“You’ve got a deal,” Tiffany piped up. “I’m going to have a shower first, if you ladies don’t mind. I’m stinking to high heaven.”
“I’ll be right behind,” I shouted to Tiffany’s back before I heard her bedroom door close on her.
That afternoon the three of us went to the retro-parlor for an ice cream. If my mother was going to stay longer than a weekend, I am sure I would gain more than ten pounds in a month.
She enjoyed the table jukeboxes immensely. She spent quarters after quarters to hear the tunes that she and Dad used to dance to when they were in their twenties. She hummed some of the songs while telling us about Dad planting a row of flowers in front of the old house–where she was born–during the night, so that she could wake up to the scent of flowers every morning during their engagement. Of course, in those days there was no way she would have accepted to have sex with my dad before she had a wedding band on her finger.
That reminded me of the fact that neither Jeff nor Elizabeth wore a wedding ring. Was it because they both played a dirty game of pretense? Maybe they were both having affairs on the side. I would have to discuss the possibility with Tiffany. She was more detached than I was in this case.
Next, we went to the Washington Monument and spent a bit of time walking around the avenues bordering it. Everything in D.C. was impressively big. It reminded me of the Roman Empire–the Coliseum in particular. That huge stadium built brick by brick to host the famous “games” where men fought for their lives against voracious beasts and merciless gladiators. Only a thumb down from the emperor would send a man to his death.
We sat on a bench later that afternoon before going home and talked about Mom’s plans for Dad. Jeff had mentioned that routine was as important as I thought it would be, but afterward, “what would happen?”
“Well, the doctor said that once Dad is settling down to a routine, the disease will progress very slowly and the more activities we can do together, the better it will be. But, it’s difficult.”
“What is, Mom?” I asked.
“The fact that he doesn’t recognize people unless he has known them for a long time. He doesn’t want people to talk to him and is sometimes quite belligerent if someone insists on talking to him.”
“And what does the doctor say about that?” Tiffany asked.
“He said that we can’t do much for the time being. As long as he recognizes me and your brothers, Heather, we should be fine.”
“Maybe I should come back for a visit,” I suggested.
The smile that appeared on my mother’s face would have made me cry.
“That’s a grand idea, Heather. You know we’d love to have you–even it’s only for a couple of days.”
“Okay, I’ll see what I can do. As long as you don’t take this as a promise, okay?”
“Deal,” Mom replied unexpectedly.
The three of us erupted in laughter. This little visit did a world of good for my mom’s spirit. After all, I was pleased that she came down for the weekend.
Chapter 24
On Monday morning, after an enjoyable evening between the three of us and driving my mom to the airport, my mood was up at least ten notches. And when Dr. Kerry called us in for our weekly meeting, and announced that we were going to watch Dr. Jeff Aldridge perform a hip replacement surgery, I truly felt elated at the prospect.
For some reason my mind had settled on the fact that I had a married lover. Subconsciously (if not consciously), I had to accept the situation and deal with it. Coming back from the airport, Tiffany and I discussed the possibility of Elizabeth having an affair, too. Tiffany, who didn’t know the woman as well as I did, suggested that perhaps it would be a good idea for me to talk about entertainment in D.C. She said that since I was new to the city I would have a great pretext for asking.
“And when she would talk about the restaurants or clubs she’s been to, you’d have an idea whether she’s been out often or not.”
“Besides,” I added, “she might talk about she and Jeff going to that or that place. Then I’d know if they are still going out together.”
“Exactly,” Tiffany agreed.
Anyway, we were on our way to watch the “roving surgeon”, as he called himself, perform an intricate and lengthy surgical procedure.
A hip replacement is often necessary when osteoporosis has settled on the joints of an elderly sufferer. Osteoporosis can appear and ravage a body at any age. It largely depends on how our metabolism absorbs the calcium we consume every day. Some people have absolutely no worries in that regard, while others are riddle with disintegrating bones, mostly in their lower back. The reason being that most of the body weight rests on the pelvis and lumbar vertebrae.
In this case, the patient’s chart revealed that he was a rather young fellow but that a car accident had left him with a damaged hip in need of replacement.
To my surprise, not only did Jeff enter the operating theater, but Elizabeth did as well. What on earth is she doing here? I wondered. None of the interns recognized her behind the surgical mask, but I did. Besides, none of them had met Dr. E. Aldridge apart from me. It was a fact that the lady kept much to herself and didn’t go out to the terrace café that often or didn’t mingle with the lowly interns often, if at all.
Jeff shot a glance toward our enclosed ‘observatory’ and quickly returned his gaze to the patient when he felt his wife at his side. I must admit, as soon as they got in the thick of it, so to speak, my mind switched to what was happening on the operating table and forgot about our “love triangle”.
The procedure was long and would have been dangerously lengthy for an elderly patient. That’s perhaps why they had two top surgeons working on the man’s hip. I was to learn later that the reason Elizabeth was attending the surgery on this occasion was that the very same patient had received a new kidney not so long ago. There had been some fear that he might collapse during the operation–heart failure is not uncommon in such cases. It’s like the body is saying, “Hey, guys, enough is enough. I quit!”
