by Joan Reeves
"Maybe I can get rid of her." If not, I'll hire a hit man, Jennifer thought, sourly. Her legs felt as if they were made of rubber. No jury in the world would convict her, she reasoned.
Matt watched her unsteady progress with hot eyes. Whatever had come over him was slow in receding. He still felt hard enough to pound nails, he thought, trying the mental discipline again of singing the only French song he knew. This time, without her disturbing presence, he managed to remember the title of the song at least.
He looked at the books on the coffee table and wondered how things had gotten out of hand so quickly. Yes, it had been a long time since he'd had an intimate relationship with a woman, but that was no excuse. Something about Jennifer created a fever in him that could only be quenched with her touch.
With this interruption, he had time to reconsider his actions and try to bring the relationship between him and Jennifer back to an unemotional level. The trouble was, he thought, standing and walking to look out the window, he didn't want to relate to her on a professional unemotional level. He wanted to finish what they'd started.
He could hear her quietly speaking to her friend at the door but couldn't quite make out the words. He closed his eyes and let her husky voice wash over him. It brushed his nerve endings and heightened his desire for her.
"What do you want, Alva?" Jennifer hissed at her friend.
"What do I want? Well, that's a fine thank you. You're the one that insisted I come over here at seven, remember?" Alva hissed back. She craned to look over Jennifer's shoulder. "What's going on in there? Who is that?"
Jennifer moved to block her view. "Nothing's going on. I have a visitor. It's just someone who stopped by for a, uh, counseling session."
Alva cocked her head and looked Jennifer over shrewdly. Then she giggled. "I've never heard it called that before." She chuckled again. "Your dress is sliding off one shoulder, and your hair looks as if you've been participating in a no-holds-barred wrestling match on your living room couch."
Jennifer blushed hotly. Her hands flew to straighten her neckline and then to smooth down her hair. "Well, thanks for stopping by, Alva," she said loudly enough for Matt to hear.
Alva grinned, damn her, and ignored the hint. "Well you're welcome," she said, just as loudly. Then her voice dropped to a conspirator's whisper. "Now tell me what's going on? What are you doing? You might as well tell me because I'm not leaving until I find out. Besides, you said you needed rescuing. So give."
Jennifer sighed. "Please go home, Alva. I'll tell you everything. Maybe. Tomorrow."
"Not good enough, Jen," Alva said in a singsong voice.
"Well, it'll have to do for now. Leave," she hissed.
Alva suddenly ducked under Jennifer's arm and walked into the living room. "Dr. Penrose, what a surprise."
Her voice held no surprise, but her rounded eyes that she focused on Jennifer did.
Matt nodded and walked over to her. "Miss Hernandez."
Alva waved her hands airily. "Oh, let's not stand on formality. Call me Alva." She grinned up at him. "And I'll call you Dr. Hunk."
He laughed, and Jennifer scowled at Alva's flirtatious manner.
"Why not call me Matt?" He suggested.
Alva nodded. "I didn't know you and Jennifer were that well acquainted." Her eyes lit up when she saw the wine glasses on the coffee table. "Oh, wine. That looks good. I think I'll pour me a glass. I always enjoy a glass with dinner." She smiled and excused herself.
From the kitchen doorway, she called back, "Oh, by the way, Jen, what are you cooking for dinner? I've so looked forward to tonight."
Oh, she was going to get Alva for this, Jennifer decided. She'd make her go fishing with her, and she'd force Alva to bait her own hook or maybe make her clean a fish. Somehow, she'd get back at her for this.
Jennifer stared at Matt. He was pulling his car keys from his pocket.
"Are you leaving?" She couldn't keep the disappointment from her voice.
He shrugged. "I guess so since you have dinner plans."
Jennifer could have kicked herself for the dumb conspiracy she'd dreamed up. "I'm sorry. I forgot about Alva." That was certainly the truth.
Matt smiled crookedly. "That's okay. Maybe it's for the best."
"Do you two want a refill?" Alva called from the kitchen.
"No, we're fine." Jennifer said through gritted teeth.
