by Tom Bierdz
“Would you like to go to a Mariners game?”
“At the stadium?”
“Yeah.”
“Sure.” His face lit up
“Plan on it then. I don’t know when, but we’ll go sometime soon.”
Back at the office I busied myself with paperwork and saw patients
At the end of the day as I locked the outside office door, Carrie came out of her unit and began locking hers.
“Want to have a beer at O’Reilly’s?” I asked.”
“Are you slumming?” she retorted, turning around in a raincoat, a green ribbon in her hair.
“Hey! Why would you say that?”
“You have been ignoring me.”
A little glitter in her eyes made me question if she was serious or merely playing with me.
“Really! News to me.”
“We used to have a drink now and then. Can’t remember the last time.”
I moved next to her, put my arm around her shoulder, “Come on Carrie, lay off. You know you’re one of my best friends.”
“Not the best?” Her lips curved in a smile matching the gleam in her eyes.
“You’re pulling my leg, aren’t you?”
She did that half-smile thing where her pupils enlarged. “I saw you and that hot toddy the other day. You were so into her.”
“Who? Where?”
“That exotic blonde. You two were on the porch.”
I chuffed. “You mean Megan. She’s a patient. And, how did you see us?”
She pointed. “There’s a window right here. Duh!”
I scoffed, looked at the window of Carries’ office. Right there, big as day. I never paid it any attention before.
“You might want to keep that horse in the barnyard if you know what’s good for you.”
I grinned. “Come on, take me to O’Reilly’s.”
The bar was only a few blocks away. The parking lot was jammed at Happy Hour. The place was packed, mostly with professionals. Carrie and I both knew many of the regulars, waved and greeted them, then pushed our way up to the bar. Theo, a tall, athletic looking, bartender appeared, “Hey kids, better order. Happy Hour is almost over.” He focused on Carrie.
“Alaskan Amber,” she said.
“Same,” I echoed.
“He’s younger than I am. Calls us kids,” Carrie said.
“Smart man. He makes his money on tips.”
Carrie laid a credit card on the bar. “This is on me. The jury acquitted David Carney, thanks to you.”
“Smart jury. I never cease to understand why the police stop searching for the killer once they have a suspect, especially not a very good one.”
“From a defense attorney’s perspective, I hope that always continues.” She picked up her beer.
“Salute!”
I clinked her mug, gulped mine halfway down. I asked, “Can I ask you a serious question? Confidentially? Megan - the women you saw me with on the porch - she’s not really a patient. She sees me for her sister who won’t come in. Theoretically, if a therapist got involved...
“Sexually?”
“Romantically.” I hesitated, then blurted it out, “Yeah, sexually. Would that be an ethics violation?”
“You’re not!”
“No, Carrie, I’m not. Your earlier teasing made me think of such a scenario. You know I gave a paper on ethics. This never came up.”
After taking a long draw on her beer, Carrie said, “Seems to me she’s still seeing you professionally. You have a professional responsibility.” She hesitated, her eyes drifting to the ceiling. “Let me research it. Get back to you.”
“No hurry. Just curious.”
“A word of caution: don’t be such a risk-taker. Your risks haven’t always worked out.”
A colleague of Carrie’s stumbled up to her seizing her attention for which I was grateful. I didn’t want to admit that she was right. My drinking and DUI were a case in point. And rumors of my philandering was hurting my reputation and my practice. Yet, I couldn’t get Megan out of my mind. Her image intruded on my thoughts, became as constant as my breathing in and out. I was impatient to see her, to immerse myself in her presence. I was treading on dangerous ground.
An attractive redhead sitting at the end of the bar with another woman caught my eye and grinned seductively when I noticed her. It took a few laps around the tracks of my mind before I recalled I had picked her up, taken her home, and slept with her when I was in that pity-me stage, needing women to prove my worth.
Carrie returned. Noticed the emanating heat. “Hmm. I wander away for a few minutes and, already, some babe with great headlights has got her eyes on you.”
“Yeah,” I said, both flattered and embarrassed, my eyes still on the redhead, “and she’s flashing her high beams.” The quip about her breasts brought back the night in question. I recalled that she was divorced, out on a night of fun, with no serious expectations. “I’d taken her out.”
“You better go over there and douse the fire or she’s going to be on the prowl all night.”
“You’re right,” I said, pushing through the crowd and going over to her.
Gleaming, she swiveled her stool around, her knees bumping my thighs.
I stepped back “Hi, how have you been?”
“Debbie. Remember?”
“Of course, I said.” I glanced at her girlfriend who then turned back to face the bar.
“You never called me.”
“Truth is I planned to, but lost your number.”
“That’s what they all say.” Her smile was erased.
“Really. Several things happened. And, I’m seeing someone now.”
“I see.”
She probably thought I meant Carrie, but there was no need to explain. I simply needed to put this to rest. “I just wanted to come over say hi and thanks. I enjoyed your company and under different circumstances, who knows?”
With moist eyes, she hesitated as if she wanted to say more. Then simply, “Good luck.”