A few hours later, it was Gerald, our resident bragger’s turn to have a hand in removing a cancerous tumor from a patient’s lung. Once again, Jeff was the primary surgeon. Gerald had told everyone that oncology was to be his specialty. In this instance, Dr. Kerry had told us that Dr. Vaughn, the oncology surgeon was away and that Jeff would be doing the honors once again. Gerald was to assist.
I had to admire him–Gerald I mean–he would have the right to brag about this one. His dexterity and promptness of reflex was excellent. We even had to applaud when he pulled the small tumor out of the lung without as much as a tremor of anxiety in his hand. I saw Jeff smile at him. He, too, was pleased with Gerald’s performance.
After both operations were over, we all headed for the terrace café. We were excited. We couldn’t stop talking about what we observed, the notes we made, and even the photos we were able to take. We were making our own little show & tell. We were all avid to recall what we witnessed. A few weeks back, when we all filed into an operating theater to observe a surgery first hand, we were literally in awe and much too scared to do anything. Now, we were beginning to comprehend what it took to be a surgeon, and a good one. We wanted to participate; we wanted to have a hand in it, as it were. The fear of making a mistake was slowly being replaced by a fervent desire to accomplish something. And the sentiment was somewhat overwhelming. Our personal problems seemed to dwindle in size and value when compared with what we could do for another human being. Amid the noise we made as we scraped the chairs around a couple of the café’s tables, I heard someone call my name.
“Dr. Williams?”
I turned around and couldn’t believe my eyes. Jeff was calling me in front of my colleagues. “Good God,” I whispered when I came close enough for him to hear my whisper, “what do you want?”
“I just wanted to let you know that I’ll probably take you on next week.”
I was stunned. I hadn’t expected to be transfer
red to another department, and so soon either. “You mean it? What about my working with Elizabeth? Is she okay with me leaving her?”
“I am not privy to the Board’s reasons for the change, Dr. Williams. Just be ready for a week, at least, of grilling.”
“Well, thanks for the heads-up. I appreciate it. Anything else?” I was keen to return to my table. I knew all eyes were on us.
“No, nothing for the time being.”
I nodded, turned around and rejoined my friends.
Of course, I was bombarded with questions. I didn’t feel it was right for me to preempt Dr. Kerry’s change of schedule or relating our conversation to anyone at this time. I just told my companions that Dr. Aldridge might want me in surgery next week.
“You know,” Gerald remarked then, “he’s quite a good teacher. He gets right into it and nothing will disturb him. No need to try talking to him while he’s got that scalpel in his hand; I think he would slash your throat if you did.”
“You mean he’s fierce while he works?” Corey asked.
“Something like that, yes,” Gerald said. “It’s like he’s another person when he gets into the theater. This afternoon, I noticed it. He pushed the doors open and then he shut up. After that, no wasted word escaped his mouth. His requests to the nurses were crystal clear. No hesitation anywhere.”
The rest of the day was spent in visiting the two patients after they regained consciousness and for their surgeon to re-assure them that everything had gone according to plan. I had to wonder about Jeff’s breath of experience. In that one day, he had performed two extremely different surgical procedures on totally divergent parts of the body. Generally, a specialist will perform surgery on the part of the body he knows best, practically blindfolded, but rarely do you see any surgeon tackling two different types of surgery at any time, especially not on the same day.
Dr. Kerry discussed this a little that evening when we gathered for our powwow. She said we had to expect that some of the surgeons were going to be top professional in their fields without any versatile faculty. “They know one thing; practice one kind of medicine and that is the extent of their knowledge. On the other hand, some physicians are endowed of amazing talents. They can perform spinal surgery in the morning and an appendectomy after lunch. Their versatility is admirable.” I had to agree with that assessment.
When we went down the elevator, Tiffany said that she would be going to the supermarket and getting the bacon for Mrs. Camborne.
“I’ll see you at home a little later then,” I answered as she pressed the parking lot button.
“Yeah. Let’s have some fish tonight, okay?” she suggested.
I was all for that idea. I had had enough of restaurant meals, fast food and ice-cream to last me for a month, at least. “Perfect. I’ll defrost a couple of sole fillets and get the spaghetti going.”
“Perfect,” I heard her say when the elevator doors closed on her.
I was rushing out of the hospital when I saw Jeff waiting for me in front of the door but across the street. He knew, of course, that I would cross the park to go home.
“Now, Dr. Aldridge,” I said, as I came closer to him. “Fancy meeting you here. What can I do for you?”
“You can let me drive you home for one thing.” He smiled.
“Okay, that would be nice, as long as we don’t take the long way around the city.” I laughed. “But you said: ‘for one thing’; what’s the other thing then?”
“I’d like to take you out on Saturday.”
My mouth fell open. Then I closed it. Not knowing what to say, I turned my head toward the door of the hospital door. Elizabeth came out and waved. Jeff saw her, same as I did, and waved back. Talk about an awkward moment. I didn’t know if I should have waved, say hello, or what the heck I should have done. I felt silly.
And then Elizabeth yelped, “See you at home, Jeff. Don’t be too late!”
Good God, I thought, so he was telling me the truth about living with her still.
