B-Side Read online

  “They said she is very lucky, and her eye will be fine. They’re pretty sure… I will. Yes, you have my cell phone number, and I have someone to pick you up at LAX.”

  She listens as Thomas and Marie both speak. She pictured them sharing the receiver, leaning their heads together.

  “I will stay with her every minute. I’m so, so sorry. Okay, take care. Call me with the flight number as soon as you know. See you soon. I’ll call you if anything…”She chokes up. “… if there’s a change.”

  Mara closes her eyes and listens.

  “No, she was unconscious when I got there. I know she got your card and the package, um… for us. I feel so bad that I… thank you for saying that. I know. I will. Goodbye.”

  Mara leans her head against the cool institutional enamel wall, pressing her lips to the phone before hanging up. She raises her head and sees Derek walking toward her, looking distraught. He reaches her and hugs her tightly, his chin resting on her head.

  “If it is the very last thing I do, I swear to you… I will find whoever is responsible. And we will crush him.” His voice dropped to a whisper.

  “... Legally or otherwise. You just take care of her. Make that your job, and I will take care of this for you.” Because Derek was a by-the-book guy, this both alarmed and reassured Mara in a weird way that she couldn’t describe.

  “Thank you for staying with me… again.”

  He leans his cheekbone against hers.

  “Anything for you. You hear me, partner? Anything…” He shut his eyes hard.

  “I’m so, so sorry this happened to someone who means this much to you. I can’t stand to see you in pain like this.”

  Chapter 9

  Thomas & Marie

  Derek paces at the LAX terminal. He meets and escorts Mr. and Mrs. Terranova to his car and drives them to the hospital.

  The three enter the hospital. Despite their Italian vineyard tans, Thomas and Marie give the impression of being ashen-faced.

  The longest elevator ride of their lives. They nervously arrive at the floor where their daughter is being cared for.

  Mara stands waiting for the Terranova’s arrival. She hugs herself tightly and looks down. Derek approaches. He speaks softly so as not to startle the exhausted Mara.

  “Mara…”

  She looks up and sees Casey’s parents.

  “Oh, I’m so glad you’re here.”

  She wanted very badly to be somewhere alone so she could just let down and cry, but this was not the time. Keep it together.

  Marie Terranova holds her arms open and gathers Mara in an embrace, seeing how scared and exhausted she is. She is a petite, lively woman with shoulder-length blunt-cut salt and pepper hair. Her deep tan makes a startling contrast with her striking grey-green eyes. So, this is where the color was from.

  “Oh, honey… I know you’ve done everything you can. Can we see her? Is she awake?” She smoothes Mara’s hair.

  “We just have to pray that she will be okay. I know you love her. I know you do.” Thrilling to hear such a plain, true statement that she struggled with herself. Why couldn’t she have parents like this? But maybe she did now, sort of.

  Thomas joins them, putting one hand on each of their shoulders and bowing his head. He also has a deep, outdoorsy tan and towers above the women at six foot three. Derek stands nearby looking worried. Thomas bends and kisses Mara lightly on the cheek and cups his hand over hers.

  “We know how good you are for each other. I’m so sorry. Will they let us see her now?”

  Mara looks away, trying not to cry. Already strung out from worry, it was somehow so touching to hear from Casey’s parents that they knew. She wondered how Casey had described her to them. Oh, Case’, please come all the way back to us. She realized she was rubbing her eyebrow nervously and stopped.

  “She said a few words before they added to her painkillers. I couldn’t understand her, but it made me feel a little better.”

  She rubbed at her eyebrow again. The sadness at Matty’s death had circled back and grafted itself onto her current pain. She wished they could have met.

  “I think we… you can see her for a few minutes, but maybe it’s not a good idea. I don’t know.”

  She calls Derek over.

  “What can I do?”

  “We’ll just sit here. Could you please go and find out if they can go in and see her?”

  Derek hurries down the hall, necktie flying.

