The Doctor's Wife

by Mildred Riley

  Sitting alone in the room, he found it difficult to remember the previous night’s events. It was as if he did not want to remember.

  He leaned forward in his chair, his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands.

  Alisha had used him for her own selfish gratification. He could see that now. But what of his own selfishness? After all, there had been no gun at his head. What made him do it? What base urges had prompted him to falter, to deny his marital vows?

  You did it because you wanted to, he thought to himself. You were lustful, flattered that you could meet the sexual needs of a young woman and enjoy the experience. Made you feel like a young stud. Now what? No more, no more. That’s it.

  He went into the bathroom to wash his sweaty face. As if seeking to put himself back into his normal life, he decided to telephone Leanne.

  “Yes, Lee, it’s me. Be home this afternoon, like we planned. Right, Greene Airport, at three.”

  Her excited, cheerful voice only increased his feelings of guilt.

  “Oh, Don, I’ll be there. Don’t worry!”

  Thinking about his wife made him feel ill. He felt trapped, caught, almost unable to think straight. He was not accustomed to feeling this way. He did not like it. Not at all.

  CHAPTER 12

  Leanne rose early the next morning, sensing how travel-weary her husband seemed the night before—apparently too tired to even make love to her.

  It was Sunday and she was making a brunch-style breakfast. She quickly got to work readying the mix for blueberry muffins. Once the muffins were in the oven, she opened a can of beef hash and spread it on a flat baking dish.

  She had already placed a bottle of champagne to chill in the refrigerator, along with the orange juice and two glasses.

  She next set the kitchen table for two. When the children were not at home, she and Don used the kitchen for breakfast and the dining room for a leisurely evening meal, usually ending with wine in the family room.

  She opened a can of baked beans and would heat them in the microwave when Don came down. I’ve never seen him so tired. Must have been an exhausting week. Despite herself, her mind had returned to last night.

  The timer signaled that the muffins were baked, so she removed them from the oven and put them on a wire rack to cool. She placed the rack on the granite countertop.

  The last thing that she did was to prepare a bowl of fruit: chunks of cantaloupe, sliced pineapple, diced fresh strawberries. She poured orange juice over the fruit and placed the bowl in the refrigerator.

  She glanced at her watch. It was almost nine-thirty, and at this rate they would never make it to church. She decided to wake her husband.

  He was still lying in bed, the covers tucked around his chin.

  “Don! Wake up! You planning on sleeping all day?”

  He yawned, stretched his arms over his head, peered at her through half-shut eyes.

  “God, I was so tired, honey, didn’t even hear you come to bed.” He reached for her hand. “I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”

  “Must have been some week.”

  “It was a busy week,” he allowed.

  “Well, come on, shower and we’ll eat. Breakfast is ready.”

  Leanne had always seen their marriage as a comfortable one, like a well-worn slipper. One’s toes moved easily into the proper spaces and the result was ease and comfort.

  She and Don worked as a team, jointly making important decisions. Raising their children, buying their first house, a new car for Leanne, investing their money. They worked together in every facet of their lives. They planned and enjoyed trips and outings with their two children. When the children went off on their individual pursuits, they began to take vacations, intimate cruises that made them feel like young lovers. It strengthened their marriage.

  For their silver wedding anniversary, they had flown to Jamaica.

  “Let’s spend the money on ourselves,” Don had suggested.

  “Sounds good to me,” she agreed. “Spend the money on us!” she laughed. “No one better to spend it on, right?”

  “We come first, honey. It’s always been you and me, babe! Always will be.”

  When they were first married they made love almost every night.

  “Can’t get enough of you. I’m so lucky to have you in my life,” he frequently told her.

  “I’m the lucky one,” she would insist. “I will always love you, Don. Always.”

  Both felt secure in their marriage, and neither ever doubted that it would always remain so.

