Confession of an Abandoned Wife - Box Set (Books 1-3)

by Hartstein, Michal

  The day after Rosh Hashana, I made an appointment with Dr. Michaeli. The earliest appointment was only two weeks later, during the Sukkot holiday.

  Itay planned to work through Sukkot, and so I asked to be last. I had an appointment for eight o'clock in the evening. I took into account half an hour or so for waiting, and made plans to meet up afterward for a girls’ night out in Tel Aviv with a couple of mothers from Yarden’s kindergarten.

  At a quarter to nine, when there were still two people ahead of me, I realized there was a reasonable chance that I wouldn’t be able to make it on time for the movie, so I called Orly and told her not to buy me a ticket because I wouldn’t make it.

  "Worst case scenario, I’ll buy my own ticket." I tried to comfort her. "It's Sunday… I don’t think it’ll be all that full."

  In the end, I went in at half past nine, an hour and a half after my scheduled appointment. While I was waiting, I looked through all kinds of old magazines. An old journal for women found its way into my hands. In it was an article on ‘house husbands,’ men who stay at home with the children and let their women provide for the family. I didn’t envy those women because I didn’t think it was right that one party stay home. I thought it was better, especially for the bank account, if both parties went to work, but I certainly wouldn’t have objected if Itay were to help me a little more at home. Since Ahuva had started working for us, Itay had helped even less. At Sukkot, Ahuva was on vacation because I was on vacation.

  Despite the fact that I’d given Itay plenty of notice that I had to go to the doctor at eight, he’d only gotten home at five to eight and made me a little late for my appointment.

  Quite by chance, in the same issue, or maybe it was a different magazine from the pile, there was an article on vacations for lovers. Of course Paris was one of the recommendations, and I couldn't help remembering how, exactly a year ago, I’d been in Paris during Sukkot with Itay, and we’d been more in love than ever… unlike the months following that magical trip, which weren’t so sweet.

  I was angry at Itay, even more so now because I remembered all the promises we had made and especially all the promises, mainly Itay’s, that had been broken. I was angry that our relationship had all but disappeared. I remembered that, during that magical holiday, I had enjoyed the sex with Itay and I tried to remember the last time I had enjoyed it with him. The truth was, I couldn’t remember the last time we’d slept together. I thought to myself about how a whole year had passed since Paris and I could count on two hands the number of times we’d made love. I couldn’t recall one single time that I felt that Itay had really desired me.

  When I entered Dr. Michaeli’s room, I discovered that his slimming process was over. It was true that he hadn’t returned to his original size, but despite the time that had passed since I’d last seen him, he hadn’t really changed. He smiled at me, and I thought it was such a sad smile, and then I remembered he’d been a widower now for more than eight months.

  "Mrs. Moskovitz," he called me in. I smiled a sheepish smile. I never knew how to behave around mourning people. "I haven’t seen you for a long time," he continued.

  "Dr. Michaeli," I said, trying to sound as comforting as I could, "I was really sorry to hear about your wife." Dr. Michaeli looked down, and I think he was tearful, but then he looked up at me, and I saw his eyes were sad but dry.

  "Thank you," he said and was silent, and I thought it was so beautiful for a man to mourn his wife like that. Would Itay grieve like that for me? If Itay died before me, would I still mourn him months after his death? I didn’t know the answer. I knew I didn’t want anything bad to happen to Itay, but I couldn’t really say it’d be difficult for me to live without him.

  "I had an appointment just when she died, so your secretary called to cancel," I said, finally breaking the silence.

  "So you haven’t had a checkup for over a year," he observed as he examined my medical file.

  I explained to him about the papilloma and the visit with Dr. Steinitz. He asked a few questions about my general health and then asked me to move to the examination table.

  I took off my shirt and bra and lay down. Dr. Michaeli came over and started the examination. For the first time, I looked at his face during the examination. He did not look at me; he was concentrating on his work. Perhaps he’s taking care not to look at my face, I thought to myself. His hands were large, skilled and they felt good, and I couldn't stop myself from thinking that this was the closest thing to sex I’d had in the last month.