Matt took her hand and pulled her close. Jennifer hated to see him go. Her hands slid up his arms. She'd ask him over tomorrow night for dinner, she thought.
Sipping a glass of wine, Alva walked out from the kitchen. Jennifer and Matt sprang apart. Her arms wrapped around her own body.
"This is really good stuff." Alva smiled slyly at them. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" She sat down in one of the dark green tapestry chairs.
"No, you're not interrupting anything," Matt said, disappointment evident in his voice.
Yeah, Jennifer thought darkly, you've already done the damage. And, I suspect, you're enjoying it way too much.
Alva kicked her shoes off. "Ooh, that feels good. I spent the afternoon at the mall at a fashion show and then I went shopping for some of the goodies I saw."
Jennifer sat down on the edge of the other chair. It was her own fault of course. She's the one who had asked Alva to come over. But couldn't Alva see the situation had changed? Why couldn't she take the not-too-subtle hints and leave? But no, her friend looked as if she were here to homestead. Matt jingled his keys again, and that prompted her to action.
"Alva, may I speak to you in the kitchen?" Jennifer asked.
"Sure, we can talk about what you're going to serve me for dinner tonight."
Matt seemed hesitant to leave. Maybe he too hoped Alva would miraculously disappear. "I guess I should leave," he said again, but he didn't put action to his words.
"Well, I'm sure Jennifer wouldn't mind if you stayed for dinner too," Alva said. "We had planned some intensive girl talk. Didn't she tell you?"
"No, it must have slipped her mind," Matt said. "In that case, I'll let you get on with your evening."
Jennifer jumped up. "Oh, no, you don't have to. Alva probably had a change of plans at the last minute. Didn't you, Alva?"
"Why, no, Jen. Everything's hunky dory for dinner tonight." Alva all but batted her eyes at Jennifer. "Of course, I would love it if Matt wanted to join us. We could all get better acquainted."
"No. Thanks anyway. It was nice seeing you again, Alva.".
Jennifer rushed to his side. "I'll walk you to the door." She should feel relief that they'd been interrupted, she reasoned. But she didn't. She felt irritated and frustrated. And unbelievably angry at Alva. Sometimes, Alva's sense of humor could be downright perverse.
If Alva hadn't arrived, there was no telling what she and Matt would have done next. Disappointment weighed heavily on her. Would she ever get a chance to find out?
At the door, she and Matt shifted uneasily back and forth, left foot to right. Finally, Matt said. "I'll call you. Okay?"
Jennifer nodded. "Yes, please do. We didn't even have a chance to talk about the books," she said, desperately wanting to find a good reason for him to return.
"No, I guess we didn't." His cheeks flushed. "Maybe next time."
"Sure." Jennifer felt like the world's biggest idiot.
After he'd gone, she closed the door and leaned against it, gathering her strength for the confrontation with Alva. Her nosy friend wouldn't be satisfied until she had every detail from Jennifer.
"Okay, what gives with you and Dr. Hunk?" Alva said the instant Jennifer returned to the living room.
"It's a long story, but first I have to say that I could cheerfully kill you."
"Why, Jennifer Monroe. Is that any way for a psychologist to talk?" Alva grinned. "I've got time. Spill your guts, kid."
"Well," Jennifer grumbled, "let me get a refill and make us a couple of sandwiches since you so adamantly want me to feed you. I don't have the energy to do much
else."
"Yeah, I bet." When Jennifer scowled at her, Alva said, "Hey, I was just following your instructions."
"I don't recall giving you any about playing chaperone when you arrived."
"Well, how was I to know that you weren't being held prisoner in here?" Alva stood. "Come on. I'll help you. We can talk while you do the domestic thing."
She stopped and reached over to pick up the book that Matt had thrown to the floor. Jennifer held her breath, hoping Alva would lay it down without looking at the title or at the other books on the table.
"Jennifer, this is probably none of my business," Alva began.
"But when has that ever stopped you before," Jennifer groaned.
Alva sat on the edge of the couch and unstacked the books. Her eyes grew rounder with each title she read. "Okay, what is going on here? And don't tell me you were counseling Dr. Penrose because he has some kind of sexual problems. One, he's older than your usual adolescent clientele, and, two, there's no way that I'd believe a guy who looks like him ever has problems with sex."
