“There aren’t any hard feelings. You're my patient's wife, and I'm your husband's doctor. There is nothing more to it.” He said it slowly, looking me up and down.
I pulled him by his tie. “I don't think I got the grand tour before. Let me see your bedroom.”
My words raised his eyebrows. “What?”
“I'm talking about channeling the bad girl in me, Mark. You're obviously well versed in bad girl. I've broken some of the rules. Lied to your boss, lied to mine, wanted you since that day at the mall. Now why not go all the way?” Despite the reason I was there, my body craved him like air to a buried set of lungs.
“Amy, you're upset. You don't know what you're saying.”
I shook out my hair. I thought a few whips of my head and I would look like the wanton woman that I was genetically challenged to ever be. But, he wasn't budging from his neutral zone. “Don't you want me? Am I not attractive, Mark?”
I grabbed him by the butt and thrust myself into him. He closed his eyes, and I stole an open-mouthed kiss from him. He pushed me off and adjusted himself.
“Amy, you'll never know how much I want you right now. To take you upstairs and have my way with you. Experience you like a virgin, touching every part of you for the first time. Tasting every inch of your body and memorizing the feeling, so I can manage to muddle through the next ten years of my life with the faint memory of you.”
“Then do it. Take me upstairs, have your way with me, and I won't bother you anymore.” I invaded his space, again. He retreated.
I became angered. “You don't want me?”
He shook me by the shoulders, forcing me to remain still. “You're so blind. You're the only thing I've wanted since I laid eyes on you. But you're too busy holding vigil at the bedside of a guy who doesn't know what he has. And you're willing to give up everything that you want just to save yourself from taking the time to find someone who makes you happy. Or the chance on me. You're too insecure to step outside of your own misery. He even gave you a letter and you're not willing to move on. But I'm not a one-night stand for you, Amy. I want you, but not like this. This isn't who you are.”
“At least I'm trying to move forward. According to Mrs. Willis, all you've been is a one-night-stand since your fiancé died. Wouldn't you say that you're holding vigil too?”
The words knocked him over. If only I could have stopped their impact. Pulled them back into my mouth. Honesty was overrated.
Betrayal wavered in his non-blinking eyes. “What do you know about my life? You spend a few days with me, listen to some idle gossip, and that makes you an expert?”
“I shouldn't have come. I don't know what I was thinking.” I turned around and aimed for the door, hoping I could get out before he saw my impending tears.
“Amy, wait.”
It was too late. I heard him, but I had just made it to my car. I was rejected and stripped of any dignity. And, I took the tags off of this getup. I'll never get my money back.
I went home and peeled off the two-piece joke of an outfit. Frosting on a cake, my ass. It was a pathetic attempt to disguise the person I really was. And now I could never look Mark in the eye again. I had become the crazy lady who stalked him at work, although this time I went to his house and looked like a floozy. I sat on top of the table in my kitchen, in only my bra and panties, consuming almost an entire bag of veggie straws and drinking enough water to fill a bathtub. After the health binge, I went upstairs to my room and sat on my bed, waging the war I had going on in my mind about which path to take. At first, I was crushed by the fact that Mark didn't want me. But once I disembarked the boat of emotions, I played back our conversation and realized some of the things he'd said to me. He didn't want to be a one-night-stand to me. He wanted to take me and have his way. What mind-game was he playing with me?
After fighting with the pillow and empty space next to me all night, I woke up with a new sense of confusion. Daylight confusion. The real stuff. All through the night I had told myself it would be better in the morning, and it wasn't. So I poured myself a cup of hot tea and called in to work. I couldn't think academically when I was trapped at a crossroads of what was actually right vs. what just felt right.
Ten o'clock was as late as I could stand before needing to get out of bed and get dressed. Pretty certain I wasn't going to the hospital, I looked for something comfortable to wear. Sifting through the pile of blouses with the tags still attached from my shopping spree with Mark, I found my black yoga pants and athletic top. I'm never going to wear these other clothes. I wouldn't wear them for Wesley if it was the last shred of clothing I owned. Cheater.