  He asked me to sit up, and I did. He stood in front of me, I raised my hand and he continued the examination. I kept looking at his face. He had such a sad look. Suddenly, I regretted reminding him of his late wife. He asked me to lift my other hand and then our eyes met. I was burning inside. He continued to massage my right breast, and our eyes never left each other. It was a matter of seconds, but he began to blush and just pulled himself away from me with force. He intended to go to his desk, and I knew there was no way it could be left like this.

  "Dr. Michaeli," I said, and just grabbed the sleeve of his shirt. I was afraid he would go and never come back.

  "What?" He stopped, but kept his distance. I didn’t know what to say, but I knew that if I didn’t say something now, this moment would never return.

  “What do you think about breast implants?"

  He looked at me in surprise and asked, "For you?"

  The truth is, I’d never, ever thought about getting a boob job, but it was the first thing I thought about that was relevant to the situation. "Yes, for me," I replied.

  He looked at my chest with a kind of dreamy look and then looked up and looked straight into my eyes. His big black eyes stung mine. "You’re totally crazy," he said. "You have a perfect chest… Where did you get this bizarre idea?"

  "You really think so?" I asked. I couldn’t stop myself from being pleased. This was a doctor who had seen hundreds, if not thousands, of breasts in his life and he still thought I had a perfect chest.

  "Yes, really. I don’t understand where you’d get that idea from."

  "Maybe I don’t feel attractive enough," I said coyly.

  "You’re a very attractive woman," he said, and I became really excited. I was so excited that tears started welling up in my eyes.

  He came over to me and looked at me with compassion. "Sharon, what’s happened?" He put one hand on my knee. "Is everything alright?"

  "I guess I haven’t gotten much praise lately," I replied, and sniffled. Dr. Michaeli leaned over, and, for a moment, my heart missed a beat, but I was disappointed to find that he had only pulled a tissue from the box near his examination table. He handed me the tissue. I took it with one hand and felt my other take on a life of its own as it came up and stroked the doctor’s cheek.

  He looked at me in shock, but didn’t move away. "What are you doing?" He nearly whispered his words.

  "I finally feel desired," I told him in a choked voice, shocked by my courage, but not letting go. I pulled him to me with the other hand. I pressed my lips to his. He stayed frozen for a moment, and then devoted himself passionately to me.

  I pulled him to me, and my legs wrapped around his waist. He leaned in and slowly we sank back on the exam table. He kissed me like a starving man who, at last, had received the meal he’d been dreaming of for days and weeks. Then, as if a crane had lifted him from above, he jerked away from me, gasped and he rose from the exam bed.

  He took a few steps back and bumped into his desk. He tried to catch his breath and then said, "Sharon, this must stop."

  I got off the bed almost in tears and asked why.

  "Because I could lose my license," he said, holding his desk with both hands, as if the table anchored him down and prevented him from coming near me.

  "And I could lose my husband," I responded and opened the zipper of my jeans. I took off my shoes and pulled off my pants. Dr. Michaeli looked at me, stunned, and did not move.

  I pulled down my panties as
well and he closed his eyes, as if he could not look at my naked body.

  Suddenly, he pushed himself away from the table and went to the door. For a moment I was afraid he was going to run away, but then he locked the door.

  "There’s no one there," I said. "The secretary’s left."

  "I know," he said. "I want to be careful."

  He came back to me with quick steps, almost running, and we held each other close, like a pair of magnets.

  He grabbed my head with his two large, comforting hands and kissed me… a deep kiss that was full of passion. His hands slid over my bare back and stroked it gently, and I moaned with pleasure.