I nodded and returned to Carrie.
“Hey,” she said, nudging me back to the moment. “Do they deliver organs for transplants in a cooler?”
“I guess. Why?”
“Now I know what’s going on at the Noble Company. They’re doing something with organs–probably heart transplants. I saw these guys wheel in a huge cooler yesterday.”
“Uh-huh,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I suppose they do the operating right there.”
She clucked her tongue. “Of course, not. It’s not sanitary. They harvest and sell them on the black market.”
I burst out laughing. “Good Carrie. Very good! It’ll be hard to top that one.”
Happy Hour ended. Someone brought out the karaoke machine. Animatedly, Carrie said,
“Remember when we sang a duet, You’ve Got a Friend?”
“That was a long time ago.”
“Let’s do it again.”
I shook my head. No way was I in the mood to get up in front of the crowd and sing. Wasn’t I a different person back then? She grabbed my arm and began pulling me toward the stage. Some of the patrons, recognizing what was happening, helped her, shoving me forward. I cringed with embarrassment. The words skipped across the screen. I joined Carrie.
Afterward, we were greeted with applause and cheers despite my stumbling over the lyrics and missing notes. I had to admit I enjoyed myself, being with Carrie. It was heartening to know our friendship could continue to thrive.
6
I called Hanna picturing her in my mind as the vital woman she used to be, her hair loosely curled, brown eyes bright, and smiling impishly like a little girl with a secret to share. That woman had a happy ring to her voice, the Ha
nna that answered the phone did not. Hers was bland, lethargic.
“Hanna, you still got Kevin’s camera, right?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“I don’t know. It’s been well over a year. You might have given it away or something.”
“I’m sure it’s still on his closet shelf where he left it.”
Kevin’s room hadn’t been altered at all; it was cleaned and made presentable but otherwise looked just the way he left it. Hanna refused to change it as if it was waiting for his return. Did she consider it a shrine? When I lived there I avoided it, found it too painful to enter. I thought she should box up the items she treasured, and convert the room into something else. I thought Hanna needed to move on. “Do you think I can have it? I’ve been treating this young man who’s a photography buff. Someone took his camera. I thought I’d give it to him if it’s all right with you.”
“Sure, it’s much too complicated for me. Any pictures I take will be with my cell phone.” Melodically she added, “And Kevin would like that.”
“Thanks. I’ll come for it after work.”
“Is Bobby still working for you?”
“Yeah.”
“Then I’ll drop it off. I haven’t talked to Bobby in a while and you don’t have a car. Also, I need some more sleeping medication.” She yawned. “Do you want everything? All the equipment?”
“That would be great.” I wanted Hanna to wean herself off the sleeping pills. She had been taking them for over a year. I didn’t like her being dependent on them, but this was not the time to confront her.
“Grant, what do you know about Hank Gentry?”
“He seems like a nice guy. Why?”
“He asked me out.”
I felt a pang of jealousy. I knew it wasn’t logical. We were divorced and I had been with several women. Hanna had been out on a couple of dates. Apparently, they hadn’t amounted to much as they were short-lived. But I didn’t know the other men and heard about them after the fact. I knew Hank. A bit older, he was a successful dentist who had lost his wife to cancer. He was also handsome and charming. Hanna deserved someone like him. But the vison of the two of them making love bothered me. Each time I think I’ve gotten Hanna out of my system something happens to remind me that I haven’t. “I don’t know him well, just that he’s a dentist and respected in the community. Where’s he taking you?”
“That’s none of your business, Grant. I don’t ask you where you go and what you do.”
I was glad for that. “You brought it up.”
“Yes, I thought if you knew something bad about him, you’d tell me. I haven’t committed to anything yet and if I do, I’ll decide what I want to tell you, if anything.”
She put me in my place. I wished she hadn’t used the committed word. It had serious connotations. “Well, I only want the best for you, Hanna. I’ll see you when you drop by the office.”
I saw a couple of patients, caught up on my dictation and added the tape to the pile awaiting Grace when she returned. By then it was near noon, so I stepped out from my office to check on my afternoon.
Bobby was watching a movie on the computer, the audio so loud he didn’t hear me approach. He startled, turned down the volume. “Mrs. Merriweather cancelled her appointment for this afternoon.”
“Again?” I had spent considerable time and effort on the telephone convincing her we were on the verge of making major strides and that she shouldn’t terminate treatment at this time. She came in after our talk. We had a productive session as I enumerated what we had accomplished and what more needed to be done. “She seemed committed when I saw her last.”
“She’s not quitting. She rescheduled.” He paused the movie.
“Oh, I guess I jumped the gun. No reason to stay here this afternoon then. Notify the answering service we’re taking the rest of day off.” I focused on the sleeping pills on Bobby’s desk. “It looks like Hanna hasn’t been by.”
“I’m meeting her for lunch. You can go. I’ll get the camera and lock up.”
