Paths

by David DeSimone

  Table of Contents

  TITLE

  CONNECTICUT

  CHAPTER 1 - EVA

  CHAPTER 2 - DREW

  CHAPTER 3 - THE ANOMALY

  CHAPTER 4 - BEGINNING THE END

  CHAPTER 5 - THE BURST

  CHAPTER 6 - NO MAN’S LAND

  CHAPTER 7 - THE SHEDDING

  NEW YORK CITY

  5:54 P.M.

  MONDAY

  WEDNESDAY

  FRIDAY AFTERNOON

  END GAME

  EPILOGUE

  PATHS

  by David DeSimone

  CONNECTICUT

  The forecast for this Friday morning predicted only partly cloudy skies, but what residents of Glenfield, Connecticut got instead was a gray day with a lot of glare.

  This didn’t surprise Drew Fairwood. He didn’t take much stock in weather forecasts, thought they was fifty/fifty at best. Nature didn’t abide by what meteorologists expected of her. According to Drew, she hardly ever did. She was fickle and unpredictable. Despite - or perhaps in spite of - what Doppler radar maps assured, her mood swings could occur at any moment - for better or worse. This morning was no exception. However, the cloud layer was thin. Most of it would probably be gone by noon - at least that was what Drew hoped for. Silvery skies with a lot of glare made him prone to migraines.

  Late spring dew made the grass bright green and slippery, the trees and front gardens lush. Sweet aromas of damp soil and foliage permeated the air as thickly as the morning mist.

  Glary and hazy weather notwithstanding, Drew was in fairly good spirits.

  He stood by the white Acura waiting for his wife, Eva, to come out. Somewhere in the house she was in front of a mirror making final touchups.

  A gentle breeze swept through Maple Street causing the skin on the back of Drew’s neck to prickle. The sensation was not unpleasant, but had he not been wearing his leather jacket, a chill might have spoiled the mild pleasure brought on by the breeze. He drew in a breath filling his lungs with fresh air, exhaled. More goosebumps. Every muscle in his body felt unraveled, relaxed.

  The coffee that was supposed to wake him failed miserably. All Drew wanted to do was throw the windows open and crawl back into bed.

  But R&R wasn’t the reason he took the day off.

  The reason he took the day off was because Eva asked him to.

  Her appointment with the MRI was today. For years she had been complaining of a nagging ache on the left side of her neck. Stretching, hot compresses, and ibuprofen provided some relief, but not enough. When the day was damp or humid, the pain generally got worse. Today she awoke with pain akin to having a railroad spike hammered into the base of her skull.

  X-rays showed a bony mass between two upper vertebrae, C2 and C3.

  Her physician, Dr. Carl Mills, who conducted the initial exam, diagnosed Eva as having a bone spur, but he was unsatisfied with the low quality of the x-ray. Before referring her to a spine specialist Dr. Mills recommended she go have an MRI scan.

  Admittedly fearful of tight spaces, the mere thought made Eva’s chest tighten and her pulse race. Because of her anxiety, she not only wanted but needed her husband’s support.

  She didn’t have to twist his arm to get it. Any reason to take off from work would do as far as Drew was concerned.

  The closest MRI facility was located in Warwick, a town of approximately 30 thousand residents and 12 miles northwest from Glenfield.

  This facility was nestled inside Warwick General Hospital, a large complex sitting on the edge of town and looking a bit out of place. Dr. Mills, who did weekly rotations in the ER there, had only been half-joking when he said Warwick is a town with an inferiority complex. “It aspires to be New Haven, but has only a Mayberry budget.”

  Established in 1992, Warwick General Hospital was supposed to be the town’s status symbol, a representation of what the then mayor saw as a growing metropolis in need of top-quality healthcare. A money pit was what it actually turned out to be, though year after year council members, the mayor, and other representatives of Warwick seemed in continual denial about it. Government subsidies continued to keep the hospital afloat, but at a cost to taxpayers.

