Perfect

by Harry Kraus

  It dawned on me . . . my sins had been forgotten. I wasn’t sure what to feel. In part, I was relieved. No one knew of my bold departure from my former life. I squinted at Jack. This was an unexpected development, perhaps something I could use to my advantage. I’d just been handed the chance to drop the golf ball of my life back onto the fairway after hopelessly losing it in the trees. It was a life do-over, a heavenly mulligan from heaven’s golf pro.

  I was suspicious. “You don’t remember being at my house before your accident?”

  Jack seemed to be chewing over my question. He looked over me for a moment before replying. “I was at your house?”

  I watched as Henry laid his stethoscope on Jack’s chest. “Take a deep breath,” Henry coached. He moved his instrument to a new location. “Again.”

  Here, Henry was at home, fluid in his environment. He smiled reassuringly at Jack. “I’ll need you to do something today. Something that’s going to hurt, but something’s that’s very important. I need you to cough.” He paused. “You need to do this to prevent any complications like pneumonia. Do you think you can do that for me?”

  Jack nodded. “I’ll try.”

  Henry demonstrated how to brace a pillow across his abdominal incision to make coughing less painful.

  Here, Henry was compassionate.

  Watching my surgeon husband took me back to the time he took care of me, a time when his tenderness swept me into love. For a moment, I felt the heat of an old flame.

  Was this bout of amnesia an unexpected gift to me, a burying of my adulterous behavior? Was God giving me a second chance at walking the straight and narrow?

  Or was I cursed to return to my plastic life?

  Henry gently touched Jack’s shoulder and smiled. “Can’t blame a guy for thinking a woman like that would be a great fiancée. She’s beautiful,” he said softly, winking at me. “And she’s mine.”

  My heart ached. Henry never showed this type of flirtatious behavior in front of others. Don’t do this now, Henry. I was done with loving you and the masks I’ve been wearing!

  Part of me wanted to grab Jack’s hand in mine and tell him that the reason he remembered me was that we were destined to be soul mates, that undoubtedly his subconscious was sending him subtle memories of our plans.

  The Baptist part of me, the reliable, stable, smile-at-everyone-in-church part of me, held back.

  I looked at Jack. Innocent Jack. Even with his amnesia, he seemed incapable of dishonesty. He thought I was beautiful, so he said it. What-you-see-is-what-you-get Jack.

  I looked back at Henry. Capable, compassionate, and today, a rare gem: flirtatious.

  “Get strong, Jack. You have a good man pulling for you,” I said.

  I slipped out of the cubicle and waited for Henry. A few minutes later, he stepped away from the bed.

  “We’ve got problems,” I said. “My father offered our guest quarters to Jack’s parents and his fiancée.”

  “Nice of him to ask.”

  “You know Daddy.” I shrugged. “But that’s not all. Rene showed up this morning. She’s separated from Randy and needs a place to stay.”

  “Sounds like a good evening to work late,” he said, looking past me to the nursing station. “I’ve got some research data I need to work on. Don’t count on me for supper. Besides,” he added, “I’d like to be around for a few extra hours since Jack has just come off the ventilator, to make sure he flies.”

  Since when do I count on you for supper? I sighed. “OK.”

  “Just put Rene in the nursery. You can blow up the air mattress in there and let Jack’s family have the guest suite downstairs.”

  I nodded.

  He seemed to be scanning the nursing station. He didn’t look at me when he talked. “I’ll be home late.”

  With that, he walked away, leaving me alone.

  I traded glances with Brenda, my nurse-girlfriend. I didn’t feel like baring my soul. Jack had forgotten me. I walked from the ICU feeling alone and guilty.

  I gave the Renners and Yolanda directions to my place. “Come for dinner at seven,” I urged. It was the Christian thing to do.

  Then, I rushed home to prepare dinner and figure out what to do with Rene.

  When I arrived home, Rene was hanging up the phone. I looked at the sheet of paper in her hand. She’d scribbled a phone number for a family planning clinic in Northern Virginia. I immediately recognized the clinic’s name and felt a stab of guilt. Years before, my mother had made a similar appointment for me.

