Our Seas of Fear and Love
Page 35
She went to the door and rather than use her key, she rang to avoid startling the nurse. When the nurse answered, she could not hide her surprise.
“Hello. I’ve come to stay with Dr. Hurwitz. We’ve been friends for so long, I thought it would be nice if he had someone close to him.” Brigit noticed the nurse’s smirk, as she looked at the suit cases Brigit held. The nurse would have enjoyed asking what Brigit’s husband thought, how she cared for Dr. Hurwitz.
“In other words, you’re telling me you don’t need me anymore. Isn’t that for the doctor to say?”
“I didn’t come to dismiss you. I haven’t that right, but the two of us.” Brigit hesitated. “Look. What’s the sense in the two of us being here?”
The nurse openly sneered. Looking at her, Brigit thought, “Here goes my reputation. And Rob and Kathryn will hear. What have I done?” Brigit forced a smile. “Let’s go talk to the doctor.”
Gregory quickly sat up, smiling, happy. “Brigit.”
“I thought I’d come and stay. You won’t need Nurse Willis. I mean, unless you would rather we both be here.”
The question in his face was obvious. She had to have left Thomas. Flustered, he forced himself to ask Willis, “How about if you came, say every third or fourth day for several hours to give Brigit some time to rest, to go shopping, whatever?”
“I’ll do whatever you think, Dr. Hurwitz. I can be here and will arrange other times and appointments. Just tell me when you want me, not now, but by tomorrow, please.”
“That’s fine,” he answered, looking at Brigit and then at Willis.
“Well, I’ll just get my things and leave now. An early night will be nice,” she lied, laughing to herself thinking of them hurrying off to bed.
When they heard the door close, Brigit told him what had happened. “I brought most of what I wanted. I’ll go back for the rest tomorrow maybe.”
“Come here.” He reached for her. She wanted to leap at him. “I love you. Oh how I love you and need you,” he spoke into her ear, feeling her hair and face against his.
“I love you too.” The past, the future, nothing mattered. “Oh how I love you and have. And I’m going to take care of you and keep you with me for as long as I can.”
The days passed. Mary came and disappeared with Brigit. They shopped for clothing together. One night she brought Evelyn for dinner. Melinda came with her husband. Pamela called often and did come home for several days. They all managed a surprise for Brigit. Robert and Kathryn arranged a time they both could come from New York. Hard as it was for them, accusing their mother of desertion and adultery, they still wanted her but stayed with their father who told them little but that Gregory needed their mother, that time was short.
The company always roused Gregory. But he was also happy when he and Brigit were alone. They slept together, made love happily, unencumbered, thoughtful of only one another, fulfilling themselves perhaps for the lost years.
Then one day, Gregory called to Brigit. “Dearest. I’d like to go to the cove. The sun’s warm and it would be so nice. Or better, let’s go toward evening. We’ll watch the sunset, see the quarter moon, listen to the waves.”
“I like that. I’ll take something along in case we get hungry.”
“Brigit. Do you ever regret being with me, doing what you have?”
The suddenness of his question sent a pang of distress through her. “Greg, stop. Stop now. I regret nothing but the,” she stopped, not wanting to hurt him but decided to finish. “I regret nothing but the years lost to both of us.” She watched his face, the anguish. “Oh, Greg, I didn’t mean to hurt you. Whatever has happened, we can’t undo, obviously. So let’s not ask questions, just enjoy being together.”
They drove to the cove close to twilight.
“It’s lovely, Greg. Look. The tide’s coming in. Look. Over there. The white caps against the rocks. But they’re gentle. And the horizon. Doesn’t it seem as though we could just walk out there and fall off together?” She relaxed against his chest, his arm about her. “Put your hand here.” She took it and placed it on her breast.
The sky changed its appearance, yellows, blues, reds, purple drifting clouds, the crescent moon now visible and Venus seemingly not so far off.
“Look, Brigit, Love. It will always be there.”
