“So how are things going with Nathan? Are you sure he doesn’t want kids? You know, you guys could adopt—I mean if it works out between you two.” Brandon has untied Dixie and is holding her on his lap. She is gazing at me while enjoying her massage.
“He doesn’t want to be a father and I’m fine with that.”
“I’m confused. Didn’t you really want to be a mother? Why would you give that up so easily?”
My heart is racing and my cheeks are burning. “I didn’t give it up. It was taken from me.”
“But you could adopt. There are so many children who need—”
“No, I don’t want that. And besides, if a man wants kids, he wants his own. Unless he can’t have any. So even if I did want to adopt, I don’t have time to launch a worldwide search to find hot, successful infertile men who are longing for a family. That isn’t something I can advertise for, and I can’t quit my job to go on a yearlong journey around the world, even if I got to eat delicious food, meditate in the jungle and meet foreign lovers.”
He gives me a perplexed look.
“You don’t even know that reference, do you?”
“As a matter of fact I do. Authors know the work of other successful authors. Besides, my sister dragged me to see the movie.”
“Your sister, huh?”
“Yes, Claire, my sister.” He stands up, still holding Dixie. “You do have options, but you think you have it all figured out, so I guess the doctor solves all your problems.”
I avert his gaze, and he continues. “The sun is going down, we should go.” His voice has dropped to just above a whisper.
We ride the short distance home in silence. When I drop him off I tell him that Nathan and I are coming to his show this Saturday. He doesn’t look as excited as I had hoped.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
It’s Saturday, and Rebecca and I are going to the hairdresser’s together, and of course, out to lunch and shopping. Rebecca colors her hair to hide the grey. I like to tease her about the way she looks with all the goop piled on her head, but she doesn’t share my amusement.
“Someday, you’ll have to color your hair too, Goldilocks.”
Sitting in our respective side-by-side salon chairs, I begin to tell Rebecca (and the hairdressers and others in earshot by default) what’s going on with both Brandon and Nathan.
“I thought he seemed pleasant enough when I met him at the office the other day, but seriously—you still haven’t been to his house?”
“Rebecca, I am not rehashing all of that again. He was coming to see me to take me out to lunch. I think surprise visits are romantic. You’re just used to dating gropers and creepers.” I smile and stick my tongue out at her.
She thinks I can’t see her, but I catch her rolling her eyes in the mirror, as Tina spins her chair in my direction to cover the other side of her head with dark auburn goop.
“Actually, you have no idea who I date because I don’t talk about it.”
“And why is that? I know, because it is so exhausting talking about my dating woes we run out of time.” Jennifer trims and shapes my wet hair, repeatedly pulling my chin up and repositioning my head. It’s her way of telling me to stop talking unless I want my hair to look like it was caught in a blender.
“Yep, that’s why. Seriously, Claire, I know he’s a doctor and all, but that Brandon is so cute.” Tina piles the red sticky mess on top of Rebecca’s head and sets a timer.
The lady next to me must be at least eighty years old, but she seems intent on listening to our conversation. She just shushed her hairdresser when she tried to make small talk about the weather.
“Brandon is a pain in the ass. He was questioning me about why Nathan doesn’t want kids, and how we could adopt. It’s none of his business, and I do have it all figured out now. Nathan is perfect for me and I’m not interested in adoption. I’m trying to simplify my life, and maybe Jackie will have a baby someday and I can be an aunt.” I wince at this thought.
“You don’t think, do you? Maybe Brandon is interested in you and he’s trying to see where you stand on certain issues. Maybe he would want to adopt a baby with you. He’s adopted, right?”
“Why would a healthy twenty-eight year old guy want to adopt?”
“Maybe his guys can’t swim. You never know. He could have been kicked in the balls as a toddler or something.”
