Coming Attractions (18 page)

Cory stepped back and studied Helen’s handiwork. “Definitely double Ds.” She looked down at her chest and then back to Helen. “You like big boobs.”

“Love ’em.” Helen growled, then reached for Cory’s breasts.

Cory jumped away and looked around quickly. “There are people here.”

“So what? New York is full of weirdos.” Helen reached again and Cory pushed her hand away.

“Stop it,” Cory snapped. “I’m not a weirdo.” She moved to the back of the transgender statue.

“Nice knockers,” a guy yelled as he jogged by.

“See? Weirdos.” Helen continued to form the double D breasts. “Lighten up.”

“I suppose Marty would…” Cory’s voice trailed off.

Helen stopped and looked around the snowman, at Cory. “She would what?”

“Nothing.”

“No, not nothing.” Helen wheeled herself to the other side. “What about Marty?”

“All gooey-eyed,” Cory muttered.

“Gooey-eyed?”

“Why does she call you so late?” Cory asked.

“She’s worried about me.”

“I’m there. Tell her not to.”

“Tell her not to call?”

“Tell her not to do anything. When I go out, she’s usually there when I return, or she’s just left. I’ve seen her leave on several days and evenings. Today I saw her.”

“Don’t be silly,” Helen said lightly. “I understand where it could look bad, though.”

“Damn it, Helen. She’s always there.” She stabbed a branch into Ms. Frosty’s side to form an arm.

Helen glared. “Is that an accusation?”

Cory looked at her. “Is there guilt?”

“What?” Helen flung a handful of snow at her. “Sure.” She steamed. “I climb right out of this chair and slip into our bed with her. I don’t think so.” She pushed the top of the snowman with her good arm. Ms. Frosty crumbled on top of Cory’s feet.

“Don’t talk to me in that tone.”

“Do you realize what you’re asking me?” She brushed the new layer of snow off her lap. “I happen to love you.”

“Marty’s your fantasy. Maybe you’re connecting the dots?”

Helen stared. “I don’t believe you said—”

“I won’t be used, Helen.”

“Used? You think I’m using you? I’m not listening to this.” She maneuvered a crisp left turn with her chair and headed toward Central Park West.

“Come back here!” Cory yelled.

“Get real,” Helen called over her shoulder.

“You don’t have your key.”

“And you don’t have a clue.”

Helen chastised herself while her wheels skipped and slid beneath her.
Why did I ever say Marty was my fantasy? Of course she’d think we’re fooling around. It’s her fear of being used. This is my fault.
She quickly flip-flopped.
Bullshit. She should trust me.

Cory caught up to Helen and they plodded through the fresh powder.

“Why don’t you trust me?” Helen bellowed.

“I don’t trust her. She can be charming.”

“And I’m a sucker for charm?”

“Are you?”

Helen let go of the joystick, skidded to a stop, and looked over her shoulder.

“Shove it.” She spun off again.

Back and forth, their battle continued through the park. Helen denied this and Cory suggested that until, what seemed an eternity getting through the park, they reached the outside perimeter of the trees. Cory stopped.

“Now look what we’ve done,” Cory said, sounding helpless.

“Fought,” Helen mumbled, looked to her left, and then she stopped as well. The Metropolitan Museum of Art laughed at both of them. “Damn it. We’re on Fifth Avenue.”

Cory turned the chair around for Helen and they silently headed back across the park.

“Are you warm enough?” Cory asked, halfway home.

“Very.”

Without another word uttered between them, they reached the elevator at the Dakota. Helen was angry, tired, cold, and hungry. The doors closed and she pushed a button.

“That’s the wrong floor,” Cory grumbled, and hit the button for the fourth floor.

“Maybe I’m going to Yoko’s.”

“Whatever. I’ll leave the door open.”

She was quiet again until the elevator chimed, then she held the door and waited before following. Cory tucked herself into her music room, while Helen made tea and fixed a light supper.

“Charming.” Helen mimicked Cory’s description of Marty.

She sliced a grapefruit in half, sprinkled salt over the sections, added cherry halves, and slammed them into the broiler. The cherries skidded to the bottom of the stove.

“I’ll give her gooey-eyed.” She tore open a bag of fresh biscuits and searched the refrigerator for honey. “Look, you!” She held the jar accusingly toward the music room. “It’s crystallized. How many times have I told you not to put the honey in the fridge?” She ran the jar lid under hot water before she could remove it. Holding the jar between her knees, she opened it with her one good hand. Finally, she shoved the glass container into the microwave, and watched it go around and around.

