by Alice Audrey
“I could do something else with my life,” he said. “Maybe go into insurance.”
“Is that really what you want to do?” Diane sat in the chair next to him.
“Is being a claims adjuster what you always wanted to do with your life?”
She flinched. She hated being a claims adjuster. Spending every day in the cubical farms seemed so pointless. She told herself work was meaningful, but she didn’t believe it.
Did he know he’d hurt her? Had he done it on purpose?
“You have a degree, don’t you? What in?” His eyes narrowed, not quite glaring.
With the careful evenness of his voice, she could see he was angry.
“I have a Bachelor’s in history,” she said stiffly. A Bachelor’s in anything was an accomplishment.
“History? What do you do with a degree like that?”
“It was either BA or MRS,” she muttered.
“Did you just say MRS?” He twisted around in his chair to face her more fully.
She wasn’t proud of the fact she’d gone to college to find a husband, though her grandmother had been behind her one hundred percent. But the future she dreamed of didn’t matter to her former fiancé. While she’d been hip deep in wedding plans, he’d been auditioning alternatives for the part of “wife”.
“I know what you mean,” Trigvey said slowly, anger lacing his words. He crossed his arms, his expression haughty and aloof. “I met a lot of women like you while studying for my degrees.”
“I learned my lesson,” she snarled. “In this world a woman can’t expect to be just a wife. Not for the long haul. You always have to take care of yourself.” The words might be her mother's, but the bitter tone was all her own. “It has nothing to do with you.”
He leaned forward, and took her hands in his. “What if I want it to?”
She yanked her hands free. “Cut it out!”
He lifted a sardonic eyebrow.
“You think I don’t know what you think of me? If you don’t like me then just—” She couldn’t make herself throw him out, even though she knew it would be for the best. Instead she took a deep breath. “So, Trigvey, if you aren’t going to be a doctor, what are you going to be?”
She expected him to tell her it was none of her business, excuse himself, and leave. Instead he surprised her.
He looked away, unable to meet her gaze.
“I don’t know. I’ve never wanted anything else.”
Was he telling the truth, or playing with her? She let the moment spin out, trying to make up her mind as she cataloged the pain behind his words and gestures. He certainly seemed to be exposing something vulnerable to her.
“I thought you went into medicine because of your parents.”
“They wanted me to have a large family because they’re both the last of their lines. My father always said being a doctor didn’t leave enough time to be a good parent.”
“But they supported you, right?”
“I put myself through. I didn't want to owe them anything.” He stared off to the side. “I thought I could only feel important if I saved lives.”
“How can you consider giving it up?”
“I hadn’t counted on feeling afraid. What if it happens again?”
She stopped herself from saying it wouldn't, because it wasn't something under his control. How could he prevent it? She was about to say as much when someone knocked on the door.
“I’ll get it.” Trigvey was already up and moving that direction. “I should be going anyway.”
Diane followed close behind. “Do you have to go?”
“I’d better.”
He opened the door.
A middle-aged woman in a casual pantsuit and gold blazer stood on the other side. She glanced from one to the other of them in quick assessment, put on an almost-genuine smile, and stuck her hand out.
“Hi, I’m Belinda Jameson. Your landlord’s real estate agent.”
Chapter Seven
“Oh, no,” Diane muttered. She’d completely forgotten about the real estate agent.
As she pushed past them, the woman gave a card to Trigvey. “Let me give you my card. May I come in?”
He glanced at it, then handed it to Diane.
It was a glossy business card with the name of the real estate office, Belinda Jameson’s name and contact info, and a slicked-up picture.
“Oh, I see you’re eating supper. Well, I won’t keep you long.” Belinda led the way into the living room, where she settled on a chair to the side of the sofa and waited expectantly.
Slowly, exchanging curious glances, Diane and Trigvey settled next to her. Trigvey seemed as tense and wary as Diane felt. She reached out for his hand without thinking. When he returned the clasp, she was too embarrassed to move.
“I like to meet with all the renters I’m going to be dealing with before we set up the listing.” She set her bag on the floor next to her. “I find it much easier that way. Let me assure you, I will not be bringing people over on short notice. Unlike other real estate agents, I completely respect the twenty four hour notice. Unless, of course, you give me permission to bring someone in more quickly.” She looked hopefully from one to the other.
Did this mean Belinda didn’t feel she needed permission if the notice was more than twenty four hours?
Diane ached to tell the woman to jump in the lake, but her upbringing held her in check.
“I’ll call, of course, and put a notice on your door. Don’t worry about being here to let me in. The landlord already gave me a copy of the master key.”
Diane’s stomach dropped. The landlord had a master key? She had a sudden vision of arriving home to find someone wandering through it, or worse, them keying themselves in while she was sleeping.
“I'll need your phone number, of course, and I’d like your email address so I can contact you that way as well,” Belinda went on, blithely unaware of the effect of her comments. She pulled a note pad out of her shoulder bag along with a pen.
“I don’t think that will be necessary,” said Trigvey.
Diane had never heard his voice sound so cold before.
