All That Matters By S X Meagher 2 page

"Hi, Blair, it's Kylie Mackenzie. Still on for tonight?"

She replied by singing the well-known and concussive strains of the "1812 Overture," adding a thumping "boom-boom" to represent the cannons. "You bet. Want me to stop and buy some food?"

"Uhm … yeah, that'd be great." The doctor cleared her throat and got to the point of her call. "I have something to tell you. I don't think this is a big deal, but I wanted to bring it up just so everything's out in the open."

Blair heard the slight discomfort that colored the woman's voice. "What is it?" she asked.

"Since I didn't look at your chart or examine you, I don't consider that you were ever my patient," she said, "but if you feel that you were, then perhaps we —"

"Oh, don't worry about that," Blair said. "You didn't get your scalpel anywhere near me. I've had more intimate connections with the guy who fixes my car."

The doctor's tone lightened immediately, taking on what Blair was beginning to understand was her typical jocularity. "Oh, so you trust a guy with a wrench to look under your hood, but you won't even let me have a peek inside."

"Kylie, you're never going to see what lies beneath my skin. Get over it."

"I know when I'm fighting a losing battle," the doctor said. "There's one more thing though …"

"Yes?" Blair drawled.

"This isn't a big deal either, but I thought you should know that I'm a lesbian."

There was a period of stark silence, then Blair asked quietly, her concern evident, "Does Nick know?"

"Huh?" Kylie let the question sink in, then started to laugh heartily. "Yeah, he knows. Though he wouldn't be interested in me even if I weren't gay. Actually, you're more his type. He's a sucker for blondes."

"No dice. I like 'em tall, dark and handsome. Rich doesn't hurt, either," she added.

"If my memory serves me well, I'd say that you've done pretty well for yourself. Your husband is taller than I am and could pass for a young Omar Shariff."

Blair laughed, then stepped on the gas when the impatient man behind her honked to get her to clear the passing lane. "You know, with a moustache …"

"Yeah! That's all that was missing."

"Well, David is half Armenian, so he's a little on the swarthy side. He's just started to gray at the temples, and I think it's incredibly sexy." She paused and added, "But you wouldn't have noticed that — being a lesbian and all." She could hear the doctor squawk in complaint, then said, "Gotcha!"

"Okay, okay, you got me. You know, I never do this. I hate to make my sexuality a big deal. But I've been in situations where a woman has been uncomfortable with me once she finds out I'm a lesbian, so I try to go for full disclosure."

"Well, let me reciprocate," Blair said. "The only kind of person I don't like to associate with is one who's closed-minded or too full of herself. Though I'm pretty sure you're not closed-minded …"

"Hey! I'm not … well … okay, I guess I am a little full of myself," she said. "But just a little — really. It's an occupational hazard, Blair. You've gotta be pretty cocky to be a good surgeon."

"Then you must be a great one," Blair said, laughing. "I'll pick you up at 7:00, Doc. Speak now if there's anything you won't eat."

"I'm more partial to vegetables than meat, but I'm pretty easy to please," she said.

"I doubt that, but we'll just have to see," Blair said, switching off with a silly grin on her face. Gotta love a woman you can be a smart-ass with.

„G

Kylie's seats at the Hollywood Bowl were in the highly-coveted garden boxes, located right next to the orchestra. The pair made their way down the narrow aisle, and Kylie hefted the picnic basket Blair had brought over the railing. They had to maneuver a bit to enter the stunningly small box, but they managed. Sitting on the tiny, folding café chair, Blair commented, "It's hard to believe they get away with providing such uncomfortable seats!"

"It's a joke," Kylie agreed. "Especially when you have long legs, like I do." They managed to eat the small assortment of crudités and cold appetizers that Blair had provided, but they had to put each course on the tiny table separately. As soon as they'd finished eating, they moved all the way to the top of the huge bowl, so they could continue to talk during the concert. "You know, I really prefer the cheap seats," the doctor commented when they were settled. "Do you know these seats only cost a dollar for most performances? Best deal in town."

Blair looked around, noting that each section of the amphitheatre grew less crowded as the price dropped. "Typical L.A. People only want to go to things that cost a lot. If they raised the price for these and said there was a waiting list, there'd be a line to get the tickets."

"Most likely," Kylie agreed.

