Gini giggled, her eyes open wide and gleaming.
“What? Now, I remember when you had a big belly.”
“Lewk… uff, bass… kit, baw.”
“Yes, it looked like you had swallowed one of those brown seamed basketballs and it got stuck under your shirt.”
Gini put her head back and laughed.
Debbie sat across the room on the couch, crocheting. Micky’s death had so consumed her, she decided to find something that would keep her from thinking about it. She grabbed the yarn and pulled out all the stitches; it was too hard to figure out. She laid the yarn ball and needle down on the cushion.
Kensy was amazing, always at Debbie’s side to console her. But Debbie couldn’t make herself tell Kensy about all her failed loves. When Micky was dying, she’d felt her tremendous loneliness and knew that she could have helped more. She’d been too focused on herself. It made her ashamed and it made her miss Micky terribly. She couldn’t get close to anyone ever again.
Gini felt all of Debbie’s pain and went out of her way to try to make Debbie happy.
“Be… uff, nap,” Gini said one afternoon. “Dee… bee, be… uff, nap, wiff, Guiney.”
Debbie lay down with her. She had to admit she wanted to sleep. When she slept, she didn’t have to think about anything else.
Gini reached over and rubbed on Debbie’s breast. Debbie took her hand and kissed it. Gini drifted off to sleep. The next day the same request from Gini, but she wanted to sleep in Debbie’s bed; once again, she reached for Debbie’s breast. It was a weak moment for Debbie, and she let Gini caress her chest. Then Gini kissed her on the lips.
“No, baby, this isn’t right.”
“Dee… bee, love.”
As the days passed, the two women became more intimate, Debbie not wanting it but needing the love and affection. Gini caressed and sucked on Debbie’s breasts, and Debbie used her vibrator to satisfy herself.
There were cameras in all the rooms, except Debbie’s quarters. After a week, midafternoon, Debbie held Gini in her arms as Gini slept.
“Anyone home?” Debbie heard Robert’s voice.
What was she to do? Debbie felt she couldn’t breathe. What if Gini woke and said something? She lay there frozen until she heard Robert’s car leave, then she grabbed her phone.
Just to let you know, Gini and I are out shopping this afternoon. See you tonight.
Okay, I was just home a few minutes ago to get my sports jacket for a meeting at the town square. I saw your car in the garage, thought you were there.
We’re with Lisa.
See you later. Have fun.
Then she started crying. She’d never lied to him. Maybe she’d never told him about the intimacy between her and Gini when they were living alone in the condo. But this was different. She was messing around with his wife, her best friend’s wife.
He’ll never know, Debbie convinced herself. No one will ever know. Alyssa was at the church spending time with Daniel, so no one knew she and Gini weren’t with Lisa. Okay, well, Lisa knew they weren’t together. Oh, God, what if Lisa is at the hospital. No, Lisa didn’t go back to work after her daughter was born. She wouldn’t be there. But what if—Gini so honest and real—what if she told him. Debbie wanted to die—right there, die.
When Robert got home that night, he asked Gini how the shopping was.
“Be… uff, goo.” She hugged around his waist.
The next day, Gini wanted to sleep in Debbie’s room again.
“No, baby. You sleep in your bed. We can’t do this anymore. Please, Gini, we can’t.”
“Dee… bee, nee, love. Nee, be, hap… pee.”
“Oh, Gini, you don’t have to save me, you don’t.” Debbie hugged her tight.
Now she knew what Gini was trying to do. What a beautiful soul. What a wonderful friend.
Out of the blue one day in mid-March, Gini asked Debbie to put a chair in the back bedroom. She wanted to sit and draw a picture for Robert.
The room—Robert’s room—had sat empty for nearly seven years. They had furnished the extra bedroom upstairs as a guest room, but they seldom had guests so didn’t have any need for the room. Debbie figured Gini wanted it to be her space to draw or whatever.
Debbie set the folding chair in the middle of the hardwood flooring, brought Gini a drawing tablet and a couple of crayons. Then there was another strange request. Gini wanted the yellow hard hat on her head.
The hat had been stored on the top shelf of the linen closet between Jessica’s and Alyssa’s rooms.
When she got Gini set up, Debbie went back into the kitchen to make a pie for dessert. Jessica was at choir practice and Robert was not yet home. The quiet of the house made Debbie think about Micky, how scared she had been when she was dying—what a vibrant woman before. But even then, even in her vibrancy, there’d been sadness. Why hadn’t Debbie done more? She felt her regret grow deeper.
“Where is everybody?” Robert asked at about four-thirty.
Debbie turned. “Jessie’s at the church with Alyssa and,” she paused, then smiled.
It’s good to see Debbie smiling, Robert thought.
“Gini is drawing in ‘Robert’s room.’”
“Drawing,” he said with a puzzled look.
“A picture for you.”
They both walked to the bedroom door and stopped and looked at each other. Gini was seriously drawing what appeared to be shapes of some kind on the sheet—the hat sitting squarely on her head. Robert mouthed to Debbie, “Hard hat?”
Debbie shrugged her shoulders and went back to the kitchen.
“Hey, sweetheart.” Robert knelt and kissed Gini on the cheek. “What are you drawing?”
Gini stopped sketching, put the crayon down, and pushed the tablet toward him. Her
