The Doctor's Wife

by Elizabeth Brundage

  After the meal, Olivia turned the television in the living room on. “I don’t usually do this at dinner parties, but I thought you’d all like to watch the debates. They won’t take too long, and we can have our dessert afterward.” Several of the guests, including Lydia Haas, immediately went inside and stood in front of the TV. But Annie and Simon didn’t move.

  “I can’t think of anything more boring,” Simon said. “It’s like a fucking sporting match.”

  “You’re right,” Annie said, wondering whose side he was on.

  “I’m for Nash, of course,” Simon said. “He’s got my vote.”

  Annie shot him a look: You can’t be serious?

  Jack Spaull sat down and handed Simon a cigar. “He’s the only man for the job, as far as I’m concerned.”

  Hearing this, Annie had to control the urge to walk out. Now that dinner was over, she could say she needed to get home to relieve Christina. Spending time with people who supported Nash, whose right-wing agenda made her stomach turn, was like waltzing with the enemy. Still, she couldn’t take her eyes off Simon Haas, who was now relishing his cigar. Was it possible that he actually supported Nash? she fretted incredulously. Nash was adamantly opposed to abortion and gun control. He had limited legislative experience and had aligned himself with the Christian Right. Annie hoped in vain that Simon was lying for Jack Spaull’s benefit, but she couldn’t be sure of that; she couldn’t be sure of anything when it came to Simon Haas, and if he was lying for Jack’s benefit that, too, would disgust her.

  “Hell of a cigar, Jack,” Simon said.

  “Nothing like a good cigar after a fine meal,” Jack said. “All I need is a smoking jacket and a pair of satin slippers.”

  “Where’s the girl in the cake, that’s what I want to know,” Simon said. “You see, Annie, he’s corrupting me.”

  “I don’t think that’s possible, Simon,” Jack said. “In fact, I know it’s not.”

  “Fill me in,” Annie said. “It all sounds awfully interesting.”

  “He’s referring to my indulgent past,” Simon said. “Far from interesting.”

  “Come now, Mr. Haas. Don’t underestimate your shortcomings, they may be all you have left.” Jack stood up and patted Simon on the back. “I’ll leave you two alone now. But behave yourself, Simon.”

  “I intend to do just that,” Simon said, finishing his drink and smiling a little devilishly as Jack walked back toward the bright lights of the house. “We were close once. As kids. He’s like a brother, he likes to torture me about stuff.”

  Annie felt herself falling into his grasp. She couldn’t seem to help it. Catch me, she thought. I’m falling. “What kind of stuff?”

  “He helped me out when I first got here. I was kind of broke. He likes to remind me from time to time. He saved my life, basically.”

  “Well, that’s a hell of a good excuse to celebrate,” she said, pouring them each another shot. “To saving lives.”

  A burst of applause sounded from the group in the living room, followed by uproarious laughter at the TV.

  “Saving lives,” he repeated.

  They sat there for a moment in silence.

  “It’s a good bourbon,” he said. “But that’s like Jack. He’s got good taste. He’s a man you can count on.”

  “Yes,” she agreed, although she hardly knew Jack Spaull. “I have that feeling about him. I have that feeling about him, too.”

  “I can count on old Jack. Because he’s seen me at my worst. And it didn’t matter. He’s been good to me. He’s helped me out. I was down. I was an asshole. And he was there.”

  “What happened?”

  “I’ve made mistakes,” he said. “I’ve done things. Awful things. But not you, right? You’re not the type to make mistakes.”

  “I’ve made my share,” she said. She wanted to ask him what kind of awful things, but she didn’t have the nerve.

  “It’s a rare thing,” Simon said, sounding very drunk all of a sudden.

  “It’s a rare thing to be able to trust someone. I don’t trust anyone, really. I know we were attempting to discuss it earlier and we didn’t quite crack the nut, did we? The truth is, the truth is, I have never really been able to let go.” His eyes came at her. “Do you know what I mean? To let go, just the sound of it. Like falling through the air.” He reached out and took her hand. “I would jump off a cliff with you.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  “Forgive me for being a drunken fool, but I would.”

  In her head she saw a wide blue sky, fluffy pink clouds. She imagined falling through the air with Simon Haas and smiled. “You hardly know me.”

  “I sense you.”

  “Ah.”

  “As in sensual.”

  “You’re drunk.”

  “As in animal, you know, as in instinct.”

  Her heart began to pound.

