An Abundant Woman

by Elizabeth Neff Walker

  “How did you get this number?"

  “Tony had written it in the address book when you left it with him that time you wanted me to call back. When I couldn't reach you in Madison for two days, I thought I'd try it."

  “But there's no emergency?"

  “No.” There was a long pause. “But I have something to tell you."

  “Okay,” I said warily. “What?"

  Again there was a long pause. When his voice came, it was constricted. “You need to know something about me that I've never told you, Mandy. I'm gay."

  My mind felt like it would explode with the dozen different thoughts that tried simultaneously for precedence. Gay. Of course. Oh, you stupid, blind woman. “Are you well, Nigel?"

  That surprised a grunt from him. “I'm HIV negative, yes."

  “Have you told Cass?"

  “No. But I will. You had to know first."

  “What made you tell me now?"

  I could almost see his wince. “Not your affair,” he said. “At least, not directly. But when I told Tony about it, he insisted."

  “Tony Growalter.” It wasn't a question. “Our” friend of how many years? Blind indeed if you refuse to see. I had even recognized Tony as gay, though he had never declared himself. I had thought how we were in such a good position to be his friends—a straight couple with an almost grown daughter, who had similar interests to Tony's. Too similar, apparently, on Nigel's part.

  “Mandy? Are you still there?"

  “How long has this ... ?” But there was really only one important question, wasn't there? “Did you know you were gay when you married me?”

  Again one of those unfamiliar pauses. How Nigel hated to be forced to reveal something he preferred to have remain secret. Even now he equivocated. “I'd never been with a man, no."

  “But you suspected that you were gay."

  “ ... Yes. But I wanted a family. I wanted to be normal. I loved you, Mandy."

  Obviously not in the way I had loved him. What did that say about me?

  “Mandy, listen to me. I did love you. I do love you. I thought if you could make me feel that way, I'd be okay. Honestly I did, Mandy. And it worked ... for a while. I fought it. God, I really tried, Mandy. But it got stronger, that pull. I thought if I went off to Duke and left you in London, I could experiment and get it out of my system and everything would be fine when I got back. But you wouldn't let me go alone."

  No, I had been willing to do an American OB/GYN residency rather than let him split up our family. Imagine. Fortunately for him their residencies are so demanding that I scarcely had the energy left to care for Cass, let alone worry that our sex life had declined. Because he was still trying then. I remembered, and my heart ached.

  “Oh, Nigel. Couldn't you just have told me?"

  “There was so much to lose,” he said, his voice strained and rough. “I took a few chances then, before we understood about AIDS. But never again after that. I made sure you were never exposed to even the possibility."

  Did he expect me to thank him for that? Maybe I should, but I had no intention of doing it. All those years. Twelve years. He hadn't wanted me, but not because of my oversized body. And despite what he said, he had obviously never really wanted my body, had perhaps even unconsciously chosen me because of my size. Who else was going to want the fat girl?

  “And Tony?” I finally forced myself to ask. “Is he your regular partner?"

  “My only partner, for a very long time."

  “Then you should have lived with him. You should have been open about it."

  “And what about Cass? She was still a kid then.” Nigel was pleading with me, trying to make me see things from his point of view. “You wanted us to be a family, Mandy. Even after we stopped being intimate, you stayed with me. We made a home for Cass."

  We had made a home for her, and a loving one. But would I have stayed with Nigel if I'd known? Surely not. Yet here I'd been thinking of going back to him after having an affair with Jack. My head had begun to ache.

  “What are you going to do now?” I asked.

  He cleared his throat. “Nothing, right away. I wouldn't have told you, except that Tony refused to see me again until I did. So this isn't altruism, and it isn't my way of coming out of the closet, Mandy. I hate the idea of people at work knowing I'm gay. It's none of their business."

  “Maybe not, but that's the way things are. You've stayed in the closet at my expense, Nigel. And your coming out will be a good part at my expense, too,” I said, realizing it was true. How Doug Lattimore would howl at that one. If Lavinia Hager was fatphobic, Doug was homophobic. Which made it pretty humorous, I supposed, that he'd hinted to Nigel that he was having an affair with me.

