The Nurse's Not-So-Secret Scandal

by Wendy S. Marcus

  “No buts.” Fig touched a finger to her lips. “For now let’s just leave it at we love each other. We’ll work the rest out later.”

  A horn honking “La Cucaracha” had everyone stopping what they were doing to look out at the street in front of the house. A refurbished 1960s-style car with gleaming chrome fenders pulled to a stop, and a huge Latino man climbed out of the front passenger door.

  “Which one’s that?” Fig asked.

  “What do you mean which one? I don’t recognize him. It’s not like I know every man in town.” She tried to step away.

  “Stop,” Fig said. “You have to stop twisting what I say. Which brother is that?”

  “That’s one of my brothers?” Ay Dios mio. He did not look happy. “This was a bad idea.”

  Fig waved him over.

  “Stop that. What the heck are you doing?”

  “We need to finish this, Roxie. Today’s the day.”

  Two equally huge men climbed out of the backseat and the driver drove off. Roxie glanced at the condition of the house and yard, mortified it looked nothing like it had fifteen years earlier.

  Fig stepped forward to greet her brothers.

  Roxie headed for the porch, grabbing Jared on the way. “You got a defibrillator somewhere? My brothers showed up, after all.” Even if Mami didn’t need it, Roxie might.

  “It’s going to be fine.” Jared wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Ali.” His wife looked up from stacking hundreds of plastic take-out containers. “You got my bags?” Ali nodded.

  Roxie climbed the steps. “Hola, Mami,” she said.

  Her mother stood and took Roxie’s face between her hands. “Mi querida hija. Look at your beautiful face. That man should be arrested.”

  “Sit. I need to tell you something.”

  “Mami,” a loud booming voice called out.

  Roxie recognized that voice, Roberto, her oldest, meanest brother, and froze, scared to look at him.

  Her mother clutched her chest and grabbed for the broken porch railing. Jared reached out to steady her. “Keep breathing, Mrs. Morano.” Ali walked up beside Roxie and rubbed her back. “You, too, Rox.”

  “Funny how you could be a grown, independent woman one second and feel like a scared five-year-old girl the next,” she whispered to Ali as her brother’s large stride ate up the distance to the porch.

  “It’s going to be okay,” Ali said.

  Roxie knew better.

  “Hey, bug eyes,” Roberto said when he reached her. “Great job taking care of the home front.”

  Bug eyes. No one dared call her that to her face in years. How he used to make her cry.

  “Roberto, mi hijo,” Mami said with reverence, reaching up a hand to touch him as if to confirm he was real and not an apparition.

  “Si, Mami. And I brought Miguel, Cruz and Ernesto with me. We’ll have this place cleaned out and fixed up in no time.”

  “You can’t…” Just come in here and take over, Roxie wanted to say.

  But Mami said, “See, Roxie. I told you they’d come.”

  Roberto flashed an evil smile from over Mami’s shoulder as he bent to hug her.

  Why exactly did they come? Roxie wondered. Why now, when she’d called each one of them so many times over the years without so much as a call back from all but Ernesto? What had Fig done?

  “Will you two keep an eye on Mami?” Roxie asked Jared and Ali, who both nodded. Confident her mother was in good hands, she went to find Fig, taking the long way around the yard to avoid her other brothers—having no desire to see Ernesto in particular after the nasty messages he’d left on her cell phone after “accidentally coming across” her video online.

  She slipped in between two small box trucks…and ran into Fig’s parents on the sidewalk.

  A bullet between the eyes seemed like the only way to improve upon this day. She forced a smile. “Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Figelstein. What brings you here?” Come to see Roxie’s beautiful home? To meet her warm, welcoming family? To see what a wonderful choice your son has made in picking a woman to fall in love with?

  To Roxie’s complete and utter shock, Fig’s mother flung herself at Roxie’s chest and clamped her arms around her midback, pinning Roxie’s arms at her sides. Roxie briefly contemplated the best defensive wrestling maneuvers to ward off the unprovoked attack and escape the pythonlike squeeze without hurting the smaller woman, until Mrs. Figelstein said, “Thank you. For convincing Ryan to come talk to me. For giving me back my son.”

  That’s when Roxie realized Fig’s mother was actually hugging her…and how good it felt to be hugged right then. And she burst into tears. Not the ladylike kind, either. “I’m sorry.” She’d been holding in so much for so long it was getting harder and harder to contain all the emotion. She tried to pull away so she could go someplace private to get herself together. “It’s been a difficult few days.”

  Fig’s mom didn’t let go. “There, there.” She patted between Roxie’s shoulder blades like she was burping a baby. “Ryan’s told us what you’ve been going through. You get it all out, honey. Albert. My purse. Get the dear girl some tissues.”

  Honey? Dear girl? Self-pity outburst over. Somewhere between the front of the box trucks and the rear, she’d slipped into an alternate reality.

  “What’s going on here?” Fig yelled. “What did you do?” He peeled his mother off and pulled Roxie into his arms.

