Lightning (40 page)

“You're blind,” she responded, squinting at him in the sun, and then he gently touched her breast with one hand, and she could feel her whole body tingle.

“I think we should see a plastic surgeon sometime soon.”

“Why?” She tried to sound casual, but she didn't like talking about it. In spite of his gentleness with her, she was still self-conscious about the way she looked. And most of the time she wore a prosthesis.

“I just think you should,” he said kindly.

“Want me to get a new nose, or a face-lift?”

“Don't be such a twit. You're too young to spend the rest of your life hiding. You should be parading around naked all the time.” He was actually fairly circumspect, but she knew he was trying to make her feel better about her missing breast.

“You mean you want me to run around naked like Sam's little English girl? I don't think so.” The thought of Daphne still annoyed her.

“Never mind that. You know what I mean. At least talk to a doctor, find out what's involved. You could do it this summer and get it over with, and then you'd have two boobs forever.”

“It sounds awful, and it hurts a lot.”

“How do you know?”

“I've talked to other women in my support group, and Dr. Webber told me. It sounded disgusting.”

“Don't be such a wimp.” They both knew she was anything but a wimp. But he also wanted her to feel self-confident, and whole again. He nagged her about it, and even gave her the name of a well-known reconstructive plastic surgeon he'd found through a surgeon friend. Brock was always very resourceful.

“I made an appointment for you,” he said bluntly, one afternoon at work, and she stared up at him in amazement.

“That's a pushy thing to do.” She didn't want to go, and she argued with him about it for half an hour. “I'm not going.”

“Yes you are, I'm taking you. Just talk to the guy. It can't hurt you.”

She was still fuming about it when the day of the appointment came, but in the end, she went with him, and she was surprised how different this doctor was from her other surgeon. Where the other one was cold and methodical and dealing with hard facts and undeniable dangers, this one was dealing with improving things, and making people feel better about themselves. He was round and short, and gentle, and he had a good sense of humor. He had her laughing after a few minutes, and gently worked the conversation around to the procedure that had brought them to see him. He examined Alex's breast, or where it had been, and looked at the other one too, and told her he thought they could do a good job for her. They could either put an implant in or do a tissue expansion, which would require two months of weekly injections of saline solution to obtain the desired form. If anything, Alex preferred the immediacy of the implant. But in any case, she wasn't convinced yet. He explained that the surgery would be costly, of course, and not without pain, but they could take care of most of that for her, and at her age, he told her he thought it was well worth it.

“You don't want to look like that for the rest of your life, Mrs. Parker. We can give you a beautiful breast.” He had suggested nipple sharing and a tattoo to complete the picture. And in spite of everything he said to encourage her, Alex still thought it sounded awful.

But after they made love that night, she asked Brock if it mattered to him if she didn't do it.

“Of course not,” he said honestly. “I just thought you should. For you. But it's up to you. I'd love you with no boobs. God forbid.” Once was enough for a lifetime.

But without saying anything to him, she thought about it for two weeks, and at the end of July, she surprised him one morning in East Hampton.

“I'm doing it,” she said, sitting down at the table with him after finishing the dishes. He was deep in the Sunday paper.

“Doing what?” he asked, looking up at her, confused, but always interested in what she had to tell him. “Are we doing something today?”

“Not today. I'm going to call on Monday.”

“Call who?” He felt as though he had already missed an important part of the conversation.

“Greenspan.”

“Who's that?” His mind was blank. He was half asleep. Maybe a new client.

“The doctor you took me to. The plastic surgeon.” She looked very determined, and kind of nervous.

“You are?” He beamed, he was happy for her. He thought she'd be pleased afterwards. “Good for you!” He kissed her, and on Monday, true to her word, she called him and told him she had decided on the implant. She was terrified, about the surgery, and more pain, but once she decided to go ahead with it, she was determined to do it. He had had a cancellation at the end of the week, and he told her to expect to spend four days in the hospital, but after that she could go back to work. It would be painful for a while, more painful than her previous surgery, he confessed, but nothing like the discomfort she had experienced with chemo.