  She jerked the paper back and held it against her chest.

  “I know what you’re doing, Rene.”

  “And I know you’ll try to talk me out of it,” she said. “But you don’t have any idea what it’s like to be in my shoes.”

  I know exactly what it’s like to be in your shoes. Except for the HIV. I nodded. “Is that what you want me to do?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Then why did you come home? You could have stayed in New Orleans and gotten what you wanted without the family hassle.”

  Rene looked away. I’d struck a nerve. Maybe she didn’t realize it, but I knew any family member of mine couldn’t go forward with a decision to have an abortion without at least a little internal conflict. Except for our mother.

  What she didn’t know, and I wasn’t ready to tell her, was that I’d headed down that same road myself with my mother’s guidance, all in the name of protecting my father’s precious ministry. “What John doesn’t know can’t hurt him.”

  Rene’s eyes started tearing. “I can’t take care of a baby, Wendi. HIV-positive mothers can’t even breast-feed without putting their babies at risk.”

  “So the answer is killing it?” Immediately, I felt guilty for my comment. I had no business judging her.

  “You don’t understand.”

  “I understand guilt.”

  “That’s your problem.” She said, stomping towards the basement stairs.

  “Rene,” I said, calling after her. “Look, I’m sorry. You don’t know everything about me. You can’t begin to assume you know why I react like I do.”

  She whirled around to face me. “You think I’ve got what I deserved.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You think God is judging me.”

  “Rene, I’d never say you deserved this!”

  “You don’t have to say it.”

  “You’re projecting your own feelings on me. Do you think God is punishing you?”

  Our eyes locked for a moment before she turned away and spoke in a volume just above a whisper. “Maybe.”

  I shook my head. “God doesn’t work that way.” As soon as I said it, I mentally berated myself for saying the words I didn’t believe. I’d given that up. Besides, I still thought my car accident was because I slept with a married man.

  We looked at each other silently for a moment, me not admitting my hypocrisy and Rene a guilty mess. “Will you drive me to the clinic? They said I need someone to drive me home.”

  “Why don’t you think about this for a while? There’s no rush.”

  “I don’t want a baby.”

  “And maybe I do.” The words were out before I could stop them, before I’d even had time to consider the truth of my own desires.

  She started down the stairs. “You’re insane.”

  I called down after her. “Dinner’s at seven.”

  “Hooray. I get to argue with Henry.”

  “Good news. Henry’s not coming home for dinner.”

  “Why don’t we go out? Is The Hardware Store still open?”

  “It’s not just us. Daddy invited a few guests.”

  “Daddy?”

  I sighed. “I couldn’t say ‘no.’ Our choir director was in an accident. He’s the friend I visited in the hospital. His family is in town. Dad is always offering my guest suite to church folks.”

  “So I go to Motel 6?”

  I shrugged. “You stay in the baby’s r
oom.”

  At seven, I welcomed Steve and Miriam Renner, Yolanda, and Rene to the table. We sat in the alcove off the kitchen, a bay-windowed area with a view of the setting sun. It was nestled at the back of the house and looked away from my father’s Baptist church across the road. It was my favorite place in the house, with windows opening into the wooded area leading down the hill towards Route 29.

  I set the last of the dishes on the table and smiled. I exchanged glances with my guests. Obviously, they were waiting for some sort of blessing before the food was passed. I cleared my throat. I could do this. I’d heard my father do it a thousand times. Hypocrite or not, here I go. “Let’s say grace. Thy abundant blessing we receive from thy hand. To thy ser vice give us strength.” I paused, promising myself never to talk in an ancient language to God again. Down with artificial sweeteners, up with things natural like sugar and talking to God in my own heart language, even if it wasn’t PC. “Amen.”

  We chatted nervously about the weather and the food, a spicy sausage lasagna, garlic French bread, and mixed green salad. It was as if we tiptoed around a minefield, trying not to mention Jack or his amnesia, so as not to injure fragile Yolanda.

