“Nobody’s talking to you.” Jacob snorts and readjusts his attention to me. “What are you doing, Lu? No kind of real doctor would sleep with his pregnant patients.” He smirks. “If word got around about this, he could get disbarred.”
“I suppose you mean his license to practice could be revoked,” I answer.
“Whatever.” He looks at William. “It means I could make trouble for you, Doc.”
“Don’t make threats, Jacob.” I slip out from under William’s proprietary arm, which feels like the weight of Babylon, sins and all. “But since you brought it up, I no longer see William professionally. So there’s no malpractice involved in our personal relationship.”
I turn away and start unsteadily for the kitchen. “I don’t feel so good.”
“There, see what you’ve done by barging in?” Jacob says triumphantly. “Lu’s feeling sick.”
“She was okay until you started bullying her.”
“What the fuck does that mean, Doc?”
“That you should leave Lu alone, permanently.”
“The hell I will!”
I think I hear the scuffle of feet but, hooo boy, there’s such a ringing in my ears!
Obscenities erupt behind me, followed by the sound a meat mallet makes when I pound chicken breast into cutlets.
I seem to be in slow motion. In the time it takes me to turn around, the two men I left in unfriendly confrontation have become an unsightly heap of flailing limbs on my hall rug. The hall table, an antique that’s more rickety than valuable, is kicked. I watch, fascinated, as my birthday bowl slides to the edge and tumbles off, catching the midmorning light in its lead-glass facets and spraying dozens of miniature rainbows across the walls and floor.
And just like that, the lights go out.
31
“Tallulah? Tallulah Nichols?”
I reluctantly open one eye and then the other. There’s a man in green scrubs standing over me. “The baby!”
“Your child is fine. Don’t you remember?”
I nod slowly. I remember too much to think about. For instance, waking up on the floor with a ring of anxious faces staring back at me. Then the ambulance ride, and how my humiliation that two grown men I know personally could be reduced to slugging it out in front of me kept me from answering any of the medics’ questions about how I was feeling. By the time I reached the ER, I was angry all over again, even angrier than before. That’s when they gave me something to calm me down.
I blink at the doctor, all emotion defeated by the sedative. “I fell asleep.”
The doctor smiles. “You needed the rest. Your blood pressure was up.”
“Where is everybody?”
“There are several people in the waiting room hoping to see you. One claims to be your husband. Another your doctor. After that I’m afraid I’m a bit fuzzy. Something about a neighbor and your…ah, official photographer?”
“Guy with red Rastafarian braids?”
“That’s the one.”
“We work at the same magazine.”
“I see.” But by his expression, I can tell that this doctor doesn’t see a thing about me clearly. Who can blame him?
“The one claiming to be my husband? He’s my ex-husband. But I suppose you should send him in first.”
The doctor nods but hesitates. “Is there anyone else you’d like me to call first? Someone less involved?”
That’s when I know that he’s heard about the fight. Can I sink any lower? “I suppose I do need a female influence.” I give him Andrea’s number. “Tell her to come as my attorney.”
The doctor looks up from making notes. “Are you planning to press charges?”
“What?”
“There’s a policewoman waiting outside. I think she’d like to speak with you before you see anyone else.”
“Why?”
“It’s routine procedure in domestic disputes,” the policewoman tells me, smiling a smile that doesn’t quite reach her unblinking gaze. “The responding attendants called the police. Do you wish to file a complaint against either man?”
“For stupidity?”
“For injury. Reckless endangerment to you and your child.” She flips open her pad. “How many times were you struck?”
“I wasn’t—”
“Shoved or pushed or…?”
“No one laid a hand on me! Really, no one. I fainted.”
She looks at me, her uniform so clean and crisp and professional I feel like a cornered felon. “You’re not alone, ma’am. This sort of thing happens all the time, even in the best neighborhoods. You’ve nothing to fear. We can find you shelter. Get you counseling. Don’t protect a man, or men, who’d hurt a pregnant woman.”
Okay. Where is the rock I can crawl under?
