Hush (17 page)

“I can tell you this is an impressive résumé and Dr. Sladek had a glowing recommendation for you,” Dr. Lindsay Welmore of the Children’s Hospital of Los Angeles sat across a grand desk from me.  “But, I see here it’s been quite a while since you’ve practiced medicine.”

I nodded.  “Yes, I was very young when I accepted the position with Dr. Sladek’s practice.  He’d seen me through medical school and had high hopes for me, as I’m sure he told you.  I can assure you, the knowledge, the know-how, it’s all still there.  The experience alone was worth its weight in gold.  The demand of the job was something I was unfamiliar with and completely unprepared for.  I knew it was something that would come with time and age.  I feel I’m more than ready to get my hands dirty and work as hard as I need.”

Dr. Welmore nodded.  “He did speak very highly of your potential and of the excellence in care you provided for him before stepping away,” she said.  “I have to say, I’m skeptical, given the short amount of time you spent in the practice, the short amount of time you spent in the medical field to go on such a long hiatus.  Oncology isn’t exactly like riding a bike.”

We chuckled politely.  “And I completely agree.  I’m sure Dr. Sladek also told you about my unique circumstances.  I have hyperthymesia, which was part of the reason why I was so young when I started in the profession.  All of my experiences from my time practicing are all very fresh to me, thanks to my disposition.  For me, everything is like riding a bike, whether it’s been a few months or a number of years.  I have that to my advantage.”

“Yes.  I was aware of your advantages.” I couldn’t tell if she was being snarky or if that’s just how she came off to people.  “My main concern is the stress getting to you again.  As stacked as your résumé is, no recommendation from an esteemed oncologist like Dr. Frank Sladek is going to dispute the fact that you’re an investment to the hospital.  No one wants their investments to flop and that’s a big red mark staring me right in the face.”

“I can see how that would be a deterrent.  All I ask is you see it from my perspective.  I was a full time, licensed and practicing physician when I was 21 years old.  Most other 21-year-olds with aspirations of becoming a doctor hadn’t even made it to med school yet, and still, they’d probably experienced so much more than I had.  I selfishly took time off to focus on myself and the life I never had.  I wanted to see things.  I wanted to go places and I wanted to discover myself.  I’ve done that.  I’ve gotten my fair share of independence and discovery.  I’m ready to truly become an adult and a professional and start rediscovering that side of me.”

Dr. Welmore was quiet.  “You know, this isn’t a private practice.  You won’t have the benefits you once had.”

I smiled.  Now we’re getting somewhere.

Nick was waiting for me just outside of Dr. Welmore’s office when the interview convened.  “How did the interview go?” he asked as we stepped into the elevator.

“Fine,” I responded.

“Mr. Tate would like to be updated on the outcome.”

I scoffed.  “I’m sure Mr. Tate would.  Why don’t you let Mr. Tate know I’m not using his messaging service any longer?”  Nick pulled out his cell phone, sighing heavily.  “Wait, I’m sorry,” I mumbled, putting my hand on his forearm.  “I don’t want to get you in trouble.  This isn’t, it’s not your fault.  I shouldn’t be taking it out on you.”

“So what would you like me to tell Mr. Tate?” he asked.

“Just tell him we’ll talk about it tomorrow night when he gets back.”

“Your first day out searching for a job and you’ve already gotten an offer?” Callem asked over dinner the next night.

I nodded slowly, not making eye contact.  “Well, I had spoken to Dr. Welmore a few days ago.  She’d had a chance to reach out to Frank since then.”

I could feel Callem’s disapproving gaze on me.  “So you’ve been planning this for a while?”  I nodded.  “And you only made it known to me the day before you had the interview?”  I nodded again.  “Why CHLA?”

I shrugged.  “Why not?  I wasn’t sure who would want me after taking such a long and unexpected hiatus.  Dr. Welmore was more than understanding, mostly thanks to Frank, I assume.”

Callem sighed.  “So what does this mean for you?  When do you start?  What’s your schedule?”

I shrugged again, still not making eye contact.   “I haven’t formally accepted the position yet.  I have another appointment on Friday.  I’ve got to meet the board before they’ll actually hire me, but Dr. Welmore seemed very adamant that the position was mine.”

“Sounds promising.”  Callem’s voice didn’t sound so promising.  I wondered if he was expecting anything.  I wonder if he could tell I was slowly setting my plan into action.

There was a reason I wanted a position at CHLA.  It was closer to downtown, it was further from home, it was a large facility, and it was easy to get lost in.  I figured, even if he planned on keeping a shadow on me while I was working, which I suspected he would, he wouldn’t be able to follow me everywhere, which would make it easy for me to slip in and out unnoticed.  If I couldn’t get Nick on my side, I’d have to find a way around him.  I had to keep my options open in case I couldn’t pull this off as easily as I have planned.