  I was shaking… I was burning with pleasure. I couldn’t wait another second; I had to feel him. I wanted him to feel how much I wanted him. I undid his belt and pulled down his pants. He didn’t stop kissing me, and every time he groaned, his moans took on a life of their own, as if he couldn’t control them. I pulled down his underwear as well, my hand stroking his member. It was already hard and tight. He let out a loud groan that ripped a hole in my heart with sheer excitement.

  He stood in front of the examination table, fully dressed except that his pants were down round his knees. I spread my legs. He was a large man, and I had to work harder than usual. My hand, still holding his swollen member, guided his way and he entered me.

  He moved in me like a man possessed, trying feebly to silence his uncontrollable groans without success. A few minutes later, he collapsed on me, still panting heavily. I was all flushed with pleasure until he withdrew from me. He pulled up his pants and watched me as I dressed. There was something embarrassing about getting dressed like that in front of him, but he swallowed me up with his gaze.

  He sat down in his chair, and I sat down opposite him, in the patient’s chair.

  "Should we have used a condom?" I asked with concern.

  "You don’t need to worry," he said in a calm voice. "You’re healthy and on the pill, and I hope you believe me when I tell you that I’m healthy too. I undergo tests every few months for the hospital." Then he looked at me and said, “You’re my first since my wife." He looked down and closed his eyes.

  I was surprised by his revelation. I didn’t want him to regret what we’d done. I got up from my chair, went up to him, sat on his lap and hugged him warmly. He gave me a hug, I kissed him on the cheek and told him that I’d never enjoyed myself so much or been so thrilled as I was now. It wasn’t a lie.

  He began gently stroking my face and playing with my curls. He moved his head near mine and smelled my hair. "You smell so good," he whispered in my ear.

  "Thank you," I whispered back.

  We sat like that, hugging, for a few minutes, as if we’d been apart for many years and had to fill in a gap.

  Suddenly, I sat up. "What time is it?"

  "Oh, you’ll be so late getting home," he said, glancing at his computer screen. "It's almost eleven. Your husband won’t worry?"

  "No, he thinks I’m watching a movie with friends." I smiled and blessed my good fortune that the long wait had made me miss that corny get together.

  "Do you have to go home?" he asked.

  "The truth is… if I go home now, that would be weird." I worked out the timing in my brain. "I shouldn’t be back for another hour or two."

  "Excellent," he said, and turned off the computer without shifting me from his lap.

  We closed the clinic and went to the sea, which was his favorite place. We sat in a nice, quiet café on the beach. We were almost alone because it was already late and getting a little cold. We sat cuddled on a couch and watched the crashing waves, mesmerized by their beauty. Although I'm not a small woman, next to Manny, I was tiny. I felt so safe in his giant embrace, as if nothing bad could happen to me just because of this wonderful man wrapping his capable arms around me. After a few minutes, the waitress brought us hot coffee. I reached over to the table to take my cup and returned to Manny’s protective embrace.

  He didn’t take his cup. He didn’t want to occupy his hands. "I want to hold you as much as possible," he whispered, and I felt my heart was going to explode with excitement.

  I sipped my coffee slowly, gathered comfortablyin Manny’s arms. After a few sips, I felt I owedhim an explanation. He was such a good man, and I didn’t want him to think bad things about me. I didn’t want him to think I was just an unfaithful and treacherous woman. So between sips I told him, with a lot of tears in my eyes, how I’d been part of a relationship for several years now, but I was all alone; how Itay’s work had drawn him in, leaving no room for me and how I’d become a single mother, in fact, because my partner was hardly ever at home. I asked Manny if, when he was married, he’d had such crises, and he told me there had been more beautiful and less beautiful times.

  "When I was an intern," he said, "I had no free days. Or nights."

  "And your wife accepted it?"

  "It was hard, but she knew it was the nature of a doctor’s life."

  "Well, at least you were saving lives."

  "Every job’s important." Manny was trying to defend me.

  "Yes, but electronic engineers don’t exactly save lives on a daily basis."