  While shaving, Don peered into the mirror at his face and wondered, did his guilt show? He shivered as he rinsed the razor blade clean. How could he have been so weak? How could he have allowed such an awful thing to happen? As he thought about the past events, he realized he had become a willing participant. He did not have to go to Alisha’s home, meet her parents, eat their food, let Alisha drive him back to the hotel. Oh, God, Alisha, he thought. How can I keep her on my staff? What a mess!

  When he walked into the kitchen, warm, tantalizing aromas welcomed him. He was at home, where he wanted to be. He kissed his wife.

  “Lee, it’s so good to be home. I was straight out frazzled from that conference.”

  She patted his cheek.

  “Glad you’re home, Don. Been real lonely around here, ‘specially with the children gone. Hope you’re hungry.”

  “Oh, I am! Hotel food is all right, but nothing like home cooking.”

  He sat down at the kitchen table and Leanne handed him a chilled mimosa.

  “Here’s to us, Don,” she said, touching her glass to his. “Here’s to many more mimosas!” She took a few sips of her drink, smiling at him.

  “Well, are you hungry?”

  “You kidding me! Girl, I’m starved!” He picked up his knife and fork and playfully banged them on the table.

  “Food, woman! Me want food!”

  “Don, you’re something else!” She laughed at his antics, her happiness flooding over her as she filled a plate for her husband. Beans, hash, bacon strips, and freshly sliced tomatoes on a lettuce leaf.

  “Looks great, honey.”

  “Hot muffins and hot coffee coming right up.”

  “Hope you made enough for a hungry man.”

  “A dozen, but I don’t think you can eat all of them.”

  “Want to see me try?” he asked, raising his eyebrows at her.

  “God, no.”

  She prepared a plate for herself, joined him at the table. He looked at her plate and shook his head.

  “Haven’t got much on your plate.”

  “I know,” she told him. “Gained a few pounds this week while you were away.”

  She broke open a warm muffin, ignored the butter on the table, and then took a sip of her coffee, which she always drank without cream or sugar.

  “Don’t lose too much. You look fine to me.”

  “That’s because you’ve been away for a week. More coffee?”

  She got up, went to the counter and returned with the carafe of hot coffee. She refilled his cup and added more to her own cup.

  Playfully, he patted her on her backside as she returned to the counter.

  “Better watch that,” she chided, “not ‘sposed to bother the help.”

  “But you’re not the help…you’re my wife, my dear woman.”

  She returned to her seat across from him. “I know, and don’t you forget it,” she teased. “Now, tell me about your week.”

  To get himself together after Leanne’s last pronouncement, God, she must never, ever know, he drained his coffee cup and tried to look relaxed, although he felt like he was wearing a hairshirt, seeking redemption, although he did not feel worthy of forgiveness.

  He replaced his empty cup in its saucer, pushed back from the table.

  “It was busy, about three hundred conferees from all over the U.S., Canada, England and India.”

  “Meet any interesting people?” she wanted to know.

&n
bsp; “Quite a few. Some with names I found it hard to pronounce.”

  “So, the focus of the conference?”

  “Was stem cell research.”

  “That must have been interesting.”

  “It was, very. Don’t know how much it will mean in my practice, dealing as I do with mainly chronic illness, but you never know.”

  He changed the subject, anxious not to continue.

  “So,” he said, “Janey is coming home today?”

  “Sometime this afternoon. Bringing her roommate. They’re driving. Don’t know what her plans are, except she’ll let us know when she gets here.”

  “Be glad to see her. You said Curtis was too busy to come this weekend.”

  “That’s right. Some project he had to finish. Don, would you like a bowl of fresh fruit?”

  “Perfect! You sit, I’ll get it. In the fridge?”

  “Bottom shelf, in a glass bowl.”

  As he retrieved the bowl of fruit, his guilt was almost suffocating. What a wonderful woman he had for a wife, and what a disastrous mess he had made of their lives.

  He did not know how he could make love to his wife tonight as he had promised. And how was he going to face Alisha Monday morning at work?