I began putting them back in the Nordstrom bag. Stuffing them and using profanity while doing so. If he didn't like me with my clothing from the past ten years, he wouldn't be swayed to stay with a new wardrobe. I pulled my hair back into a ponytail, grabbed my keys off the front table, and proceeded to the mall.
The escalator dropped me off on the second floor. I recognized Mark's mother immediately. “Hi, remember me, Ms. Reilly?”
“Why, of course. You're my son's friend. Amy, isn't it?”
“Yes, you have a good memory. I'm horrible with names.”
Ms. Reilly looked at my bag. “Is there a problem with the clothes? I thought you tried on everything and it fit.”
I hugged the shopping bag. “Yes, it did. I mean, it does. I don't have a need for them anymore, that's all.”
“Would you like to talk about it?”
“I'm not sure there's anything to talk about really. I bought them for a husband I thought I had, and now he's not anyone I really knew. So he's either forced to accept my choice of clothing or leave. I'm pretty sure a few expensive tops aren't going to sway his decision either way.” Is that what she meant about wanting to talk about it?
“I see. Why don't we take a walk and get some fresh air?” Was my reason for return not a commonplace one? Is there a form that would be easier?
“We don't have to take a walk. I'm fine. Really, I am.”
“Come on, dear.” She escorted me to the escalator and we exited the glass doors to an open area of benches outside. Ms. Reilly gestured for me to sit down.
“Ms. Reilly, you didn't have to leave the store. I only wanted to return my clothes. I'm not sure what happened. You asked, and I couldn't help myself. It did feel good to hear it outside of my brain. Once you declare something out loud, you force yourself to stick by it.”
Mark's mother sat down beside me, her face intent on what she was about to say. “Tell me about your husband. Are you giving him an ultimatum? Let me tell you from experience, clothes never went down in a courtroom as a valid excuse for the end to a marriage. Did you think new ones were going to somehow save your marriage?”
I rubbed my forehead. “I thought they might help. You see, I've thought for a while now that my husband was getting bored with me. So I booked a cruise six months ago, and we went.” I stared forward, reliving the trip in my mind.
I stood there in our cabin looking out at the sparkling water. The sun was rising, catching each cap of the waves, reflecting awe-inspiring beauty. I felt the warmth through the closed sliding-glass door. I closed my eyes, wishing things were different. Wesley's legs began to stir under the sheets. He was hung over.
I had checked the clock next to the bed when I heard his key jiggle the door lock. It was 3:10. I had gone to bed two hours earlier. He refused to come back with me at midnight, saying I was a party pooper and he wasn't finished having fun. I hoped when I left it didn't signal a green light for the girl at the bar to ask him to dance. She'd only been staring at him for the whole hour I was there, ignoring the hand signals of my wedding ring. But I was sure I'd never know the truth.
“Babe, close that curtain. I'm dying here.”
I turned to look at him. He had pulled a pillow over his head and one of his naked legs was on top of the sheets, while the other one was securely under the blankets. His pants and shirt were lying crumpled next to the bed. “You w
ouldn't be dying if you'd come back with me.” I felt my nostrils flare. “Three o'clock, Wesley? Why did you come back so late?”
He mumbled something under the pillow. It was the first time I imagined myself holding it over his mouth until he couldn't breathe. I wanted him just to feel me, to see me, and to talk to me. Then again, I got nervous when he asked me three months later to “talk.” I escaped those moments like Houdini in a cage, trapped five-hundred feet under water.
“I was having fun, Amy. You should try it once in a while.”
I saw Ms. Reilly was waiting to hear my revelation of the cruise that blew up in my face. “What I learned from the trip was that it didn't matter if we were in a rocket ship on our first launch to the moon, we were still the same people who were going.”
“It didn't help?”
“No, it just proved that we could float and be miserable at the same time. Something was off. He was different. Or maybe I was forced to see the real him.” I'm so glad I came here today. Who knew returning clothes meant purging too?