I was disappointed, felt a rush of sadness. I looked forward to seeing Hanna, had envisioned in my mind a scene where we sat and talked in my office. Nothing serious, just comfortable chatter between friends. Apparently, she had other plans, preferring to spent time with her brother which was understandable. I considered hanging around for a while, then thought better about it. “Okay, Bobby.
Say hello to Hanna for me.”
The forecast was for rain. I returned to my office, checked the next day’s schedule and grabbed my umbrella. I stepped off the stairs when I heard a horn sound. I looked up to see Megan waving at me from her car window. I strutted over.
“I thought you might need a ride. Bobby said he had other plans.”
“I am capable of walking,” I said, wondering why I’ve resisted having that talk with Bobby about not sharing my personal life with Megan. And, I had to admit her welcoming face was the pick me-up I needed after Hanna’s letdown.
“Get in. I’ll take you to lunch.” Reading my questioning look, she added, “I’m not here for Sasha. Simply I’m bored with time on my hands and craving excitement.”
Smiling, I climbed into the car.
“How much time do you have?”
“Actually, I’m done for the day”
“Fantastic! Then let’s go to my place. I’d like you to see it. I’ll make you lunch.”
Mentally, I brushed off that little super ego thing on my shoulder and decided to just go with the flow.
She pulled out of the parking lot and shot out into the street, her headlights on due to the graying sky.
I sat, absorbing her scent, unusual yet familiar somehow. It was unidentifiable, alluring in ways that were both subtle and wild. Her hair was shoulder length with just a hint of inward curl at the bottom. Her eyes were alert and mischievous. She looked expensively dressed in a knitted two-piece purple outfit with matching earrings. She was a prize. Strange I should think of her that way, that somehow she was the physical embodiment of success when I knew that was shallow thinking. Yet, wouldn’t she make the perfect trophy wife? Wasn’t that the term society coined? The other part of that from a male perspective was proof, or maybe self-deception, of one’s virility. When was I going to stop being so damn analytical and be in the present? Still, I was surprised that she was single and not married to some rich old gentlemen. Several times she expressed her delight in my being free, but neither of us said much, content to silently enjoy the moment.
She drove the expressways, leaving the city behind. Eventually a road spiraled past some mega-dollar palatial estates carved out of the thick surrounding woods, and snaked to the top of the hill. Sitting on the pinnacle was her king of the hill, an ultra-modern three-level, white stucco, with clean lines, tall windows and balconies with magnificent views in all directions. An approaching storm with darkening skies embraced the house giving it an impressive, but ominous feel. A strong wind kicked up, bending trees. A chair skittered across the lawn.
“Looks like we’re in for major storm,” I said.
“I love it! Makes me feel alive.” She opened the automatic wrought iron gate and pulled into the safety of the three-car garage that rivaled most living rooms with its plastered walls, white lacquered cabinets, and tiled floor. A Mercedes SUV was parked at the far side.
I followed her inside the house into a hallway that led to a great room. Spacious with white walls that bordered expansive wrap-around windows with views of the hillside drew my eyes in. A few of the homes had their lights on. I could imagine the glittering nightscape and how stunning the hillside must look lit by the sun.
“No window treatments?” I asked.
“Why obscure the view? And, who can see in?”
A passing airplane, maybe. But something told me the windows woul
d look the same lower on the hill, that modesty was not one of Megan’s concerns. The room was elegant, yet comfortable with oversized contemporary furnishings in light earth-tones, teak flooring and built-ins, oriental rugs, and a massive, two-story stone fireplace. It was a page out of Architectural Digest.
“Impressive,” I said.
Flashing a pleasing smile, she pressed a button opening the stainless steel elevator lined in mirrors. She pressed three and the lift jerked upward. “You must see the balcony off my bedroom.”
I smiled, aware that both of us were studying the other from all angles provided by the mirrors. And she looked inviting from any direction. When we reached the top, she took my hand and led me through her purple bedroom, anchored by a king-sized bed beneath vaulted ceiling skylights. French doors opened to a large balcony cantilevered over the hillside, that dropped precipitously over the rocky shoreline and into the Puget Sound inlet. Plexiglas see-through, waist-high panels set into iron railings rimmed the perimeter. A glass patio table with plastic-webbed chairs, two chaise lounges, and a couple of Japanese Maples dancing in the wind, filled one side. The other was bare except for the air mattress on the floor that I assumed Megan used to sun herself. On a clear day you could see for miles, but today the view was dominated by the thick blackening clouds that shortened the horizon. Roiling waves crashed against the craggy rocks spewing foam. Distant rain was heading inward.
“Wow!” was all I could muster at the moment. Megan’s warm hand on my shoulder contrasted with the chill in the air.
“Scotch?”
“Yes.”
“I have some very aged Macallan” she yelled from the wet bar in her bedroom. “Ice?”
I bent over the railing and was hit with vertigo, nausea rocking through my head and stomach. This had to be what it looked like to Kevin, the drop high above the water. For him it was a bridge, not a balcony. I white-knuckled the railing in a spinning whirlpool. Gut-wrenching breathlessness. What were his thoughts as he jumped? Or, did he do a majestic swan dive?