“I hope you know,” Callem added, “that once you get your email and your cell phone and an office phone, we’ll be monitoring them.”  This time I did look up at him.  “Not to mention your internet usage.  I don’t see how that would be a problem for our techs to do.  I may have agreed to let you get a job again.  You had to have known I’d have stipulations.”

My cheeks burned.  I put my fork down and tried to swallow the sour taste in my mouth.  Don’t say anything stupid.  Don’t say anything stupid.  “What are you afraid of?  Do you honestly think I’m going to try something?  You’ve made it very clear that if you go down, I go down right alongside you.  Do you really think I’ll put myself through that?”

Callem lifted his shoulders arrogantly.  “You never know.  Desperate people do desperate things and I’d say you’re very desperate.  I don’t think you’re stupid which is exactly why I want to keep an eye on you.  I know how clever you are and I know what you’re capable of and frankly, that’s terrifying.  Baby, when will you see, I want to be with you?  I want us to work.  I love you so much; I’m doing all of this for our sakes.  If it weren’t for me being so stubborn and impossible, we’d both be in a world of trouble.”

“When will you see that I don’t love you anymore?”  My words were like hot lava erupting from my mouth.

“I mean to change that,” Callem replied after a short silence between us.

“Try as you might, I don’t see it ever being undone.”

“You loved me once, there’s no denying that.  It can happen again.”

My lips got tight.  “Don’t hold your breath.  You reap what you sow and you’ve been doing an awful lot of sowing since you pulled me into this secret life of yours.”

Callem shook his head.  “I don’t want to fight with you.  Please, can’t we just be civil with each other?”  He slipped his hand under the table and slid it to the top of my thigh.

I leaned towards him, looking into his eyes.  I hovered my lips next to his ear and whispered,    “Get your fucking hand off me.  How’s that for civil?”  Before he could say another word, I shoved my chair away from the table and sprang to my feet.

“This place is unreal,” I gasped as I clutched Callem’s arm.  He led me up the staircase to a grand entryway, Red close behind us.  I had to mentally remind myself to close my agape jaw as I marveled at the crystal chandelier that hung just inside the door.  It was the size of a small island.  The estate was immaculate.  Every nook and cranny held so much history and had such ornate architectural details folded into them.  Gold filament flecked the very floor we were walking on.  The heels of my Jimmy Choo’s sounded like an opera echoing throughout the space.   Exotic plants perched at the base of each of the six massive pillars, each climbing up to the top of the cathedral-like ceiling.  “I didn’t know places like this actually existed.  I thought they were just in movies,” I mumbled as the three of us made our way down the long corridor. 

“This used to be home to one of Italy’s princes hundreds of years ago,” Callem explained.  How he knew this, I didn’t know.  “It was eventually purchased outside of the royal family after the fall of the monarchy in the ‘40s and has been in Rinaldo’s family since.”

“You’re joking, right?”

Callem shook his head.  “No.  It’s true.”

“Royalty used to live here?  How do you know all of this?”

“It’s important to know these things when working with such full-blooded, true-hearted Italians.  Things like this could come up in conversation, maybe as the punch line of a joke.  I want to be able to follow along and appear knowledgeable.”

I nodded, made sense.  “You’ve got to speak the language of the people,” I mumbled.

Callem nodded.  “I believe Rinaldo’s grandparents still own the property though, this one among many others.  These people are insanely wealthy; it’s almost lethal.  They’re very traditional Italians and probably won’t stoop so low as to speak English so you may feel a little deaf while we’re here.  Bear with me.  I don’t think we’ll be here long.”

“You know I don’t mind,” I whispered.  “Take your time.  I’ll just admire the splendor around me.  I’m in no hurry to leave.”  I eyed the large Caravaggio hanging on the wall in an elegant and thick gold frame.

Callem smiled as we entered what looked to be a parlor or sitting room at the end of the long corridor.  A fire popped in the foreground as the half-dozen or so men scattered about the room all turned as we stepped over the threshold.  The first thing I noticed was there wasn’t another female in sight.  I was then drawn to the opulence of this room, mirroring the extravagance of the corridor.  All of the men were equally as dapper as Callem and Red in their tailor suits that screamed wealth and power.

I inhaled deeply.  “Don’t be nervous.  They can smell fear,” Callem joked.

“That’s reassuring,” I whispered.  “I feel like the foolish antelope who unknowingly wandered into the lion’s den.  They’re devouring me with their eyes right now.”