As I was about to ask him what this was all about, Jeff grabbed my face with both his hands and kissed me. When he released me, I felt dazed.
“So, will you go out with me next Saturday?” he asked as if nothing had just occurred.
“You, I mean, you and me going out officially?” I blurted. “How could you ask that? Do you realize you’re wife just waved at you and told you that she’ll see you at home? Or was I imagining the whole thing?”
“I told you what’s happening between me and my wife, Heather. Why do you have to dredge up the same old conversation again? I am married; I told you that. I am on my way to a divorce and I can’t leave my wife unless I want to become a pauper the next day. Can I make things any clearer for you?”
“I don’t think it will be necessary, Jeff. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t, I agree. As for going out with you on Saturday, perhaps I will regret it, but, my answer is yes, I will go out with you.” I smiled. “As long as we don’t go back to the retro-parlor. I’ve had my fill of jukebox music and ice-cream for a while.”
Jeff looked absolutely delighted. “Alright then!” he practically yelled for everyone to hear. “Now, let’s get you home before the boogie man comes out.”
Chapter 25
When Saturday came around, I was as nervous as a teenager on her first date. I had bought a new dress, nothing expensive mind you, but something other than my work clothes or jeans and t-shirts. When I showed it to Tiffany, her only comment was, “As long as you’re sure he deserves you, it looks great.”
Tiffany was not happy with me. When I came home the Monday night and told her what happened in front of the hospital doors–Jeff’s wife waving at him and saying that she’ll see him at home–she told me that she thought I was a fool. “You’re going to get hurt, Hattie. That’s all there is to it.”
I nodded. “You’re probably right. It’s just that I can’t resist him. He’s like a magnet to me. I must have something screwed up in my brain, because I know that everything you tell me is absolutely true. I shouldn’t even talk to the man. Yet, I do. Every time he calls on me; I go running to him, my tail wagging.”
“See? Even you admit that you’re acting like an obsessed woman.”
“I don’t deny it, Tiff. I just don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to push him away.”
By the end of the week the conversation was getting stale. It smelled to high heaven. I was even scared to broach the subject of Jeff with Tiffany. She was ready to send me packing, I was sure.
But, this was the day I was going on a date with Dr. Jeff Aldridge. It felt right. Perhaps that’s the wrong thing to say. It felt right to go out and have a good time, but it felt wrong because my date was a definite two-timer.
I was waiting in front of the building’s entrance when Jeff pulled up. Since the weather had cooled off considerably in the last couple of weeks, he had replaced the hard top on his car. It was still looking as sleek and expensive as ever. Thank goodness it wasn’t snowing yet. I would have hated to walk on ice in my stiletto heels. But, although the air was cool, it was still dry.
We drove in relative silence. I truly didn’t know what to say. During the week, I had resumed working with Elizabeth without any incident or even any awkwardness. If the shoe had been on the other foot, I think I would have kicked the intern out of my department the day after observing her talking to my husband. However, the shoe was still on Elizabeth’s foot, and she was handling the whole matter magnificently. We had lunch on a couple of occasions when waiting for an organ or a patient to be admitted. We talked mostly about the cases in hand at the moment–and nothing was said about her observing us in the park.
Obviously, she was either totally disinterested in Jeff’s actions or she was unaware of his philandering. Either way, I was looking forward to be working somewhere else. I felt as if I was handling a case of dynamite while walking a tight rope across a ravine. Uncomfortable, to say the least.
“I hope you like Italian cui
sine,” Jeff finally said, “because I made reservation at one of the best Italian restaurants in the city. I just remembered you enjoyed it in New York.”
“Yeah, I do. I like most cuisines as long as it’s not—”
“Ice-cream; I know,” he finished for me. We both laughed.
“And after the restaurant, what have you planned for us?” I was curious.
“Can it be a surprise?” he asked, turning his head briefly to me.
“Sure, why not. I just hope I won’t get too drunk not to realize where I am, that’s all.”
“Okay, okay. I promise to tell you before you get too drunk to understand where we’re going, how’s that?”
“Perfect,” I replied.
I was getting a little more relaxed about the whole thing. I was not entirely at ease yet, though. I still imagined some guy following us and taking pictures of us–typical P.I. stuff–sort of thing. All the sordid business generally surrounding divorces and custody battles annoy me, I must say. To me, if two people fall out of love, they should part amicably. Move on after they cry their eyes out, but for heaven sake’s, let’s not drag the suffering for any length of time. It’s not only silly, but also completely absurd.
As soon as we arrived in front of the restaurant, the busboy (I suppose) opened my door and took my hand to help me out of the car, while the valet took the car keys from Jeff.
We entered the restaurant as if we were married for years. I felt comfortable hanging on Jeff’s arm. He was such a handsome, elegant and courteous man, I had no problem walking beside him.
Once the maitre d’ had shown us to our table, I smiled. “Thank you for bringing me here, Jeff. This is wonderful,” I told him, looking over the menu. His face was the picture of contentment.
“Thank you for accepting to go out with me, Heather. I thought you might refuse, because of what happened in front of the hospital.”
Destroy (A Standalone Romance Novel) Page 17