Leaving her own dinner on the alcove table, she wheeled Cory’s into the music room and placed the tray on top of the piano.

“Eat,” she said.

“Don’t leave.” Cory reached for Helen’s hand.

“Leave me alone,” she said and wheeled out.

*

After picking at her grapefruit, and then taking a warm sponge bath, Helen struggled with putting on a fresh nightgown and pulled herself into bed. She heard the television tuned to the eleven o’clock news.

She opened a Katherine Forrest mystery, read two pages, and then closed the book. Mystery wasn’t her favorite genre. She didn’t even know where the book came from. Stacey probably left it. She looked at the cover.

“Sorry, Katherine. I don’t care whodunit.” She tossed the book onto the nightstand and thought about their argument.

Marty ignited a genuine fear in Cory. She felt threatened, but had no idea what Marty’s presence actually meant. She’d seen them talking, laughing, kissing good-bye. Of course, the kisses landed on cheeks, but it still looked bad.

Minutes later, Cory came into their bedroom. She removed a nightgown from the armoire and began to undress. She kept her back toward Helen.

“Don’t do that,” Helen said softly. She scanned the feminine curves in front of her.

“Don’t do what?” Cory asked curtly.

“Don’t turn from me. Let me see your body.”

Cory stood bare from the waist up. She rested her forearms against the armoire and crossed her wrists. She leaned her forehead against them. Her shoulders raised and lowered with each breath she took. When she turned, Helen reached for her.

“Come here, baby.” To Helen’s disappointment, she stayed across the room.

“We can’t fix anger with sex, and Dr. Santos said no.”

“Baby, please finish undressing for me.”

Helen watched while she stripped. She stepped out of her jeans and panties, and then turned to face Helen. Helen watched and absorbed every inch of her: breasts to sigh for when pondered, to beg for when close to Helen’s lips; rounded hips that led to a sweet treasure, hidden behind a curly trim of dark hair.

Cory took a step closer. Helen swallowed when a twinge hit her thighs and she shifted her legs. More than a month had gone by since they’d last made love. The twinge turned to throbs. Helen breathed through her lips and wet them with her tongue.

“How does it feel to want me and not have me?”

“Painful,” Helen said, barely audible. “Pleasantly painful, looking at you now.”

Cory slipped her toe under her bikini pants. With a quick kick, they sailed through the air and came to rest across Helen’s chest. Helen grabbed the pink microfiber and held it against her lips. She closed her eyes.

When she opened her eyes, Cory stood beside the bed. She took Helen’s left hand and Cory pressed it between her legs. When Helen reached for another touch, Cory dropped her hand.

“You want something from me?” she asked, and backed away. She tore the elastic from her hair and shook it loose.

“You are so fine. Yes, I want something.”

Cory stepped to the bed again and Helen reached once more. Cory took back Helen’s hand.

“A warm, wet place. That’s what you want?” She took Helen’s index and middle fingers into her mouth, all the way.

“Oh God.” Helen groaned as Cory’s tongue and lips teased her fingers. Helen pulled back with her hand and slid her fingers in again. Cory parted the fingers with her tongue. She sucked and licked between them, confusing Helen on who seduced whom. “Yes. That’s what I want.”

She removed Helen’s hand and placed the wet fingers inside of her. She put one knee on the bed and allowed Helen to push deeper.

“Oh, baby. You’re so wet.”

“Do you want to taste me?”

“Desperately.”

Cory pulled away from Helen’s fingers. She took Helen’s hand and brushed the wet fingers against her lips. Helen eagerly took them into her mouth.

“Mmm,” she moaned, and her thighs ached to feel Cory’s tongue within them.

Cory leaned down. “This isn’t fair to you.” She breathed hot air against Helen’s ear. She sucked gently on an earlobe and traced the edge with her tongue.

Helen groaned loudly and removed Cory’s fingers from her mouth.

“I don’t care,” she said and pulled Cory’s mouth onto hers.

They kissed feverishly, and they battled with their tongues until Helen pushed the pillows from the bed. She scooted downward, closer to the end of the bed.

“Get up here.” She pulled on Cory’s arm, and Cory attempted to stretch beside Helen. “No.” Helen patted her chest. “Up here. Straddle me. Do it now.”

