Destroy (A Standalone Romance Novel)

by Adams, Claire

  “What about you, Dr. Aldridge, which is your department?” Good question, Mom. Why don’t you tell her that “deception” is your all-exclusive department?

  “I am a roving surgeon actually. I am available for most types of surgery. I don’t have a specialty, like most physicians do. I lend a hand or perform whatever surgery needs to be done on that day at that hour.”

  “Wow, that’s impressive,” Mom said, after finishing her second slice of pizza.

  “Not really,” Jeff countered. “I’m just a jack of all trade when it comes to surgery. Except for neuro-surgery, which I will not perform under any circumstances, I try repairing most malfunctions of the bodies that cross our operating tables.”

  “Why not neuro-surgery?” Mom asked. Of course she would.

  “Simply because we have the best neuro-surgeon in the country working in our hospital. Treading his waters would simply not do. He can open a skull and correct a micro-surgical problem as easily as scooping ice-cream out of a bowl, whereas, I would be thinking of the cost of the mistakes I could eventually make to the patient’s brain. When I begin thinking that way, I can’t perform surgery.”

  “And what do you know about mental health?”

  My mother was relentless. Although I hadn’t been the one who invited Jeff to our table, she was preventing him from eating his first bite.

  “Very little. I am not a psychiatrist. But I have a little experience with a few debilitating diseases, such as Alzheimer and dementia or temporary amnesia.”

  By this time, my mother was staring. “I’m sorry for staring at you, Dr. Aldridge, but my husband has dementia and it could be Alzheimer’s…”

  “Has he, really?” Jeff shot me an accusing glance. As if I should tell you anything about my personal life? “Heather didn’t mention anything…?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, Doctor,” Mom was quick to say. “I didn’t mean to intrude on your time. I haven’t invited you to share our meal in order to pick your brain. Truly, I haven’t.”

  Jeff smiled benignly. “That’s okay, Mrs. Williams. It’s understandable.” He resumed eating his slice of pizza. It was probably cold by now. He seemed to enjoy it anyway.

  We sat in silence–thank goodness–for a few minutes, just enough time to finish our meal.

  While I cleared the dishes and put everything in the dishwasher, Tiffany started the coffee maker and scooped some sorbet into four cups. We exchanged a few furtive glances but didn’t say a word. No need to explain; she knew what I was thinking.

  As soon as we started eating our dessert, Jeff said, “Let me answer your query about dementia now, Mrs. Williams.” Mom looked at him inquisitively. She was all ears. “You see, both my parents were diagnosed with Alzheimer’s when they were in their sixties.”

  “Did they really?” Mom sounded surprised. As it happens to most people, when they are diagnosed with a terminal illness, they believe they’re the only ones on earth suffering from such disease. Although my mother was not the one with dementia or Alzheimer’s, she certainly acted as if my dad’s illness was exceptional or terribly rare.

  “Absolutely. Dementia is quite common among elderly patients. Even though your husband is not ‘elderly’ per se, it’s not uncommon for a man to find himself in that situation.” He paused to eat some more of his sorbet. “Alzheimer and dementia are first cousins. Yet, there is a marked difference between the two. Alzheimer is a progressive disease that affects the entire brain. It is an extremely debilitating disease. The patient goes into a regression that ends in death. There is no stopping and no remedy to the illness. But, when it comes to just dementia, the patient does not regress physically such as they do with Alzheimer. It’s only a question of memory loss. Long-term memory becomes sharp and vivid whereas short-term memory is blurry at best, if not immediately erased.”

  “Yes, yes, I know,” Mom interrupted. “That’s exactly what I noted about my husband. He needs me to repeat answers to his questions endlessly it seems. I often think that I should record my answers and play it back to him.”

  Jeff chuckled. “Yes. That’s exactly what my mother said when Dad was first diagnosed. She had a hard time of it. But as soon as they had established a routine with the home care worker, my dad was a little better.”

  “Yes. That’s what Heather suggested.” Mom nodded in my direction. “And that’s why I was able to come for a visit actually. Without that routine, the home care worker, and her brothers’ assistance, I wouldn’t have been able to leave the house.”