“It will.” But she felt a shudder in his shoulder. She raised her head. “Are you all right?”
“Well, I feel a bit weary.”
“Then let’s go home, and I’ll make dinner.”
In the morning, he woke her. “Brigit, I think you better take me to the hospital.”
She tried to hide her fright. “O.K.” speaking as evenly as she could. “Let me get your clothes. You want me to dress sexy?” She forced a laugh.
“Sexy’s great.”
She went to another room and phoned the hospital and his doctor, fed him, noticing he hardly ate, not even drinking his coffee.
“Are you ready? I packed your things and put a book in there.”
He was in the hospital for several days, growing weaker, holding Brigit’s hand as much as possible, squeezing it. “Remember, dearest. I’ll always and forever love you.” He laughed a bit. “I just thought of our first kiss. Kiss me, please.” His voice was weak.
Melinda and Pamela came; Mary would stop by when she was not in the office, and especially if she were on hospital duty. The women would gather, hold tightly to one another, crying softly.
Another day, the doctor as he often did, talked seriously to him. “Gregory, you must know this is all I can do.”
“Yes.” He looked straight at the doctor. “You’re telling me I won’t get to see the leaves change color. Perhaps that’s best, not looking at those bare branches stabbing at the sky, begging for their dress. Always thinking of the females. I’ll never change.” I’ve been surrounded by women. Deirdre, oh the stupidity; Melinda, Pamela, Kaitlin. Oh my Kaitlin. What might you have been?
The doctor placed his hand on Gregory’s. “You’re quite a guy. And don’t ever forget what your research accomplished and all the people you helped.”
“Thanks, Dave.”
While Melinda and Pamela were in a waiting room, Brigit stood in the doorway, tears filling her eyes. She suddenly felt a hand on her shoulder. “Brigit.” She looked. It was Thomas. “I heard and want to see him.”
“You’re sweet. Always have been.”
“Brigit, perhaps this isn’t the time, but I’ve missed you so. Would you consider coming home?”
Surprised, sad, pleased, “If you truly want me, Thomas.”
“I do.”
“Give me time, please, to settle myself? I need it. Oh, God, how I need.”
“You take your time. I’m going in to see Greg.”
Brigit composed herself. “Greg, look who’s here to see you.”
“Tom,” weakly. “You’re fine for. . . .”
Thomas would not let him finish. “You think I’m going to allow a friend to turn his back on me.”
The three women faintly smiled.
Several days later, during the night, Gregory died.
Brigit gave way to Melinda and Pamela who had their father cremated. On a sunny day, when the sea was calm, they rented a sailing yacht, hoping their father could feel the sway and the wind in the sails. They sat on either side of Brigit, arms wrapped about one another. They asked Brigit to spread the ashes. She started, then slowly handed them to Melinda and Pamela. The three stood, watching as the sea gently as in a tide pool took their father and lover.
~
A meteor
seared the sky
lost below
the horizon,
emblazoning the pillars
of
Hecate
beckoning
to the seas of fear and love.
RSC
_______________
The End
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Richard Shain Cohen of Cape Elizabeth, Maine, is o
riginally from Boston. He retired from the University of Maine at Presque Isle after serving as Vice President of Academic Affairs and Professor of English. He holds B.S., M.A., and Ph.D. degrees.
He served as editor of the journal Husson Review and was principal participant in a National Endowment for the Arts Grant for “Images of Aroostook” that was exhibited throughout the State of Maine.
His own publications include: Healing After Dark: Pioneering Compassionate Medicine at the Boston Evening Clinic (2011), The Forgotten Longfellow: Man in the Shadows (2010), Only God Can Make a Tree, poetry from himself and his brother, Alfred Robert Cohen; and the novels Our Seas of Fear and Love, Monday: End of the Week, Be Still, My Soul, and Petal on a Black Bough. He also wrote chapters for Aroostook: Land of Promise, academic reviews, other articles, and – with the help of a Shell Grant – a monograph on Samuel Richardson that can be found in major library holdings.