Love's Illusions: A Novel

by Cazzola, Jolene

  A strange expression crossed her face again; similar to the one she showed when I first announced I was Stephen’s wife. She looked at me with narrowed eyes, cocked her head and said, “Accident? He had surgery for a rectal fistula.” The tone of her voice was clear – there was no accident.

  Feeling trapped in my own verbiage, I couldn’t think of a way to back up from the word ‘accident’, so I stammered, “Yes, the accident that caused the fissure.”

  She had stopped shuffling papers, and was studying my face, assessing the situation. I tried again, “I’m sorry, I’m probably not saying that the right way - I’m not very good at medical things, but he did have surgery to fix a fissure, correct?” She nodded still watching me. “So, unless I’m mistaken, didn’t the fissure happen when he fell off the ladder – that’s the accident I was referring to.”

  She started to shake her head, but caught something out of the corner of her eye and stopped. “Oh, here comes your husband’s doctor now. Dr. Reynolds would be better at answering that question than I am.

  “Doctor,” she called motioning to a rather pudgy, dark haired man wearing wire rimmed glasses, around 50 years of age, “Doctor, this is Mrs. Janowski; she was just asking me about her husband’s surgery – it looks like you were heading towards his room, so I thought you might talk to her.”

  The doctor hesitated, looked at the nurse, his eyes growing wider, and his brow furrowing as he stepped up, extended his hand and said, “Nice to meet you Mrs. Janowski, let’s go see your husband.”

  “Nice to meet you too, doctor,” I said as I turned to follow him down the corridor into Room 312. “The nurse was saying Stephen came through the surgery very well and should have a full recovery,” I stated in my sweetest voice.

  “Yes, well it appears so; that’s what I was coming to check,” he replied nodding to me as he touched Stephen’s shoulder waking him up.

  “Mr. Janowski… Mr. Janowski, how are you doing?” he inquired. Stephen immediately opened his eyes, so he wasn’t sleeping. “I’ve just met your wife, Mr. Janowski; she’s inquiring about your condition. I don’t believe you mentioned a wife during our discussions at my office or on your paperwork. You’ll have to give me authorization before I can discuss your condition with her: is that going to be an issue?” His voice was firm showing only a slight hint of aggravation.

  Stephen was silent, but I was outraged at what I just heard. “Of course he gives his ‘authorization’; I’m his wife for Christ’s sake… I just want to know how he is!”

  Dr. Reynolds had been looking back and forth between the two of us, but now turned to me and stated, “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but privacy laws will not allow me to speak to you unless I have consent. We normally have these things straightened out beforehand, but until a few minutes ago, I had no idea you existed – I’m sorry, you do understand, I’m sure.”

  I looked at Dr. Reynolds and then shot a look at Stephen - “Tell him, tell him it’s okay.”

  Stephen closed his eyes, then opened them and lifted himself up onto his elbows to look at me. “I need to talk to my doctor alone, Jackie.”

  The words blinded me. I could feel the room start to go dark, so I bit my lower lip trying to force myself to stay focused. In his best bedside manner, the doctor told me I’d have to leave while he did an examination. I shot daggers through my eyes at Stephen, turned on my heels, and walked towards the door. Mouthing off at the doctor wasn’t going to do any good.

  The nurse, who had followed us, and had been standing in the doorway the whole time, smiled, put her arm around me, and said, “Come sit down out here by the nurse’s station until the doctor is finished – I’ll get you some coffee.”

  Tears were filling my eyes. I was angry, humiliated. I felt stupid, I felt like a total fool. My throat tightened around a huge lump that seemed to be throbbing. The nurse handed me a cup of coffee smiling again with a look of… what was it… understanding? No it was pity.

  The other nurses all went about their duties, some giving me sidelong glances, one offering Kleenex, but no one speaking, with half smiles, and that same look that kept saying this girl has no idea what’s going on – poor thing! I dried my eyes, staring into the coffee instead of drinking it, my mind sprinting in all directions at once. The one thing I couldn’t do was to look any of the nurses in the eye. I sat there for what seemed like an eternity, until finally spotting Dr. Reynolds walking towards me. He nodded his head and said, “It was nice to meet you Mrs. Janowski – your husband would like to talk to you for a minute, but you can’t stay long, he needs to rest.”