  “Same as in our home,” Tiffany put in with a smile. “I had to get Heather down to a routine; otherwise I don’t know how I could have handled her.”

  Everyone cracked up laughing.

  Jeff nodded. “Yeah, routines are great in some instances. And the best thing about routines is breaking them.”

  It’s really too bad that the guy is married. He gets along with Mom so well, I wish he were free, I thought.

  While we talked for a while longer, after Tiffany had gone to bed, I saw mother nodding off. She was tired.

  Since the couch was going to be my bed for tonight at least, I told her to go to my bedroom and stay there for the night.

  “Oh no, Heather. You need your rest. I’ll be fine here. Your sofa is a hide-a-bed, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, Mom, it is, but I’m the one sleeping on it tonight. You take my room. I’ll be fine.”

  Meanwhile, I saw Jeff’s ears perked up. If he thinks he’s spending the night with me on the couch, he’s got it wrong!

  “Okay, if you think you’ll be fine. I’ll say goodnight then.”

  Jeff got up and extended a hand. “It was very nice meeting you, Mrs. Williams.” Mom shook it. “And if you need anything from me, advice or information on dementia or Alzheimer’s, don’t hesitate to call me, okay?”

  “I’ll be sure to do that, Dr. Aldridge. But for now, it’s good night for the both of you.”

  “Nighty-night, Mom,” I said as she walked away.

  As soon as we heard the bedroom door close on my mother, I got up. Jeff knew this was an invitation for him to take his leave.

  “I’m sorry for having intruded on your family reunion, Heather, but since I haven’t seen you for several days, I thought I would come by.”

  “I know, I know, Jeff. And it was nice of you to come actually. But, I would have thought you had other things to do than to talk with an ageing woman on Friday night.”

  We were walking toward the door. He turned to me abruptly and peered into my eyes. I returned the gaze, unflinching.

  “I wanted to be here, Heather. Don’t you know I miss you?”

  “No, I don’t, Jeff. Besides, I don’t miss you. We’ve had a great time together, but now, we’re done.”

  “Your mouth is saying the words but your heart is saying something else.”

  “No, it isn’t, Jeff.” I lowered my gaze and opened the door.

  “You really want me to leave?”

  “Yes, I do, Jeff.”

  I was about to close the door on his stooped shoulders when I said, “Please, say hello to your wife for me.”

  He turned around abruptly, opened the door wide and marched in again. I retreated. He closed the door and grabbing me by the shoulders, he pushed me against the wall. He then kissed me fervently.

  Once again, I was melting in his arms. The man was like a drug; and I was addicted.

  Chapter 23

  “Alright, alright,” I blurted, pushing him away again. “Let me get a breath here. You must know that I am now working with Elizabeth, don’t you?”

  He nodded. “Yes, I’m aware of it. So what?”

  I was incensed. “So what, you ask? Come on, Jeff. I’m not blind or deaf. I’ve been talking to her. And it doesn’t seem to me that the two of you are separated or even close to living apart. So, you tell me; why on earth would I want to risk my career to have a fling with the likes of you?”

  “Because, I want you.”

  “Are you that
selfish? My God, Jeff. Truly?” I turned and walked to the living room. This being an old building, I knew the walls were thick enough for neither my mother nor Tiffany being able to ear us, unless I started screaming of course.

  “No, I am not, Heather. I am not selfish. But I know what I want and how to get it.”

  “Well, you’ve got it wrong as far as I am concerned. I am not having an affair with a married man. And certainly not in these circumstances. My life hangs in the balance, Jeff. I don’t have a choice. If you were free, it would be an entirely different matter. But you’re not, are you?”

  He shook his head and sat down beside me on the sofa. “She refuses to sign the divorce papers.”

  “Is that all you’ve got to say? How long have you been separated?”

  “Just over a year now. I just can’t do anything else but wait. She’ll be getting everything she wants in the settlement. So, I really don’t know what else I can do.”

  “Have you thought of moving out of the city?”