It takes about five more minutes to convince her that I merely fainted. And the two fools in the brawl were blessedly aiming blows only at each other. Thank goodness I had the presence of mind to grab the edge of the table as I went down. No bumps or bruises show to counter my claim.
Finally, she flips her notepad closed and offers me her card. “If you change your mind, or at any time in the future feel unsafe, don’t hesitate to call this number.” She cocks her head toward me. “Ex-spouses can be the worst.”
I ignore her, though Jacob probably has the scare coming. “Speaking of which, please send in my ex-husband.”
I’m not feeling happy about mediating a smackdown from an emergency-room examining room, but I seem to have no choice.
Jacob arrives in the doorway a minute later, looking positively smug for a man with a blackened eye and puffy lip, and torn shirt. “Hey, Lu. How are you doing?”
“The police suspect you of domestic violence. I’m only glad your poor mother’s not here to witness this day.” It’s a low blow, the lowest I can think of. He responds by blanching. “To think that you would do this to me, in my condition…” Hey, I’m pretty good at guilt trips. Guess I learned something from my mother-in-law, after all.
He rushes over and takes my hand, then begins to stammer like a kid. “Now, now, Lu. Y-you know I’d n-never do anything to hu-hurt you and…and…”
“Yes. That’s what I told the police, but—”
“That’s why they’re here?” His head whips toward the door. “To arrest me? Jeez, Lu. What am I going to do?”
“Go home, Jacob. And don’t come back to my house unless invited.”
“What about your condition, Lu?” He winces from the effort to speak. Is that a bandage peeking through the tear in his shirt? No, I won’t feel sorry for him. Not after what he’s put me—I reach down to pat Sweet Tum—us through.
Yet, as he nervously fingers his raw-meat lip, he seems to remember what started all this. “You scared the hell out of me! Dropping like that. Didn’t you think of the kid? You could have done some damage—!”
“Shut up, Jacob. You started a fight. In my house. You struck a guest!” I’m up on an elbow now, feeling as light-headed as before I went down for the count. “You broke my birthday gift!”
My raised voice is all that is required to bring a nurse to my door. “What’s going on here?” The tone of her voice says the police aren’t but a crooked finger away.
“He’s leaving. After an apology.”
Jacob reddens before the nurse’s gimlet eye. “Yeah, I’m sorry, Lu. Really sorry. I’ll call tomorrow. Or, when you say. Okay?”
“Let me do the calling. Now please send in Curran.”
Curran looks as spooked as Davin did when he was a little kid and I was too sick to get out of bed. Hanging in the doorway, he’s fidgety and pale. “Hey, Lu. You and the kid okay?”
“We are marvelous, Curran. How are you involved in this?”
“I’d cruised by your place to get a snap of the birthday girl. That’s when I, like, peeped the ambulance and all. You sure you’re okay?”
“I just fainted. Sorry to frighten you.”
He hoists his ever-present camera.
&
nbsp; “Stop! I said I’m fine. But I’m not in the mood for photos.” I hate to halt him in mid-focus, but there are limits. “If you take even one photo in this room, I will never ever speak to you again.”
“Sure, Lu. Whatever you say.” He lowers his camera until it dangles from his neck strap, lens pointed downward, impotent. But do I dare trust him?
“Go home. Destroy your film. Speak of this to no one. Ever. Under any circumstances. I will know if you do. Swear to do this upon your secret desire for Catherine Deneuve.”
His head droops like a puppy that’s sighted a rolled newspaper. “Aw, Lu.”
“Destroy the film, Curran.”
He winces. “Deal.”
When he’s gone I elect to speak to Cy.
One look at his exhausted, harried expression and for the first time I feel like I’m the one who deserves to be chastised. “I’m so sorry you had to be involved in this, Cy.”
He comes close and grips my hand. “Why sorry? You think I couldn’t break up a fight? You forgot I was a marine. Saw action in Korea. Two bozos going at each other? I’ve seen it dozens of times. There’s a technique to breaking up a brawl.” He grins, though he is still too pale for my liking. “Knocked some sense into them. But you? Lu, why bring those fellows under the same roof?”