  “Warwick Hospital has more beds than Warwick-town has people,” Mills had said and laughed, but Eva found the mockery off-putting.

  Sensing this he added, “But don’t get me wrong, it’s a very good hospital. It has one of the finest neonatal care centers in the world.”

  Dr. Mills referred her to a gynecologist at the hospital.

  In the three years that followed, she had been put through a brutal chain of procedures: hormone therapy, in-vitro fertilization, surgery, fertility pills, and still no bun in the oven.

  He suggested tentatively that she consider adoption, but Eva wasn’t ready to throw in the towel.

  Eva could have asked why he said what he did, but held back, afraid of seeing a look of doubt cross his face.

  The Fairwoods lived in a charming two-story saltbox Colonial. Pink peonies, blue iris and white rose bushes decorated the front of the house. Blue siding with white trim completed the postcard perfect image of a comfortable, well-to-do, if not wealthy, lifestyle.

  For the residents of Glenfield, a small village 20 miles due east of New Haven, holding up illusions of suburban bliss was important. Though life was never going to be perfect for anyone, rich or otherwise, the crutch afforded by the appearance of perfection was what they had paid good money for, and to which they felt entitled, was in their minds a privilege.

  For Drew that crutch helped him deal with problems of his own. Work. Eva.

  The front door opened and Eva stepped out. Even in grey sweats, a hoodie, and brown hair pulled tightly into a ponytail, she was lovely. Not supermodel material, but pretty. She was neither too fat nor too thin. If pressed, Drew would simply describe her as curvy. Well, maybe a little less. Anyway, for him she was just right.

  Watching Eva alight the front stoop, combined with the intoxicating fresh air, he felt a slight stirring of excitement. Time to hit the road. His lips curled into a smile.

  He stepped aside to let her by.

  A peck on the cheek, and then she opened the passenger-side door.

  His smile wavered when he noticed her lips trembling.

  “Why are you so nervous?” he asked.

  “Why do you think?”

  “Ah, stop being such a baby,” he said gently. “It’ll be fine.”

  She closed the door.

  CHAPTER 1

  EVA

  1

  After five years of marriage, Drew Fairwood loved his wife as much as he did on the day he proposed to her one afternoon in Venice, Italy, back when they were in their second year of dating.

  They first met on a return flight from New Mexico, he from an IT convention, and she from visiting her sister, Candace. Candace had just opened a crystal shop and invited Eva to fly out and attend the Grand Opening. Four years earlier Candace had dropped out of Yale Law School after deciding the pressure wasn’t for her (Eva thought there was more to the story than she was admitting, but that’s neither here nor there). She gathered her things and headed west.

  Although Eva was supportive of whatever Candace decided for herself, for a while she had secretly resented her sister’s decision. Here was a woman who had traded in a promising future - and for what? A bunch of rocks and some new-age stuff?

  Hey, whatever. It’s her life.

  Eva didn’t like flying to New Mexico, didn’t like having to play counselor and hearing her sister complaining about her on and off relationship with her Peter Pan boyfriend. She had her own life to deal with. She was an agent of a real estate company who had dreams of someday opening a business, and after spending five years of building a list of clients, contractor
s, inspectors, expeditors, connecting with other hungry real estate agents, she was very close to making her move.

  But Candace was family, and the opening of her New Age shop was a big thing and, despite Eva’s personal feelings against her sister’s decision to go west, it was a good thing. (Two years later, Candace would commit an act Eva considered so selfish that the fallout would drive a permanent wedge between them.)

  Listening to the steady flow of the 737’s twin engines, Eva eased back in her seat and drew a sip from her gin and tonic. She read somewhere that gin was bad for women, had something to do with messing up fertility, but she didn’t care. Eva was twenty-six, she had a few more years to worry about having kids. She liked the taste of the drink and mild buzz it gave her. While drifting within her thoughts, a voice brought her back to reality.