I really hope the old lady’s hearing aid is on the fritz. I glance over and she’s quietly attentive, and I see her attempting to suppress a grin. I guess this replaces her weekday soap opera viewing. Something catches my eye—is that a copy of our first new book release sticking out of her tote bag? Is that hers? Maybe it’s the hairdresser’s. If that’s her reading material, an innocent groin injury comment shouldn’t shock her.
I sigh and say, “No, he feels sorry for me, I think. I shouldn’t get so mad at him. He is a nice guy and he’s so good with Dixie. He’ll find a nice girl, settle down and fill that house with babies. He has so much time.” I shift in my seat, toss my hair and nod approval of a job well done to Jennifer. “Besides, things are going well with Nathan. I’ll probably have a ring by Christmas.”
“What? I better not see a ring on that finger for at least a year. A full calendar year! How can you marry a man when you don’t know how he celebrates Groundhog Day?”
“I think there’s a different February holiday that would be more pertinent to this conversation, but that isn’t the point. Nathan is the one. When you know, you know.”
“You are impossible. Is he at least making more time for you?”
“Yeah, he’s doing better with his schedule. I saw him last night. He came over and we watched movies. Dixie is starting to warm up to him, too. After all, he’s a cardiologist, Rebecca. He’s an import—”
“I know, he’s an important man. He’s saving lives.”
I could do without the sarcasm and air quotation marks.
Jennifer asks me to take a seat in the waiting area so she can do her next haircut. I happily oblige, grateful to end this conversation. Hopefully, by the time the goop is washed out of her hair, Rebecca will think of something else to talk about. Maybe I will ask her about her love life for a change.
I pick up a trashy magazine. I haven’t indulged in celebrity gossip since my visit to Dr. Mason’s office, when I was interrupted by Roberta. I’m just getting into an interesting article about movie star weight loss plans, when I hear, “Excuse me, Dear.” I look up and it’s my elderly salon seat neighbor.
“Yes, hello.” I put down my magazine and sit up straighter.
She comes walking over very slowly and asks, “Do you mind if I sit down?”
“No, of course not.” I hastily move my purse out of the way and shift over. That was her tote bag.
“I know I should mind my own business, but I’m a nosy old lady.” She giggles and pats my leg. “My dear girl, it sounds like you have gotten yourself into a love triangle.”
I open my mouth to protest, but she forges on. “I don’t know anyone named Brandon, except my grandson in Arizona, but Nathan is a familiar name. You said he’s a doctor?”
“Yes, a cardiologist. Why?” I search for Rebecca to see if she’s getting shampooed yet, but she’s still sitting where I left her, reading that stupid new book of ours.
She leans in and whispers, “His last name isn’t Kleinman by any chance, is it?” She raises her eyebrows.
My breath catches in my throat. “Yes, it is. Why, do you know him?”
“Yes, he’s my doctor.” She pats her heart and says, “My old ticker is giving me some grief lately.” If so, she better stay out of the erotica section of the bookstore. I wonder if Tim has given any thought to lawsuits involving horny little old ladies and heart attacks.
“I’m sorry to hear that. But he’s a good doctor, right? He just recently lost a patient and he was broken up about it.” Probably not an appropriate thing to share.
“Yes, I think he’s a good doctor—I’m still h
ere.” She laughs but quickly turns serious again, leaning in even closer. I recline a little so the other customers don’t think I’m about to make out with my grandmother on the couch.
“My dear, there is something you need to know about him. Others might mind their own business, but I am eighty-seven years old and I believe in speaking my mind. I would like to save you some heartache.” She smiles and pats my leg again. “You’re such a pretty young girl. My granddaughter has hair like yours.”
“Mrs., what did you say your name was?”
“Call me Betty, Dear.”
“Betty, what do you know about Nathan?” It’s probably nothing, but she has piqued my curiosity, and I also want her to spit it out before Rebecca sticks her nose in this conversation.
She folds her hands in her lap. The soft, wrinkled flesh stays put when she releases her grip. She grasps her tote bag handle and continues, “Dr. Kleinman used to be a gynecologist.”
