by Alice Ward
I showered and was scouring the job listings on my laptop when my cell rang.
“Hello.” I hadn’t recognized the number but it was local so I answered it.
“Hello, Auggie,” the vaguely familiar voice said.
“Who’s this?” I was taken off guard.
“Worth LaViere,” he answered. “I thought you might like to have a drink with me tomorrow night?”
Silence stretched to an uncomfortable level as I tried to process his words. “What? Are you serious?” I couldn’t think straight.
“Of course I’m serious.” He was so cocksure of himself.
“Wait a minute. Doesn’t that constitute some kind of violation of ethics? I mean, are you like asking me on a date?” I was completely puzzled.
“Well, to be blunt, yes. I’m asking you on a date and no, it’s only a conflict if you’re my patient. Which, as of this afternoon, you are not. So, what do you say?”
“You’re really serious, aren’t you?” I couldn’t wrap my mind around this.
“How about the bar at the Hilton? Let’s say six o’clock tomorrow?”
“Why?” It was the only thing I could think to ask.
“Because I’m attracted to you.” It was a simple reply and I had to give him credit for being upfront with his intent. I’m not sure whether he talked like that to be a little rebellious, or whether he truly is just that honest. There was only one way to find out.
“I’ll be there. You be there and be ready to answer some questions off the clock, doc.”
“If you call me doc, I get to call you Elizabeth Augusta.”
“See you tomorrow… Worth.”
I hung up and felt my heart hammering like the first time I was asked on a date. I lost my appetite and opened my wardrobe to see what I would wear. In disgust, I realized I was completely outfitted for working on the farm but had little in the way of anything dressy for the Hilton. I resolved to get up early, have a mani-pedi and buy some new clothes.
It wasn’t until just before I fell asleep that it occurred to me that Mother might be behind this. I tried to swat the thought away, as one would a troublesome mosquito, but it stayed with me. I dreamed all night of mosquitos in a bedroom with white gauzy drapes and a tall, naked man who made love to me and wouldn’t let me go. It was one of the best night’s sleep I’d had in a long time.
The next morning, I rose early and dressed in clothing that was easy to slip off in the dressing room. I pulled my car onto the roadway feeling very feminine and my instincts for capturing a male’s attention were in full bloom. I’m not entirely sure why I was interested in catching Worth LaViere’s interest. Was I starving for some sort of male attention after the Eric debacle? Was my femininity in question? Perhaps it was Mother. She emasculated Dad. She also had a way of doing the same thing, in a feminine sense, to me.
I wish I had a sister or, at least, a brother with whom to commiserate. I was always left with the feeling that I wasn’t being entirely fair to her, yet every time I tried to put things behind us, she said or did something new. I could not understand how Dad put up with her. He certainly was a good man and could have found someone with a better disposition to give him a happier life.
It doesn’t serve a purpose to think of one’s parents in this sense, I realized. There was something unwholesome about it.
I found a stylish salon and remembered having been there once as a younger girl when a friend of the family had gotten married. The place looked exactly the same and the hairdressers just as friendly as my hair was trimmed and I indulged in a manicure and pedicure. While I was there, I looked at a few magazines, deciding on a style I could identify with. I wasn’t a model and didn’t care much about designer labels. Designer clothes seemed to be geared toward making the designer look successful more than their clients attractive. After all, the trends in style changed consistently while people’s physical attributes remained relatively the same.
I spent a long time in dressing rooms in different department stores. I even asked the store to send their personal shopper up to me and with her help, found a color and a look with which I could identify.
I still had some time to kill so I went to the bookstore and looked at equine magazines. Curious, I also leafed through some magazines on psychology. I couldn’t imagine that they had trends, as you found in clothing and hair—but the magazines existed so there had to be something new to read about.
When the clock finally wound to the place where it was respectable to arrive, I left and made my way to the Hilton.
CHAPTER TEN
Worth
She walked in and it took me a moment to recognize her. The caterpillar had morphed. The tomboy was gone, and she was no longer playing dress up as she had been during her second visit. Now there was an enticing and sophisticated young lady searching the room for me. I could only attribute this dramatic change in her fascination for my invitation.
I stood momentarily and waved to catch her attention. She actually smiled as she approached and I realized I hadn’t seen her smile yet.
“You look beautiful,” I commented without guise.
“Thank you. You look less gloating than the last time we met,” she observed with a twinkle in her eye.
We ordered drinks and a few appetizers. I had taken two deep gulps of my drink and realized I was uncharacteristically nervous. She had yet to try her wine and just studied me. She knew.
Having generally spoken to her across my desk with her facing sideways in rebellion, I now saw her eyes and was lost. They were a shade of green I’d only seen in island waters and set a bit close together with long, mahogany lashes. I had the urge to dive into them, picturing what she would look like lying beneath me. I was growing hard and yet a strange insecurity had come over me. What the hell is going on?
“What are you thinking?” she asked.
“Why?”
“First of all, I’ve always wanted to ask a shrink that question and secondly, there is a strange look on your face. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re nervous.”
“Nonsense.”
“You’re thinking about nonsense?”