She took Thursday off that week, and Carmen agreed to stay in East Hampton with Annabelle. Alex told Annabelle that she had to go away on business. She didn't want to worry her with telling her about the hospital. The only one she told was Carmen, who was concerned at first, but then relieved when Alex told her why she was going. She thought it was a good idea too, and so did Liz. Everyone was excited about it, except Alex, who was terrified, and had second thoughts at the last minute.

On Wednesday night, she lay awake all night, next to Brock, wishing she hadn't said she would do it.

Brock took her to Lenox Hill at seven a.m. the next day, and a nurse and an anesthesiologist explained all the procedures to them. They gave Alex a hospital gown, and the nurse started an IV, and as soon as she did, Alex started to cry uncontrollably. All she could think of was having chemo, and her last surgery, and she felt utterly stupid.

Dr. Greenspan arrived and ordered a shot of Valium for her. “We believe in keeping everyone happy around here,” he smiled, and then looked at Brock with amusement, “would you like one too?”

“I'd love it.”

She was already half asleep when they wheeled her toward surgery, and Brock waited nervously in her room, and paced the halls, until five hours later when Dr. Greenspan came and told him she had done well. He was very pleased. It was a complicated procedure but everything had gone smoothly.

“I think she'll be very happy with the results.” He had put an implant in, and as her original breast had been small, it did not require extensive tissue expansion although of course there had been some to obtain the desired form. There had been other options as well, but Alex preferred the immediacy of the implant, although she understood that it had to be carefully monitored in case of leakage, and she would have to be part of a control group, to provide data on silicone implants. “She'll have to come back in a month or two for some final adjustments.” They had told her that the final nipple reconstruction and tattoos could be done with a local. “But I think she'll do fine,” Greenspan reassured him.

It was another two hours before she came down from the recovery room, and when she did, she was still very woozy.

“Hi,” she whispered to him, “how did it go?”

“It looks great,” he reassured her, although of course he hadn't seen it.

The next four days in the hospital were uncomfortable for her, more than she'd expected, and she was still in a fair amount of pain when she went back to the office on Monday. But it had none of the implications of her earlier surgery, and none of the dangers.

The bandage was cumbersome, but she still managed to do a fair amount of work, and a lot of the partners were away on vacation, so no one seemed to be aware of her situation. She stayed in her office, and she was wearing one of Brock's shirts over the bandages. He brought her lunch, and at the end of the day they went back to his apartment. And on Thursday, a week after the surgery, the dressing had come off, and the stitches were removed, before they went back to East Hampton. Annabelle was ecstatic to see them, and Alex moved a little gingerly while she held her.

“Did you hurt yourself, Mommy?” she asked worriedly, suddenly afraid again. Annabelle had bad memories too, and Alex didn't want to scare her.

“No, I'm fine,” she reassured her.

“Are you sick again?” Annabelle's eyes were huge as she looked at her mother, and Alex pulled her even closer, as she felt her little girl shaking.

“I'm fine,” she said gently, holding her in her arms, but then Alex realized she had to explain it. She told her very simply that when she had hurt her breast, ten months before, they had had to take some of it away, and now they'd put it back. It seemed the simplest explanation, but when her father called that night she told him that Mommy had found her breast and put it back on again, which she considered good news, and startled her father. He assumed that Annabelle had seen Alex's prosthesis. It never occurred to him that she'd had surgery again, and he didn't ask to speak to her since Daphne was standing right near him.

They were on the yacht by then, and some of Daphne's fancy English friends had joined them. It was a very worldly group with very sophisticated pastimes, and they were spending a lot of time visiting people on other yachts, and in villas along the Riviera. And in a few days they were going to Sardinia.

And every day, Brock reminded Alex that she had to talk to Sam as soon as he got home from Europe. He was very anxious to get married.