They were quiet for a while, listening to the orchestra as it launched into "Stars and Stripes Forever." Kylie leaned back against the wooden bench and tilted her head back to stare into the star-filled night. "I can't believe how beautiful it is here," she said. "I could come here every night."

Blair nodded, a happy smile on her face. She looked out at the steep, dark hills that surrounded the Bowl, taking in the faint smell of dry chaparral, dust and smog that was the distinctive perfume of Los Angeles. A few homes were visible in the distance, their lights golden and glowing. There was just enough light to detect a single redtail hawk circling overhead, probably wondering what caused such a large crowd to flock together. "You know, you could sit up here all the time and stretch out. Why pay the big bucks like all of the other conspicuous consumers?"

Kylie jutted her chin out while narrowing her eyes. The air she adopted was definitely upper-crust, the transformation so dramatic from her usual mien that Blair couldn't help but smile. "Well, I'm a fairly well-known Westside surgeon, doncha know. I can't afford to look like the common rabble."

Blair cocked her finger, indicating that Kylie should come close. The doctor's soft hair brushed Blair's lips and she whispered, "How do you think it looks to not only be with the common rabble, but to sneak into their seats?"

The doctor leaned back and gave her companion a slightly baffled look. "Huh. I never thought of that." After a moment, Kylie snapped her fingers and said, "I could always claim that Nick made me do it. We share these tickets, you know."

"What's the deal with you and Nick? Not that you're not a charming companion, but wouldn't he rather bring a date to these events? He couldn't possibly find it hard to hook up."

Kylie started to nod, then her expression turned to one of outrage. "Hey! Are you implying that I can't get a date?"

Blair shrugged, smiling at the doctor. "You tell me."

"I could get a date if I had to," Kylie said. "I might have to call an escort service, but I could get one." Blair patted her leg, sympathizing at her obvious exaggeration. "But Nick's my best friend, and we both like to make sure we have a good time when we go to a play or a concert."

"You don't have to sell me on that idea. I coerced David into going to a few museums when we first started to date. I quickly decided it was more fun to go alone than to have him looking at his watch."

"Hmm … museums, plays, concerts. You're quite the aesthete, Ms. Spencer. How did you develop your appreciation of the arts?"

"My parents," Blair said. "Both of them love to spend the day at the Art Institute and they started taking me when I was barely able to walk. As for music, my dad plays the cello, so he helped me develop my musical tastes. My theatre jones comes from my mom. She's a dramaturge."

Kylie blinked, then shook her head and said, "I've met a lot of people in my life, but I've never, ever met the child of a dramaturge."

Blair smiled back at her. "I've never met anyone in L.A. who knew what a dramaturge was." Narrowing her eyes, she queried, "You do know, don't you? This isn't just one of those 'I'm a surgeon, and I can't admit to not knowing something' things, is it?"

Acting as though she was reading from a dictionary, Kylie cleared her throat and said, "A dramaturge might be responsible for any number of things in a theatrical setting. She might choose the productions, get the script in shape, translate a script from another language, and write notes on the production for the audience. The list can be endless, depending on the needs of the theatre company and her talents." Wrinkling her nose, she asked, "How'd I do?"

"Not bad," Blair decided. "Not bad at all. You get an 'A' as a matter of fact. So how did you develop your taste for culture? You're obviously not a poser."

"I came to it fairly late. I went to the U. of C.," she said, referring to the University of Chicago by the shorthand that a fellow Chicagoan would undoubtedly recognize, "and I had a very high-brow friend who I was dying to impress."

Blair's eyebrow lifted. "Impress?"

"Have sex with," Kylie corrected amiably. "Anyway, I threw myself into every possible artistic pursuit. We went to plays and the opera and the symphony. I read up on all of them just to impress her. Alas, she was always more interested in culture than she was in me. She had an affair with a grad student in the classics department and broke my little heart."

"Poor baby," Blair said.

"Nah. It was just as well. If she'd succumbed to my charms early on, I never would have taken the time to learn about drama and music. Her hotshot grad student didn't last half a term, but I've had a lifetime of pleasure from the things I learned."

"Ahh … so you knew you were gay in college. Is that when you figured it out?"