  “As in natural selection.” He smiled at her. He seemed to be enormously pleased with himself.

  “I don’t usually drink this much,” she said, feeling a little afraid of him. “Do you?”

  “Always. It can be very entertaining.”

  “I’m actually sort of enjoying it.”

  “Let’s have another, for God’s sake.” He poured her some more and lit a cigarette. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I think you should know that I find you incredibly attractive.”

  “What?” Had she heard him right?

  “Your face. I think it’s extraordinary.”

  “Now I know you’re drunk.”

  “Truly.”

  “Your wife is the one who’s extraordinary, Mr. Haas. I’ve never seen anyone like her.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t do that.”

  “Do what?”

  “Undermine my compliment. It’s meant for you. I don’t want to talk about my wife.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “It’s just that I’ve never thought of myself as particularly attractive.”

  “Oh, but you are. Right here”—he touched her cheek—“this hollow. The way it grabs the light.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “I’d like to paint your face sometime if you’d let me. At the risk of sounding piggish, I’d like to stare at you for a very long while.”

  “I thought you were finished with painting. All washed up.”

  “I’m beginning to feel inspired.”

  Much later, when they were both quite drunk, they found themselves sitting in a pair of Adirondack chairs way back in the deep shadows on the lawn, far from the house. The other guests, including his wife, were all on the terrace, having dessert around the table under the colored lanterns. Annie was feeling quite loose and did not mind indulging in the bottle of whiskey that they had surreptitiously removed from Jack Spaull’s liquor closet. The clouds were thick and yellow, brewing a storm, and the air smelled of rain and honeysuckle. Distantly, she wondered if Michael would show up; now that she was having so much fun on her own she hoped he wouldn’t.

  “We should go over there,” Annie said. “They’re having dessert.”

  “We should.”

  “But we’re not getting up.”

  “We’re drunk.”

  “They’ll think we’re antisocial.”

  “Let them. I’m a painter, for Christ’s sake. I’m supposed to be antisocial.”

  “Do you hear something?” They listened. “What is that noise?”

  “Deer,” he said. “Look, over there.” Five or six deer had appeared several yards away. “They come out of the woods. Look at them, they’re frolicking, for God’s sake.”

  “They’re eating the apples.”

  “Getting drunk on them, they’re rotten. Drunk deer, can you imagine! Look at them stumbling around.” He laughed and started traipsing around after them with his arms spread out like a monster. It was something Henry would do, she thought wistfully. “Shoo, deer,” he shouted. “Shoo!” Annie sat there alone under the thick clouds. She wasn’t s
orry that Michael hadn’t come. She’d had a better time without him.

  Simon came back to her, breathing hard, pulling her to her feet. “They’re going into the woods.”

  “Good for you,” she said. “You’re an excellent deer chaser.”

  “Not the deer, them!” He pointed to some of the guests, who were walking into the woods with lanterns. “They’re going up the trails.”

  “How fun,” she said. “Let’s go.”

  “All right,” he said with some hesitation, his eyes flashing back to the house.

  “Maybe you should take your wife, Simon.”

  “I don’t want to take my wife.” He looked at her.

  “Do we need to get one of those lamps?”

  “It’s much more exciting in the dark, don’t you think? Anyway, I know these woods backwards and forwards. You’ll have to hold on to me, that’s all. You’ll have to trust me. Aha, there’s that word again, keeps cropping up.” He swept his hand under her chin. The gesture surprised her, and she was moved by it. “Will you trust me, Annie?”

  “That depends,” she said. “How’s your sense of direction?”

  “Strategic.”

  “In that case.” Annie held out her arm and he took it, and they went together into the woods, lured by the sounds of the others, who were some distance ahead. It was a narrow trail, very dark, and she could hardly see. She looked up through the trees and saw the black sky churning with clouds. It would rain soon, she was certain of that, and this was probably not a good idea, but somehow she could not turn away. As if they were leaving their lives behind, for a few splendid moments, as if nothing really mattered except for the two of them, walking into obscurity together, and yes, having to trust each other because there was nobody else. They didn’t talk, just walked side by side, and she could feel a strange intimacy embracing them. It began to rain, lightly at first, pattering on the leaves, and she could hear the others turning back, growing closer, and then she could see their lamps, large circles of light coming through the dark.

  “We should turn back, too,” she said. “It’s getting worse.”

  “But you haven’t seen the best part,” he said, his breath ragged. “There’s a place up ahead I want to show you.”