She picked up the book of erotica and flipped through it, stopping in the middle of the book to read. "This is positively kinky. What is going on with you and the good doctor?"
Jennifer knew there was no hope for it. She removed the book from Alva's hands. "Follow me to the kitchen, and I'll fill you in."
Jennifer flipped the light switch, and the darkened kitchen came to life. She corked the wine and put it away then pulled buttercrunch lettuce, garden-ripe tomatoes, deli-sliced turkey, cheddar, and a loaf of whole wheat bread from the refrigerator.
Alva dropped onto the swivel bar stool next to the island counter and placed her elbows on the mottled-green granite top. She watched for the space of ten seconds before the questions exploded from her again. "What kind of doctor is Matt Penrose anyway? How long have you known him? What were the two of you doing when I so rudely interrupted?"
Jennifer sighed as she sliced the tomato. While she assembled the sandwiches, she tried to explain to Alva what had happened.
"He really is a gynecologist?" Alva laughed. "You're kidding, right? You made this whole thing up because I've been razzing you about getting laid."
Jennifer shook her head "Wrong." She rinsed the coffee carafe out. "Do you want the real stuff or decaf?"
"The real stuff, please. Maybe the caffeine will strengthen my thought processes. I can't seem to grasp this."
"I know. I have the same problem," Jennifer muttered.
"But why didn't you tell him who you were that day in his office?" Alva asked, getting two woven straw placemats from a drawer and putting them on the table.
Jennifer carried the plates over to the scrubbed pine trestle table. Alva placed napkins next to the plates then dropped into one of the deep burgundy arm chairs.
"Alva, I went blank. Suddenly, instead of being a respected psychologist with a satisfying successful life, I reverted to the awkward, shy, fourteen-year-old I'd been when I knew Matt in high school."
Jennifer removed cups and saucers from the cupboard. The aroma of the coffee filled the room as it brewed. She waited, stalling for time, trying to get her emotions well under control. When the coffee finished dripping, she filled their cups and carried them to the table.
"I can't say what came over me. I looked at him and couldn't remember my own name. Damn, it was as bad as when I first met him." She glanced up, briefly meeting her friend's eyes. "Alva, at fourteen, I knew that I could spend the rest of my life with him."
"Then what happened? Why aren't you chasing after a pack of little Penroses?"
Jennifer sighed. "There was just one problem. He didn't know I was alive. At first. Then I discovered that my hero had feet of clay."
"Quit talking in clichés and tell me," Alva cried.
Jennifer picked up her sandwich but then laid it down again. "Mom and I had moved to Lake Grayson the summer of my freshman year. I first saw Matt in the local supermarket. He bagged groceries there during the week." She picked apart her sandwich as she talked.
"After school started, I used to see him in the halls. He was a senior and the quarterback of the football team and Mr. Everything at school. I'd whip off my glasses every time I saw him, as if that would make me prettier. Well, I was blind as a bat without my glasses. One afternoon I'd done that as I was running to catch the bus, and I bumped into him. Literally." She smiled at the memory. "Everything we were carrying went flying. By the time we'd picked it all up, I'd missed the bus."
"Let me guess. He drove you home, discovered how wonderful you were and asked you for a date."
"Not quite. He did take me home. We started talking and seemed to, I don't know, click. It was as if everything he liked, I liked, and vice versa. We kind of got in the habit of talking like that. He'd call me at night, and we'd talk for hours. He was different from the other boys I'd known. All I'd ever got from boys up to then was grief," she fumed. "Ever since I was twelve, and these started growing." She jerked her thumbs at her breasts.
"I know. I guess there's a girl like you in every school," Alva said. "We had one too. Five feet nothing tall and wore about a thirty-eight C-cup in ninth grade."
"Well, that was me too. It seems like overnight I went from flat as a board to voluptuous. Anyway, the boys never gave me a moment's peace. By the time I was fourteen, I'd had it with the jokes, the leers, the accidental touches that you knew were no accident."
"You poor kid. I never thought about that before. I envied the girls like you."