"A little earlier than that," Kylie said. "I was a senior in high school, just about to graduate, when it finally clicked for me. I was on a date with a guy that the entire female population of my school was hot for, but while we were making out, I kept angling him so I could get a good look at the woman being pawed in the back seat. I used that poor guy as a shield so I could fantasize about committing all sorts of lewd acts with her." She shrugged and said, "That's when my powers of denial were finally overcome."

"When did you finally … what's the term?" Blair asked.

"For what?"

"Don't be coy, Doc."

Blinking her eyes ingenuously, Kylie supplied, "Have sex?"

"No … I mean, yes," Blair said, shaking her head. "I'm not sure how lesbians refer to having sex for the first time. Do you call it losing your virginity?"

"If you do it right, you can," Kylie said, grinning wickedly. At Blair's quizzical look she said, "I'm just teasing. I've never heard it called losing your virginity." She looked puzzled and said, "Actually, I don't think we have a term for it. But whatever you call it, shortly after I decided I was gay, I was no longer a chaste woman."

"Please go on," Blair said, seeing that Kylie didn't mind opening up.

"I was a counselor at a science camp that summer, and I fell in love."

"No one who goes to science camp has sex, Doctor Mackenzie. You must be mistaken."

"No, no, I'm pretty sure it was sex. I took a course on sex in medical school, and I'm certain we met all of the requirements."

"Well, well, that's quite an accomplishment for a science nerd. How long did the romance last?" Blair asked.

"Until we both went to college in the fall. She didn't really want to be gay, so she tried to date guys. I lost track of her after that."

"So lesbian relationships don't have a better success rate than straight ones, huh?" Blair asked.

"Not if you use me as the example. My longest is three years."

Blair's expression showed her surprise at this revelation. "Huh … I never would have guessed that. Something about you says that you'd be a good partner."

Her even teeth gleamed brightly in the moonlight when Kylie smiled. "Why, thank you. I like to think I am. I just haven't found anyone who fits … ya know?"

"I do," Blair nodded. "If I hadn't met David when I was twenty-five, I'm sure I'd be single now."

"Don't remind me," Kylie moaned. "The older I get, the harder it is for me. I haven't had a date that means anything since I broke up with my ex, Stacey, two years ago."

"If you don't mind my asking, why did you break up?"

"I don't mind," Kylie said. "I suppose it was mostly because we didn't share the same goals. She was a fitness nut. She maintained a strict vegan diet — never touched alcohol or sugar, either. We went to Italy on a trip that I'd been looking forward to for years," she said. "I wanted to hit every art gallery, visit every notable church, eat as much as I could handle and make love until I was cross-eyed." She smirked wryly and said, "She wanted to make love, which was great, but she wanted it to be after hiking up the nearest peak. She honestly wanted to rent bikes and ride from one end of Italy to the other." Her eyes grew wide as she said, "That's why they have trains!

"We were sitting in a café one afternoon after I'd persuaded her to go to St. Peter's with me. I remember how antsy she was after doing nothing more energetic than looking at art and architecture all day. She was sipping her plain, steamed skim milk, while I was drinking this marvelous concoction of sparkling wine, peach nectar and fresh peaches, and it finally hit me. I didn't want to share the rest of my life with an ascetic! I wanted to be with a woman who wanted to experience life, not regulate it. I mean, she had a fantastic body, and that was because she worked at it so hard, but how does that fill your soul?" she asked. Shaking her head she said, "We broke up right after we got home."

"I'm so sorry to hear that," Blair said, her empathy showing in her eyes. "I hope you find someone, Kylie."

"I'm happy with my life. I love my work, I have great friends, a huge family with more nieces and nephews than I can count, and I have enough money to go to every cultural event that interests me. All that I don't get is sex." Shrugging, she added, "It's a trade off that I've been willing to make. I'd rather be celibate than give up the things that touch me emotionally."

"There has to be a smart, cute, cultured lesbian out there just waiting for you," Blair insisted.

"Well, the minute you find her, send her my way. There's a significant finder's fee involved."

"I can really hustle for the right commission," Blair said. "You'll be married by the end of the year."

"It's September. I don't like to rush into anything."

"Okay, then next year," Blair said, amending her offer. "You'll be happily married within fifteen months."

Extending their hands, Kylie and Blair shook on the deal.

"You can be my matron of honor. I hope you'll be pregnant and look just awful in the dress I make you wear."

„G

"Bad news." Blair dropped her bag and collapsed into a chair.