  “I'm sorry,” Nigel said, sounding like he meant it. “I didn't intend for all this to happen, I swear. And I'd have been content to leave things the way they were. Which irritates you, I know, but...” I could almost see his shrug. Nigel would feel that he deserved a little reward for sticking with the family all this time, despite the fact that he'd been the one to reap most of the benefits of that situation.

  “You got my fax? You know I'll be coming home in August?"

  “Yeah, that really tripped Tony. We've been spending a lot of time here."

  Don't tell me; I don't want to know. “Well, I have to be grateful to Tony for insisting on your telling me the truth. I only wish he'd done it a great deal sooner."

  “Oh, he's tried,” Nigel admitted. “He hated deceiving you, Mandy. Not that I didn't. But then when I thought you were having an affair with Lattimore, I sort of felt like I could justify it."

  “How convenient.” Sarcasm never worked with Nigel, though, so I said, “I don't know how you could have believed him. You knew how I felt about Doug."

  “A ruse,” he said, “so I wouldn't guess you were having an affair with him. Jesus, the whole thing is such a convoluted mess."

  “It wouldn't have been if ... Never mind. I think I'd prefer you not to be there when I come home, Nigel, all things considered."

  “But..."

  “Look. It's been a hard summer, what with one thing and another. I'm not going to be up for a big drama when I get back. This project is important to me, and I'm not going to be allowed to finish it. Doug will do everything in his power to screw it up. And God knows what kind of booby traps he'll have set for me in the department."

  Nigel murmured a not-very-enthusiastic understanding and then asked, “What about the guy you're having an affair with?"

  I looked up just then to see Jack standing in the doorway. It was almost too much for me. “He'll be here and I'll be there. I'd like the house to myself, Nigel. Please."

  “Okay,” he said grudgingly. “But we should talk more about it."

  “We'll talk more about it,” I promised. “But not now."

  “Right. Good-bye, Mandy."

  My throat ached unbearably. “'Bye, Nigel."

  Jack moved into the room as I cradled the receiver. I found I couldn't look up at him. He moved closer to me, standing a few feet away from the sofa. When I still didn't look up or say anything, he crouched down in front of me.

  “What is it?” he asked, his voice gentle.

  But I hadn't had time to absorb Nigel's news yet. I needed to think about what this meant before I discussed it with Jack. I needed to think of the times when Nigel's being gay would explain what had happened in our lives—and when it wouldn't.

  “Could we talk about it later?” My throat constricted as I spoke. “Right now I have to sort this through, okay?"

  “Sure. Want to take the canoe out?"

  * * * *

  When he'd pushed me off from the dock, I paddled slowly around the perimeter of the lake, avoiding the other small crafts. The day was pleasant, with a soft breeze and warm sunshine, but I was back in England, skipping wildly over the past twenty-odd years. In the bedroom, in the kitchen, trying to make sense of half of my life through a new prism.

  The anger
I felt toward Nigel raged through me again and again. And I let it, because when I didn't feel the hot burning of it against him, it was directed at myself. He had lied to me, deceived me, made my life a hell in some ways. All because he wanted a family, didn't want to be recognized as gay. And what about me, married for twenty-two years to a gay man? Nigel, you great prick! You've certainly made me look foolish.

  Sometimes I felt hot with shame that I'd not understood, that I'd never recognized the problem. Other times I burned with anger for the waste, for the frustration, for the unhappiness. Not just for me, but for Nigel as well. Instead of the lonely, separate people we'd been, we might have managed a different kind of life. Or maybe I'd have been out of there in a flash, ready to find a “normal” life for myself, to prove I was a “normal” person.

  And the weight issues. All the importance I'd given them, was that false? Nigel wouldn't have been any more interested in sleeping with me, presumably, if I'd been a skinny model. Certainly he hadn't on the occasion when I'd lost weight. And the psychological power I'd given him because I thought my weight put me in the wrong.