“No, I mean it’s nonsense that I’m nervous. I never get nervous.” I was repeating myself. I was in trouble.
She smiled at this. “So many women. You should have this down pat by now, is that it?”
I was mentally gasping for air. I knew I needed to change the subject before I drowned. “You look great.”
“You said that. Thank you, a second time. What’s up? Why are you so uncomfortable? Is it the doctor-patient thing?”
“As long as you’re no longer my patient, there’s no jeopardy. You never were in need of my consultation, anyway. As we both know, you had been sent to the principal’s office.”
She laughed at that. “I see you know my mother.”
“It wasn’t hard to spot. Common among our set.”
“Our set?” those aqua green eyes questioned me.
“Mothers who have nothing better to do than meddle in their children’s lives. Very common among people who are well set. Not just mothers, either.”
“Ahhh…” she said as though discovering the combination to a safe. “So, you have one, too?”
“I do, indeed. Worth, II.”
“And is Worth, III, in the same frame of mind?”
“God, I hope not. If I ever have children, well, at least, any I’m aware of…” he added the codicil, “they will be given free rein. None of this spying on their lives.”
I was marveling at the strange dichotomy of her being so easy to speak to and yet making me nervous. Perhaps this was what it felt like to be outside the protective shell of cocky banter and rebelliousness. I wasn’t entirely sure I liked the feeling; it was somewhat like a freefall. Yet, having her across the table from me felt reassuring, real and authentic. Was her energy so pure that it was overriding my own? I looked at her vibrant skin, those striking eyes, the long waterfall of mahogany hair and I wanted
that to belong to me. I needed it to be a part of who I was. My past was a littered mess of intentional failures, cutting corners and being as irritatingly obtuse as possible. I felt inside like Joe’s; something with an inner air of dark secrets. I needed her wholesomeness.
“I don’t know if I agree,” she was saying and my attention was instantly upon her words. I actually wanted to hear her viewpoint. I needed to hear what normal, healthy people think about. I was surrounded daily by not only my own dark thoughts but those of sick minds and tainted lives. “I rather think of raising children like training a young horse. You persist in pointing out the favored behavior, but you have to give them their head a bit, too, or they rebel and get themselves into trouble.”
Everything she said made sense. “You love horses, don’t you?” I said, not because I didn’t already know, but because I wanted to hear her voice continue.
“Oh, yes, especially Carlos. I ride Steeplechase with him. He’s also my best friend,” a sad smile appeared on her lips, “particularly when Mother begins her nosy nonsense.”
Her eyes turned dark at the mention of her mother. “Your mother, she really is a pain, in your opinion?”
She stirred her drink with the tip of her perfectly manicured index finger. I could almost feel that finger circling the tip of my cock and there was such a rush I thought I might lose it right there.
“Mother is very old-school. She thinks there are certain ways things are done and that’s all there is to it. She married my dad because she was told to, and it was the worst thing she could have ever done to the poor man. She emasculates him. She tells him to jump and he asks how high. It’s awful. So, since Mother was forced into a loveless marriage, she thinks she’s entitled to do the same thing to me.”
“But you don’t agree,” I prompted.
“I do not agree, you’re quite right,” Auggie said, her eyebrows rising in protest at the thought. “I avoid her as often as I can.
“And your father?” I wasn’t in my doctor’s seat but genuinely wanted to know the dynamics of her life.
“Dad? I run interference for him the best I can. When Mother launches herself on him, I do something I know will piss her off and sure enough, it draws her attention away and he can escape for a while. It’s the best I can do.” She crossed her legs and my heart skipped a few beats. She was all legs and I wanted them.
“What happens when you marry and move away?” I asked.
“Haven’t thought that far. There’s no one in the running right now. When Eric was in the picture, he was going to move into our house.” She sipped her wine at the memory of a disaster barely averted.
“He was willing to move in and live in your parents’ home, forever?” I could not imagine willingly putting your life in the hands of your mother-in-law.
“Yeah, can you believe that?” She clicked her tongue against her teeth in disgust.
Damn! Now I was fixated on her tongue. Would she quit torturing me at some point? “Poor bastard,” I commented, but she was quick to correct me.
“No, Mother made sure of that. His “papers” were researched. He was neither, even if his parents may have wished otherwise.”
“Did they know?” I asked, referring to his being gay.
“I have no idea, but I’m guessing not. Otherwise, Derek would not have been allowed in the house.” She shook her head. “Even the dogs were allowed in the house,” she added and my eyebrows rose a bit at the reference.
“Do you have siblings, Auggie?”
“This is beginning to sound a bit like an interrogation, don’t you think?” she asked. “No, I’m an only child. How about you?”
“I’m an only child as well. I had an older brother who was killed in a car wreck when he was sixteen,” I quickly mentioned. May as well get it out of the way now.
“Woah, that’s got to mess with your head,” she said candidly. “I’m sorry.”
“He was the good son. He did anything Father put before him. Yes, by the look on your face, I can tell you understand that my Father has some things in common with your mother. She may be a bit less shady than he is, however.”
“Can I ask you something?” she looked at me. I nodded. “What do you want with me?”