  “She didn’t do anything.” Roxie sniffled. “I kind of lost it for a minute.”

  “Jared told me what happened.” He ran his fingers through her hair and eased her head to his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

  She held out her hand for a fifty.

  “Will you take it in trade?” he asked quietly.

  She nodded. And felt her spirits lift instantly.

  “Look at that, Albert. Our Ryan is in love.”

  Fig let out a breath. “A few more days and they’ll all be gone,” he whispered.

  “What if we don’t survive it?” Roxie whispered back.

  “I hear you make a chicken soup with matzo balls that will make me weep,” Mrs. Figelstein said. “That’s a very important skill for a woman running a Jewish household. Have you considered converting?”

  Roxie lifted her head and looked at Fig. “Did she just…?”

  Fig raised his eyebrows and nodded. “Yup.”

  “We don’t have to make any decisions now,” his mother added.

  “We?” Roxie asked Fig quietly.

  “As long as she’s willing to raise the children Jewish. You are, aren’t you, Roxie?”

  “Am I pregnant and don’t know it?” Roxie whispered.

  “Enough, Mom,” Fig warned. “Did you do what I asked?”

  “Sandwiches, drinks and chips for one hundred will be delivered promptly at noon.”

  “I said for fifty,” Fig clarified.

  “Well, dear. I made Daddy drive me past on our way to the deli and it’s a good thing I did. No self-respecting Jewish mother would ever host a party that did not provide enough food for everyone in attendance. You remember that, Roxie. Now come.” She took Roxie by the arm. “Introduce me to your mother.”

  That was a
terrible idea. “I don’t think…”

  Someone yelled out, “Roxie.” Ali.

  And Roxie ran.

  Mami, who’d been doing so well since the fire, sat in her chair, rocking and looking down at the ground. “What happened?” Roxie asked, dropping to her knees at Mami’s feet.

  “I wanted to show them,” Mami mumbled. “I decide. It’s not all garbage.”

  “Si, Mami,” Roxie agreed. “They’re your things. You decide. Just like on the TV show.”

  “But look.” Mami pointed to her brothers, who stood amidst the now organized mess of her front yard, pitching bag after bag haphazardly into the back of a box truck like they were tossing trash into a Dumpster.

  “Stop,” Roxie yelled, walking to her brothers. “These are Mami’s things that she’s collected for you for years.” She lowered her voice. “While I couldn’t care less what you do with them after you drive them away, you will respect them, and respect her wishes while you’re here.”

  “You going to make us, Roxie?” Ernesto asked, his words oozing contempt. “Or are you going by a porn name these days?”

  “Sticks and stones,” Mrs. Figelstein said from beside her, then Fig’s mother opened fire. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself.” She took on Ernesto. “Talking to your little sister like that. The poor girl was drugged and abused and it was an absolutely horrific experience for her.”

  The woman had Jewish guilt down.

  Ernesto looked stricken.

  “The four of you, coming here and upsetting your mother. Get down from that truck,” she demanded. When Roberto didn’t move she yelled, “Right. Now,” in a voice worthy of a military drill sergeant. And well, what do you know? Her big, tough bully of a brother listened. “You all go and apologize.” She pointed to the porch. “This. Instant.”

  Roxie leaned in to Fig. “Your family is awful big on apologies.”

  He gave her a small half smile.

  “Move it,” Fig’s mother said with authority, as if anyone who didn’t would suffer severe consequences.

  Her brothers didn’t know what to make of her—a vicious ankle biter yapping at four Rottweilers, holding them entranced. Then they looked at Fig’s dad, who may not talk much but stood tall and protective behind his wife. They glanced from Jared and Ali, who stood on the porch with Mami, to Roxie and Fig, Victoria and Kyle and dozens of other friends and coworkers and even some townspeople she’d never met, who’d all come to stand beside her.

  For the first time in her life, Roxie didn’t have to go it alone. She felt weak with relief.

  Fig stepped forward to confront her brothers in semiprivate. “The terms you all agreed to were you come home, make nice and clean out the house without upsetting your mother. You want me to stick to my end of our deal you’d better stick to yours.”

  “You’re right, ma’am,” one of her brothers, either Miguel or Cruz, said to Fig’s mom. And he led the other three up to the porch to Mami.

  “She’s amazing,” Roxie said to Fig.

  He actually looked a little proud as he watched his mom follow Roxie’s brothers. “She has her moments.”

  “So you had a nice talk with her?”

  “Most of the night. I’m sorry she brought up…”

  Roxie held out her hand. “I think that makes two hundred dollars you owe me. How will you work it off?” she teased.

  “The only way to find out is if you come home with me at the end of the day.” He looked hopeful. But was prolonging their relationship really the way to go? So they loved each other. He didn’t live in Madrin Falls, and Roxie couldn’t leave Mami and couldn’t afford, nor did she want to hire on, a live-in caregiver. It was her responsibility to care for her mother.

  “I know how to make you say yes,” Fig said. He leaned close. “Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. There,” he said. “That will keep me busy all night long.”