What is she babbling about? Did he work with Dr. Mason? Maybe they were partners?
Betty studies my puzzled expression and says, “He was accused of misconduct. Now there were never any charges, just rumors. But I think that’s why he switched.”
I shake my head and furrow my brow. “What? He switched? What was he accused of?”
Betty raises her eyebrows and widens her eyes, stretching the paper thin skin of her creased lids. She mouths the words almost inaudibly, “Sexual misconduct.” She puts her hand over her mouth as if she can’t believe she has said this out loud. However, since I have seen her reading choices, she’s not fooling me.
“But he wasn’t charged? There were just rumors?”
“Yes, but I think he decided to take some time off and retrain or whatever doctors do. He came back to Richmond a while later and joined a cardiology practice.”
“But wouldn’t they be reluctant to let him join?”
“I’m sure he had lots of doctor friends and they helped him out. It wasn’t a public scandal—I just know from the girls in my bridge group. One of their daughters was involved. Apparently he was making suggestive comments and behaving unprofessionally. As I said nothing was ever proven, but I think he became a cardiologist because most of his patients would be older and not all of them female. Maybe less temptation.” She leans in again and I catch a whiff of permanent wave solution and throat lozenges.
My heart is pounding and I want to ask her more questions, but I don’t even know if she’s a reliable source of information. Plus, Rebecca is in the shampoo chair now, and I want Betty out of here before she comes waltzing over.
“Thank you, Betty. I appreciate you clueing me in to this…information.”
“I did hear you talking about marriage, and I just thought you should know. As I said, as far as I know it wasn’t public, but if there was anything documented you may be able to find it on the computer. You could look it up on Gaggle or Giggle, or whatever that thing is the young people use nowadays.”
What the hell does she mean? “Oh, you mean Google? Yes, I’ll look it up. Thanks again.”
Betty holds on to the side of the couch and slowly raises herself up to standing. She leans forward and grabs her tote bag. She spots me eyeing her literary selection and says, “I was at the bookstore and I picked this up for my granddaughter. She’s about your age, do you think she’ll like it? It was in the ‘new and hot’ section. Sounded like it would be a nice book for a young girl.”
I clear my throat and reply, “I bet she’ll love it.” I suppress a grin and she is on her way.
I sigh and slump down into the nest of pillows. How do I know if there’s any truth to this story? She can’t use the Internet and doesn’t even recognize porn when she sees it. I mean the people on the front cover are half naked! But who cares about that—I need to get home and Google Nathan and see what comes up.
Do I know anyone I could question about this? Melanie? She’s the one who set me up with him. No, that would be so awkward. I bet doctors get accused all the time, especially gynecologists. He probably had some crazy religious fanatic for a patient and she misread his normal charm for something more.
Rebecca is headed my way. I take a deep breath and vow to keep this to myself, at least until I can do further research. Even though I feel sick from this news, I can’t help but laugh to myself thinking of Betty’s granddaughter’s expression when she gets her gift from her old Nana.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
“A doctor—how cool!” Bianca is less steady on her feet tonight, teetering on spike heeled red leather boots. She grabs onto Nathan’s arm to steady herself so she doesn’t end up on the floor. What time did they start drinking?
Nathan looks at me and discretely removes Bianca’s hand. I really wish he had dressed more hip and casual. His tweed sport coat and pink polo shirt stick out in O’Malley’s like a—like an old guy at a hard rock show. Thank God they’re not playing at the Shark Tank tonight. He would have looked even more like a dweeb there.
“So when are they starting? It’s after nine.” I look at my wrist, as if there’s a watch there, even though I haven’t worn one since the nineties.
“Pretty soon—look there’s Katie and Lacey!” She teeters off in pursuit of her friends.
“Do all your friends drink this much?” Nathan holds his wine glass and makes a sour face. “The wine here is atrocious.” He swirls the red liquid in his glass and places it back on the bar.