  Thomas speaks first.

  “That was so good of him to come and find us at the airport. It saved so much time.”

  Now Marie.

  “He’s your partner? Am I right? I’m just so upset, I couldn’t remember if that was the name I heard Casey mention. She says he knows your folks?”

  “Yes, he is like a rock. He’s helped me in a million ways over the years. He was a pallbearer at Matty’s… at my brother’s funeral.” Her thoughts wander momentarily…

  Chapter 10

  Matty

  The end of Matty’s funeral, August of 2007, the sloping hillside of a small windblown cemetery. Damon and Ardelia Bays and their surviving son, Freddie, who sports the military high and tight of a recent enlistee.

  Mara sits between her parents and Freddie, wearing a blue-black raw silk suit. Her hair is tamed in a French braid. She wears no jewelry.

  Ardelia Bays sits very still, seemingly in shock, the folded American flag across her lap. She barely notices her husband’s hand touching her arm, staring straight ahead, her posture rigid.

  Freddie and Mara have linked arms and held hands throughout the ceremony, and now let go.

  Derek Jenssen, in his full dress Marine uniform, has acted as an honorary pallbearer with several of his friends from the department. He stands in the background waiting to drive Mara’s family to the airport.

  Freddie places something in his sister’s hand, and she begins to cry. The keys to Matty’s beloved, old black pickup truck, a gift from their father when he graduated from high school.

  The family rises to embrace stiffly. Damon shares a few words with Freddie, and they drift apart. Damon leads his wife away from the graveside. He looks over his shoulder to make eye contact with Mara, silently mouthing, “I’m sorry.”

  Freddie puts his arm around Mara’s shoulders.

  “I know how you feel. It’s just the way they are. They can’t help it. Nothing seems to make her happy anymore. And now…”

  He chokes up, unable to say his brother’s name. He shakes it off and continues.

  “They don’t like your job, they didn’t want me to join and if it wasn’t for the baby… they wouldn’t like Terri, either.”

  They look at each other and hook little fingers, a childhood gesture.

  “They want you married, they want me divorced. It just sucks all the way around.”

  He grabs her in a bear hug and puts his hands on her head.

  “I don’t want you worryin’, Mar’. I’m the same tough little son-of-a-bitch who beat you up in grade school. We’re tight, and we always will be… no matter what.”

  Mara gives him a rueful smile.

  “I know. Call me once in a while, huh? Send me some pictures of Joey?”

  “He’s too little to really know you’re his Auntie, but oh does he love that little lamb you got him! He shares his food. Thank God it’s washable.”

  He shoots his sister an impish look.

  “He really looks more like you, except he’s cute.”

  He pokes her, trying to get a little laugh out of her, then checks his watch.

  “I’m sorry but we gotta hit it. You know, your friend there reminds me of Dad, all Nordic and whatnot. I can tell he likes you.”

  “We’re work partners… he’s a good guy, though. The best.”

  Freddie smiles at his sister.
/>   “You know what I mean. Guys know this crap.”

  Mara shook her head. Just what I need, a crazy family matchmaker. But she knew he meant well.

  “It’s okay, we know we’re the sexy ones. We got the Triple D Kit from Ma.”

  He laughs and pretends to smooth back what’s left of his civilian hair, dropping his eyelids and pouting.

  Mara finally laughs. A small payoff for his big effort.

  “What a jerk! And what do you mean triple whatever kit?”

  “Damn, girl! Dark skin, dark gnarly-curly hair and dark eyes. We got it goin’ on! Dad’s Bogarting all the tall, recessive gene shit. Spacey blue goo-goo eyes, straight light brown hair… what’s left of it.”

  He laughs even harder, and she can’t help joining him.

  Freddie drops back into a serious gear.

  “Take care of… Matty’s truck. He always said you should have it. But, drive it, use it. He would hate it if you shut it away somewhere. You can do this.”