"What's wrong?" David asked. He looked up from the magazine he was reading and gave his wife a quizzical look.

"I got my period," she said.

With a resigned sigh, he looked back to his magazine.

"No comment?" she asked, her hormones making her ready for a fight.

He put his magazine down and stared at their mantle, saying, "I don't want to argue."

The image in Blair's head was of David as a small child, crossing his arms and saying 'no' to his mother. Normally she didn't like to argue either, but she couldn't stop herself from responding. "About what?" she asked, her tone a little harsher than she'd intended.

He sighed again and shook his head, still not looking at her. "I'm not sure you're having orgasms."

"Pardon me?"

The tone of her voice showed that she was ready to take up arms, but he continued. "You don't act like you used to in bed. I've been thinking that you might be faking orgasms just to make me think you're trying to get pregnant."

She looked at him for a moment and felt all of the fight drain from her body. Wearily she said, "This isn't right, David. It's just not right." Leaning her head back, she muttered, "We don't even think of it as making love anymore. We're 'trying.'" She got up, walked over to his chair and sat on the arm. "I don't want to 'try' any more. I want to express my love for you, and that's what I want you to do, too. If we have a baby from that union, fine. But if we don't … then we don't!"

He took her hands in his, and she looked into his brown eyes. "I thought we'd agreed," he said quietly. "Don't you want children, Blair?"

"Yes," she said. "I do want children. I just don't care how we get them or who they look like or how old they are. I want a child to love and nurture, David — any child."

"I know that's true for you, but I don't feel that way. It really means something to me to have a baby that I'm related to. I know it's selfish." His eyes closed as he admitted it. "But I've got to be honest. Having a child of our own … is worth a lot."

She started to remind him that any child would be theirs, so long as they lavished their love on him or her, but she'd made the point many times before to no avail. She clambered onto his lap and rested her head upon his chest, then sighed and tucked her arms around him. "I know it is," she said. "We'll keep trying."

„G

To reciprocate for Kylie's taking her to the Bowl, Blair offered tickets to a performance of the Kodo drummers at U.C.L.A. Kylie accepted enthusiastically, and they agreed to meet at Royce Hall on the following Sunday.

When she approached the building, Blair found Kylie sitting on a low wall, her head thrown back as she gazed up at the bright blue afternoon sky. "Contemplating your place in the universe?" she asked quietly.

The usual smile quickly took its place on the doctor's face. "A little. I was trying to remember back eighteen years to when I first set foot on this campus. It seems like a very, very long time ago."

"You went to school here?" Blair asked. "I assumed you stayed in Chicago for med school."

"Nope. U.C.L.A. has one of the top training programs, and quite frankly, I wanted to strike out on my own. I have two older brothers who are doctors, too, and I wanted to go someplace where no one had ever heard of the many Doctors Mackenzie."

"Makes sense." Blair nodded. "Is that why you stayed in L.A.?"

"Nope," she said, grinning. "Once I got here, I realized that I never wanted to hear the words 'lake effect snow' again."

"Amen!" Blair agreed.

„G

Their ears were still ringing when they emerged from the auditorium. "That was intense!" Blair decided. "I really liked it, though."

"Oh, I did, too!" Kylie enthused. "Maybe I should get one of those to relieve stress."

Gazing at her curiously, Blair said, "Maybe it's just an act, but you don't seem like the type who stresses much. Do you?"

"Honestly? No. I've always been pretty easy going, and I wanted to make sure I stayed that way. That's why I chose the field I did."

"Being a surgeon is a low-stress job? Since when?"

"Hey, how about some ice cream? The student union's right over there."

"I'm game," Blair said.

They walked across the quad, and Kylie said, "I'm an odd mix. I'm very goal driven, and I love to challenge myself and win. But I'm also very placid emotionally. So I decided to do something where I had to be at my very best, but for a limited amount of time each day. The kind of surgery that I do is just perfect for my personality. The women and men I work with aren't ill. They have a functional problem that I believe I can correct. When I'm right, and the surgery works, they have the ability to have a baby." She grinned and said, "It's not strictly a matter of life and death, though in another sense, it is. I can help a woman to create life when she would have had no chance without intervention."

Blair mirrored her smile. "That must feel wonderful."

"It does. Now, granted, a lot of people never conceive. I fail much more often than I succeed, but I do my best to give my patients every possible chance."