“Believe me, it wasn’t planned. You broke up the fight? How did you know about it?”
“Didn’t I see Jacob arrive? And when William returned without Jacob leaving, I thought I’d better come over, see if you needed any help.”
“I won’t say you shouldn’t have. All the same, it’s beginning to creep me out, Cy, the way you watch my place. Know what I mean?”
“You tell me you didn’t need me today, and I’ll back off.”
There’s nothing like the truth to take the wind out of a good gripe. “Thank you.”
“So how’s our little tot?” He’s frowning hard as he looks at the slight mound under the sheet. “She’s okay?”
“She or he is fine. I just got excited. Hadn’t drunk enough water today. When the fellows lost it, my blood pressure kinda went wonkers on me.”
“For this you need a keeper.” He swipes his brow with a hand. “I can do only so much from next door. Like I said before, you should come and live with me.”
I squeeze his hand hard. “You’re the sweetest guy on the planet, you know that.”
“But you got the hots for the doc.” He says this kindly.
“It’s not what you think, Cy. He’s just…”
“What you need?”
“What I need now. That sounds awful, doesn’t it?”
Cy shrugs. “What do I know? But I do know you shouldn’t expose your child to the kind of emotional roller coaster that lands you in the emergency room. You’re too smart not to know that, too.”
“You’re absolutely right. I promise here and now not ever to allow anything even remotely like this to occur again.”
“So, you’ll come home with me?”
The man doesn’t let a thing go. “I’ve seen Jacob. How bad off is William?”
Cy snorts. “I’d like to be there to see him explain the stitches over his eye to his patients tomorrow.” My gasp brings his sharp gaze my way. “What’s a couple of bruised ribs? Neither of them has bragging rights. They felled a pregnant woman.”
All too true. “Can you see about getting me out of here?”
Cy brightens up. “You got it, kiddo!”
If possible, William looks more worried and contrite than any of the others. Oh, and his poor eye!
He rushes over and takes my hand, to feel my pulse. “Are you okay? Any pain? Nausea? Cramping?” His hands touch me lightly, professionally. “Did you hit your head, hip? Any heart arrhythmia? Are you spotting?”
“I’m fine, Dr. Templeton.” It’s all I can do to keep from reaching out and cradling his face in the most unprofessional manner. In addition to his stitches, he’s got a bruise the size of Cleveland on his chin. But I’m angry and disappointed that any man this wonderful could be reduced by a few ugly words to a brawler. Oh, but he looks like he needs kissing. Even at a moment like this, I’m wired as a comfort-giver. This is the kind of thing that gives femininity a bad name.
When he’s satisfied that I’m in good order, he bends and kisses my forehead, the physician role abandoned for lover. “They wouldn’t tell me a damn thing or let me see you, even after I showed my credentials and said I was your doctor.”
I smile, but it’s not a nice smile. “Maybe that’s because you are under suspicion in a domestic dispute.”
The accusation drains the hubris from his face. “Jacob and I could be arrested for fighting over you?”
“Or with me.” I’m still so mad at the pair of them I can’t resist turning the screws. “I’ve been asked if I want to press charges against the pair of you.”
For a moment he looks appalled. I can see him calculating the effect a criminal indictment would have on his patient roster. In his battered condition, the mug shot alone would make me think twice, and I sleep with the guy.
But then he has the grace to murmur, “Whatever you say, Lu. I’m just so damned sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I haven’t been in a fistfight since high—well, the boxing club at college.”
“You should be sorry.” He was a boxer? What happened to his technique? No, I can’t ask questions now. I’m hurt and indignant, and grateful Jacob isn’t mincemeat. “I can’t imagine what you thought you were fighting over. Last time I checked, I was a completely free agent.”
“You’re right. All that’s important is that you are okay.” He frowns, studying my face once more. “You are certain you are okay? And the baby?”
