Ambiguities

Note from the author: Hi again everyone! I took some time off from writing new material because, quite frankly, no new material was forthcoming!!! I even considered calling it quits ... but this story thread kept clawing at me. Obviously, this is a another corny tale of fiction, but I hope I have treated these characters well. Anyway, as always, I hope you enjoy this and I wish you a pleasant reading.

1. Seeking closure

Donald rubbed his eyes and remained seated, otherwise motionless and frustrated, in front of his home office laptop. It was ridiculous that this young financial analyst, who normally produces accurate and well-researched risk assessment reports, would now be stuck with writer's block in front of an empty e-mail reply; but such was the case, as his mind was flooded with memories of a not-so distant past and his heart reeling from a not-so healed wound, now freshly ripped open.

He returned to the e-mail for inspiration, despite knowing it was a useless gesture - he already knew the short message by heart:

"Good evening,

If you are, by any chance, Don Mayer who was a volunteer in the endocrine pediatrics department at Mount Sinai Hospital in 2012, please reply. I wish to catch up on old times. If you are not, I apologize for the intrusion and thank you in advance for deleting this e-mail. It will not be repeated.

Regards,

Fiona Robinson"

(Fiona... My God, I can't believe it! How old is she, now? Six years already! That would make her... 21, then. Come on, Don! Find the right words this time, you dumb shmuck!!!)

But words would have to wait. A sudden wooziness and an all-too-familiar health management reflex snapped him out of his daze. Donald quickly checked his blood glucose level and, after reading the number he feared, dashed to his refrigerator for a quick sip of fruit juice and a bite out of an apple. He then waited for the brief crisis to pass, chewing on his apple, dipping it in honey and drinking juice by his phone; he also made sure, by habit, that his MedicAlert bracelet was well clasped on his wrist.

As always, he quickly felt better. Also, this time around, such a reminder of his frailty gave him the perspective and resolve he needed to see things clearly.

(Who are you kidding? This could be great and you want it to be!)

He returned to his laptop and typed quickly, hoping to emulate her direct simplicity.

"Good evening Fiona,

I have just read your message. It would be great to catch up, or even try our hand at a Magic game again if you kept your annoying blue-white control atrocity of a deck. I will still try to discard and mill the shit out of it. Call me anytime.

Hope to hear from you soon,

Donnie"

He pondered his message: it was upbeat but not desperate, it had enough clues to reassure her that he was not an impostor profiting from her search and, lastly, his complete coordinates were listed alongside his signature. Good. He took a deep breath, another deep breath, then pressed SEND.

Satisfied and chipper, he took a last quick glance at the Tokyo Stock Exchange and Forex numbers before getting up from his chair to go to bed. His phone rang; he rushed to pick it up. It was her... it had to be.

"Hello?"

"Donnie!!! It IS you! Wow!"

Donald was shocked. He recognized the timber of her voice and her intonation, but Fiona's jovial tone and musical cheer were anathema to the depressed teenager he had known and grown to care about. He was befuddled and hesitant.

"Donnie... are you there?"

"Oh! Ya ya, sure! Sorry about that, Fiona... I almost didn't recognize you! You sound absolutely amazing! And... that's so great! How have you been?"

"Noooo no no no no! Donnie, we are NOT doing this over the phone!!! Besides I need all the beauty sleep I can get now! What are you doing this Friday? Could we go out for dinner and a coffee? Pleaaaaase?"

"Sssure, we..."

"Super!!! Thank you Donnie! I'll choose a place without a ton of sugar on the menu and write you the invite tomorrow, OK?"

"Sure, Fiona..." he chuckled, barely able to fit a word in edgewise.

"Ouuuuu! I Just can't wait!!! See you soon Donnie! Have a good niiight!" That was it.

(Alea Jacta Est... I've crossed the river now...)

Sleep took a ridiculously huge amount of time to relieve Donald's tortured and hopeful soul that night. As today was only Tuesday, he already knew it would be a long week.

---

"Good evening, sir, and welcome to Up Thai!"

"Good evening. Don Mayer; reservations for two."

"Certainly... just follow me, please."

And Donald did just that, walking along the bar area - where two men in suits drank alone and two young busty bombshells were softly chatting in whispers - and then entering the diner lounge area. The waitress seated him in a nice small table near an interior tree. Donald ordered some green tea and made himself comfortable.