  When Jack’s parents started talking about his condition, Yolanda shook her head, obviously tortured by the discussion. “Did I tell you that Jack is going to write a song for our wedding?”

  Miriam nodded. “I think you mentioned it. Has he sung it for you?”

  “He said I’ll hear it when everyone else does,” she said, wiping the corner of her eye. “He’s such a hopeless romantic.”

  At that moment, I decided the appropriate honest response would be to slap her. But I seemed plastered into a mold I couldn’t escape, so I just nodded and tried to smile. I glanced at Rene, hoping she wouldn’t open her mouth and act like she was gagging herself with her finger.

  I wondered when life would settle down and let me remove my happy-mask. Maybe when Jack was out of the woods, I would find the chutzpah to confront Henry and Yolanda with the truth: Jack loved me. For now, I was afraid of telling the truth to him because I wanted him to care for Jack. Since my plan A to escape my plastic life had failed, perhaps and I’d have to shift to plan B.

  If only I had a plan B. I considered my options: Smother Yolanda while she sleeps in my guest room, then run off with Jack once he recovers. My mind raced ahead. Perhaps I could just work a trade with her. I’ ll give Henry to blonde Yolanda and she’ ll give brain-damaged Jack to me.

  I smiled, thankful for the respite of my secret monologue.

  Yolanda frowned, her brain obviously launching forward to the next emotion. She looked at me. “Do you think his memory will recover?”

  I was used to this. Just because I’d married a doctor, people asked me for medical opinions all the time. I was immediately conflicted. I kind of liked the present situation. Jack seemed to have forgotten Yolanda and was enamored with me. My sin was buried, and no one was the wiser for my craziness. On the other hand, here I was, trapped playing gracious host to the competition, and supportive Christian sister to Rene. If Jack recovered and remembered my proposition, he’d likely force me out of the closet, scandal would ensue, my father’s ministry would be tarnished, Yolanda would lose, and Henry would be humiliated.

  And Jack and I would live happily ever after. At least in my fantasy.

  Yolanda leaned forward. “Wendi?”

  “Oh, of course,” I said halfheartedly. “Don’t most people get their memory back?”

  Rene scrapped the edges of her dessert goblet. “I heard of one man who woke up after an accident and thought he was a woman.”

  I scowled at my sister. “Thanks for sharing.”

  She stood up. “I think I’ll turn in early.” She turned around when she was in the kitchen and said, “Wendi, can you give me a lift to my doctor’s appointment tomorrow? I’m due in Arlington at 11:30.”

  I stared at her. It was just like her to ask me in front of a crowd to assure I’d maintain my hospitality façade. I sighed, just enough to let her know I was annoyed, but casually enough to suggest that I might be merely fatigued. “Sure.” I sent her a telepathic sister message with my eyes. This discussion isn’t over, Sis. We’ ll talk later.

  I reached for another helping of mousse. Maybe I wasn’t being honest about everything, but at least I wasn’t going to hide in the kitchen and have another dessert after my guests had gone like I usually did.

  Ahhh, I thought, rolling the creamy fluff around my mouth. Life is short. Next time I’ ll start with dessert.

  CHAPTER 11

  A soft knocking interrupted Henry’s thoughts. He looked up from his desk to see his door opening. Cindy Swanson entered and closed the door behind her. “Hi, Dr. Stratford.” She wore a white lab coat, which she quickly shed, hanging it on the inside of the door next to his. She was in green scrub attire, having chosen a men’s top a size too big and gapping at the neckline as she leaned forward over the desk and laid a folder in front of him.

  Trying not to be distracted, he fumbled with the report, opening it to the first page. “It looks like you’ve put a lot of work into this.”

  She walked around and sat on the edge of his desk. Her perfume was intoxicating. She lifted her hair and laid it behind an ear graced by three small golden hoops. “I need you to read through the statistical analysis.”

