****
The nurse came in with a little blue pill.
“You’re giving me these?”
Claire couldn’t hide her surprise or relief. Her head felt better but she’d started to sweat. Her pulse began its usual hokey-pokey. Rob moved out of the way.
The nurse nodded. “You can’t stop cold turkey. The doctor will talk to you about it when he comes in later.” She handed Claire the pill with a paper cup of water.
Claire swallowed the pill with a pale trembling hand. “They tell me you brought me here.”
“No. We found you, called the ambulance.” Rob Rhino sat in a plastic chair that he’d pulled up close to Claire’s bedside. “I left a bunch of messages, you never called back. I got a bad feeling. Freddie Eddie and I headed over and found you. You were unconscious. We couldn’t revive you.”
Freddie Eddie. Why did it have to be him? She didn’t remember it.
“I wanted to sleep, that’s all.” The look on Rob Rhino’s face made Claire nervous. “I didn’t die. I’m fine, right?”
“Barely.”
Rob looked like a man who’d seen a ghost. Claire knew he had.
“You’re lucky they didn’t need to put you on a respirator. I thought they might. Gloria—”
“I’m not Gloria.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Did Gloria have to go on a respirator before she died?”
“No.”
They stared at each other.
“Did the front desk let you into my room?” she finally said.
“Of course. We called from the car. Said we thought you’d overdosed. The paramedics met us there.”
“You did what?” Claire’s mortification drilled her to the mattress.
“Claire Corrigan, stop with the pretense. You almost died.” Rob Rhino gave her his professor face. “I’d have said you were in a gangbang with a horse and a peg leg if I’d had to.”
“Of course you would’ve. In all my years—”
“You’re welcome.”
Claire stopped. She folded her hands in front of her and looked down at her blanket covered lap. “Thank you, Rob Rhino.” She glanced up at his baggy face. “I mean it. I’m such an asshole. Thanks for giving a shit.”
Rob tilted his head to one side. “I’d say with that scalp more like a dickhead than an asshole.”
“Laughter’s the best medicine.” A young man with short curly hair in a white coat said. He walked over to a still laughing Claire and stuck out his hand. “I’m Doctor Levinson. You look much better than the last time I saw you.”
Chapter Forty-Four
“How long have you been taking Xanax?” Doctor Levinson sat in the chair Rob Rhino vacated when he left the doctor and Claire to get acquainted. Traitor.
“Only as needed.” Claire balled the blanket up into her fists.
Doctor Levinson sat quietly for a few seconds, crossed his legs, and folded his hands over his knee. “Months? Years?”
“I don’t keep track.”
He cleared his throat, waited a few seconds. “When did you lose your hair?”
“How do you know it’s lost? Maybe I shaved it.”
Presumptuous ass.
“Just a wild guess.” He smiled, too superior for Claire’s taste.
She hoped her displeasure showed on her hairless face. “Year or so.”
He seemed young for a doctor. That was a sign of advancing age. Everyone else looked young. She supposed he was a shrink. Come to evaluate her mental health. Better cooperate. She had a dead husband to get even with.
“Alopecia,” the doctor said.
“So they say.”
“How long have you been taking Xanax with alcohol?”
“I don’t usually.” Claire crossed her ankles under the blanket and her arms across her chest. “I wasn’t thinking.”
“Do you know how much Xanax you took last night?”
Seemed like not enough right about now.
“No.”
“Let’s just say you ought to play the lottery.”
Claire cut to the chase. “I wasn’t trying to kill myself. I was trying to sleep.”
“Do you normally take a whole bottle of Xanax and a bottle of booze to sleep?”
“No, of course not.” Claire’s patience was as thin as the sheet.
“You have some bruising around your jaw and—”
“Rough sex.”
Mind your knitting, Doogie Howser.
He flushed crimson, rearranged his chair, coughed.
Claire bailed him out. “The pills have stopped working. They were making me feel worse, more nervous. Like I was having a heart attack sometimes. I sweat all the time. I’ve had to take more. A lot more than I realized, obviously.”