  “Thanks,” Leanne said as he placed the fruit in front of her.

  “You are more than welcome,” he said, “more than welcome.”

  CHAPTER 13

  A woman could not have been married for twenty-five years to one man without noticing whenever he was tense, out of sorts.

  After Don’s return from the medical conference that seemed to have tired him so much, she had noticed the change, but had not pressured him, knowing how much he always wanted to be a problem solver and that when he had solved the problem, he would then share it with her. There had never been secrets between them.

  When Don returned to his office Monday morning, Becky Long, now promoted to secretary-receptionist, informed him that Alisha had called in, saying she needed a few days to recoup from her visit home, particularly since she learned of her mother’s chronic illness. She planned to return on Thursday.

  This piece of information disturbed Don. What did this mean? For him…and his future? What kind of message was she sending?

  He went about his duties, anxious to know how things would go once Alisha returned to work. One thing he was certain about, this relationship could not continue. He was crazy to have allowed it to happen.

  Thursday morning Alisha returned to work. Her fellow workers expressed sorrow over her mother’s illness. Don added his sentiments as well.

  Alisha smiled at him. “Thanks very much. It’s good to know that people care.”

  He saw tears well up in her eyes.

  “We all care, Alisha, you know that.”

  He was dismayed but not surprised when later that morning she joined him for coffee.

  “We can’t keep meeting like this,” he whispered to her.

  Wide-eyed, a blank look on her face, she answered, “Why not?”

  “What do you mean, ‘why not’?” he hissed.

  “Nobody needs to know.”

  “I know! It’s not right! I’m a married man!”

  “We’re not hurting anyone.”

  “Not hurting? Oh, yes, we are, and…I want you out of my office!”

  “On what grounds? You know I’m indispensable.”

  He had never, ever seen this vindictive side of her. He lowered his head in his hands. “Just go!” His voice solemn and low. “Go! I’ll give you two months severance pay. Just leave me alone.”

  He got up, his cup of coffee untouched, and stalked out of the cafeteria, his white medical coat flapping around his long legs.

  A half hour later, having finished her coffee break, Alisha returned to the office. Just as she got to her station, the telephone rang. It was Becky Long. Now promoted to secretary, Becky had been training a new employee to take her place as a receptionist, and had, herself, been moved into her own office.

  Alisha scowled when she answered the telephone and heard the summons. Well, Don has wasted no time, she thought. “I’ll be right there,” she said. Knowing that there was no love lost between Becky and herself, Alisha was determined to act in a matter-of-fact manner and not allow Becky to rattle her.

  “Dr. Matthews asked me to have you sign these papers. He said he had spoken to you about your leaving…even without a two weeks’ notice.”

  “Whatever,” Alisha said taking the clipboard Becky handed her. There were several sheets to read, so she sat down in the chair facing Becky’s desk.

  “All you have to do is sign and date.”

  “I can read,” Alisha snapped. More than that, she knew that under current law she could sue the medical association for wrongful discharge. But it was not Don’s nurse she wanted to be. Her goal was to be his wife, if she followed her plans. Don Matthews, M.D., would be hers.

  She was determined to take her time reading the material. Under Reasons for Termination of Employment, she read Poor time and attendance, which was, of course, not true, and unacceptable professional conduct, which Alisha figured was a matter of interpretation.

  “Warned you,” Becky said as she separated the papers from the clipboard, placing them in a folder that she sealed and filed in a cabinet behind her desk.

  “We’ll see, won’t we?” Alisha snapped at the secretary as she took the severance pay handed to her.

  * * *

  When the last patient of the day left, Don called his staff into the conference room.

  “Today,” he told them, “we lost a colleague, but I’m certain each of you will carry on until we can get a replacement…which I hope will be soon. Thanks for your cooperation.”