  It was almost two hours before I brought the canoe back to Jack's dock. He was there fishing, a ratty old canvas hat perched on his head, his feet dangling in the water. Seeing him, my eyes burned with unshed tears. He was a remarkable man, a generous man, an understanding man. And he was waiting there for me to unburden myself to him.

  When he handed me out of the canoe he held me tightly against him for just a moment. “Feel better?” he asked, cocking his head and examining my face. “I brought a snack for us."

  See, that's the kind of thing he did. Nigel had put himself in charge of changing me, seeing that I didn't eat any more than he thought was necessary. Jack had food ready for me and waved me toward it. As he stowed the canoe, I helped myself to the double-decker sandwich he'd prepared. I hadn't realized that I was famished. After a few minutes he joined me, sitting down beside me on the blanket he'd spread with our picnic.

  “Want to tell me about it now?” he asked, picking up half a sandwich. “No hurry. When you're ready."

  Like my husband, I decided it was easiest to just say it. “Nigel called to tell me he's gay."

  Jack just nodded.

  “That doesn't surprise you?” I demanded.

  “Well, not really, Mandy. I don't know a whole lot of heterosexual men who could live with a woman for twelve years and not have sex with her, even if they weren't getting along."

  “So you think I should have realized."

  At my belligerent tone he grinned, shaking his head. “Not necessarily. Obviously you'd had sex with him. You have a daughter. And you have this hangup about your weight, so you could blame it on that."

  “It's not a hangup. It's just the reality of how other people see me."

  “In any case, it wasn't what kept Nigel from being intimate with you,” he pointed out.

  “No, apparently not."

  “In fact he would probably have slept with you, just to keep up appearances, if it weren't for the dangers of HIV, right?"

  “So he says,” I grumbled. “Very altruistic of him."

  “Well, it's better than dying,” he persisted. “And, let's see, there was the man you got on the phone when you called Nigel the first weekend you were here. A family friend. Nigel's lover, right?"

  “How could you possibly know that?” I demanded, feeling more indignant than ever.

  “I can put two and two together as well as anyone.” He regarded me with only partially hidden amusement. “Mandy dear, once you know the missing piece, you can put the whole puzzle together. No one's blaming you for not recognizing the missing piece. It was well disguised."

  “I feel so stupid.”

  Jack pushed a container of corn chips toward me, nudging my knee with it until I reached in and helped myself to a handful. I munched on them for a while and then said, “I still feel stupid."

  He laughed. “Well, it's not necessary. Sad, certainly, and angry for the deception and the frustration of all those years. But you had an intact family, and you and Nigel obviously got along well enough to keep it that way. It's had it's advantages."

  “I know,” I admitted gruffly. “But what's going to happen when I go back, Jack? Eventually Nigel will come out of the closet, and I'll look like a fool, which I have been."

  “Knowing my academic colleagues as I do, it's more likely they'll think you were extraordinarily clever to set the whole thing up so that you had maximum freedom sexually while maintaining a traditional-looking marriage.” With considerable irony he added, “They'll envy you."

  His scenario didn't ring entirely false. I knew a number of people who would have relished that kind of setup. Even I might have taken advantage of it, if I'd known. If I'd met Jack or someone like him in England. Was there someone like Jack in England?

  “And it certainly has been a boon for me,” Jack said, his grin firmly in place.

  “In what way?"

  “I feel as if I've been offered this incredibly savvy virgin. That's always been a fantasy of mine. Does that make me a chauvinist?"

  I searched his face and found only warmth and caring. “Probably,” I said. “We might discuss it further up at the house."

  “Good idea. But finish your lunch first. You're going to need your strength."

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Angel called on Monday to invite me to have dinner with them. “Cliff says you're being uprooted to give your boss a chance for a vacation,” she said. “I'm really sorry."