I looked at her; at the shining hair, the eyes and the sweet innocence of her face. “I want all of you.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Auggie
I was all aglow that night as I crawled into bed. I had taken the initiative of putting my arms around his neck and kissing him on the cheek at the end of our date. I wanted to maintain control of where this was headed. Although Worth wasn’t quite the sarcastic bastard I had pegged him to be, I had the distinct impression that he preferred to be in control. I almost felt disappointed, as though I’d lost a foe. This also complicated matters. For the first time in forever, there was a real man interested in me. Someone Mother could not object to. His family was even more respected than ours.
There was something essentially wild about him. I could sense it as strongly as if I were seated upon him, riding the jumps. He was unpredictable and refused to follow the course although I suspect he always won. This was rather appealing. Could I rein him in?
The next morning, Mother was waiting for me in the breakfast room. I knew she was lurking there. I could smell her morning perfume. I thought twice about following through, but I’d come to the conclusion that Mother would have to learn that she was no longer the only player in this household.
“Auggie,” it began. “Mrs. Jessup had to be put in a retirement home.” I almost rolled my eyes at her euphemism. Nursing home wasn’t in Mother’s parlance. “I’d like you to go by and pay her a visit today.”
“Is that so you don’t have to go and smell all the urinals piled in the hallway, Mother?”
“Auggie!”
“Mother? Tell me you’re not above that. You may end up there one day yourself, you know…in a ‘retirement’ home.” I was feeling particularly sparky.
“Elizabeth Augusta!” she sheared off and threw at me. But I caught it well and stomped all over it.
“Mother, calm yourself or you will have an attack and I will pack you in the back seat when I go visit Mrs. Jessup this afternoon.” I grabbed an orange, a cup of coffee from the Keurig and headed back to my room to think about the night before. Let’s see, which would I rather dwell upon? Mrs. Jessup or the handsome Dr. LaViere. Poor Mrs. Jessup.
***
The ‘retirement home’ took on the far more realistic name of “Sunset Village” and when I arrived, and I knew why. I’d never been in one of these places before and the moment I crossed the threshold, I could define everything I didn’t want in life.
I stood at the reception counter for at least ten minutes before a dark-haired woman in nurse’s scrubs and a name tag reading “Betty” strolled past with her cell glued to her ear. She nodded to me and finally ended her call.
“Help you?” she asked in a bored tone.
“Mrs. Jessup, please.”
“Is she a patient?”
I decided to overlook the ludicracy of that question and nodded. I didn’t want to get upset and suck in any more of that air than was absolutely necessary. I could almost see the germs floating around.
“You family?”
What was this, a prison? Why so many questions?
“Yes,” I lied. It was much simpler.
“Room 334, bed two,” she announced finally and pointed behind her. There was one central hall and two wings branching off from that. She didn’t indicate which branch but I thought I’d probably figure out the lay of the land.
I found Mrs. Jessup without any problem. She was the scared woman in the robe with worn-heeled slippers and a bewildered look upon her face. “Hello, Mrs. Jessup,” I said softly. She looked at me, trying to place me. The last time I’d seen her was the previous year at one of the teas held by young ladies who wanted to make it known they were now of marriageable inclination.
Cocking her
head, she finally ventured, “Auggie, is that you?”
I nodded and smiled, feeling pity for her. She really was a prisoner and that was a feeling I couldn’t abide. To know one would never leave a place like this still standing, it made me ill and I shuddered.
“I didn’t recognize you without your horse, dear,” she said and smiled sweetly.
“May I take you down to an activity room or somewhere?” I asked.
She nodded and I slid behind the wheelchair and pushed her into the hallway where we went in search of any room that didn’t have a toilet. We ended up in the cafeteria and I chose a sunny table in the corner.
“How are you doing, Mrs. Jessup?” I began, taking the seat opposite her. I spoke loudly, as seemed customary in a place like this.
“You needn’t shout, Auggie,” she said, patting my arm. I’m here because the diabetes is out of control and I’m on dialysis. You know, dear, they hook you to a machine and clean your blood three times a week?”
I tried to look interested, but it felt like I was watching a horror movie. I just didn’t know how to act. How does one say goodbye to someone you know isn’t long for the world and yet you want to cheer them up?
“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Jessup,” I said to the lady who had always been impeccably groomed and whose Derby party invitations were sought after by everyone who was anyone.
“Don’t be, dear. It happens to all of us eventually. I’ll be fine here. They let me have pudding on Wednesdays, even if it is sugar-free.”
Pudding on Wednesdays?
“Is there anything I can bring you, Mrs. Jessup. Anything I can do?”
“No, no, dear. They won’t let you bring anything in and I have everything I need. There is one thing, though…” Her thin lips pressed together and she looked away.
“Yes?”
“Could you stop by once in a while just to say hello? I miss hearing all the gossip and especially what’s going on with the young people. I know a great many secrets, you know, dear. A great many secrets.” Her white-tufted head was quivering a bit and I could tell she wanted to cry. I patted her shriveled hand, blackened by the constant poking with the dialysis needle.