  The group was upon them, and they were all laughing, surprised to find Annie and Simon Haas there without a lamp, and Dana Roach wanted them to take one of theirs but Simon refused. “We don’t need it,” he said, “we’re right behind you,” which seemed to satisfy Dana, and the group ran down the trail as the rain fell harder. Simon pulled Annie in the opposite direction, up the incline, and she began to protest. “No, Simon, we have to go back. We can’t stay out here in this rain.”

  “You said you trusted me,” he said, continuing on, refusing to let go.

  They were drenched now, and she felt a little frightened. There was something almost mad in the way he charged through the dark, unhindered by the assault of branches and leaves, long twigs scratching up her calves. She clung to him fiercely, like a blind woman, and he was nearly dragging her now, her feet stumbling over the reckless array of rocks and underbrush. They reached a clearing, and he pulled her closer with the rain falling wildly, and she could hear him wrestling with the branches, thrusting his hand into a thick tangle of vines. She felt something cool against her lips, a small round shape pressing into her mouth—it was a thrilling sensation—and then he whispered, “Eat it.” She bit down, feeling the plump grape squirt in her mouth, and then there was another, and still another, and he kept feeding her grapes, and she felt his lips upon hers, the hungry swell of his tongue, and he was kissing her madly, deeply, recklessly, and she pushed him back, saying, “We have to go! We’re lost!”

  Twisting loose, she started back down the trail. The rain fell in sheets, making it impossible to see. She could hear him calling her, “Wait, for God’s sake. Annie!”

  But she did not wait, wanting to be free of him, running blindly through the maze of trails until she tripped and felt herself stumbling to the ground. She gasped, amazed by her own clumsiness, embarrassed by it, spitting dirt out of her mouth, winded, confused. She was suddenly very frightened. “Simon!” Her voice rose desperately over the rain. “Simon!” And then he was there, taking her hand, pulling her up, embracing her, apologizing. “I’m sorry, Annie, forgive me, will you please forgive me?” And not waiting for her answer, not really wanting it, he led her back to the world.

  They returned to the house to find the others waiting for them with some degree of consternation, including Michael, who had shown up in scrubs and a sports jacket. Annie imagined that she and Simon were quite a sight, both of them dripping like stray dogs while everyone looked on, grave with suspicion. “We were about to send out a search party,” Jack Spaull said.

  Annie went over to Michael and kissed him awkwardly, as if she were trying to establish something, to disprove the obvious mistrust in the air. “Nice of you to show up.”

  “I’ve been here for nearly an hour,” he said, displeased.

  “I’m afraid we got lost,” Simon apologized. “Hello, Michael, I’m Simon Haas.”

  Michael nodded coldly.

  “Here.” Olivia handed them each a towel. “You’re drenched. What a night. I haven’t seen rain like this in months.”

  “It was completely my mistake,” Simon said. “I thought I knew the trails better. Then the rain started.” He looked around, his eyes wide as a choirboy’s. “We were completely lost.”

  “Well, the important thing is that you’re back safely,” Olivia said.

  Simon’s face darkened suddenly. “Has anyone seen my wife?”

  “She’s had a small accident,” Michael said.

  “Where is she?” Simon was growing more agitated by the minute.

  “In my room,” Olivia said, trying to calm him. “She’s fine. She’s resting.”

  “She cut herself,” Michael explained. “She’s had quite a bit to drink.”

  “Cut herself where?” Simon asked, giving Annie the impression that his wife had done it before.

  “Her hand,” Michael answered. “Slicing lemons. I bandaged her up, but she could use a few stitches if you’re worried about a scar.”

  “I don’t give a damn about any scar.” Simon charged up the stairs. The guests glanced at Annie warily. Annie felt dizzy, faint. The floor overhead began to tremble, and they could hear Lydia crying the way that a teenager cries, an urgency in her voice as she tried to explain herself. The group stood there, a silent vigil, uncertain what to do next. Then the door upstairs opened and a moment later Haas was pulling his wife down the stairs and she was crying and hiding her head like one of those cheesy actresses trying to escape the paparazzi. Olivia ran to get the girl’s coat, her voice a gentle tumble of excuses: You’re just tired, my dear, you need a good rest is all, go home and get into bed with a nice cup of tea, as if that was a suitable remedy. Simon ushered her out the door, muttering his apologies. They all watched through the windows, relishing the scandal, as the tormented couple got into the car and drove away, swerving into a trash can, leaving a trail of litter in their wake.