  “Me, too. Doug doesn't have the same take on the ECPC that I do, and he's not going to be interested in really getting involved with it. But there's nothing I can do, especially since Lavinia and I have never gotten on well."

  “Pity.” In the background I could hear little Roger let out a howl and Angel call to her husband, “Will you take care of him, Cliff?"

  Hesitantly, I asked, “Is everything going okay?"

  “Come and see,” she said. “Would Wednesday be all right?"

  “Um, I don't have a car. Should I come with Cliff?"

  “Heavens, no. You're coming with Jack,” she said with a laugh.

  “You've already talked to him?"

  “Sure."

  “I didn't think Cliff realized..."

  “Oh, he doesn't. I thought it would be heartwarming for him to see what he'd started."

  “Then how did you know?"

  “Intuition. And maybe Jack's mentioning it when I called him about a patient."

  * * * *

  Angel and Cliff lived roughly mid-way between Madison and the area in which Angel worked as a family practitioner. Her parents, brothers, sisters-in-law, and various nieces and nephews all resided within easy commuting distance, and provided a strong network of support to each other. If the arrangement disturbed Cliff, I'd never heard him drop so much as a hint of it.

  When we pulled into their driveway, we could see Angel in the kitchen, an apron wrapped around her, checking something in the oven. To my delight, Cliff stood in the kitchen doorway with Roger in his arms, letting the child tug cheerfully at his wild hair.

  The young couple had bought a modern house designed by a student of Frank Lloyd Wright's. The interior was open to the countryside around it, large windows high and low catching light and view. Though this was probably more to Cliff's taste than Angel's, she looked extraordinarily comfortable in the sleek wood and glass setting. Because of the volume of the music throbbing through the glass walls, they were unaware of our arrival. Jack and I sat for a moment watching them.

  “Still,” Jack said, as though we'd been talking about the scene, “I'm glad I'm past that stage in my life."

  “Me, too.” We looked at each other, a wealth of accumulated knowledge in our growing smiles. Then we climbed out of the car.

  As usual with such a group, medical talk dominated for a while. It was wonderful to hear Jack talk about his work again with enthusiasm and confidence. As we finished
the main course, though, our topics shifted to more domestic issues. Little Roger entertained us with his first attempts at walking as we sat back in our chairs surfeited with a delicious meal of Mexican chicken with the traditional rice and beans. Once, when the child tumbled over a wooden block and hurt himself falling, his little face screwed up in preparation for a howl.

  But it never came. Cliff held his arms out to the little boy and Roger, his lips furiously working back and forth in indecision, chose to let his father lift and comfort him without a sound. “Bravo!” I said. “I'm impressed."

  “Wait ’til you see me change him,” Cliff retorted. “It's given me a new respect for pediatricians."

  Jack laughed and put his arm around the back of my chair. “Amanda was telling me on the way out here that she wasn't going to mind anyone else's business any more."

  Angel looked at me with mock shock. “Even if we beg you?"

  “Certainly not,” I said, giving the three of them my haughty English sniff.

  Cliff shook his head sorrowfully. “Did I say something rude to make you change your ways?"

  “No,” I admitted. “I've decided that if I'd paid more attention to my own life and less to other people's, I might have spared myself a lot of ... trouble."

  Angel regarded me seriously. “Really, Amanda, you've been a big help to the two of us. Cliff and I have spent a lot of time deciding what's most important. We're working on a lot of compromises, both of us. First off, I'm only going to work two days a week. While he's young, I want to spend more time with Roger."

  “And I'm going to give up the directorship of outpatient surgery,” Cliff said gruffly. “There will be a lot less paperwork and academic bullshit."

  If Angel's concession surprised me, Cliff's blew my mind. This kind of decision could haunt him all his life, and he knew it. If his ambition played a secondary role to his devotion to Angel and Roger, there was no question in my mind that this was one marriage that was going to stay intact.

  “And if you hadn't kicked my butt,” Cliff was saying to me, “I'd never have come up with the perfect solution to our childcare problems, either."