“What do you have for lunch?” Micky asked, seeing Debbie needed to eat. “I’ll help you fix it.”
Debbie was still comfortable lying close to her, not wanting to leave a place that felt like a safe zone where no one could get to her.
After a few seconds, she said, “It’s in the fridge, salad and ham sandwiches. I’ll get it.” She immediately pulled away from Micky.
“Hey, you’re not my servant; we’ll do it together.”
The two put the meal on the breakfast bar and ate.
“Why did you stop our calls after I got out of college?” Debbie asked.
“It was obvious you were set on that team job at the med center. I couldn’t compete with that, and I was working hard to get where I wanted. I could see it wasn’t going to work. As women, we have to carve our paths first, then find our pleasure. So I had to let you go.”
What an interesting statement, Debbie thought. We are both nurses, so we could have worked our careers together. But obviously, neither of us was committed enough to the other to try to work in the same place. She let out a sigh.
Micky reached up and put her left hand at the base of Debbie’s neck. With her fingers spread out, she rubbed a couple of times, then rested her hand there. It was clear that Debbie was struggling with her job. Micky was glad she had come. Debbie needed some nurturing and she needed to know someone cared about what she was doing.
Both women continued eating in silence.
Debbie was grateful Micky had showed up. She needed some consoling, and Micky had made her feel much better just by being here. Now that she lived in the area, if it was just Debbie and Gini, Micky could move in with them. But with Robert in the picture, that wouldn’t work. Maybe when they moved into the new house? No, those quarters are too small, and would Micky feel comfortable there? I’ll wait until we get settled, and Gini is comfortable being a mother. Then I’ll work on my relationship with Micky. Debbie made a small laugh. Isn’t that exactly what Micky just said? Figure out your path, then find a relationship. She shook her head.
“Bunny, are you okay?”
Debbie turned and gave a slight smile. “Yes, thanks for your love and understanding.”
Micky leaned forward to kiss her—
“Dee… bee, Guiney, be… hung… gree.” Gini walked out of the bedroom.
Debbie turned toward the door and stood up to quickly go to her. Micky slid her hand down from Debbie’s back to her arm. Debbie turned, looked at her, and smiled. Micky grabbed Debbie’s hand momentarily, and then Debbie went to help Gini.
On July eighth, Debbie was having a hard time getting Gini out of bed. She eventually took their breakfast in the bedroom and fed her. About eleven, she called Linda and told her Gini was very lethargic.
“Bring her in,” Dr. Nelson said. “I’ll let Robert know you’re coming.”
After the exam, Linda decided that Gini should be admitted, and the caesarian surgery was scheduled for nine the next morning. Linda’s concern was that Gini’s blood sugar was low and she was so uncomfortably large, with puffy feet and hands.
“I think it’s time,” she said to Robert. “No reason to take any risks. The baby is small, but she’s fully developed.”
All day, Debbie had had a burning feeling in her stomach. She knew it was anxiety for Gini. No matter how hard she tried to tell herself everything was going to be okay, she had a feeling something was wrong.
She and Micky had already set a date for that night. Robert insisted Debbie go. There was nothing she could do at home or the hospital. Robert would be constantly at Gini’s side. “So, go,” he said. “Go have a good time.”
The minute Micky saw Debbie, she said, “What’s wrong?”
Debbie forced a smile. “Nothing. Well, they have admitted Gini for surgery tomorrow to deliver the baby.”
“Why? It’s not time.”
“Just a precaution. Gini’s blood sugar is low, and they don’t want her to go into labor.”
“Oh, bunny, you look tired.” Micky put the back of her hand on Debbie’s forehead. “You’re not sick, are you?”
“No… Just a gnawing in the pit of my stomach. I’m worried about Gini, that’s all.”
Micky laughed, trying to lighten the moment. “You’re like an old Mother Hubbard. Gini’s like your child.”
“I know.” She looked at Micky. “She is my daughter.”
“That makes you a grandma to Jessica.”
“Oh, Lordy, I’m too young to be a grandmother. Aren’t I?”
They both laughed, and Micky cupped Debbie’s head in her hands and kissed her. “Stop worrying.”
At dinner, Debbie just pushed the food around her plate, not eating much. All she could think about was Gini having surgery the next morning. She would have to go under anesthesia, a real risk for brain trauma patients, and they would be cutting on her, another risk for infection.
She finally pushed her plate away, only about a fourth eaten.
“That’s it,” Micky said. “I’m taking you to my place for the night. You are scaring me with your worry.”
“No, I’m okay. I want to get up early and go to the hospital. I’m standing in for the surgery.”
“You can go to