  He lowered his head to read and felt her hand on his shoulder. She slipped behind him, with her fingers massaging his neck. “You’ve been stressed,” she said, kneading the tension from his shoulders. “Is everything all right?”

  Her touch was magic. How long had it been since Wendi had spontaneously touched him like this? He felt warmed and alarmed all at once. Cindy was young. Young, pretty, and smart. He relaxed as she continued to work, but tensed as soon as he felt the front of her scrubtop brush the back of his head. Caution lights flashed a warning. He lifted his hand and laid it on hers, interrupting her touch. “Thanks.”

  Instead of taking a hint, she slipped back around and leaned against his desk again. Even in scrubs, she was beautiful. Her lipstick was perfect and her eyes were embellished with just the right amount of mascara. “Is everything alright at home?”

  “Oh, you know, the regular stressors.” He looked up and met her eyes. “Surgery is a difficult mistress to compete with.”

  “There’s an understatement.” She looked away. Was she blushing? “I guess that’s where having a spouse in medicine would come in handy. I could totally empathize with your schedule demands.”

  He pulled his eyes back to the report and turned the page, but she put her hand on his and whispered. “We’re alone, Henry.”

  No resident ever called him Henry.

  His throat was immediately parched. “I, I, we — ” We what?

  She lowered her face to his. When he didn’t move away, she smiled. In a moment, she had slipped into his lap and the warmth and taste of her mouth was the only thing on his mind. Without thinking, his hand went to her hair, his lips responding. But as he fell further and further into the forbidden, the caution light in his brain flared to an urgent red. He found his voice and pushed her away.

  “No.”

  Her face was inches from him, her breathing fast and warm against his face. She stood up and sat again on his desk. “I’m sorry, I — ”

  “Cindy, we can’t do this.” He paused, thinking. “Not now.”

  She looked away. “Not now?”

  He took a deep breath. “Not now.”

  He watched as a smile crept upon her face. She kept her eyes locked on the floor.

  He picked up the report in front of him. “Why don’t you give me some time to look at your data,” he said. “Then we can get together again.”

  She nodded. “OK,” she said, lifting her eyes to meet his again. She pulled a tissue from the pocket of her scrubs and moistened it with her tongue. Then, she rubbed the lipstick from the edge of his mouth. “There,” she said. “Now you’re perfect.”

/>   Rene tried to lose herself in a novel, but couldn’t concentrate. Every few minutes, she lifted her eyes from the pages to look at the colorful way Wendi had decorated the nursery. She’d used a Noah’s ark theme with a rainbow wallpaper border and a little mobile of animals hanging above a white wooden crib.

  Rene rose from the rocking chair and snapped a little smiling elephant that hung in the mobile. She watched the elephant spin. This room revealed a Wendi she’d not known before. Wendi the confident, she knew. Wendi the righteous, strong in the face of her own disability, she knew. Wendi the competent expert witness, she knew. But this . . . a motherly Wendi?

  Rene twisted a ceramic little ark sitting on a round base. A familiar lullaby began to play.

  She sat down in the chair and began to rock.

  And then she began to cry.

  In spite of the late hour, Henry took the long way home, relishing a moment of alone time straddling his Triumph. He needed space to think, and as he rolled on the throttle, he enjoyed the immediate response that pulled him back and away from the handlebars.

  He accelerated through the gears and spoke her name from within the sanctity of his full coverage helmet. “Cindy.”

  The memory of their contact excited him, warmed him, and terrified him. Since Wendi had blown into his life, no other woman had held such an allure. One moment he relived the experience of Cindy’s embrace, the next, he berated himself for letting down his guard. He was a tenured professor and a prominent member of the Baptist church. He had to avoid the appearance of impropriety. Was there any way to enjoy the hidden delicacy that Cindy offered without tarnishing his image?

  He felt the tension of conflicting emotions. He was angry that he’d let himself down, risking so much for a little pleasure, but with every bit of rage, there arose within him a memory of her perfume, the feeling of her breath on his lips and the desire for more.