“I know, I know,” she smiled at him, kissing him gently to reassure him. “Relax. As soon as he gets home, I'll call him.” If they filed by the fall, she and Brock could be married in the spring. It was all he wanted. Sometimes his youthful zeal made her feel ancient, but in other ways, she loved it. Most of the time she didn't feel the difference in their ages, but there were undeniably times when a little bit of maturity was lacking, but she tried to ignore it. Their experiences, and their viewpoints, were occasionally a little different.

The summer flew by all too quickly for all of them. Daphne hated to come back from Europe, and only her passion for Sam brought her back to New York at all. She admitted to him that she was getting very homesick for London. Life in the States just wasn't the same for her, but he was hoping that she would be distracted by the new apartment. And he promised her that they would travel more, and start spending more time abroad. It wasn't easy for him with his business obligations in New York, but he had a lot of clients abroad too, and he would have done anything to keep her happy. He was spending so much time with her that for months he had seriously neglected his business. She was proving to be a very demanding girl, and she was obviously used to having what she wanted.

And by the time Sam came home, Alex and Brock were thinking with regret of the end of the summer. They had the house in East Hampton till Labor Day, and the first weekend he was back, Sam took Annabelle to Bridgehampton with him. He was staying there with friends, and after six and a half weeks away, Daphne agreed to let him bring Annabelle with them.

“Do you suppose they'll do better this time?” Alex asked Brock seriously. Annabelle had been so unhappy the last time she'd seen Daphne. But when Sam brought her back to East Hampton early on Sunday afternoon, it was obvious that something had happened. He was very terse when he dropped her off, and he was alone, and although she knew Brock was anxious for her to talk to him, there was no opportunity before he got in his car and sped off. He had scarcely said two words to Alex.

She looked down at Annabelle as soon as he had left and questioned her. “What happened?”

“I don't know. Daddy got a lot of phone calls. He was on the phone all the time, and he shouted a lot at the people who called him. And today he said he had to go. He packed my suitcase and brought me home. Daphne shouted a lot too. She said if he wasn't nice to her, she was going back to England. That would be good. I think she's really mean, and stupid.”

It was obvious that something had gone wrong, but it was impossible to decipher it from Annabelle's description.

It was only the next morning, as she and Brock rode into town on the train, that Alex gave a start and stared at the front page of the papers. There were photographs of Sam and Larry and Tom. They were being indicted by the grand jury for fraudulent investments, and a variety of very impressive charges, including embezzlement.

“Holy shit,” she said, handing the paper to Brock. It was incredible. Sam had always been meticulously honest.

“Wow!” He whistled as he read it. The charges were very serious, and Simon was being implicated too, although he had not yet been indicted. It was the three original partners who were being accused of at least a dozen counts of fraud, and embezzlement. “He's in big trouble, no wonder he was upset yesterday.” Brock looked over at her, and Alex was stunned. What had he done with his life in the past months? What stupidity had he gotten himself into? He could wind up in jail for twenty or thirty years on the charges they were bringing against him. What in hell had happened?

“I'll call him when we get to the office,” she said pensively. She still couldn't believe what she'd been reading.

But when she got to the office, there were already two calls from him. She walked into her office and closed the door, and dialed his office. He came on the line in an instant.

“Thanks for returning my call.” He sounded extremely nervous.

“What's happening?” she asked him, still stunned. She had thought she had known him.

“I'm not sure yet. I know some of it. But not all. I'm not sure I'll ever know everything. But I know enough. I'm up the creek, Alex. I need help. I need a lawyer.” He had a very good lawyer, but he wasn't a criminal attorney.

“I don't do criminal, Sam,” she said softly, sorry for him, sorry that he had let his life get away from him so completely, or had gone so far astray he couldn't see what he was doing. She wondered if the girl had anything to do with it, she felt sure Simon did, although he hadn't yet been indicted.

“You're a litigator. You can at least advise me about what I should do now. Can I talk to you? Can I come and see you, Alex? Please?” He was begging her, and after seventeen years, she felt she owed it to him at least to listen. Besides, despite everything that had happened to them, in a way, she still loved him.