“Both fine. Both tired. And both ready to go home.”
He brightens. “I’ll take care of it. I’m prepared to pay for everything.”
“No.” I put up a hand to cup his bruised jaw. “Cy has everything under control. I’ve had enough excitement for one weekend. You should probably go home and take care of that eye.”
He hangs his head. “You’re entitled to be as angry with me as you like, Lu. I more than deserve it. All that’s important is that you and the baby are okay.”
Another time, when I’m well rested and feeling more like myself, I’m sure I’ll look back on this moment with sympathy. But for now, all I can think of is how much I want to go home to my own bed.
He reaches the door before he looks back. “Happy Birthday, Lu.”
I’m home in my bed, with Andrea and Cy keeping watch downstairs, before it strikes me that not every woman can boast or whimper that she spent her fiftieth birthday in the emergency room because two men started a fight over her. I’m still furious and yet, dare I admit it even to myself, strangely titillated by the idea.
This must be what they mean when they say popular entertainment is coarsening our culture.
july
Who decided life—like furniture—should have a style?
As if we could pick our lives out of a showroom,
and accessorize with the “right” man, child, car and/or dog.
—“I Don’t Do Country, French or Danish Modern!”
CUE LU!
32
“Aunt Marvelle!”
“Hello, Tallulah.” She brushes past me trailing the powdery fragrance of Arpège. A chauffeur follows her. I’m not nearly as surprised by the limo parked on the curb as I am by the amount of baggage the man brings through my door. She’s dragged out the vintage Louis Vuitton. And there’s a vintage hatbox from Bonwit Teller.
Once inside, she pauses to pat her forehead with a linen handkerchief. “This is exactly why I never travel up island in summer. There’s no sense in all this heat without sand and sea to make up for it.”
“I’m delighted to see you, but why are you here?”
“I’ve come to look after you.” She pats my shoulder, bracelets sounding like an armful of wind chimes, and then turns and hands the limo driver several bills. �
��Thank you, my good man.” When he’s gone she smiles at me. “I ordered a limo to meet the Jitney because I cannot bear the stink of Penn Station in July. Never mind all those rattling trains.”
I’ve had five whole seconds to think about this unexpected turn of events. “Dr. Templeton called you.”
Aunt Marvelle’s perfectly penciled brows lift. “Is that coffee I smell? I hope it’s decaf, Tallulah. In your condition, it should be. I’ll have mine with ice, lots of ice.”
It’s a little past 2:00 p.m. on Tuesday. The doctor advised several days of rest, no stress. Nice job, if you can get it.
For the past two nights Cy has slept on my downstairs sofa. Andrea has spent the same two nights in Dallas’s old room. Thankfully she has to get up and go in to work each morning. Cy I have to eject each day. I called work and told them I’m on bed rest. The idea that my pregnancy might be in danger upset Tai so much that she actually called me. I had to assure her that I was fine, this was just a precaution because my blood pressure was slightly elevated. She promised that there’d be no pressure at work when I came back. My silver lining?
Curran comes by every day. This morning he waited on the porch until Cy invited him in for breakfast while I sulked in my room. No pictures this week.
William calls every evening, to make certain I’m okay. He talks to Andrea more than I like, if I don’t beat her to the phone. I hate being “managed.”
When we have seated ourselves at my kitchen table and decaf is steaming up glasses of ice cubes, I look at my aunt. “I’ve got some news about me you’re going to find quite amazing.”
She gives me an owl stare. “You’re pregnant. I’m hurt, Tallulah. Hurt that I had to hear the truth from a stranger.”
“I wanted to tell you, Aunt Marvelle. Things have been moving so fast. I just didn’t know quite how.”
“So you leave it to the most eligible man I know to call me to say my niece, whom he’s seeing, needs my help because she’s having a baby. And, by the way, her husband is giving her hell.”
“William said that?”
She picks up a packet of sugar substitute, thinks better of it and reaches for the sugar bowl. “He didn’t say nearly enough, for my liking.”
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