***
David and I met on my fortieth birthday, when he came into my physical therapy practice after having knee surgery. While I was going through various exercises with him, one of my assistants wished me a happy birthday.
“Today’s your birthday?” he asked.
“The big 4-0,” my assistant, Teresa, volunteered.
“No way. You don’t look a day over thirty-two.”
I turned to Teresa. “I like this guy. He’s definitely a schmoozer, but I like him just the same.” I faced him again. “Are you working on a discount?”
He laughed. “No, I mean it. You look really good.”
“Hmmmm.” I could feel my face getting hot. “Thank you. Now lie back on the table and slowly bend your knee.”
He did as I instructed, but didn’t miss a beat as he looked up at me. “You should let me take you out for a birthday dinner. I mean, I know you probably already have plans tonight, but maybe this weekend?”
Holy crap, this guy moved fast!
“I don’t think so. I don’t date clients. But thank you for the offer.”
“Why not?”
He was kind of cute. A little short. In fact, at five foot seven, I’m nearly as tall as he is. He had this disheveled look about him, like maybe he pulled his clothes from the bottom of the unfolded laundry pile. An open, friendly face, with sincere brown eyes.
“So, we’ll see you again in a couple of days,” I said, trying to wrap up the session. “Do the exercises I showed you each night, the number of repetitions on this paper. Oh, and here are your exercise bands to take with you.”
“Okay. Thanks, Anna.” He grinned at me, and something in that grin told me he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.
Teresa waited until he was out the door before she started teasing in a sing-song voice. “Anna’s got a boyfriend. Anna’s got a boyfriend.”
“Shut up, you little busybody,” I said with a smile, before whipping a towel at her backside.
“Hey, you should call him and invite him to have drinks with us tonight.”
“Are you crazy? I just met the guy, and I don’t date clients.”
“Personally, I don’t see what the big deal is,” Teresa said as she loaded some fresh towels into the heater.
“The big deal is that if he turns out to be a flake, I still have to treat him for weeks on end.”
She shrugged. “So you pawn him off on one of your other therapists.”
As anticipated, David returned with a mission that Friday during his appointment. “Okay, so, if not dinner, how about a drink when you get off work? Or some coffee? You’re right next to a Starbucks.”
His unwillingness to surrender was kind of endearing. “Look, you’re very charming. It’s nothing personal, I just don’t think it’s a good idea.” I scrunched my nose to emphasize my point.
Hands on his hips, he nodded. “Okay. Fair enough.”
He didn’t go down without a fight, and the following week we met at Olive Garden for dinner. He was waiting for me at the bar, and he cleaned up pretty nicely. No longer rumpled, he wore a crisp white shirt and jacket. I felt a little underdressed next to him, in my jeans and t-shirt, but it was Olive Garden. That’s the thing about Vegas, though; you see a wide variety of attire while dining. At one table, there might be a woman in sparkly evening wear, and at the next there’s someone wearing a bikini top underneath a cover-up.
Once we were seated, he held out the bread basket to me. “So tell me about your life.”
“Well, uh...”
He folded his hands on the table, waiting patiently.
“I’ve already told you quite a bit about myself during your visits,” I said. “What about you? How do you like being a literature professor?”
“Meh.” He shrugged. “It’s okay.”
“Just okay?”
“You’re constantly competing with cell phones, texting, etcetera.” He sipped his wine.
“Oh. I see.” I leaned back and racked my brain for something to say, and my eyes wandered to what looked to be a man and his daughter sitting across from us. Their meals hadn’t arrived yet, and the father was clearly bored out of his mind as the teenage girl completely ignored him while texting. That wouldn’t fly in my family. Cell phones are not allowed at the table, whether in a restaurant or at home.
The father noticed me observing and gave me a roll of the eyes, like can you believe this? I just responded with a sympathetic smile.
“So, what do you like to watch on TV?” David asked.