The doctor nodded, reached for her chart at the end of her bed, clicked his ballpoint pen so he could write. “You’ve built up a tolerance. You have to take more to get the same benefit. When the drug wears off, and it does quickly after you’ve taken it so long, you start to feel withdrawal symptoms, because you’re an addict. So you’re battling the withdrawal and trying to sedate yourself. A double whammy. You’re constantly on the edge of overdose.” He clicked his pen closed.
“Now what?” Claire said.
Sounded like a junkie hamster on a wheel and she’d never get off.
He leaned forward and put her chart back. “We need to wean you off the drugs. It’s imperative that you do not stop all at once. You can have a seizure.”
Wean. Did she want to wean? What about a different drug? A better one? This was the twenty-first century for Chrissake. If the Xanax worked she wouldn’t have had to take so much of it.
“I started taking Xanax because I needed it. If I stop taking it, what good will that do? I’ll still need something won’t I?”
Probably not smart to ask that. She should wait and talk to Guillermo. She’d probably never get out with questions like that.
“Needed it? For what?”
Doctor Levinson grabbed her chart and clicked his pen again. She’d probably have to marry Rob Rhino now to break free of this cuckoo’s nest.
Don’t get me started, Doogie.
Claire pointed to her head with its lost hair and made her no duh face.
“Xanax isn’t prescribed for alopecia,” Doogie said.
If she killed the kiddie doctor, how long would she have to stay?
“No, it isn’t. But it is for panic attacks and anxiety,” Claire said, “which the alopecia didn’t help.”
Doogie considered her for a few seconds. “These types of drugs aren’t for the long-term treatment of anxiety.”
Claire could feel her mouth go dry, her hands and feet start to tingle. Breathe, breathe. She shut her eyes for a few seconds. When she opened them Doogie still sat at her bedside, yapping.
“I’m not going to lie and say this process is easy. It’s not.” He looked down and wrote in her chart. “But the good news is there are other drugs you can take, longer term that can be helpful while you’re detoxing. But I don’t recommend you do this on your own. I strongly advise a rehabilitation program. We have an excellent one at this hospital, as you know.”
How would she know? Oh right. Her fiancé, the rabid volunteer. And Annabelle and Andrew.
Doogie paused, looked at her with thoughtful deliberation. “In a rehabilitation setting they’ll help you deal with why you feel so anxious all the time. Until you get to the root of your anxiety your recovery is limited.”
He got up out of the chair and stood next to the bed.
“What’s bothering you, Claire?”
****
The nurse came in again with another blue pill and a new yellow pill that the doctor wanted her to try for shits and giggles. Satisfied by Claire’s vitals that she still lived, nurse fiddled with her IV, made more notes on the infamous chart, then left. After giving her a reassuring pat on the arm, Doogie murmured something about food for thought and promised he’d be back in the morning.
Ready or not.
To tell the truth, Claire felt better in the hospital setting. Taken care of. Like when Liam was alive. Someone looked after her. She relaxed, let whatever flowed through the IV run its course through her veins.
What’s bothering you, Claire?
****
She dreamt, remembered.
“What’s this?”
“Looks like a piece of paper.”
Claire held it out to him, rattled it, frightened and furious.
“Don’t be an asshole. What is it?”
Liam took the statement from her, his expression cut from concrete. “It’s a Vanguard statement.” He held the paper out again, as if he meant for her to take it back.
“Okay, don’t be a fucking asshole. I know it’s a Vanguard statement. Why is a Vanguard statement coming to our house for Shane Corrigan? Who is Shane Corrigan? Better yet who is Ellen Ryan?”
“I have no idea.”
Liam turned toward their dresser and took off his Patek Philippe watch like he did every day when he got home from work. Just another day at the office.
Claire grabbed him by his custom-made shirt and jerked him around to face her. “I’m not an idiot even if you treat me like one. You and Ellen Ryan are the custodians on this account. Who are these people?”