  Mara hugs him, and he kisses her forehead.

  “Be careful, and call me sometime, huh?”

  “Bye, Freddie. Say ‘Hi’ to Terri and give the baby a kiss for me.”

  “See ya!”

  He runs off to join his parents. Mara waves goodbye to Derek, turns, and begins her walk to Matty’s truck.

  Chapter 11

  Shooting Stars

  Mara fills the tank and two jerry cans and drives around from late afternoon until 1:00am, knowing she won’t be able to sleep unless she wears herself out. She sits in her brother’s truck in a convenience store parking lot. She has taken her hair down and changed into Levi’s and a hooded sweatshirt after a quick stop at her apartment.

  A fresh cup of coffee steams on the dashboard. Mara looks through the glove box, feeling despondent. She finds some repair records, a chrome tire gauge, an old fountain pen, lottery tickets and a cigarette pack with two left. She slides one out of the pack and stares at it. She raises the pack, winces at the smell and puts it back.

  She exits the store with a fresh pack of the same brand and a cheap plastic lighter. On automatic-pilot, she lights one up, inhales and coughs. Tears overflow and roll down her cheeks.

  Back in the truck, she tips the ashtray open, starts the engine and pulls out onto the highway. She drives for hours, stopping at various spots. She smokes a cigarette at each familiar location. A couple of times she clicks the radio on, but feeling detached and unaffected by the music, she turns it back off. Yeah, depressed. When music can’t find you, you are well and truly lost.

  The clock on the dash shows 12:55 am. That was Matty. A vintage pickup truck but all the instruments actually worked. Mara drives through the high desert, edges out onto the shoulder and gets out, throwing on a jacket and pulling her sweatshirt hood up. The high desert, where you freeze or fry with no in-between. But Pearblossom was beautiful in its raw, desolate way.

  She steps up on the front bumper, and climbs up onto the old truck’s hood and leans back against the windshield, looking up into the black, star-punctured sky. So clear out here. She counts several shooting stars. When the engine heat has faded, she slides down from the hood and digs her cell out of her purse. She hesitates, and then dials Derek’s home number.

  “Could I come over? I‘m sorry it’s so late. I just…” The words just tumbled out. It didn’t sound like she woke him up. She hoped not. He had already done so much for her and her family. She stalls out and looks up at the sky. She listens to Derek. He always says the right thing.

  “Thanks, just for a bit. I can’t seem to settle down… and I don’t want to fu… um, mess up at work.” Trying to break herself of swearing was harder in some ways than it was to stop smoking.

  Chapter 12

  Free-Fall

  Mara sits at the end of the couch, her legs drawn up. She looks exhausted and sad. The vacant look in her eyes is heartbreaking to her friend and partner.

  “I was worried. I didn’t know where you were, but I didn’t want to call, in case you were getting some rest.”

  He looks apologetic.

  “I finally drove over to your place, and the truck wasn’t there. Sorry, but I was worried.”

  “I just drove and drove and drove.”

  She tries not to break down and cry.

  “I thought it would help if I went to places I used to go with my brothers…”

  Tears stand in her eyes.

  “And now I feel worse.”

  Derek gets up and leaves the room. He comes back carrying a comforter and two pillows. He extends his hand to Mara.

  “Come on. You need to get some sleep.”

  He folds the quilt in half, spreads it on the couch, peels back the top layer and banks the pillows. He gently helps her take off her sweatshirt. He holds up the top layer of the comforter.

  “It’s okay, get in.”

  He removes her shoes and tucks the spread around her feet. He sets a bottle of water near her on the coffee table, touches her shoulder and goes to stand watch in a nearby chair.

  Hours later, still unable to sleep, Mara sits on the couch and looks at Derek. He has dozed off with his arms folded across his chest. Long legs stretched out and stockinged feet crossed.

  She walks over to let him know that she’s leaving to go home.

  “Derek?”