Cory moved deftly, avoiding Helen’s injured arm. She grasped the headboard and lowered herself. Helen grabbed Cory’s hip with her good hand and quickly pulled her against her mouth.

“Oh God, Helen.” She breathed heavily as Helen swiftly moved her tongue.

Helen bit into Cory’s lips. “It’s as though I’ve never tasted you before this.” She pressed her cheek against the wetness. She licked wide, slowly. Cory grabbed onto Helen’s head and moved swiftly against her mouth. Helen flicked her tongue against Cory’s clit and Cory suddenly came. Helen slipped a finger inside to feel the muscle contractions. With each contraction and release, she pulled Helen deeper.

“Oh, yes. Oh, Helen.” She gritted her teeth and each groan grew louder until a final shudder told Helen to stop.

Helen reached up with one hand and placed it against Cory’s chest. She felt her heart pounding against her fingers. Cory’s eyes remained closed while her breaths became normal. She touched Cory’s breast and then she grasped it roughly.

“I love your breasts.” She squeezed again.

Cory whimpered and then looked downward. The intensity in her eyes hadn’t subsided, nor had her quick breaths, but she smiled at Helen.

“My God. That was indescribable.”

“Happy to be of service,” Helen said lovingly. “Come down beside me.”

Cory released the headboard and snuggled closely to Helen’s left side. She placed her hand beneath Helen’s nightshirt and then between Helen’s legs. She massaged gently.

“Just let me touch you,” she said. Helen nodded and held on to Cory’s arm. “I miss your body.” She withdrew her hand and traced circles around Helen’s breasts. She grasped Helen’s left breast and nuzzled against it. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No,” she said. “I’m okay.”

“I’m sorry for the fight.” Cory nuzzled closer.

“I love you, Cory.” Helen struggled to her side and faced her.

“I know. I just—”

“Baby, Marty and I are friends. Tomorrow I’ll show you why she’s been here so often.”

“You don’t have to prove—”

She placed her fingers to Cory’s lips. “Yes,” she said, “I think I do, and I want to show you.”

*

The next afternoon, Helen explained her reading time and treated Cory to a select part of the Townsend talent. The best part, Beethoven, she still kept secret.

After a quick struggle with her removable cast, under the glare of Cory’s disapproving eyes, Helen wheeled her chair to the piano and was off with a memorized Bach minuet. She followed with a Burgmüller piece, for which Cory turned the pages.

“That was great.” Cory pulled the piano bench alongside Helen. “Do the Bach piece again.”

Helen played, and on the third measure, Cory joined in with what Helen could only describe as a dark-side version, and the contrast worked.

“It was tough to learn this,” Helen said. “You’re so damned good. This stuff flies from your hands.”

“It helps that I’ve been playing since I was four. We all have unique talents. You could write five hundred humorous words on the practical use of tampons versus napkins and I can’t write myself out of a bubble.”

“Maybe you’re right.” Helen slowly picked out a tune on the keys. “Do you know this?”

“Very well. It’s a Chopin etude. Opus ten, number three. I’ve never played that piece in public, or for anyone, for that matter.”

“Why not? It’s so lovely.”

“I think it was meant for someone special. Not an audience.”

Helen wasn’t special? But she didn’t pursue it.

“Baby?” She gave Cory a stern look. “Don’t accuse me again. I love you. Nobody, nothing, will change that.”

Helen had not only quieted Cory’s fears about Marty, she had also convinced her that what she had just played was the extent of her talent, enough to get by for the show. The sonata was a secret and, of that secret, there was still much to learn.

Chapter Twenty-one

Helen kept her promise and called Carolyn Ingram. They’d agreed to phone sessions, during which Helen talked about her guilt and dreams. Nightmares pummeled her brain. They scratched and bit into her sleep.

For weeks, almost nightly, Helen tossed and rolled, banged Cory with her casts, became soaked with perspiration. A pull on the blankets was a tug on Helen’s seat belt. The wind outside the Dakota was the wind that whipped across Helen’s bleeding face.

Early in their sessions, Carolyn explained that the dreams might be with her for the rest of her life, but that they would become less frequent and gentler as time passed.

Carolyn also told her a time would come when she could laugh, knowing she had defied death at tremendous odds. It wouldn’t mean Helen didn’t care about the lives that were lost, only that she had overcome the guilt of survival.