Claire felt like she would choke. Her grip on Liam’s shirt was death-like. She knew who they were. He knew she knew it too. The only question was—how long would the dance go on?
He wouldn’t meet her eyes. A dead giveaway.
“I called Andrew already,” Claire said. She let it hang.
Liam turned to look at her. His face handsome, painfully so. Claire brushed her hair out of her eyes. Wouldn’t want to miss anything on the day her life went down the shitter.
“You already know. Why are you asking?” Liam put both hands on the dresser and stared at the wood.
“What was I supposed to do—wait for you to volunteer it?”
“I don’t know, Claire. Who knows what you do?”
The sound of Claire’s open hand meeting his cheek with all the force she could put behind it rang loud in their master suite. He took it like a man.
“How dare you? This isn’t about me. It’s about you and your tramps. And your bastard.” Claire heard herself yelling. She didn’t try to wipe the tears that ran down her face.
Liam slammed the double doors to their bedroom shut. Claire didn’t know why he bothered, no one else was home. She’d made sure.
“I’m afraid not. It is about you, Claire. About us.”
“Don’t think for a second you’re going to blame me. You think you’re master of the universe. You can have it all. You’ll trade me in for a younger model to impress your cronies. You’re such a pathetic cliché.”
Claire paced their cavernous room, her voice boomed, bounced off the walls, the vaulted ceilings.
Liam covered the distance between them and grasped her shoulders. “I’m a cliché?”
He pulled her close, hissed his words. “That’s rich coming from a trophy wife. You want to know who has it all? You. You have everything and didn’t work for any of it. You go to lunch, Pilates, shop, drive your Mercedes, have your own parking spot at Neiman’s, yet all you do is bitch and whine while I pay your fucking bills.”
He shook her, her hair tossed around like a rag doll. “That’s if you’re not stoned. You want to talk about pathetic?” He held her inches away from his face, she could smell his mouthwash.
Claire was caught off guard. For a second. Then she rallied.
She yanked free. “Is that right?” She held up her left hand with its diamond and platinum rings. “We’re married, remember? Ever hear of the wedding vows? Faithfulness? You don’t get to pick and choose the ones that suit you. That’s what commitment is.” Claire’s righteous indignation fit like an Hermes glove.
Liam ran both hands through his salt and pepper hair. “Vows? You want to recite vows? Okay, let’s get after it. Just so happens there’s more than one, Claire. What about love and cherish? How about honor? Or was I the only one who uttered those?”
Claire almost stomped her feet. “What are you talking about? I loved you. I honored you, our home, our family. I’ve raised your daughter for Chrissake. Raised her like my own and you know it.”
“Get the violins.” Liam yelled too. “You honored our marriage? What marriage? You love me? How would I know?”
Claire stared at him. “What do you mean by that?”
“Just what I said. What makes this a marriage? How could I tell you loved me?” Liam sat down on the chaise so hard it almost tipped over. “When’s the last time we had sex?”
“What?”
“Sex. I’m sure you’re vaguely familiar with the term.”
Claire wiped her eyes. “I don’t know when. Since you asked, I’m sure you can tell me.”
“You bet I can. A year ago.”
“A year? Please. Let’s not get ridiculous. It hasn’t been that long.”
He lied. Of course he would.
“Yes, it has. You graced me with your presence on our anniversary. So it’s been more than a year. And even then I had to wheedle. Not my finest moment or yours. Nice impression of a quadriplegic though.”
Claire shut her eyes. He was right.
“There’s more to marriage than sex you know. More to love.”
“Like what?”
“Are you kidding?”
“Do I look like I’m kidding? I could’ve gotten a roommate or a nanny. It would’ve been cheaper. I wouldn’t have to trade in an expensive German import every other year. Intimacy is what makes a marriage what it is and not just a friendship, an acquaintance.”
Claire wasn’t going to let him off the hook. Not like this. Not this easy. A secret kid for God’s sake. A sob slipped through her lips.