Fidgety and nervous, he scanned the tree from the short distance, trying to ascertain whether it was real or a sculpture; he then set his sights on all the ceiling light ornaments and finally the surrounding patrons, as the establishment was crowded. Donald was not vain but he did seek to avoid standing out in a crowd if possible, so he discreetly checked his wool sweater and the rest of his evening casual dress, satisfied that he blended in nicely. A waitress brought his tea, an ice pitcher for his bottle of sparkling white wine and a vase for the yellow rose Donald had brought with him.

Shortly afterwards, an almost familiar tone caught Donald's attention, coming from the bar area. One of the bombshells, dressed in blue, was getting up and, after kissing her companion with lust that could be seen from his seat, walked towards the lounge. Actually, after a small course correction, she walked towards his table. Donald got a little nervous and even uncomfortable, wondering why such an eye candy would walk in on his date but, the very second before his brain would start processing dialog options and outcomes, something in him recognized the outline of the young lady's face. Donald got up, on his good manners autopilot, but he remained stupefied.

(I cannot believe it's her!!! Don't drool... for God's sake, don't drool... and LOOK UP!)

Fiona Robinson did not speak yet or hug him, just reveling in the glory of her entrance, and rightfully so. She was dressed in a simple denim one-piece calf-high jumpsuit that had the impish distinction of having a neckline opening that linked her shoulders to her navel, letting the stark majority of her two pinkish melons exposed, with no discernible undergarment. The formerly chubby and troubled teenager had bloomed into a confident and bubbly breast bomb. To top her hourglass figure, she wore discreet makeup, with a lavender lip gloss, and she let her long indigo hair flow down along her curves. She was a sight of desire, she knew it, and she seemed intent on letting Donald ogle a little longer, holding her purse behind her back and posing provocatively.

Donald swallowed hard and dared speak first. "Fiona... it is you, right? I can't believe how you've changed... and grown, too!"

She laughed softly, a melody he had never heard six years ago. "You're cute, Donnie... if you were able to lower your eyes, you would see the height of the platform shoes I'm wearing for the occasion. I'm still a 4 ft. 11 in. sprite. But I'm not the only one who has cleaned up well. It's good to see you."

Donald was now blushing in a tone matching her lip gloss, while silently pulling her chair for her to sit and offering her the rose. He waited to be also seated to respond. "You say I clean up well? We probably look like an urban version of Beauty and the Beast... and I must say, proper or not: wow! Fiona, you look nothing short of stellar... I mean it, you shine!"

He was surprised by the impact of his praise; she seemed to lightly shiver while enjoying her rose's aroma. "Thank you Donnie... considering you know where I come from, it means a lot. So... now, you can ask me."

"Ask... uh... oh! How have you been, Fiona?"

Thus began their reunion dinner, with small talk that was both effusive and guarded. Behind Fiona's sex-appeal and the pleasantness of her company, Donald felt a palpable aura of mystery. Later, as they were being served their meal, it took Donald's pre-meal blood glucose ritual to allow an opening for him to truly probe her intentions.

"Ouch! Donnie, you poor thing... you still do that every day?"

"Before every meal and whenever needed... but it's a little bit my choice now. I just can't bear the thought of hooking myself to a continuous monitor and a glucose pump. I don't know if it's vanity or resistance to change, but I've decided to continue the old-fashioned way as long as I can manage it."

"I can relate to that, I guess... but you ARE managing it, right? I mean, you sure look like you are...."

"Thank you Fiona... and, yes, I am managing so far. By that, I mean that T1D will always be with me, but I'm alive and kicking... and my life is not about my disease. But what about you? You truly look like the pinnacle of health tonight."

Her smile slightly wavered, she looked down at her curry and she took a sip of wine before answering. "Sorry to disappoint you, Donnie... like you, my... condition... cannot change for the better. Have you forgotten? It's a lifelong sentence. But, after... you know... after you left me, I followed your footsteps and picked myself up: I exercise daily now and finally slogged through the education system. And, also like you, I can now say that my life is not about my disease. I have you to thank for that, you know..." Fiona let her thought hang while putting her hand on his "... you saved my life." Her velvety skin spoke volumes.