  He looked at me strangely. “Do you really hate me that much, that you want me gone?”

  “No, Jeff, I don’t hate you. But I have to be as reasonable as I can with this whole thing.”

  “And reason tells you that I should move away and let you be, is that it?”

  “What else do you want to do? I can’t quit. I can’t move. You’re the one who holds all the cards, Jeff.”

  “No, I’m not. Elizabeth is. If I move away, she is probably going to claim desertion or something like that. And in that case, she gets it all. I would be left with nothing.”

  “But tell me, what’s so bad about Elizabeth? You must have loved her, didn’t you?”

  “Oh yes, we were absolutely crazy in love, of course we were. I loved everything about her. She’s a very intelligent woman, and she’s not bad to look at either…” His voice trailed off. There was a tinge of regret in the words.

  “What happened?”

  “Nothing,” he replied, getting up. “I just can’t love her anymore. The mold is broken and there’s no way we could even attempt to repair it.”

  I got up too. I felt sad for him all of a sudden. There was definitely something he wasn’t telling me. But if I didn’t want to be involved with him, I should leave it alone. I didn’t ask.

  He caressed my cheek and peered into my eyes again. I knew I was falling headlong into that terrible crevasse called sex. I wanted him. I knew it was going to happen.

  He took me in his arms, kissed my neck, and went down to my open-neck shirt. I would have changed into a t-shirt, if it hadn’t been for my mother being here when we got home. The moment his lips touched my breast, I was lost. I went down to my knees and unzipped his jeans. He bent down and began massaging my breasts while I took his penis into my mouth. He moaned with pleasure as I started sucking it. I knew he would soon come down to me and undress me. It didn’t take long for him to do so avidly. I felt his lips teasing my clitoris while I tousled his hair. I was enjoying this. It was the softness of it all that thrilled me. I wanted him; I craved his power into me. When he began climbing over my body and ended up sucking my nipples until it almost hurt, I had a fantastic orgasm. He clamped my arms against the carpet while he closed my mouth with a kiss. I would have screamed had it not been for our tongues twisting together. A moment later, when I calmed down a little, I grabbed his penis and put it just beneath my clitoris. He smiled. I swung it back and forth until he couldn’t hold back anymore. He had to penetrate me. He did so with relief in his quiet groan. His body towering over mine, he slammed it rhythmically until he suddenly stopped. He then pawed my breasts avidly. All the while, I was enjoying the treatment so much that I was on the verge of another orgasm as he pulled himself out and turned me gently on my tummy. I lifted my butt to him so he could take me doggy style. I heard him take a condom and slipping it on before penetrating me again. But this time he had my clitoris firmly clamped between his index finger and thumb. He not only teased, but pulled on it and rubbed it until I buried my head in the carpet to mask the scream that wanted to escape my mouth. The pleasure this man gave me again and again was unbelievable. I could not say no, because I wanted more of it. I bathed in his sexual affection like a baby in its mother’s arms. I couldn’t get enough of him.

  As soon as he was spent, he took the condom off and got up. He rushed to the bathroom while I got dressed, only with my shirt. When he came out, his face was red. He was exhausted, but his smile betrayed his contentment. He was happy. I could see it in his eyes.

  Before he left, his kiss was sweet and gentle.

  The next day, I was dead on my feet, until I went jogging with Tiffany. She had eyed me curiously when she first got out of bed and came to the living room. I was putting my tracksuit on.

  “Did you have a good time?” she asked quizzically. “How long did he stay?”

  “Not very long after Mother went to bed,” I replied. “And, yes, I had a good time.” I decided there was no way I was going to lie to Tiffany. She was a friend. I needed to have her stand by my side. I knew I was in for a battle, if any of what Jeff had said was true. And if it wasn’t, and there was no divorce in the offing, I would need her shoulder to cry on at some point. “Are you coming?”

  “Sure, give me a minute to change,” she said, rushing back to her bedroom.

  While she was gone to freshen up, I folded the hide-a-bed, and examined the carpet, hoping there were no tell-tales of our little interlude. But there was nothing visible to the naked eye.