Oh, this wasn’t going so well. We were already resorting to a discussion of favorite TV shows. That’s how Hayden used to strike up conversation when he was little, only it was movies. “So Mom, what movie have you been wanting to see?”
I looked up, considering David’s question. “Well, Big Bang Theory, of course.”
“Of course.” David nodded.
“And... Promise you won’t laugh?”
He made the little cross sign over his heart.
“Glee. I love Glee.”
“I watch Glee!” he said, smiling brightly.
“You most certainly do not watch Glee.”
He raised his right hand. “Swear to God.”
I peered at him suspiciously. “Okay. Who’s the really dumb character?”
“Oh! I, uh... I can’t think of his name at—”
“His?” I made a buzzer sound. “Disqualified. And you swore to God.” I shook my head as if deeply disappointed in him.
“Wait. Wait.” He held up his hand. “I know that tall, blonde lady is the mean one.”
“So what? All you have to do is watch the commercials to figure that out.”
He dropped his shoulders and hung his head. “Okay, you got me. I don’t watch Glee.”
I held up my finger. “Never, ever be a Gleek imposter.” We both laughed, and it seemed the ice was broken.
“You know? You have really gorgeous hair,” he said.
“Thank you.” My hair is my best feature. Given my average looks, I was at least blessed with thick, wavy locks.
“Do you ever wear it in a ponytail?”
“Not really. It gives me a headache. Why?”
“Oh, you know why guys like ponytails.” He wiggled his eyebrows.
The color must have drained from my face as I set down my glass of wine. Did he really just make that reference on a first date?
David brought his fist to his forehead and winced. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I do that when I’m nervous. I say inappropriate things.”
I let out a low chuckle and nodded in agreement. “Okay. Maybe we could move on to something else.”
“Yes. What next?” he asked, apparently eager to put his remark behind us.
“Um... Did you always want to teach? Or was it something you just fell into?”
The waiter appeared with our plates and offered us more wine. David held out his glass for more, then glanced at me. “How about you?”
“I’m good, thanks.”
“C’mon. Have another with me.” He turned to the waiter. “She’ll have another.”
I raised my eyebrow at the young waiter to indicate my mild irritation with David’s persistence. “Looks like someone’s trying to loosen you up,” the waiter joked as he fulfilled David’s request.
“I’m sorry,” David said after the server retreated. “What did you ask me? If I always wanted to be a teacher?” I took a bite of my baked ziti and nodded. “Not exactly. I’ve always loved to read, so I just figured if I could share my love of literature with other people, that would be the way to go. Teaching seemed to be the best route.”
“Sounds like a reasonable plan.”
“It wasn’t exactly a noble plan.” He paused and sprinkled some parmesan on his lasagna. “Now it’s my turn to ask you not to laugh, but it’s been a dream of mine to write a best-selling novel, and I thought teaching would give me more time to write.”
“Why would I laugh?” I asked. “I
think that’s very cool! Personally, I don’t have a creative bone in my body.”
He chuckled. “I’m sure you do. And I bet you have all kinds of interesting stories about patients you’ve had over the years.”
“Mmm, yeah, I guess.” I shrugged. “So what are you working on now? Could I read some of it?”
“Nah.” He waved his hand. “I appreciate your interest, but it’s not fit for human consumption, so to speak.”
“C’mon, I doubt that.” Realizing I’d nearly finished my second glass of wine, I made a mental note that I still had to drive myself home. “What are you writing about?”
“I’m shooting for a spy slash action slash thriller thing. Think Jason Bourne.”
“Wow! Impressive. I could never pull off something like that.”
“Save your praise.” Even though I barely knew him, his smile and the levity in his voice didn’t quite conceal an inner discontent. “It’s not even close to seeing the light of day.”
***
Looking back, I never would have dreamed that damned novel, or should I say his obsession with that damned novel, might be the beginning of his demise. I stand in the doorway of our bedroom. David’s dead to the world, lying on his stomach with his arm hanging off the bed, fingers nearly touching the floor. The blankets are a tangled mess, and his boxer shorts are twisted on his hips, exposing part of a butt cheek.