  She touches him lightly on the arm, and he jolts himself awake. He’s embarrassed and jumps up, rubbing his eyes.

  “I’m sorry I fell asleep. How about I fix us some breakfast?”

  Mara sits at his table, head propped on one hand. She stares into space as he bustles around in the kitchen. He places two plates of fluffy scrambled eggs and toasted bagels, and two cups of coffee on the table. She takes a couple forkfuls and stops.

  “I’m sorry, I just can’t.”

  She puts her fork down and begins to cry, pressing a napkin to her eyes.

  He quickly slides her plate aside and comes around to stand behind her. He rests his hands on her shoulders, and slowly begins to massage her neck and shoulders, talking to her.

  “Thank you for doing this. I just couldn’t go home.”

  “You’re my partner, Mar’. We look out for each other and I… It’s okay.”

  She folds her arms and puts her head down. In minutes, she falls asleep from sheer exhaustion and emotional overload.

  Mara intends to leave, but needs to stay. Derek’s reassuring embrace heats up suddenly. Their shocked faces register uncertainty, need and desire.

  Derek sits on the couch, holding her on his lap, her face against his throat. Interlaced hands. The stroking of hair. Free-falling but feeling safe.

  Their intense six-month affair and a happy, burgeoning relationship: Boat trips, meals together, walking hand-in-hand, sexual tableau, heart-to-heart talks and a deepening friendship taken to a new level.

  Chapter 13

  Dive, Not Fall

  A private home-care facility and hospice on a quiet street in Silver Lake. It’s an old, beautifully-kept Mediterranean house, white with Spanish tiles and a small, tidy front yard. The house is owned by an older Japanese-American couple, Philip and Claire Kobayashi. They provide care for two AIDS patients and Casey, who is convalescing from serious injuries suffered in the assault. They have retired from their long-held family farm business, and Claire maintains her nursing license. A complete stroke of luck. One of the Kobayashi children, Jade, was a classmate in several of Casey’s college art and photography courses at Pepperdine in Malibu and has suggested her parents’ home as a place convenient for Mara to visit while maintaining her work schedule.

  The Kobayashis’ older, cinnamon-colored Akita trudges after Mara as she drags a small pink plastic wading pool along the side of the house.

  “Oh my God, Seesaw! I can’t get you that cop job ‘cause you’re just too godda
… too damn slow and indecisive. Move it, buddy!” The dog looks up at her but makes no particular adjustment.

  Mara props up the wading pool and Casey can see the top edge through her open casement window.

  Casey’s left arm is in a cast, her hand in a soft thick protective wrap. Her injured eye looks almost completely healed. A delicate shiny suture scar crosses her left eyebrow.

  Mara backtracks to the heavy front door, walks down a short hall and enters Casey’s room. The Akita takes his post by the window. On the wall is a classical Japanese print of flying cranes and a corny “Hang in There, Baby” cat poster. Fresh chrysanthemums near her bed. Casey’s laugh is slightly muffled by a thick cervical collar.

  “Don’t you think I’m kinda old for a Hello Kitty wading pool? Is this your cheapskate interpretation of the hydrotherapy they have me scheduled for later?”

  “Just thinking ‘safety’… I can’t have you drowning at someone else’s house.” She could stand any amount of cheese-y jokes or carping considering that it was such a near miss. She tried never to let her mind go down that path. I could have lost her. And Casey’s health was really coming around since moving from the hospital and clinic. It was a strain on her work schedule, but they were willing it to work. Derek had covered for her a lot, taking over some witness interviews, interrogations and taking up her slack in paperwork.

  Mara spoke softly and confidentially.

  “I gotta get you home in the hot tub. You need ther-a-py. You need to be drowning with me.”

  Casey takes this for a song clue in the constant flow of musical challenges they habitually quiz each other with.

  “Uh… come with me, to the sea… ‘Sea of Love’, right? I’m sick but you can’t get past me with this stuff.”