  We were about to walk out when my mother came out of the bedroom. She was clad of a nice bathrobe, but looked tired still.

  “Don’t tell me you two are going to work on a Saturday,” she said, looking at us with raised eyebrows.

  Tiffany and I exchanged an amused glance and erupted in nervous laughter.

  “No, Mom, we’re not. We’re going jogging around the park. Do you want to come?”

  “Good grief, no wonder you’re as thin as a rail. At that rate, you’re going to be the ghost of you before the time comes.”

  “Be back soon,” I told her, closing the door on both of us.

  When we were trotting toward the park, Tiffany asked, “So, did he tell you anything about his situation? Is he divorced, or separated?”

  “Neither.”

  She turned a stunned face to me. “You mean he’s not even separated?”

  “I don’t really know, Tiff. He says that she won’t sign the divorce papers.”

  “A likely story! He’s the bastard who wants to have his cake and eat it too. Mark my words, Hattie, he’ll hurt you. Sooner or later, he’ll drop you for someone else.”

  “I’ve got a gut feeling that it’s exactly what’s going to happen.”

  “So why on earth are you accepting to have sex with him? Is he that good?”

  “Better.”

  “Well, why don’t you make a deal with him? He’ll get his lollypop only when you see a signature on the dotted line of his divorce papers.”

  “You know, maybe I should do that. Besides, I was thinking of something last night. If he really wanted me that bad after we met in New York why didn’t he ask for a phone number or even try locating my parents in Omaha? Because it’s purely coincidental that I was accepted in this hospital.”

  “Exactly. I think you need to slam on the brakes a little harder, Hattie.”

  “I think you’re right. Besides, if his wife starts investigating his after-hours activities, she could easily find out about us if we’re not careful.”

  “Again, Hattie, you can be so extremely rational when you’re away from him and so idiotic when you sense him near you.”

  I began laughing and stopped jogging. Laughing and jogging together are too hard on one’s heart. “I’ve told myself that very same thing hundreds of times now, but the only conclusion I can come up with is that I’m addicted to the man.”

  “What about going to rehab?” Tiffany asked as we resumed our trotting.

 
; “What do you have in mind?”

  “Well, for a start we could spend our evenings somewhere else than at home. Then we could take off and visit a bit of the countryside…”

  “You’re thinking of escaping the comforts of home for a while–until this blows over?”

  “Yes. I think we’re both due for an escape of sorts, don’t you?”

  “I agree. And while my mom is here, why don’t we start by driving her around today and tomorrow?”

  “That’s a grand idea. Would you be willing to share in a tank of gas, though?”

  “You don’t have to ask, Tiff. You know I will. And I’m sure my mom will spring for an ice-cream or two.”

  “Yeah, that’s an idea. You’ll have to show us where that retro-parlor is. It sounds like great fun.”

  “That’s a deal. I think I remember where it is. I can Google it anyway.”

  A half-an-hour later, we came home to the smell of eggs and bacon. I didn’t remember buying any bacon; neither did Tiffany. We exchanged a glance before we opened the door.

  “Ah, there you are! Great. I was just going to crack the poached eggs.”

  “That smells divine, Mrs. Williams,” Tiffany said, before I could inquire about the bacon.

  “Thank you, dear. But I don’t deserve all the thanks; I got the bacon from Mrs. Camborne since you didn’t seem to have any in the fridge.”

  “Good gracious, Mom, you went and disturb Mrs. Camborne on Saturday morning?”

  “Yeah, that’s right, Heather. She’s a friend and I think it wasn’t too much of an imposition to ask if she had a couple of slices of bacon, do you?”

  “But at this hour?”

  “Oh but, dear, she was up and cleaning her apartment already. You people around here are truly early birds, aren’t you?”

  “I guess we are,” I relented. “And it does smell good. I haven’t had bacon and poached eggs in I don’t know how long.”

  “There you are then. You can put it on your calendar, reminding yourself to buy bacon for Mrs. Camborne next time you go shopping, and buying some the next time I’m in town.”