“So, you thought you needed to change yourself? To match the guy you were seeing reveal himself to you?” Ms. Reilly was good at drawing the pain out of me.
“Maybe I pretended he was someone different in the beginning. Either way, I foolishly believed that I could mutate into a racier kind of girl. Be someone I'm not comfortable being with him, and he'd stay with me forever. Do you think I was stupid in believing that would save my marriage?”
“Not at all. I did it myself.”
I was no longer at a table for one in crazy town. I had found a partner. “With Mark's father?”
“Yes. You see, Mark is the reason his father and I were married. And for years we adapted and put up with each other for the sake of Mark. I went through cycles of feeling wrong for not loving Pierce the way I felt I ought to. Then I felt angry that he didn't return my love, and my constant trying to make things better. I tried to change, just like you're trying to do. But dear, none of it worked. I still went to bed hugging my resentment instead of hugging him. It was all right though. When I had an honest talk with myself, I found out Pierce wasn't the man I wanted. I only wanted to be successful at making a marriage work for the sake of my son. But one day that son grows up and you realize he's not so ignorant to the fact you've been unhappy all your life. And you're left with a man you feel like you've wasted time with.”
The words spoke to me. Maybe my case wasn't so rare. “So you divorced?”
“Not until eighteen years later.”
I sucked in too much air. That equated to a lifetime of feeling mediocre. Five years had almost undone me. The prison sentence managed to make me second guess who I was and what I wanted.
“Why did you wait so long? By the time Mark was old enough, he could've survived the separation, I think. He's a smart guy.”
“It became like wearing shoes that always hurt your feet. They looked good and I needed shoes; Mark's father was a doctor. I had a reputation to maintain at the hospital, and it was sure as hell better than walking around barefoot.”
I laughed at the analogy. “Did you feel better after it was over?”
“Not at first. Remember, I didn't know the shoes were crippling me. I only sensed things were off. Like it wasn't perfect, but it was doable. Thinking that probably a lot of people felt like this. But I watched movies. I saw how couples looked at one another, kissed, and felt broken without the other. But Pierce didn't touch me anymore, he stopped coming home for dinner, and he began traveling to medical conferences more and more. I figured, what difference would it make if I did live alone? Maybe I could find someone who was able to find something about me to like.”
I listened like it was a soap opera, and Friday's episode was ending on a cliffhanger. “Well, did you? Did you find someone to like you for who you are?”
“It took some time, but leaving my house made me less lonely. The expectation of ever repairing my marriage was no longer something to fantasize about. The constant feeling of failure had finally stopped. I gave up on that dream, and I began to heal. And, you know what they say, 'You never find something when you're looking for it.' I stopped looking for my Prince Charming, and then he appeared. I've been dating Robert for the past six years. He's a doctor too. We used to all go out together for fundraising charities. I remember playing golf with him and his wife. She passed away ten years ago and we reconnected after that. He confessed one day of having a small crush on me, and the rest is history.” She smiled with pure joy in her eyes. “It's a nice change to what my marriage was.”
“Do you think you'll ever get married again?”
Ms. Reilly twitched her mouth, as if giving a valid thought to the serious question. “I don't think so. What I have now, out of wedlock, is better than what I had when I was trapped in it.”
“I appreciate your candor today, Ms. Reilly. It's helped me tremendously. I don't have a mother to confide in anymore. I didn't realize how much I missed her until you took time and talked to me about something I needed to hear.”
“It's your turn.”
“Excuse me?” I wasn't sure what she was asking. “My turn to do what?”
“Tell me something about my son, Mark. He doesn't visit as much as he used to and I'm interested in how he's doing.”
“I'm not sure I could answer that for you. I barely know him.”
“That's strange. I think you're the one who is the closest to him right now. You see, since Carey, I rarely see him. He never comes around, let alone brings home a girl. You'd have to be special for him to have brought you here.”