  The man who sat next to her was smiling at her.

  His eyes, vibrant blue and light brown hair struck her. Amiable.

  “I’m sorry, did you say something?” she asked.

  “I said what are you drinking.”

  She told him. He called over a flight attendant and ordered a round for two. He held out his hand and introduced himself.

  “Drew Fairwood.”

  “Eva Dwyer. Nice to meet you.”

  They shook.

  2

  Before she met Drew, Eva hadn’t much of a love life to boast. That’s not to say she was lonely. There were a couple of boyfriends, nothing serious. Six months was the longest she had dated a man, someone she had met while still at Brown. He adored her, but unfortunately for him, the feeling wasn’t mutual. She cared about him, and the sex was great, but Eva found him to be dull. He rarely wanted to do anything but stay home, watch either movies or sports, order in Chinese food, and have sex.

  For a while she enjoyed living the single life, enjoyed the attention men gave her, and enjoyed the occasional romp in bed. It was a lot of fun.

  But some men could be a pain in the ass, especially when one of them happened to be dating your little sister.

  Candace had invited her to a campus party. While they were getting ready Candace’s boyfriend, Beau, a mathematics wiz kid, tall and very handsome, tried to seduce her. He waited until Candace was in the shower before he made his move. A potent combination of brains, good looks and an air of quiet self-confidence got him laid a lot, and thought Eva to be another easy score.

  She was not.

  It happened the moment she turned around facing the computer desk. As she reached into her purse to check for messages on her cellphone (a Blackberry at the time) Eva felt hands sliding around her waist, and then lips pressing against right side of her neck.

  For one infinite second she grew light-headed, a warm tingly sensation emanating below her pelvis, before she registered what was happening.

  She wielded around and pushed him away, threatened to scream if he ever touched her again.

  The next day she told Candace what he did.

  Candace’s reaction was less than graceful. She screamed at Eva, blaming her, accusing her of leading him on. Eva furiously denied it, then felt a flush of guilt when she recalled the brief moment of heated pleasure that came over her when his lips caressed the side of her neck.

  A cold frost settled between them that lasted for two weeks before they finally made up. By that time Beau was out of the picture.

  Since then, Eva felt a twinge of regret for disclosing what happened that night. Candace had been seriously crushing on him, and although her little sister never admitted it, the idea of Beau being partly if not all to blame for her dropping out of Yale, never left Eva.

  Then again, regret only stretched so far. Beau was a womanizing pig, a wolf in a prince’s disguise. Candace would have found that out sooner or later.

  She later learned that Beau joined the FBI.

  Now there’s a chilling thought.

  For whatever reason, Eva seemed to have better luck with men.

  Seven months after her chance meeting with Drew on the plane, they found an apartment in Fairfield, Connecticut, and the following year got married.

  Eva also had good luck in her professional life. Months following her wedding, she left Prudential for a more lucrative offering from Pilgrim Reality, an agency that catered to richer clients, and where home values often ran well into seven figures.

  With their combined income, the Fairwoods had bought their Colonial on Maple Street.

  A great place to raise children.

  Children: Fortune’s only blindspot in her life.

  Before meeting Drew, Eva was ambivalent about children. She enjoyed her life by going out with friends and colleagues.

  She wasn’t even sure she had what it took to be a mother, as maternal instincts never registered in her mental list of prerequisites for a happy life, not then at least.

  She often compared herself with male colleagues at the agency: charismatic, outgoing, but also aggressive, persuasive and perhaps a little impatient. Never had she compared herself to the women in the office, and she never envied the men or their wives for having children.

  To deal with a baby screaming in your ear in the middle of the night, breastfeeding, changing diapers! The thought made her cringe.

  And yet…

  To have that option taken away just wasn’t fair.

  As far back as college, Eva had suffered from occasional bouts of cramping pain. Sometimes it got so bad that she couldn’t get out of bed.

