk about this like, literally any other time.”
“You’re the one who’s always saying I need to talk more!” So now I’m doing it wrong?
“No, I do want - that’s not what I mean. I just mean, let’s have a more serious talk when you’re feeling a little better.” Ava kisses Deborah’s forehead. “You just got out of surgery a few hours ago! You probably feel like shit. Well, I’m sure the drugs are really, really good, but, you know what I mean.”
“Oh, so now I look bad too.” You’ll only leave me.
Ava rolls her eyes and neck like an owl. “Stop that.” Her eyes flit from where their fingers are intertwined to Deborah’s face. “You always look beautiful,” she murmurs. “There’s no rush. I’m not going anywhere.” She says it like Deborah’s worst fear of being abandoned, which has come true again and again and again and again, is so implausible as to not even deserve her consideration. Like it’s silly. An imaginary monster under the bed.
Like I’m stupid. “But you might. You don’t know that.”
“No, I do. I’ve been here for like, five years now.” Ava squeezes Deborah’s hand.
“I mean, you could decide to leave. At any moment, you could just take off. Poof! Gone.” Don’t leave me. Even if I deserve it.
Ava looks bewildered. “Well, I’m certainly not going anywhere today. I’m staying right here. And I’m gonna make you watch HGTV with me later, if you can stay awake.”
Deborah barrels on. “But you could, anyone could. I don’t know if you have a wandering eye, or, you know...” This is ridiculous. I’m being ridiculous.
“A ‘wandering eye’?” Ava gestures furiously, knocking over the tiny half-drunk cup of water and somehow catching it before its chilly contents spill directly into Deborah’s lap. “Wandering towards whomst?”
“Well, you were very into that Monica-"
“Okay, okay. Fine. But that was a different situation.”
She’s a lot younger than me. Deborah fixes Ava with a stern glare.
“Now that we’re talking about it, about us, things are different,” Ava continues.
“All right, look, I don’t have a problem with you kissing me—" Kiss me, please.
“Wow, what a ringing endorsement!”
“—but I’m not going to get serious with someone who is, you know, out there. Running around.” Just kiss me and I’ll stop.
“Serious with-" Ava takes a deep breath. “All of my belongings are currently in your house, where I live, where we live. We! We live together!”
“Well, I’m just saying,” Deborah continues. “I am absolutely not having any of that open relationship crap.” Go on! Kiss me!
Ava’s eyebrows rise higher than Deborah has ever seen. “Okay?”
“I’m serious.” Kiss me, dammit!
Ava narrows her eyes, and then she’s on Deborah. Her mouth pressed insistently against Deborah’s, one of her hands rising to stroke the nape of Deborah’s neck while the other stays impossibly in place, fingers tangled together, while Ava slowly parts her lips. Ava tastes like mint. Her lips are so soft. La Mer, maybe? They’re alone, finally. With nothing to distract her except the mild post-surgical pain, it’s easier for Deborah to focus on how good, how delicious this feels, how real it all is. She remembers the hesitant moments with the lesbians, how it felt when she started to kiss Ava back. Afraid, afraid, so afraid. Now, the fear is gone. I want you. I want this. Against all odds, Deborah goes for it, opening her mouth further for Ava, lost in her pillowy lips. I give just as good as I get. Ava pulls back just as Deborah is really getting into it, kisses a crooked line down her neck, shoulder, arm, until she’s back where she was, staring smugly, stubbornly at Deborah, who is (humiliatingly) seconds away from begging. Kiss me again, kiss me again, kiss me again. Still, Ava’s hands are on her.
“Does that feel like the kiss of someone with a ‘wandering eye’?” There’s a dangerous edge to Ava’s voice. It makes Deborah feel a deep hunger.
All she can do is shake her head.
“So - I really appreciate all your sharing, Deborah, and I never thought I’d be the one to say this during such a vulnerable conversation,”she leans in and kisses Deborah again, slow and sensual, like she’s sucking honey out of Deborah’s bones; she’s so good to me, “but can we maybe put a pin in this conversation until you’re out of the hospital?”
Ava pulls away and from the expression on her face, Deborah can take a guess as to how disheveled she looks. “Yeah. Sure." Why can’t I catch my breath? “I do know where you live,” Deborah finally says.
“Yep. Now scoot over.” Ava climbs into the hospital bed, under the covers. There’s just enough room for the two of them.
Maybe I will be able to sleep tonight. “And we’ll be back home pretty soon, thank god.”
“Yeah, Doc said tomorrow. She seemed confident.”
“Plenty of time for talking, since we’ll be stuck there for weeks with nothing to do.”
Ava makes a goofy face. Or maybe the drugs are starting to flow again. “Unless you have a miraculously fast recovery and decide to, I don’t know, go buck wild.”
“What?”
“You said it yourself, anything’s possible. You could go all Evil Knievel on me or something.”
Don’t leave me. “Not happening. I’ll be sticking around for a long time. I want to spend as much of my money as possible.” Don’t leave me.
“Well, you can stick around until you’re ninety-nine.” Ava smiles wickedly.
Deborah, dizzy from the kissing and fuzzy from the drugs, struggles to keep up with the joke. God, Ava really can kiss. We should have experimented that night. Why didn’t I? At the house of lesbians. Perfect place for it. But I would have had to share. And I’m not sharing. I won’t do it. But the cocktails were so good and I-
Ava puts a hand on Deborah’s thigh and snaps her back to the present, where she is unfortunately starting to see double as the painkillers really kick in. “What?”
“You can’t make it to a hundred. I will not lose you to Marty, of all people.” Ava makes an exaggerated “blech” sound, shakes her head like a dog, tongue flapping and all. “Eww. Desperation is never a good look. You may be out of my league, but that guy? He’s just-“
Don’t leave me. “I am your league,” Deborah slurs. Her head flops softly to rest against Ava’s shoulder, only because she’s there. And she’s not gazing lovesick through her eyelashes at Ava; that’s just the drugs. She’s only clinging to Ava like a life preserver because it’s always so cold in hospitals and Ava runs so warm, warm enough for her to park her feet on Ava’s calves every night before she goes to sleep. Surely Ava is only kissing her forehead to ease her own worries. A stim, isn’t that what she calls it? Meaningless, obviously. Ava is only here out of pity, after all.
I don’t deserve this.
Everything fades to black.