“You’re a pig. What about illness? Or if one of us had been in an accident and couldn’t? Then it’s carte blanche? You can do whatever you want with whoever you want?”
Liam jumped out of the chaise.
“We’re not sick. You’re not sick. There’s been no accident. You avoid me like the fucking plague because you don’t want to have sex. There’s nothing between us. We don’t sit together, we don’t hold hands, no physical contact of any kind. You won’t be alone with me unless it can’t be avoided. That’s not love, Claire. Not any that I recognize. And it’s certainly not a marriage.”
He went to her. She stood, not moving. She wanted him to hold her and never touch her. She wanted him on his knees.
“What are you? A horny sixteen-year-old boy who can’t control himself?”
“No. I’m a grown man who wants a grown-up wife and a real relationship.”
“Well, grown-ups in real relationships don’t chase the first piece of ass they can find the first time they don’t get laid.”
Liam’s eyes opened wide, like someone shoved a knife in his back. “This has been going on for years. The only time you’re interested in me is on payday.”
“That’s not true and you know it.” Claire felt shocked at his audacity.
“Yes, it is. You can’t look me in the eye and say it isn’t.”
Claire couldn’t.
“I’m not as worthless as you think. There were kids to raise, multiple households to run. I had responsibilities as your wife. You’re successful because I helped you. Endless dinners, parties, and entertaining rounds of bores here, abroad... those demands are tiring and you never appreciated any of it.”
“How demanding do you think my life is, Claire? I work a sixty-hour week when I’m taking it easy. I don’t recall any thank you cards coming my way. And you didn’t raise our kids alone. I raised them too. I’m not too tired. I don’t consider our sex life a burden. To me it’s a bonus.”
Claire could think of no rational response. “You’re trying to take the heat off yourself and your sins. The fact is I loved you. I was faithful, and you betrayed me.”
“I don’t kno
w what you feel for me Claire, but it isn’t love. Gratitude? Loyalty for taking you and Jordan in? But whatever it is, it’s not enough.”
Liam looked away. She thought he’d started to cry.
She wasn’t about to feel sorry for him. “Why didn’t you tell me how you felt? You never once talked to me about it. You deal with two hundred employees every day, I’m sure you could handle one wife.”
Liam laughed a brittle sound. “By the time I get home from work, I’m lucky if you’re still coherent enough to string a sentence together.”
It was Claire’s turn to laugh. “What a joke. I’ll tell you why you never talked to me about it, Liam. Because then the problem might’ve been fixed. Maybe I would’ve wanted to change. But then you couldn’t justify your women. Assuage your Catholic guilt. No this way you could tell yourself your sad story. I’m so misunderstood and neglected. I deserve this.”
Claire’d struggled out from under his assault and hit a nerve.
Red-faced he said, “You think you know everything. You don’t.”
Not about to surrender the upper hand, her rage reached its boiling point. “Don’t I? I know I’m not going to sit idly by while you run around with whores and father their bastards.” She balled up her fists and started to strike him.
Liam grabbed them midswing. “Claire, I’m sorry. I am. If I could take it back—” His voice lowered. She could barely hear him.
“Couldn’t you have had the spine to divorce me? Did you have to lie and humiliate me this way?” She spoke loud enough for the both of them.
The master’s universe imploded.
“It happened. I didn’t plan it. I tried not to humiliate you by not telling you, which only made it worse. I tried to handle it.”
“Handle it?” Claire felt an eruption coming on, volcanic, historic. “I guess you’ve been laughing at me, right? What a dumbass Claire is... you and your baby mama behind my back... it’s a real drag I’m stoned all the time. Until it isn’t. Makes it a lot easier to sneak around when I’m semiconscious.”
“No, Claire, it hasn’t been like that—”
She put both hands on his chest and shoved him. “Get out and don’t come back. You’re right Liam. I don’t love you. I never have. Do you know what I feel for you? Hate. I hate you.” She shoved him again, harder.
The Last Day For Rob Rhino Page 17