“And I can’t blame them,” he replied with a silver tongue. I stole a glance at him as we approached the first pair of sophisticated gentlemen, amber drinks in hand.  They both greeted Red and Callem like old friends, opening their arms, flashing wide pearly smiles, and slapping kisses on each cheek, all while spouting fluent Italian salutations.  Callem and Red both rambled off foreign responses as easily as exhaling.

Callem turned to me and introduced me to the two men, whispering translations of their indiscernible words in my ear as they each took turns kissing the back of my hand.

“This is Salvatore, who would like you to call him Sal,” Callem translated for me.

I nodded, “Pleasure to meet you, Sal.  I’m Olivia.”

Callem translated what I said before the other man spoke.  “And this is DeAngelo.”

“Pleasure to meet you as well, DeAngelo,” I replied.

Again, Callem gave them my regards in the beautiful language.  The two men said something else to Callem and Red about me before a chorus of deep chuckles erupted among the four of them.  I could tell they were commenting about me from their eyes.  I may not be able to understand their dialect, but their body language and mannerisms told me a story in a language I could understand.

I met all the other men in the room, all reacting to me the same way.  Was it because I was the only woman, or maybe because I was an American woman?  It could have just been the way they greet others in this culture or even in this socioeconomic class.  Callem, Red, and I were shuffled to the back of the room where Red handed me a wine glass as the small crowd of Italian men crowded around us, all clamoring for Callem’s attention.

“What about Rinaldo?  Did I miss him?”  I asked Callem in a break in conversation.

“Oh, no, he’s not coming.  Matteo is here on his behalf.  Rinaldo was kind enough to allow us the use of the estate for the gathering though,” Callem explained before returning to the conversation.

I stood in silence as if I were a fixture in the room to be admired, slowly sipping the delicious nectar in my glass.  I listened to the words spinning out of the men’s mouths, watching their eyes move here and there, and prospecting the room.

Anxiously, the men started shifting their weight and moving closer to an adjoining room from which I could see the soft glow of another fireplace flickering through an open doorway.  Callem exhaled deeply as his hand moved across the small of my back, pulling me into him slightly.  “Would you hate me if I told you I needed to step away for a minute?”

“A minute?  Is that all?  No problem, I’ll even time you,” I joked.

Callem smiled coyly.  “Okay, it’ll be a little bit more than a minute.  These kind gentlemen want to talk some business over a fresh box of Cubans.”

“Sounds delightful.  They do know I can’t understand them, right?”

“Yes, but it’s the principle of it.  Business is for the men.”

“And I’ll kill the mojo if I’m in the room?” I asked, putting the pieces together.

“Yeah something like that,” Callem responded easily.  “It shouldn’t be too long.”

I smiled, “It’s not a problem, really.  When I come with you on a business trip, I can’t get grumpy when you have business to do.”

“I love when you remind me of just what it is that makes me crazy about you,” Callem cooed.

“It’s that easy, huh?  Just one thing before you go, could I get a refill?”  I passed my empty glass towards him.  He left me for only a minute, returning with a brimming glass in hand.

“This should keep you busy while I’m away,” he commented, passing me the wine.

“Wow, I sense some ulterior motives in this deliciously full glass,” I beamed.  Callem winked.  “Would it be a problem if I looked around the house a bit?”

Callem shook his head.  “No, not at all.  Just don’t go into any rooms with closed doors.  You may not want to see what’s on the other side,” Callem smirked playfully before pecking me on the cheek and sweeping in to the next room with Red close at his side.  “I’ll come find you when I’m finished,” he added before slipping out of sight.

A heavy door closed behind them with a thundering echo.  I looked around.  I was completely alone.  It was kind of eerie.  I sashayed slowly out of the room, careful not to dribble red wine onto the oriental rug, which was probably much older than it looked.  I returned to that Caravaggio I’d noticed earlier.  I studied 17th century painters at Ole Miss.  Caravaggio was considered the ‘bad boy of baroque’; painting what was considered grotesque and graphic illustrations of historically brutal occurrences.  Others, more so today than at the time, saw the brilliance and romance in his dark, defiant pieces.

Even though I could easily recall all of the artists and their masterpieces covered in that one small course at Ole Miss, Caravaggio always stood out to me.  The nightmarish beauty was both terrifying and arousing; the power of the image really spoke to the viewer and breathed a strange sort of life into them.

I nearly jumped out of my skin at the sound of the bulky front door flying open nosily, breaking the calm around me abruptly.   I turned as an older man strode into the corridor in a hurried pace.  He was fiddling with his cell phone as he headed in my direction.  He was probably late for the cigar-lighting ceremony.  I spun on my heels and returned to the Caravaggio so not to gawk.