"Matt didn't do any of those things," she said softly. "He talked to me and listened as if he thought I had something important to say. He looked at my face, not my boobs, and that made me feel like a person, not a walking piece of female anatomy."
"That's why you specialize in helping adolescent girls, isn't it?"
"Yep. I know the pain of a difficult adolescence. Even when I was in high school, I knew I wanted to be a psychiatrist or psychologist. Somebody who could help people. Matt wanted to be a doctor, he'd told me. His aunt, who apparently was more like a sister to him than an aunt, had died of cancer. It left a big impression on him. Plus, I found out recently that his grandfather was a doctor."
"If he was so great, what happened?"
"Right before the Christmas dance, the big social event at Lake Grayson High School, he and his girl friend broke up. To my complete surprise, and utter delight, he asked me to go with him."
Alva clapped her hands together. "A young girl's dream come true."
"More like a nightmare. Mom had gone to such trouble. She and I went all the way to Detroit to shop for the great event. We'd found a gorgeous black dress with skinny spaghetti straps. I remember it had a kind of orchid silk screened on it that twined from the hem to the neck."
"Are you going to eat your sandwich?" Alva asked, breaking her chain of thought.
"No, go ahead." Jennifer pushed her plate toward Alva who helped herself to the turkey sandwich.
"Go on," she encouraged. "What happened at the dance?"
"Matt picked me up, and he seemed really uncomfortable. Not like himself at all. I remember I thought maybe it was because I had to wear my everyday winter coat over my dress. It looked completely dorky, and I was afraid that was what he thought too. But when I took my coat off, I felt beautiful. I'd even left my glasses at home. We got to the dance and checked our coats. Then when we walked in, his football buddies and their dates were lined up, waiting for us."
"They all looked me up and down and did the usual wolf whistles and such. Their dates looked as if they'd like to slip poison in my punch. Matt's face turned as red as the Christmas bows on the door. One of the guys sang out, 'Jenny's busting out all over.' I wanted to crawl in a hole and never come out. I tried to ignore it. Even when they slapped Matt on the back and congratulated him, I didn't say a word."
"I hate to ask but what were they congratulating him about?"
"Matt hustled me away. I thought maybe he was ashamed of me. I froze
up and was about as much fun as a case of frostbite. Later, in the bathroom, I got up the nerve to ask the team manager's girlfriend that very question. She told me that the entire team had made a bet as to whether or not all this was me or several pairs of gym socks. Matt had been elected to get the proof."
"How asinine. The male of the species is unbelievable."
"I tried not to let on that I knew. I wouldn't have given any of them the satisfaction of knowing how much it hurt. Needless to say, neither Matt nor I had a very good time. Then when he took me home, he kissed me. And I, kind of, kissed him back. I don't know what came over me, sitting in his car outside my house, but I would have been a fallen woman at fourteen if Mom hadn't opened the door."
"And?" Alva prodded.
"Well, you can probably guess what happened. The next morning the phone rang. One of his buddies asked me to go to the movies. He had the nerve to tell me that he'd heard I was the kind of girl who'd treat him right."
"Sheesh, do you mean to tell me that Matt turned out to be just another kiss-and-tell dumbass?"
"Apparently."
"So what did he say when you called him on it?"
"I never spoke to him again. That's the end of the story." Jennifer rose and began to clear the table. "Mom got a job offer the next week, and we moved to St. Louis before school started back in January. I never saw Matt again. Until the other day."
"Wow. So Matt used and abused you, and you're returning the favor. With interest."
"Something like that," Jennifer said glumly.
"Then what were you doing playing kissy face on the couch with him?"
"I don't know."
"Come on, Jennifer, you can do better than that."
While Jennifer loaded the dishwasher, she told Alva about Matt's assumption that she had some kind of sexual fear of male doctors. "When I saw Matt and my wonderful neighbor Wyman talking together, I knew I was the topic of conversation. Or at least part of me was."
Alva nodded. "That's all Lucas Wyman can talk about. He never sees women as people. They're just body parts in his eyes."
"I saw red. I was so angry that I decided to, just once, teach a man what it feels like to be a sex object."