“It’s an Irish pub. They are more likely to have better beers, but the wine isn’t—”
“You don’t really know wine, Sweetie, do you? Your ex-husband wasn’t exactly a man of great taste and refinement, right?” He smiles and continues to swirl.
Ron would punch Nathan for that remark, as would my father, who has a well-stocked wine cellar. I begin to respond and see that Brandon is standing there observing this exchange.
“Hey, guys. Thanks for coming.” Brandon takes in Nathan’s ensemble and shakes his hand. “Sorry, the wine sucks here, man. This is probably not your crowd, but Claire has a good time.” He starts laughing when he sees my expression, and glances down at my shoes.
“Are you starting this show soon, Brandon? Us old people need to get home and get in bed.” I glare at him, pleading with him to behave. I am second guessing my decision to bring Nathan.
“We go on in about ten minutes. I just wanted to say hello. Enjoy the show.” He leaves his empty beer glass on the bar and heads to the stage area.
“He’s a bit obnoxious, Claire, and I am not old. This is just nonsense, but I know it makes you happy.” He squeezes me and I feel better.
When I got home today I was rattled by what Betty had told me. I wanted to Google Nathan, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
He came to my house to pick me up, and while I was putting together some salad for dinner, he started humming the song “Cecilia,” by Simon and Garfunkel.
“That song is always in my head when I talk to Cecilia, too. Isn’t that funny?”
“What, Sweetie? It’s catchy.” He was busy scrolling through his e-mails on his laptop, which he has started bringing with him when he comes to my house. I wished he would get pulled away on a call from the hospital so I could sneak a look at Google. “She’s a nice girl. Spoke highly of you.”
I almost spit my wine and turned back to my salad preparation. She actually reminds me of some violent death metal lyrics more than a cute pop tune from the sixties, but I bit my tongue and kept quiet. I didn’t want Nathan to think I’m jealous, or get into the whole Justin situation.
While we were eating, Nathan was still a bit distracted by his computer. He was looking away from me when I blurted out, “Were you always a cardiologist?”
He stopped and looked up at me, putting down his fork. “What?”
“I met a lady at the hairdresser’s today, an older lady, who said you used to be a gynecologist.” I took a big gulp of wine.
He sighed and replied, “Yes, Claire, I did switch specialties a few yea
rs back. I presume she also told you about some nasty rumors.” He sat up straighter and his lips were pressed in a straight line.
“She did say you had some problems and decided to switch and—”
“Claire, listening to rumors is not a good idea, but I’m so glad you’re bringing this to my attention.” He smiled warmly and relaxed his posture. “There is no basis for any of those rumors. Being a gynecologist is difficult, Claire. You never know what kind of women you’re treating, and what kind of mental problems they may have, hidden agendas.” He was talking with his hands and shaking his head. “I didn’t like it—delivering all those babies, all those women coming for their appointments with screaming little kids. Plus, I decided that I would honor my aunt’s memory by helping people with heart disease.”
“I just felt like I had to say something or else it was going to continue to bother me.”
He stood up and took me by the hand and looked into my eyes. “Claire, you have made me so happy. I was so shut off from my feelings in the past, but you have awakened my senses. You’re an extraordinary woman.”
He kissed me like he never has before and I was almost certain he was going to lead me upstairs. The spell was broken by a phone call from the hospital, but I decided not to touch his computer or my phone. I believed him and I was excited about coming back to my house after the show. Maybe we wouldn’t stay the whole time, and we could come home and pick up where we left off.
I am jolted back to reality by the opening note of the band’s first song. They aren’t starting off quietly and Nathan already looks perturbed. I grab his hand and drag him over to the front of the stage. Maybe if he gets the full experience he will be able to loosen up and have some fun.
As the show continues, and the mass of people flood the stage and girls are screaming for Brandon, I can see that Nathan is losing it. His face is flushed and he must be dying of heat exhaustion in that jacket. What was he thinking wearing that? Surely he has been to a show like this at some point in his life.
There Are No Men Page 30