"That means everything to some people, doesn't it?" Blair asked, her eyes clouding over with what Kylie thought was sadness.

"It does," she said. They reached the student union and wound through the halls to find the ice cream, then paused in deep concentration before determining their preferred flavors. Taking their cones, they went back outside to enjoy them. After taking a few long, slow swipes with her tongue, Kylie looked at her new friend and asked, "Having a child doesn't mean everything to you, does it, Blair?"

Her head shook, red-blonde hair flowing gently across her shoulders. "No, it doesn't. It does to David, though."

In a calm, non-judgmental tone, Kylie asked, "Do you want to have children at all?"

"Yes, very much so," Blair said, "but I'd be just as happy to adopt. David, for reasons I don't comprehend and he can't explain, doesn't feel that way, though. It means a lot to him to have the child be genetically related to both of us."

"That's not at all uncommon," Kylie said. "Of course, my sample self-selects for people who feel that's important."

"We took statistics at Northwestern, too," Blair said.

"Northwestern?" Kylie asked, eyes wide. "Maybe you shouldn't have a baby. That's the shallow end of the gene pool up in Evanston, you know."

"If you didn't have on such a pretty dress, I'd drop this cone in your lap," Blair said, wagging a finger. "And don't think I wouldn't."

"I don't doubt that in the least," Kylie said. Turning serious, she said, "How about talking to Nick?"

"About …?"

"I'm sure I mentioned he's a psychologist." Blair nodded, and Kylie continued, "He could help you with a referral so that you could get some of these things out in the open."

"I don't think so, Kylie. David's not a therapy fan."

"It can be very helpful, Blair. As a matter of fact, that's how I met Nick. I worked with a couple who'd been seeing him, and after I noticed how helpful he was, I started referring more and more patients to him. We finally met and hit it off right away." She paused a moment to catch up with her cone and added, "By the time people get to me, they've usually exhausted quite a few other options. It's a rare couple that doesn't have problems with their relationship somewhere along the way. Trying to overcome infertility can be very, very hard on a marriage and if you're not both equally committed, it makes it that much worse."

"I agree," she said, nodding energetically. "This is the first major thing that we can't seem to agree on. If we don't get pregnant, I'm sure he's going to want to have in vitro fertilization, and I'm not going to do that."

"You don't sound like you're willing to budge on that issue," Kylie said.

"I'm not," she said, her gaze assured. "There are too many things that can go wrong, there are too many side effects for me and the chance of success isn't high enough to risk it. Besides, it seems so self-involved to spend over $50,000 just to have a genetic copy of yourself. I can see that it makes sense for some couples, but not for us. We're young enough to adopt, and we should be able to get a child fairly soon, especially if we're not adamant about having an infant."

"I don't want to offer unwanted advice," Kylie said, "but I urge you to reach an accord about this before you get much deeper. I've seen women change their minds thirty seconds before the anesthesiologist starts to put them under. And believe me, that's not a fun talk to have with an anxious husband in the waiting room. Once it gets to a certain point, it's hard to pull back."

"I appreciate your advice, Kylie." She nudged her with her shoulder and said, "Once again, I'm glad you never got your scalpel-wielding hands on me. If you had, we couldn't be friends."

"That's only if I operate on you professionally," Kylie said. "If we're just goofing around in my rec room, nobody need be the wiser."

Giving her a warm smile, Blair said, "You have a very unique sense of humor."

"Pray that you never meet my entire family," she said. "I'm the most normal one in the whole bunch."

"It'd be interesting to hear your siblings' take on that point," Blair decided.

"Well, now that you mention it, they might see it the other way around," she allowed, grinning.

„G

By Christmas, Blair and David were still practicing "well-timed intercourse," and both were beginning to give up hope. "It's been a year, honey," he reminded her when she got her period just before the new year. "You're thirty-five; I'm forty. I don't think we can wait any longer."

She was lying in bed, a heating pad under her back. She wasn't sure if it was psychological or physical, but her formerly mild cramps were now painful enough to knock her out for an entire day — reminding her on a monthly basis that she was, once again, not pregnant. "One more month," she begged. "This time let's give it our all. We'll wait four days before we have sex. I'll lie on my back with my hips elevated for an hour. I'll have two orgasms after you come, just to give the boys a boost."

Date: 2015-01-29; view: 800