“I think he's lost like me. Somewhere behind that macho guy with his shield deflecting any and all feelings is a guy who's been … misplaced.”
“You should have known him a few years ago. He was a different person.”
“Do you think he'll ever be able to commit to someone again?” Not that I'm asking for myself, but could you speak up when answering?
“I wasn't sure at first. I knew he had been speeding through women faster than his father, but I reserved judgment as to whether he was capable of settling down. That was until I saw him come in to the store that day with you.”
The comment released a chill up my back. I had never put him on the table for serious consideration. Thus far, I had been guided down the road of winning over Wesley. Mark was a fantasy for the confines of my mind only. Ms. Reilly brought the option out into the daylight. Placed it on the sacrificial table for pondering. Had I given up on Wesley?
“What advice would you give to yourself thirty years ago, Ms. Reilly?”
Mark's mother crossed her legs the other way and looked to the sky. Were the answers there? “I would have told that young, confused girl that life is too short to live trapped within the confines of what makes a decent person. There is nothing wrong with you, you're just with the wrong person. Go and be happy. Find that piece of the puzzle that makes your picture complete. But thirty years ago, Robert was married and not available for me.” She touched my hands, folded on my lap. “There is a season for everything. Your time will come when it's ready.”
I stood up, invigorated from the slice of hope Mark's mother had given me in exchange for a few items of clothing. I hugged the woman and took back my bag. “I think I'll keep these. They are beautiful and they make me want to be beautiful for someone who's actually able to see me. Thank you for your time.”
“Anytime, dear. I've enjoyed my break. I hope to see you in the near future.”
I flashed her my dimples and a few faded freckles and left. There was so much more to consider. Wesley was only one part of it. If I thought Mark was serious about wanting more than a one-night stand, could I see a future with him? Had I ruined it though, with my rendition of a sloppy one-night-stand proposition?
I spent the rest of the week doing my normal routine. Wednesday I returned to work, stopped at the grocery store on my way home, and felt burdened by my sidekick of guilt for not going to the hospital. Half of
me didn't want to get caught there when Wesley woke up, wondering where I found myself in our relationship. Would he have changed his mind since almost losing his life? Could I settle for him, knowing he's not happy with me and had tried one last time with my sister before going through with marrying me? I stayed comfortably mummified on my sofa, pondering the bigger questions of life.
Friday came and I couldn't take it anymore. I had to see Mark and I had to check on Wesley. The two pendulums knocked inside my eardrums, forcing me to drive to the hospital. My knees knocked when the elevator doors opened to the fourth floor. A few new faces met me, and some of the old ones too.
“Hi, Amy,” said Kelly, my favorite nurse on the floor. She was keenly married, happy in appearance, and seemed to love what she did. What is your secret, Nurse Kelly?
“Hey, Kelly. How's Wesley? Any change? Has he performed any magic tricks? Pulled a rabbit from his pillow? Opened an eye or moved a finger?” Tried to pull you in the covers to check and make sure he was ready for a divorce?
“I'm afraid, nothing. But he will. I'm sure of it.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Kelly. By the way, is Dr. Reilly on duty?”
“I just passed him on the way to his office.”
“Thanks.”
I went to Wesley's room first. She was right, there was still no change. As if it could've been last Tuesday, Wednesday, or Thursday. Nothing was different. I did notice a bit of dust on the loud beeping machine. His blanket, too, was a different color, an ugly green. The color of moss. I touched it to make sure it was dry. I noticed the physical therapist had signed off on the chart, having commented on the several movements she made for Wesley. Left and right leg rotations, foot presses, and side-to-side movements of the upper body. Her fees for this were probably the cost of a year’s membership at the gym.
I stared at Wesley, wondering about Ms. Reilly and her life story. Unlike her trap of matrimony, Wesley and I didn't have a child to keep us together. So what was? That stupid uncomfortable shoe we had been wearing for the last four years. I needed shoes though. The problem was that I never tried any other ones on. Maybe it was time to do just that.
Waking Amy (Amy #1) Page 18