  My teeth were clinched together; I was inhaling through my nose, trying to stay calm. I looked him in the eye, and as politely as humanly possible asked, “Are you sure you can’t tell me anything, I…”

  He held up his pudgy hand like a stop sign and shook his head from side to side, “No, no ma’am, all I can tell you is that he’ll be fine. Nurse, why don’t you walk back to the room with Mrs. Janowski?” Then turning to me again he repeated, “Remember, don’t stay long, he’ll be much better tomorrow; we’re keeping him at least until Thursday, so you can always come back then.” He gave me a pleasant smile, and disappeared down the hall.

  As the nurse and I entered the room, I checked out the man in the first bed, trying to discern if he was awake. He looked like he was still asleep, a slight bit of drool rolling down his chin. I hadn’t noticed before, but the middle bed where the old man had been was now empty – I hope he’s okay, I thought. “Call if you need anything,” the nurse said as she pulled the curtain shut leaving Stephen and me staring at each other.

  “You’re lying again Stephen – I know you are, I can feel it.” He didn’t answer. “Why did you call me if you don’t want to tell me the truth about what happened? I’d never have known anything if you hadn’t called, why… why? Was it just the insurance card you needed?”

  He just peered at the floor for the longest time, refusing to meet my eyes, “I didn’t mean to lie Jackie, I just… that’s why I didn’t want you to come back, I was afraid something like this would happen.”

  Anger surged through me, “Are you saying it’s my fault because I came back here today, you motherfucker!?”

  “No, that’s not it! Lower your voice for Christ’s sake.”

  “I’ll speak in any voice I want. What is it then? Be straight with me for once in your life – just tell me the truth!”

  “There’s nothing to be straight about. I told you – I fell off a ladder, plain and simple.”

  “If it’s plain and simple and you fell off a ladder, then why wouldn’t you let the doctor talk to me? What the fuck are you hiding? And what the hell did the nurse mean when she said fissure?”

  His head snapped up, and his eyes were filled with a look of contempt – “That old biddy has no idea what she’s talking about! I wanted to see my doctor in private because, shit… we’ve been separated for most of the year, you can’t expect me to just pretend nothing happened between us!”

  “You son-of-a-bitch!”

  “Stop yelling, I told you to lower your voice – I can’t deal with this now. Just go home Jackie, please just go home!”

  I was starting to shake, grabbed my jacket, purse and book from the chair, whirled around and swung the curtain open. Pausing for a second I peered over my shoulder and said, “I will be back.”

  As I left the room, I passed the stout nurse who was heading in the direction of Stephen’s room. She looked at me with that same sense of pity that I saw in her eyes before. Reaching out to touch my arm she said, “You take care on the way home now, Mrs. Janowski.” I exhaled, nodded in acknowledgment and left.

  I stopped at a payphone in the hall on my way to the parking lot and called Mary Beth. With tears flowing down my cheeks, I told her I thought she was right. She had been dating a medical student, so I asked her to find out what she could about fissures and rectal fistulas. With any luck Kent would be able to save me time in the library reading thing
s I didn’t want to read. My next call was to Michael asking if I could come over to the garage before heading to work. He was confused by my cryptic explanation of being in the general area, but told me to head on over, saying “See you soon beautiful,” as he hung up.

  Chapter Twelve

  Knight on My Side

  Seeing Michael, I was overtaken with emotion. I had dried my tears, and touched up my makeup in the ladies room at the hospital, but with one look he recognized that something was wrong, dropped the wrench he was holding, and moved to my side embracing me, and kissing my forehead while asking what had happened – was I alright?