(Haaa! There we are!)

"Fiona... no one is happier to see you than I am, especially now that you look so good." She raised an eyebrow in mischief and this completely stomped Donald. "I mean... sure, you look more than good, you look like the very incarnation of carnal lust and I'm having a hard time staying focused... but you also seem to be in a good place. Tonight, I even get to hear you laugh for the first time! What I..." that was cut short by a loud gasp.

"Houuuu... you ARE having a hard time, hi hi!"

Donald, all the while trying to look unperturbed, picked up the foot that was now massaging his stiff crotch... but he could not bring himself to discard it, opting for a foot rub instead. That subtle under-the-table action allowed him to resume while she listened and cooed.

"Fionnna!" He was softly chastising her, with clenched teeth and an embarrassed smile. "I don't know yet where this evening is going... but we obviously should clear the air if we are to have an honest shot at... anything, really. So, to be clear: Fiona, six years ago I did not leave you, I had to go; and I don't recall you ever talking to me about yourself health-wise, so why would you say that I forgot anything?"

This candid overture sideswiped Fiona completely. "Huh? Come on, Donnie... be straight with me... you use to be. Six years ago, I told you I loved you. Donnie, you were my first love, maybe even my only love... but all you saw was a fat, zit-covered patient that had... has... Donnie you just vanished from my life!"

Her foot was gone but her hand remained and Donald, instantly crushed, patted it in despair. "Fiona, please don't say that. I mean, yes, it is what happened but... Fiona, you were 15 and I was 21... what I hoped for was either illegal or a huge ethical stretch at the very least! Did you really think I cared about your looks? I was a volunteer at endocrine pediatrics... EVERYONE there was either on insulin or some sort of steroid! What I did care about, though, was the warning I got about your age and the fact you were returning from psych; Fiona, I didn't, and I would never, take advantage of you..."

Fiona was now acting like someone swimming against a flash flood. "No, no... Donnie, please don't play me... you didn't hope for or even say anything, you just... bolted!"

"Fiona, I'm sorry I am causing you pain... it's the last thing I want in this world... but why would I play you? Especially now?"

"Well... because... tonight you're having a hard time, maybe..." she had used her free hand to offer her cleavage as evidence.

Donald chuckled. "Oh! Sure! You excite me like crazy, Fiona... but judging from your earlier tryst at the bar, I have no illusion on that front. And I'm not judging, by the way."

"You mean... me and her? We've just met... it's nothing, or maybe a prospect for later. I don't know yet, Donnie; on that front, to quote you, I am... ambiguous."

"That's good to know. In any case, Fiona, until that fateful night, I had always been transparent with you... and I will be again, starting right now. You don't have to believe me, but please listen. Volunteers are not doctors and we are not privy to your health records. Fiona, I didn't and still don't know why you were a pediatrics patient. Also, I did not know if you were returning from psych due to a depression, a suicide watch or another neurosis."

Fiona was silent, but she did not look skeptical or disbelieving. Donald carried on.

"You know, volunteers normally don't visit six times a week... I came that often to be with YOU. There was something magical about being in your company. Fiona, you were my cherry blossom! When you declared your feelings for me, all I wanted was to reciprocate... and to this day, I consider you the one that got away! I wanted to explain, but all the words I could come up with were feeling fake and callous... I'm so sorry."

Neither was touching their excellent meals and both we holding each other's hands, oblivious to whether they were making a scene or not. "Keep going, Donnie... please..."

"I don't want to... I'm hurting you all over again and I feel like crap... maybe even worse than before."

"I can take it... and I need to know... what happened after. Please Donnie... I swear I believe you... and I need to know."

"All right, then... things for me changed quickly after that. I reported our last meeting to my volunteering supervisor. Also, I was skipping classes to be with you and Maritime College had already got a hold of my father, who is an alumni, to express concerns over my falling marks on the eve of my internship. Suffice it to say, that was not a pleasant week for me. For all these reasons, by the time you filed your complaint for inappropriate behavior..."

"You knew about that?" Her voice was barely audible and she was looking straight down.

"Yes... by that time, I had already been removed from volunteering assignments."

"You got fired?"