“Oh. Well.” Belinda straightened, apparently taken aback. “I realize this is not going to be pleasant for you. You need to keep the place up.” She glanced around, “But I don’t think that will be a problem.”
Trigvey made a squelched, guttural sound deep in his throat. Diane flashed on his bare and un-kept apartment.
Belinda leaned forward, her sharp eyes tracking on Trigvey. “I realize you don’t have much motivation to co-operate with me, but let me assure you, one way or another, I’ll be bringing clients here to look at the place, and I will sell it.”
Diane looked to Trigvey, who returned a very unhappy expression.
“Unless you and your wife might be interested in buying the house yourself?” The real estate agent looked hopefully at each of them, as if they might make an offer there on the spot.
“We’re not married,” Trigvey and Diane spoke at the same time.
“I meant girlfriend,” Belinda corrected herself incorrectly. “You’ve been here a few days already. You must realize what wonderful potential this property has for a remodel.”
Actually, a few changes had crossed Diane’s mind, but that wasn’t the point.
Belinda fell silent. She glanced from Diane to Trigvey with a predatory air.
“We couldn’t possibly….” Diane started to say. But she sounded unsure of herself, and could see Belinda dismissing her in favor of focusing tightly on Trigvey. Firming her voice, Diane said, “No. We can’t.”
“Well, if you can’t you can’t,” Belinda sighed in disappointment. “You have my card. You can always call if you change your mind. Do you know anything about the tenants upstairs?”
“He isn’t home right now,” Trigvey said.
Belinda stood. “In that case, I’ll let myself out.”
Diane followed Belinda out, but instead of leaving, the woman went
up the stairs and knocked on Trigvey’s door. Diane didn’t say anything, just watched until the real estate agent left. Trigvey still hadn’t moved.
“I’ll bet if we checked with a lawyer, we could get out of the year-long lease,” he said.
Get out of the lease? Diane wanted to be near Miranda and Suzie. She loved the way the sunlight striped the old wooden floors and how easy it was to catch a bus. It felt like home.
“I don’t want out of the lease.”
Trigvey sat up straight. “What?”
“I don’t want to move. This is where I want to be. I’m not going to try to get out of the lease.”
“Are you kidding? Do you have any idea what this is going to be like?” He reached up and pulled her to the couch next to him. “Have you ever sold a house before, or had a landlord sell one?”
“No.”
“It isn’t pretty even in the best of circumstances and these aren’t going to be the best. You saw what she is like.”
“There are laws—”
“The problem is in enforcing them. We’re better off getting out of here.”
“No.” Diane shook her head emphatically. “I’m not going anywhere. If you want out, hire a lawyer and break your lease.”
Trigvey rubbed his hand over his tired face. “You really are dead set on this, aren’t you.”
“Yes, I am.”
“Then maybe we should buy the place. We could go in on it together, fifty-fifty. I’ll make the down payment and you put in some sweat equity. We’ll split the mortgage.”
“I can’t buy a house with you. I hardly know you.” She glanced at him quickly, already knowing how he’d react, but still determined to put some distance between them.
“You know things about me no one else in the world knows.” He stood up, so she did as well. “You know everything that counts. If you need proof of my financial position, I’ll get it for you.”
She trusted him on the finances. Her problem was that he was talking about a long-term commitment. If they did this, and she had to admit to herself it was tempting, they would be bound to one another for the foreseeable future. “What if we don’t get along later?”
“We will. I have no doubts about it.”
His voice held such conviction. Was he coming closer? The world around her reduced to the brightness of his eyes, the softness of his lips, and the way her heartbeat faster.
He squeezed her hand and her sense of disappointment went beyond all reason.
She dropped her head forward. “I guess it wouldn’t be so hard to stay friends.”
He lifted her face with a gentle finger under her chin. “Is that what you really think?” Before she could answer, his lips were on hers.
She sank into his kiss, giving herself over to the rush and heat, loving the way he made her feel, and loving him all the more for making her feel that way.
She almost didn’t hear the knock at the door.
“Diane!” a young man’s voice called through the door. “Diane?” The knob rattled. That had to be Ben, Suzie’s son.
Diane quickly stepped away from Trigvey, her face hot. She had given too much of herself to him.
“Coming!” She hurried to the door.
Ben let himself in. “Diane, do you have any Band-Aids? Gene cut himself on the grill, and we don’t have any.” His eyes were wild.
Diane looked where Ben kept looking, at his friend, Gene.
“Oh my God!” Diane stopped cold.
Gene needed a lot more than a Band-Aid. He had a dishtowel wrapped around his wrist. It was already soaked with blood, and beginning to drip.
“Trigvey!”
Trigvey came at a run. He took Gene's arm in hand with deft professionalism. “This isn’t too bad.” He gingerly lifted the corner of the dishtowel and examined the wound. “You didn’t cut any tendons, so there won’t be lasting damage.”
How he could calmly deal with something that made Diane’s stomach turn was beyond her. It was worse knowing he did this every day. It brought his dilemmas home.
“I’m going to have to go to the hospital,” Gene said.