  “No, I’m not alright – I have to talk to you, I have to tell you what I’ve been doing the last two days and …” My eyes filled with tears for the umpteenth time. His brows furrowed, and a perplexed look came across his face. I watched as he picked up the wrench, unscrewed the top from some kind of metal jar, cleaned the grease off his hands with meticulous care and then pointed with his chin indicating that we should head upstairs to his small, but comfortable, apartment to talk.

  I walked across the room, and sat down on the disheveled brown and green tweed couch in front of the TV. Michael just stood in the doorway looking at me. “Jackie, are you… Are you breaking up with me?” he asked.

  “What?” I exclaimed, looking up at him, “No, oh my God, NO! What made you think that?”

  The tenseness in his features relaxing some, he came to sit by me. “The last month or so, you’ve been so distant, preoccupied, I’ve never seen you quite like this before, and with Stephen back – I thought, when I saw you downstairs, when you said you needed to talk, well maybe that’s why you wanted to come here instead of me coming to the bar tonight…”

  Shit! I thought as he trailed off, realizing the depth of anxiety my horrible mood of the last couple months must have been causing him. Shit, I had withdrawn not wanting to hurt him with my thoughts about Stephen, and in the process managed to make him think that I was unhappy about being with him… Holy shit I’m an idiot! “Oh, Michael, no… That’s not it at all,” I said reaching for his hand as he put his arms around me and gathered me close. We stayed that way for several minutes, our breathing synchronizing as it slowed.

  Then he put his hands on my shoulders, leaned me back from him, and looked me in the eyes, “Then whatever it is, just tell me, as long as you’re not here to dump me… just tell me what happened… give me a chance to be your knight in shining armor,” he said with a tone of humor, and a cunning smile.

  “Hmph,” I snorted with an impish smile of my own, but looking down. “There’s nothing you can do – as much as I’d like to have a knight on my side right now, there’s nothing anyone can do, except… Well, I just need to tell you… I’ve seen him.”

  I lifted my eyes up to see his reaction. His face was neutral, expressionless, however, I knew something was going on behind the façade; he was silent, but I felt a wave of apprehension go through him. I’d been honest with him from the beginning, telling him I was married, and that Stephen had gone gay, ending our relationship when he moved. He had asked me once if I was going to get a divorce, and all I did was shrug my shoulders dismissing the idea. He’d never asked anything else; we hadn’t talked about Stephen again until my meeting with Bernie, and finding out that he had returned to Chicago; but what I hadn’t told him was my fantasy about putting our relationship back together. I couldn’t tell him about that. I could barely admit it to myself, but now… now I wanted, needed to tell him what had just happened.

  “Is it okay if I tell you about it?” I asked.

  Closing his eyes for a second, he nodded and said, “Yes, it’s okay – I’m glad you want to.”

  With that, the saga of the last two days came pouring out. He sat more or less emotionless, not even asking questions to clarify. My story was rather disjointed, and jumped around as my mind bounced back and forth. When I was done I felt drained.

  Michael looked drained too – his face was drawn, self-reflective. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have dumped all this on you, I just felt… Oh fuck, I don’t know what I feel anymore. I need to get stoned, do you have anything?”

  Michael kept looking at me, as if he was able to see all the way through me, I hated my transparent face, I thought, but he said nothing – he didn’t move. The atmosphere in the room was feeling claustrophobic; I started to stand, but he stopped me, putting one of his large, calloused, beautiful hands on one shoulder, his other hand under my chin lifting my face to meet his. “Don’t apologize,” he replied, “I’m glad you told me – thank you. But I also know what you’re not saying. I wish I could just listen and not feel like I do, but I’m just not that big a person.”

  “What, what do you mean? I don’t understand.”

  “Are you sure you don’t?”

  “I’m sure,” I snapped jerking my head back from his hand.

  “Okay… I’ll tell you then,” he stated as he released me, standing up and walking to the other side of the room. “What you’re not saying is that if Stephen had welcomed you with open arms, you would have been here to tell me to get lost – you would go back to him, wouldn’t you?”