  He was right, that did get her to say yes. And after a brief nap when they got back to his place, he did keep busy. All. Night. Long.

  CHAPTER TEN

  ON THURSDAY morning, after answering a knock on the condo door, Fig said goodbye to the mysterious visitor he did not invite in and turned to her, holding out a police evidence bag containing a DVD with her name on it and three small camcorder cassettes. The same ones Johnny had given her and the police had later retrieved from her purse and taken into evidence while she’d been unconscious.

  Was it possible? Could the nightmare of Johnny be over without Madrin Falls—and the internet porn-loving community at large—being privy to a second installment?

  As if he could read her mind, Fig smiled and nodded.

  Roxie ran to him and threw her arms around his neck. “How did you…?”

  He hugged her close. “All I’m at liberty to share is I acquired them through legal means, they are no longer evidence and can be dealt with as you see fit.”

  Bonfire! “Thank you.” She kissed his neck. “I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”

  “Then why don’t you show me?” Fig suggested, stepping back.

  They’d been at it most of the night. Even she was exhausted, and she hadn’t undergone major surgery a few days prior. “You can’t possibly…”

  Instead of walking to the bedroom like she’d first thought, Fig stopped at the hall closet, took out a second bag, this one a nondescript red plastic shopping bag with handles, and walked it over to her.

  Roxie peeked inside. Couldn’t believe it. She looked up at Fig.

  “I don’t know what went on after the first few minutes of the video,” he said, taking her back into his arms—her new favorite place to be. “And I don’t care. But if you want to play and experiment I’m all in. If this bag doesn’t contain what you’re looking for, then we’ll keep shopping until we find it.”

  How was she ever going to leave him when it came time to return home with Mami? For the next ten days they lived like honeymooners, working at her house during the day and indulging each other’s sexual fantasies at night.

  On day one, Fig started counseling four times a week.

  On day two, Mami agreed to attend counseling.

  On day three, Mami canceled the counseling appointment Roxie had made on day two.

  On day four, her brothers returned to their homes, Papi’s and their secondhand “booty” transported out of town in the three small box trucks that’d been parked in front of her house, one driven away by Roberto, one by Ernesto and one by Cruz.

  No tearful goodbyes there. But Ernesto did apologize for his porn comment and promised to stay in touch.

  On day five, Fig’s parents returned home, after garnering Roxie and Fig’s assurances that they’d visit within the next two weeks. With Mami.

  On days six, seven, eight and nine, Roxie’s house was repaired and outfitted with new flooring and carpeting, a fresh coat of paint and a brand-new kitchen. All covered by insurance.

  But like every brief bit of good in Roxie’s life, on day ten reality intervened to put an end to her happiness.

  “I don’t want to go,” she said to Fig over a delicious farewell breakfast of mushroom-and-Swiss-cheese omelets.

  “It’s not the end of us,” Fig emphasized.

  But it was the end of spending their nights, mornings and evenings together. Just the two of them. It was the end of impromptu private discussions and cuddle sessions on the couch. Roxie picked at the half of her omelet her stomach refuse
d to accept. “We’ll see each other every day.” Fig reached out to take her cold hand into his warm one.

  But it wouldn’t be the same.

  “We’ll find a way to make it work, Roxie.” He squeezed.

  “But your job and your apartment. I can’t ask you to stick around Madrin Falls knowing it may be years before I can give you more than a few stolen hours here and there.” She felt her face heat. “I mean, assuming that’s what you want.”

  Fig released her hand, slid back his chair and patted his lap. “Come.”

  She loved that even at almost six feet tall she wasn’t too big to curl up on Fig’s lap.

  He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her head through her hair. “You didn’t ask me to stay, I offered. Yes, I’d like more than a few stolen hours here and there, but I understand your situation. I applaud your dedication to caring for your mother. And I’m willing to take whatever time you have available to keep you in my life. I love you.” He kissed her head again.

  “I love you, too,” Roxie said. So much. Partly because he accepted her decision to move back in with Mami without trying to change her mind. Because if he’d asked her not to, if he’d suggested she hire a caretaker and invited her to live with him full-time, she may not have been able to refuse.

  That night they exchanged “I love yous” again—via cell phone—each alone in their own bed. As Roxie had suspected, it wasn’t the same. Her heart—heck, her entire body and soul—ached for him.

  Two days later, after rising early to clean up Mami’s breakfast mess in the kitchen then working her first twelve-hour shift in weeks, Roxie returned home to find four garbage bags of clothes, an old plastic dollhouse and a slightly rusted scooter on the brand-new beige carpeting of her living room.

  “What is this?” she yelled at the top of her lungs.

  Mami walked in from the direction of her bedroom, where she’d spent most of her time since they’d returned home, despite the family room being completely accessible and fully functional with new slipcovers on the sofas and a brand-new TV—a housewarming gift from Fig.

  “They’re from the church,” Mami answered as if Roxie hadn’t seen hundreds of similar bags before. Served her right for asking a stupid question.