“David.” He doesn’t stir. Is he even breathing? I take the few steps over to him and gently nudge his shoulder. “David.”
“Hmmm...” he mumbles into the pillow, not moving.
“I need to talk to you.”
“Mmm.” He dozes off.
I walk to the other side of the bed and sit down beside him, the half empty bottle of bourbon in my lap. “David!”
He rolls over to face me, but his eyes are still closed. “What, babe?”
I touch his arm with the bottle and the coolness of the glass startles him. He recoils, opening his eyes. “What the...”
The really disturbing part is that it doesn’t even occur to him where this conversation is headed, or at least he pretends it doesn’t. “Damn, Anna, isn’t it a little early to be drinking?” He flashes a half-smile. “I gotta say, a Bloody Mary would do me good right about now. Feels like someone’s taking a sledgehammer to my skull.” He sits up in bed and rubs his face.
“I’m just guessing, but this might have something to do with it.” I hold up the bottle.
“Yeah, I hit it a little hard last night, but the great news is I managed twenty thousand words. Isn’t that great, babe?”
“We’ll see how great it is once you do your editing sober.” I get up to put the whiskey on the dresser. “Besides, how would I know if that’s great? You never let me go near it.”
“I know, but I think I’m getting really, really close. Then you can finally read it.”
I lean against the dresser and fold my arms across my chest. “What’s really bothersome here is that you’re completely missing the point. This is not healthy. I’m worried about you. You look like you’ve been hit by a train. Even Carly said I needed to talk to you this morning.”
An expression of hurt, or concern, I’m not sure which, flashes in his eyes as he swings his feet off the bed. “Carly said something to you?” The truth is, he adores the kids and thinks of them as his own. Maybe the thought of being a disappointment to them will be the wake-up call he needs, but that wish is short-lived.
“I’m sorry.” He walks toward me and takes my hands in his. “I’ll talk to her and make sure she knows I’m okay, that there’s nothing to worry about.”
The stench of alcohol coming from his pores assaults me and I can’t help but back away. I grab him by the arm and pull him into the bathroom, making him stand in front of the mirror. When I flick on the light, he flinches and tries to shade his eyes.
“Look at this person,” I say, standing behind him. “Does he look like there’s nothing to worry about? I don’t mean to be cruel, but you look like shit and don’t smell much better.”
“Anna!” He chuckles with discomfort and seems surprised I’m being so brutally honest with him.
“Anna, nothing! This isn’t funny!”
“Okay.” He takes my face in his hands. “Okay. It won’t happen anymore. I promise.”
Something in his eyes tells me otherwise.
Four
I don’t know exactly how this happened, but I’m running a little late getting ready for a wedding this evening. Usually I’m terminally early, but Luke will be arriving any minute, my hair won’t cooperate, and I can’t seem to remember where I put my watch. I cannot leave the house without wearing my watch. It’s a thing.
The doorbell rings, and Trixie barks as Hayden gets the door. Well, crap! I guess my wrist will just have to feel naked all night. As I squish my toes into my lovely torture devices, I smooth out my favorite dress, an A-line in black with tiny white polka dots.
“Anna Banana, let’s get a move on!” Luke calls from the front of the house. “I’m sure you look gorgeous!”
I drop my cell phone and lip balm into my purse and head to the living room. Trixie is so excited to see Luke that she’s completely spazzing, rubbing up against his legs so that he’ll pet her. “Trixie, stop!” I command. “You’re gonna get hair all over him.”
Hayden reaches down to grab her collar and starts scratching her head. “What d’ya know? You and Dad clean up pretty nice after all.”
“Your dad has always cleaned up nice. You want a lint brush for the Trixie assault?” I ask Luke as I collect my card for the newlyweds from the roll-top desk.
“I’m fine.” He brushes his pant legs a couple times. “We really need to get going.”
“Okay, okay.” I give Hayden a good-bye hug. “You staying in tonight?”