  “I… no, I mean…” Shit, it was useless to try to deny – that’s exactly what I’d’ve done. How the hell did he manage to do that… always knowing what was going on in my mind, to know the parts of the story I didn’t say. “Yes,” I admitted, turning to look out the window – I just couldn’t stand to look him in the eyes at that moment. Neither of us moved, neither of us spoke.

  When finally I couldn’t take it any longer I jumped up, grabbing my jacket and purse, heading for the door I said, “I have to go, I have to be at work in a couple hours – I need to get changed.”

  Reaching the door a split second before me, Michael put his arm out, blocking my way through. “Move. Move please, I have to go to work.” His arm stayed where it was gripping the door frame. “I have to go to work Goddamn it – let me go!” I demanded.

  “No you don’t, it’s Tuesday - they’ll be fine without you – call Charlie, tell him you’re not coming in.”

  My temper erupting, my voice brittle, I yelled, “No, I’m going!”

  His temper flared back as he grabbed my shoulders with an almost imperceptible shake, “No, stay here – don’t run away from me, Jackie. Goddamn it, stay and face something for once in your life!”

  “‘Once in my life’? What the fuck are you talking about, you’ve only known me for a few months – you don’t know anything about my life, and you can’t make me stay!”

  “No, I can’t make you stay, but you need to. You came here to talk, you came to me, and then when I confront you with a piece of the story you left out, well… maybe I shouldn’t have said it, but I’m only human, I had to know. I care about you…” He took a deep breath. “So now you want to leave, walk out and not deal with it anymore or you want to get stoned. Those things won’t work and you know it. Just stay. Stay straight, and talk to me please!”

  I was trembling with anger at this point. Michael continued to look through me, but his temper had been a momentary flare and was settling. I wanted to bolt through the door –but I was frozen. Sensing my hesitation, Michael dropped his arm from the door frame and said, “Stay here with me Jackie.”

  My knees felt weak. I could feel my muscles lose all their strength as I stood there trying to force myself through the door, and willing myself to stay at the same time. I finally nodded. Michael flashed a quick smile, put his hand on the small of my back and led me back over to the loveseat where I collapsed. “Call Charlie,” he said, “and then I’ll order a pizza or Chinese or subs for dinner; whatever you want?”

  “Hmm, Chinese please, and don’t forget the chopsticks,” I said trying to sound as normal as possible, reaching for the telephone on the end table.

  After calling Charlie and ordering the food, both of us sat, not talking, glancing at each other, looking out the window, listening to the refrigerator hum, a
nd the clock on the wall tick. This had been the closest we had come to a serious argument so far. Sure we’d disagreed about stupid stuff before, but we always laughed, and went on never thinking twice about any of it. I didn’t want to argue with Michael and I didn’t want to lose him either, not now. I needed him. Was I that selfish that I had stayed to make it easier, stayed only for myself – not him? I thought.

  The phone rang; I could tell from the conversation that it was one of Michael’s repair clients. Hanging up he said, “Put your jacket on, and come down with me while I give this dude his car – I replaced the muffler. The air will do us both good, and maybe the delivery guy will be here by the time I’m done.”

  I left my purse in the apartment so I wouldn’t be tempted to bolt while he wasn’t looking, and followed him down the stairs. He was right; the cool air did help clear my head, allowing my mind the chance to enjoy the brightness of the multi-shaded blue sky and clouds as they danced overhead. Joni Mitchell’s song, “Both Sides Now” floated into my consciousness… clouds do create a magical illusion, they float, they morph from shape to shape creating image after image. I wished I could float away with the clouds, with the song in my head… just let the wind take me wherever it wanted, carefree, trouble free. God I loved that song. My life right now seemed like nothing more than an illusion - the man I had loved, had married; was an illusion. Love was an illusion. I stared at the sky, taking in deep breaths, letting it carry off all thoughts, filling my brain with nothing. Nothing but illusions.

  His business concluded, Michael was walking back towards me with a large brown bag in his arms – he had found the delivery guy while I was staring up at the clouds in the sky.

  “What happened to your car, babe?”

  “Huh, what do you mean?”

  “There’s a good size dent in the back bumper – when did that happen?”