The sound of the man’s heels slowed as he neared the painting and me.  He said something in Italian that I, of course, didn’t understand, prompting me to turn back around.  He was standing just behind me.  He was older than all the other men, maybe even older than Callem.  His eyes looked heavy and boozed.  He seemed to repeat himself as his eyes lingered down the length of me.

“I’m sorry, I don’t speak Italian,” I apologized, shrugging my shoulders.

“You’re American?” he asked in a thick accent.

“Yes, yes I am.  You speak English?”

He smiled.  “Doesn’t everybody?”  Not according to Callem, I thought.  “Aren’t you a lovely little thing?  Where did you come from?”

“I’m here with Mr. Tate,” I explained.  I hadn’t heard anyone refer to or address Callem by his first name so I hoped referring to him so formally would suffice.

“Ah, Signore Tate.  Si, I know him.  He is who I am here to see.  I am late, however.  Signore Tate traveled a long way and has brought gifts.  I do love Americans.  I am Ignacio.  And you are?”

I smiled. “Olivia.  I’m Olivia.”

“Olivia,” Ignacio hummed, “the name of an angel.”  He cupped my hand in both of his before slowly lifting it to his lips.  “Why has Signore Tate left you here all alone?  Shame on him.”

I was getting a creepy vibe from Ignacio, but at the same time, felt badly for thinking that way.  I’m sure it was just a cultural divide rubbing me the wrong way.  I giggled cordially as he relinquished his hold on my hand, but remained uncomfortably close.  “Oh, well he’s talking business, burning cigars, you know, guy stuff.”

Ignacio shook his head quickly.  “What is this; ‘guy stuff’?”

“Oh, it’s uh, it’s the kind of activities strapping men, such as yourself, indulge themselves in,” I explained.

“And you weren’t invited?”

“No girls allowed,” I said while shaking my head mildly.

A deep, hearty laugh belted from Ignacio.  “I’d say it’s their loss.”  He shifted his weight again, inching closer.  “At least they were kind enough to leave you with a drink, and the art.  I see you admiring this piece.”  He pointed over my shoulder to the Caravaggio.  “Do you know it?”

I turned to face the canvas yet again, nodding.  “Yes.  Judith Beheading Holofernes.  It’s a Caravaggio.”

“I am impressed,” Ignacio gushed.  “You know your art.”

I shrugged.  “Not too well.  I’m just lucky to be standing in front of one of the few I can identify.”

“Do you not think it is too, um, come si dice, bloody?”

I kept my eyes on the image.  A long sword blade poked from the neck of the shirtless army general, Holofernes.  Judith, his beautiful murderer, held tightly to the sword and a tuff of hair on his head as it was severed.  An old haggard woman stands behind Judith, as if cheering her on.  “I suppose, but it’s also very provocative and graceful.”

“Si, beauty is found in the heat of the crime.”

I smiled, looking away from the painting.  “Well said, Ignacio.”

“Beauty not compared to yours, I’m afraid,” he added.

I couldn’t stop myself from blushing.  “You’re too kind.  All of this is just amazing.  I’ve never seen anything like it.”  I opened my hands, looking up at the structure around us.

“Please, allow me to show you more of the estate.”  Ignacio offered up his arm with a warm smile.

“Oh, no.  I’m keeping you from the other gentlemen and the business you’re here for.  That’s very kind of you, but--”

“Sciocchezza,” Ignacio interrupted, pushing his arm closer to me.  “It’s my pleasure and I am sure there are plenty of cigars for all.  I will not be missed.  Come, the beauty continues.”  He pointed to the staircase across the other side of the corridor.

Reluctantly, I accepted Ignacio’s gesture and took his outstretched arm.  I didn’t want to offend him, which could have reflected badly on Callem and whatever business the two of them had with each other.  Ignacio led me to the staircase and farther away from Callem.

Ignacio spoke excitedly about the history of the home, confirming Callem’s claim of its royal past.  At the top landing, we were faced with a long hallway that seemed to stretch for days, lined with a number of closed doors.

“All of the furniture is original,” Ignacio went on to explain, reaching for the forbidden doorknob of the nearest room.  I would have protested, given that Callem asked me not to enter any rooms with closed doors, but again, I didn’t want to offend.  Ignacio seemed to know what he was doing.  “Ahimè, you see, nothing but the best.”  He pushed the door open wide for me to see in.

I stepped into the chilly room and was immediately transcended to another time.  I felt like an Italian princess from the 17th century.  The detail, everything was so lavish and impressively pristine.  How much history this one small room held?  I ran my finger tip on the polished wood of the canopy bed before me.

I was so distracted with the room and all it had to offer, I didn’t even notice Ignacio had closed the door behind us.