“I think it would be best.” Trigvey’s bedside manner was impeccable. He clearly wanted Gene to take him seriously, but didn’t want to upset him. “I can take you in my car if you’d like.”
“Hospital?” Ben’s voice climbed an octave. He was clearly having a harder time with it than Gene.
“Let’s go get your mom,” Diane said. “She’s Gene’s guardian now, isn’t she?”
“She isn’t home,” said Ben. “She went to get groceries.”
“Never mind,” Trigvey stood, his body exuding an air of command. “We’ll deal with it when we get to the hospital. Ben, would you like to help?”
Ben nodded solemnly.
“I want you to sit next to Gene in the car. Hold this towel down like this.” He demonstrated the best way to apply pressure, and waited patiently as Ben proved his ability to do the task.
Ben calmed down immediately. His expression intent, he guided Gene to the back of Trigvey’s car.
Diane rode shotgun and tried to call Suzie.
At first, the admissions clerk wouldn’t admit them because there was no one to provide insurance information or sign the forms taking financial responsibility.
“I’ll take responsibility,” Trigvey said as he guided Gene through the double doors leading to the ER bays.
No one tried to stop her as Diane followed in their wake.
The sharp scent of antiseptic cleaners assaulted her nose. Gene didn’t seem to notice. He climbed up on the examination table with little more than a gesture from Trigvey.
Diane couldn’t help notice the fatigue on the faces of nurses and doctors alike. No one had the energy to glance curiously their way.
Diane and Ben both sat down on nearby stools as Trigvey washed up. He didn’t check in with anyone, or stop to put on a coat, merely put on gloves as a nurse came and asked in quiet tones what he wanted.
Just like that, he was back on the job.
“Ah, Dr. Taylor. You’re back.” A woman in a white coat with a stethoscope draped around her neck stopped to watch.
“Dr. Johnson.” He didn’t sound friendly. “I’m not on the clock. Once I’m done with this patient, I’ll be leaving.”
“There’s a woman with palpitations…”
“It isn’t my shift.” The whole time they were talking, Trigvey cared for Gene’s wound. He cleaned the area, and stitched it shut without hesitation.
“This isn’t a free clinic. You can’t simply come and go as you please.” There was an undercurrent of menace in the woman’s voice that had Diane’s hackles rising.
“I know that,” Trigvey said. He carefully bandaged the area.
“Nice work, but there is plenty more.”
“Very well, but I want it to go on record that I’m doing it under protest.”
The woman waved him off with a curt gesture before spinning on a heel to retreat beyond the curtained area.
“Who was that?” Ben asked.
“That,” Trigvey closed his eyes, “is my boss.
****
Trigvey paused outside of Diane's door, painfully aware of how late it was.
He only vaguely remembered Diane’s friend, Suzie, rushing in to deal with the paperwork and take everyone home. He was so tired his hands shook. He'd ended up working another full shift. He let his head fall against Diane’s door with a low thump.
He was tired. The emptiness made of despair and craving threatened to expand, sucking in everything, taking his world with it.
Just as he was ready to force himself up the steps, her door flew open. She stood with his cell phone in her hand.
“The hospital called.” She held the phone out to him.
“You answered my cell?”
“Aren’t you going to call them back? It might be an emergency.”
“I have to draw the line somewhere. I’m not on duty, and I’m not on call. I'
m going to draw the line here. What are you doing with my cell?”
“You can't trust me with your phone?” She crossed her arms, lips tight. “You can’t leave medicine. I've seen you work.”
He wasn’t in the mood to humor her. He trapped her against the wall, leaning close. “No one has ever answered my phone for me. Are you saying you want to be closer?”
He shouldn’t have said it. Would she realize he’d tipped his hand? He wasn’t ready for her to know how serious he felt about her, how much he wanted from her. She’d know he didn’t have enough to offer and run screaming from him.
Her hands fluttered between them before settling on his chest. She probably intended the gesture to ward him off, but it had the opposite effect. The feel of her hands burned through his shirt. When she moved, he went up in flame.
He claimed her lips, pressing into her, forcing her against the wall as if to force her into his life. He drank from her and she gave. Her generosity undid him and he couldn’t maintain his anger.
He backed off, one hand braced against the wall behind her head while he breathed hard.
****
Diane surfaced slowly.
Trigvey’s face was still close, but she could see by the way he squeezed his eyes shut, he intended to resist.
She looped her arms around his neck. “What’s wrong?”
“I didn’t mean to be rough with you.”
“You were rough?” She drew his face a little closer so she could nibble at his jaw line.
His eyes popped open. “Didn’t I hurt you?”
“You aren’t the kind of man who would hurt me on purpose.”
“How do you know?” His voice was ragged, but his hands were gentle as he drew her closer.
She felt like the queen of the world. She turned the knob behind her, and drew him into her apartment. “I just do.”
Chapter Eight
“So,” Trigvey said the next morning. He leaned against the bedroom door frame. “How about it?”
“How....” Her voice broke. She cleared her throat and tried again. “How about what?”