  "When I finished my internship," Manny continued, letting the subject of Itay’s job go, he probably didn’t want to stir up any conflict on this magical evening, "my work hours fell into a more reasonable pattern and my wife calmed down."

  "What did your wife do?"

  "She was an art teacher at an elementary school."

  "Nice."

  "Yes, she was very talented."

  "How did you meet?"

  "It was twenty-seven years ago, at the very beginning of my first year at the Faculty of Medicine."

  I calculated in my head that twenty-seven years ago I was in my second year... at elementary school.

  "She worked in the faculty library."

  "She was also a student?"

  "No, she’d already finished studying, but hadn’t found a job as a teacher yet."

  "How old were you?"

  "I was about twenty-two. She was twenty-four."

  "She was older than you?" I was surprised, despite the fifteen years that separated us.

  "It didn’t bother me," he said, kissing the top of my head, as if reminding me that the age difference shouldn’t bother me either. "We got married during the summer break. A year later, we were parents to Yuval, and a year after that, Yael was born."

  "Wow. That was quick."

  "Yes. Batya wanted a small age gap. A few years later, she wanted more children, but it didn’t happen."

  "At least you have two children," I said, trying to soothe his feelings.

  "Yes," he replied, and I really felt that he was genuinely smiling when he talked about his kids. "Yuval’s twenty-five, and Yael’s already twenty-four."

  "Big kids."

  "Too big," he said ruefully. "When they were little, I was busy with med school and the internship, and now, they no longer need me."

  "They don’t live at home?"

  "Not anymore. Actually, Yael left home just a few months ago."

  "So your chicks only recently left the nest?"

  "Yes. Yuval left immediately after his army service, and now he lives with his girlfriend in some small pad in Tel Aviv, and his sister went to live near him with her partner."

  I was trying to digest what he’d told me. He chose to clarify what he had just said, lest I have any doubts: "She came out just after her mother died. She knew my wife wouldn’t accept it and that her days were numbered."

  "Oh!" I was shocked. "And she didn’t want her mother to know the truth before her death?"

  "She didn’t see the point. I think Batya understood, but didn’t want to know, so it worked out for all parties."

  "And you don’t mind?"

  "I’ll only mind if my kids aren’t happy," he said, and I felt so lucky that this man was here, hugging me, and that I was curled up next to him and in him. I wanted to know how his wife
died, but it wasn’t the time… We were enjoying such a perfect moment, and I didn’t want to ruin it.

  We sat there, wrapped in each other for almost an hour until I forced myself to detach from him. I had to go home. All the way home, I planned what to say to Itay, but mostly I prayed that he’d be asleep. To my great joy, he was. I crawled into bed and looked at the man whom, only a few minutes earlier, I had betrayed. As usual, he was lying on his back with his hands folded on his chest like an ancient Egyptian mummy, breathing heavily. I never understood how he could sleep like that, so disconnected from the traditional fetal position that it was like he’d never been in the womb. As if he’d never needed someone to wrap him in her arms. Then I remembered Manny’s snug embrace and smiled. I felt so far away from the man lying next to me and so close to the man driving away from me now.

  CHAPTER 13

  It took me a long time to fall asleep, but when I did, it was a sound and sweet slumber. I woke up late on the eve of the Simchat Torah[1] holiday. Itay had let me sleep on.

  When I finally woke up, I discovered that, unfortunately, Itay and the girls were still watching TV in their pajamas. But, instead of getting angry, I smiled at everyone. In my private settlement of accounts with Itay, I felt that, after what I’d done the night before, we were now more or less equal. The truth was, I felt no guilt. In contrast to the bad feelings I’d had after my fling with Guy, this time I felt at peace with myself. I felt good, desired, in love. I felt a lot of things that I hadn’t felt for a long time.

  "I didn’t get anything for Segev and Dalit," I remembered aloud when we finally stopped lounging about.

  "So what?"

  "Come on, Itay, it's not right. We’re going to their home for dinner tonight," I said, reminding Itay that we were invited to his brother’s.