"Well... technically, volunteers are not fired... and I never did withdraw my pledge to serve... but you were the last patient I ever spent time with. The part I still don't understand, however, is why the police interview was done in such a blur; it was like everybody already knew nothing wrong had happened." Fiona sneered at hearing that. "Then, it was away to Charlotte for the summer."

"To Bank of America?"

"You remember... yes, I Interned at BofA Merchant Services and I stayed with them, moving back to a NY office after graduation and throughout my AGC in Finance. Those years were hectic, both at work and at night school - either at Stony Brook or in online classes. It was when I finished my graduate badges that I attempted to find you... you were 18 at that time."

"You tried?" that was a whimper.

"Yes, of course... ironically, the same way you did, but I had little to go on. I knew none of your coordinates and figured your appearance had probably changed. I also recalled you avoided Facebook and the like, just like I still do. In any case, asking Googled Fiona Robinsons online about their birthday or a juvenile hospital stay proved to be a disastrous approach. I still have, in my computer archives, some of the angrier replies and promises to call on the police!"

Fiona stayed mute.

"Anyways, then BofA offered me a posting in London, which I accepted out of loyalty, since it had invested so much in me. I had an absolutely horrible time, but I did very well, both for myself and the portfolios I managed. I told myself I would give the Bank two good years and I stuck it out. Afterwards, as soon as I had the chance, which took the form of an opening at Oliver Wyman, I came back here... for you to find me, five months later. Voila."

"This is so fucked up..." Fiona was looking ashamed.

"Why? If you believe me, and we have the blessed good fortune of being together again, things can only get better, no?"

"No..."

"Then I must be missing something."

"I had this all planned, Donnie... I wanted closure and to thank you, yes. After all, I was back from suicide watch when we met and you did save my life. But I also wanted to prove, to you and me, that I had turned the page and carried on... I had planned to take Sandy, over there, dancing to the Pyramid Club with me and make this big public display while leaving... to make you jealous and tease you... you know... this could have all been yours and all that crap. And now... to be so wrong all these years... you know, the worst of it is: somehow I knew, or hoped at least..."

"Fiona, why..."

"Not tonight, please Donnie. I have to process all this. And I feel ridiculous for wanting to thank you and apologize on the same evening... but tonight I'm the one who needs to bolt. Will you be all right? And, here... take this to cover my shar..."

"No, no... I got this, and I understand. Look, Fiona, it was great to see you and I wish you all the best. Here, take my card; now you have my coordinates both at work and home. If there is anything I can do to help you, call anywhere or anytime, all right? And if you think we have a shot at a fresh start... I would like that."

Back was her mischievous smile. "I'm sure you would... and I'm still ambiguous about that. But it was very good to see you again, Donnie. Thank you... for everything, then and now..." she was about to choke up and swiftly left the table, striding directly towards her waiting friend at the bar.

After both left the bar and his sight, Donald finished his meal, now turned cold, quite alone. He was replaying their conversation in his head and sorting out the signs of affection or rejection, before administering his insulin dose and returning home to another insomnia episode. In these instances, he was grateful for international and round-the-clock financial activity.

2. Show and Tell

He was still monitoring Tokyo and waiting for London to open when his access buzzer rang.

(At 3h AM? I hope she's not in trouble...)

"Yes?"

"Donnie? It's Fiona, can I com...?" He rang her in as soon as he recognized her voice; he heard the opening atrium door in the distance.

Donald had only seconds to look non-Neanderthal, so he pulled out his shirt and buttoned it about halfway up before zooming to the door.

She walked inside his condo, panting and disheveled. She stayed standing, poised on the inside of his door, taking deep breaths and keeping a defensive stance. She was looking at him straight in the eyes, with a gaze that was menacing and savage. She removed her shoes with a slow fluid motion that was deliberate and sultry. She was thinking furiously, as if making a threat assessment.

"Fiona..." in truth, Donald was overwhelmed and he froze, incapable of choosing how to approach her.

"Donnie... does your Anything-you-can-do offer still stands?"

"Of course, what do you need?" That was spontaneous and earnest... and it settled her inner turmoil. She spread apart her neckline, springing her enormous bosoms to freedom; they were firm, jiggling, offered and replete with the promise of pleasure and life. Donald was completely captivated.

(Oh! My God! Keep cool Donald, helping her does not mean helping yourself to her!)