“Nope.” His hazel eyes sparkle. “Got a date. With Tessa.”
“Really?” I raise my eyebrows. “You love it when you prove Carly wrong, don’t you?”
“You have no idea.”
I put on my seat belt once we’re in Luke’s classic Mustang convertible. Hayden has been trying to talk him out of this car ever since he bought it a few years back. I don’t see him parting with it anytime soon. “Thanks for giving me a ride. Now I can enjoy the libations without having to worry about driving home.”
“Who are you kidding?” he asks as he backs out of the driveway. “You start to feel sick after three drinks. Sometimes two.”
“True... true. Man, what happened to me? It sucks getting older!”
“Yes. It does.”
Luke picks up speed once we exit my gated community, and I frown at him. “You’re going to make me come right out and ask you to put the top up, aren’t you?”
“What?” He hits the switch to close it. “You love riding in this car with the top down.”
“Do you have any idea how long I fought with the hair tonight, only to still have this one section right here keep doing this weird, flippy, curl-gone-rogue thing?”
Luke simply laughs.
I start adjusting the station on the satellite radio. “So, everything okay with you and Richard lately?”
He keeps his eyes on the road. “Of course. Everything okay with David?”
Apparently I’m not as smooth as I’d like to think. I narrow my eyes at him. “Carly?”
“How’d you guess? And I’m assuming she’s the reason you’re asking me about Richard.”
I lean back in my seat. “Well, sort of. She mentioned that you were kind of peeved about some dinner with him, but it was actually Hayden who said there’d been some tension.”
“There’s no tension.” He lets out an annoyed sigh. “It’s the same old shit. He’s disorganized, doesn’t keep me informed, and then wants me to adjust when there are schedule conflicts.”
“Which you do.”
“Yeah, well. That’s my own fault, I’ll admit. But it’s nothing compared to what’s going on with David.” This time he loo
ks straight at me, concern in his face.
“I don’t know. Maybe I’m overreacting. It’s not like he has to drink every single day. He doesn’t miss work from it. It’s just that stupid book! I’m beginning to hate the thing. He’s got this idea if it doesn’t go somewhere, the rest of his life is meaningless.”
“From the sound of it, I don’t think you’re overreacting, but I’m not sure what you should do about it either. I’d hate to see things get worse, though.”
“Ah, we’ll work it out. I’m sure it’s just a rough patch he’s having.” I only say this to change the subject because, honestly, I’m worried this issue is not going away on its own. Not only does the drinking bother me, but David’s becoming increasingly reclusive. There was a time when he would have come to this wedding with me and Luke, but these days I can hardly get him out of the house.
I take out my phone to check my e-mail. I resisted getting a smart phone until a couple of years ago for fear of being one of those people who constantly goes online. My fear was justified. “Can you believe Julia’s daughter is actually getting married?” Julia is my closest friend, aside from Luke. We’ve known her since high school.
“No, I can’t. The scary thing is, that means you and I will be there in a couple years ourselves.”
“Not likely. Hayden’s too busy playing the field, and Carly? She’s too picky!”
“That’s just the way I like it, so don’t go telling her that.” He points his finger at me.
I laugh. “But don’t you want grandbabies someday?”
“Sure, but only if the potential son-in-law is not a loser.”
***
A few hours later, Luke and I are seated at a circular table at the reception. About twelve tables, decorated in gold and white, sit under a canopy on a gorgeous spring night, and little lights are draped above us. I have to admit it’s pretty magical. “Can you believe this place? I don’t even want to think about how much this all cost.”
“That’s the nice thing about being a guest,” Luke jokes. “We don’t have to.”
“Now I feel kinda bad that I got them a gift card instead of buying something off the registry. I just figured that way Katherine and Jacob can get whatever they need but don’t receive.” I place my linen napkin in my lap and swipe a roll from the basket on the table. I can’t help it. I haven’t eaten since this morning, and I’m starving.
Vegas to Varanasi (Fortytude Series Book 1) Page 2