  * * *

  After Don’s staff briefing about Alisha’s leaving, everything seemed to be progressing nicely. It seemed as if she was barely missed as other nurses divided her caseload of patients between them.

  Later that night in the condominium that she shared with her roommate, she laid out her plans. Wally’s response was expected. “Girl, you are one crazy sister!”

  “I’m crazy ’bout Don Matthews, and I’m goin’ to get him anyway I can. And I need you to promise me that you’ll keep this between us, okay? You promise?”

  “I promise. Al, you’re a grown woman. You’re no dummy. But I could never deceive anyone like that.”

  “Thanks, sister-girl. I have to do this.”

  “Hope you’ve thought this out. But better be prepared. Down the road anything might upset the cart. You ready for that?”

  “Ready, willing and able,” was Alisha’s response.

  Alisha and Wally had met at the University of Massachusetts, Boston. They both were studying for advanced nursing degrees.

  Cornwallis Farley, so named because her mother’s maiden name was Cornwallis and she wanted her only child to carry the name of her Barbados ancestors.

  Called Wally by friends, she and Alisha met at an alumni luncheon, renewed their friendship and ultimately bought a condo together.

  Wally’s degree was in Nursing Education and she taught at a college in the Boston area. Alisha’s degree would have prepared her for nursing research, but she had not completed her dissertation on her study of sickle cell anemia, the disease which often affects people of color, or those of Mediterranean decent. This disease of misshapen red blood cells causes problems with the blood’s circulation. Often, the clumping of these cells causes joint pain and blood clotting. Alisha’s research dealt with new modalities for treatment. It bothered Alisha a great deal that she had not completed her work, but she vowed that when she finally married Don she could return to her study. A Ph.D. would enable her to bring even more to their marriage.

  CHAPTER 14

  When she met with Dr. Ames Baldwin, the owner of the sperm bank, he agreed with her that at age thirty she was at a good age to become a mother.

  A fatherly figure, Alisha felt at ease with him as she explained her situation. �
��There’s been no Mr. Right, and I do want to have a child. When Mr. Right does come along, he’ll have to accept me and my child.”

  Dr. Baldwin was a board-certified fertility specialist. Alisha had found him in a medical directory. After her first appointment, she filled out the necessary papers and described the type of sperm donor she was seeking.

  “He must be well-educated, a physician, scientist, lawyer, financier, engineer, and his age must be around thirty-five. I prefer he be of medium-brown complexion with smooth, regular features, tall and muscular like a tennis player, swimmer or baseball player. Not as muscular as a football or basketball player. And he should be healthy in mind and body,” she added.

  “Our donors are well screened, and we insist on a documented family history. I am sure, with our screening services, we will be able to meet your need. And I can recommend a physician who can perform the in vitro procedure for you. You’ll need to have your ovaries checked for your egg supply and an optimum time during ovulation when you will receive your implantation.”

  * * *

  “Oh, Curtis! Yes, I’m fine,” Leanne said brightly, happy to hear her son’s deep voice. She smiled as she held the telephone receiver to her ear.

  “It’s so like you, son, to think about me! I’m moving on. Had a meeting last week with the divorce mediation group and things are being taken care of. Both your father and I are satisfied.”

  “I should hope so, Ma. He owes you.”

  “I don’t know about that. I just want what’s fair to you kids.”

  “I don’t want anything from the bastard…”

  “Curtis,” Leanne gently chided, “don’t talk like that. You know your father loves you children. Always will. Wants to do right by you. He has said so more than once.”

  “Mom,” Curtis’ voice came over the phone in a quiet, somber tone, “Mom…I don’t understand. I will never understand how my father…”

  She insisted, “You don’t have to understand. You have to accept it. We will probably never know what changed your father. I doubt even he knows. But you and I both know if your dad had an incurable illness we would still love him, want the best for him, right? Changes come into our lives and we must live with them or give up, and I don’t want that for you. Or for any of us. For me, I’ve thought a lot about the change in your father…”