  For nearly ten years she kept it to herself, fearing doctors ever since her father checked into a hospital complaining of shoulder pains and never got out. He died of cardiac arrest in an Emergency Room. She was seventeen years old.

  Whenever the pain got bad, Eva would down three Motrin and wait. Not long ago while taking prospective buyers through an Open House the pain hit hard. The couple never noticed, or didn’t indicate they knew something was wrong. By the time they closed the deal Eva was lying on a gurney, curtains drawn around her in an emergency room. After initial probing, CT scans, and blood tests, her diagnosis was given.

  Endometriosis.

  “I’ve heard of it, but don’t know exactly what it is,” Eva said.

  She was in a room with an empty bed next to her. Drew sat at her bedside with a hand gently touching her arm. Her gynecologist, Gabrielle Newman, gave her the details in a direct yet comforting way, although to Eva it felt cold and clinical. As she listened to Dr. Newman, Eva’s heart sank deeper and deeper. Unfortunately, she had waited so long that her scarring had become extensive.

  “Will I be able to…”

  Dr. Newman was quiet for a long time. Was she shaking her head? Eva wasn’t sure. Her own doubts and frustrations might have been causing her to see things. Newman spoke again, choosing her words very carefully. “There is a chance through surgery, to remove the scarring, and you will also undergo hormone therapy. It’s going to take time, could be several months to a year. And you might require more than one surgery.”

  She was in for a long bumpy ride.

  Raised as a Catholic, as she got older, she began to question her faith as she headed off to college. It was hard for her mother to accept her daughter’s doubts. However, since Eva was good about keeping her skepticism to herself, they had come to an unspoken truce. Even after three surgeries, Eva still had scarring that couldn’t be removed. Now it was up to hormone injections.

  Her mother offered prayers. Eva appreciated the thought if not the religious sentiment.

  3

  “How’re you hangin’ in there?” Drew asked, his eyes on the road, window down, wind tossing his hair.

  “Okay,” she said, although she preferred the windows up and the A/C on.

  It was late spring, warm, fertile, a time of year that made you feel like a kid on spring break.

  Eva was intensely claustrophobic. She could never explain why she had such a fear. She was never locked in a dark closet, or forced into the trunk of a car, never trapped in an elevator. Never buried alive, alt
hough she had plenty of nightmares about it.

  Even though the cause remained a question mark in her life, this fear was compounded after the terrorist attacks of September 11th.

  Pilgrim Realty covered the eighteenth floor of a twenty-two-story glass structure, but work took precedence over personal quirks. She kept this in mind as they drove down a quiet tree-lined service road that ran alongside of I-95.

  She made the mistake of downloading a brochure of the MRI machine she was going to. Though it was an open MRI the space was nevertheless too tight for comfort. Had it been a closed MRI she wouldn’t have done it.

  Pain is preferable to death by suffocation.

  “Drew, you’re going too fast,” she said. “Slow down.”

  “I’m going thirty five.”

  “No, you’re going forty five.”

  He grunted and then eased off the pedal. “You sure you’re okay.”

  “Yes. And if you keep asking me, I won’t be okay.”

  The idea of being placed in a narrow gap, having it’s thick plastic walls pressing on your body like a human waffle iron caused her to dip her head out the window, get a blast of air into her lungs. Better.

  “You look nervous,” he said.

  She came back in. “What?”

  “You look a little tense.”

  She stayed quiet.

  “Do you want a hug?” he joked. “I can pull over.”

  “You better not,” she said.

  “Here,” he slowed the car. “I’ll pull over, give you a hug.”

  “Do it and you’re a dead man.”

  He laughed. “C’mon. It’s not that bad.”

  “Have you ever been stuck in a giant waffle iron before?”

  “No.”

  “Then how do you know?”

  “I don’t believe I’m hearing this from the same woman who had three operations -”

  “I was knocked out,” she said.

  “It’s not even a closed MRI.”

  “Closed enough.”