Promise Me Eternity (5 page)

He gave an understanding nod. “Oh, I see. I
always thought you made such a nice couple.”

“So did I.” She looked down sadly. But a
moment later, her eyes were twinkling, inquisitive. “And what about
you, Simon? How’s your love life?”

“Nothing to brag about, I’m afraid. But Helen
and I are making an effort.”

“Making an effort? That doesn’t sound
particularly encouraging. So you’re having problems?”

He took a few deep breaths. “Yes, in fact we
are—but I’m sure your time is much too valuable for me to go into
how my wife and I aren’t getting along so well these days.”

“Not at all. People say I’m a good
listener.”

His eyes darted back and forth. “To tell you
the truth … I really don’t know if I can complain. It’s probably
the same with all marriages. The only thing that really gets to me
is that things aren’t like they used to be. Do you know what I
mean?”

“You’re trying to say that the love between
you has sort of cooled off?”

He wanted to say no, but he nodded. “I guess
you could put it that way. Things used to be different. We used to
enjoy each other’s company every day. We were so much in love. But
recently …”

“People are all very different,” she said
sympathetically.

“What if we really don’t want to stay
together anymore? We get into so many fights, and what’s most
ridiculous is that it’s always about something trivial.” He spoke
in a low voice, almost a whisper.

“Instead of looking forward to going home,”
she said, “it seems like torture.”

He pointed his finger at her. “Exactly. How’d
you know?”

“I know the feeling. I’ve gone through this
before and don’t intend to repeat the experience.” She raised her
hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. What I wanted to say was that
I would rather live alone than force myself to put up with a
certain kind of relationship. Of course, each person has to know
what’s right for him or her.”

“You may have a point. Maybe I really should
think about getting a divorce—we seem to be beyond help.”

“Well, whatever you do, Simon, don’t rush
into anything. There’s no real hurry, is there? Try talking with
your wife. Maybe the smart thing would be for you both to go to a
marriage counselor or someone like that. Who knows?”

He rested his chin on his fist and gazed
through the window at one of the glowing stars. “I certainly don’t
know. I have no idea anymore what to do. I try so hard, but nothing
seems to work.” This last statement was spoken in a tone of deep
frustration.

“Everything will be fine, you’ll see. You
shouldn’t worry so much about it. It’ll work out.” She waited for
him to rest his hand on the table and then covered it with
hers.

Their eyes met. An unusual warmth rose to his
cheeks. He wanted to remove his hand, but then changed his mind,
not wanting to offend her. He lowered his eyes, cleared his throat,
and said, “Life can take strange turns, can’t it?”

She smiled at him sweetly.

“And there’s nothing we can do about it.” He
stared down at her hand, which seemed glued to his skin. He raised
his eyes sadly and again met her glass-like gaze. He reminded
himself that this was not what it seemed to be and began to say
whatever came into his head. He told her that Helen really was not
so bad, that it was probably his fault too, and that we all have
our little peculiarities. He kept on talking and hoped she would
take her hand away.

Then, at last, she spoke. “Did you ever think
that maybe the two of us could possibly …? I don’t really know the
best way to say it. … I’ve always liked you a lot, Simon. Maybe we
could get together sometime outside of work, for dinner or
something.”

He swallowed, almost choking on his saliva.
“You mean just the two of us?” He looked directly at her for a
moment. Anita Carter was a beautiful woman with a face that was
completely adorable. He had often wondered why she used such heavy
makeup, since it didn’t suit her. But he was bothered by her eyes,
which had a hazy translucence. He could never tell what was going
on with her, what she was thinking. He was afraid of those
eyes.

He pulled his hand closer to his body, but
only succeeded in shifting it a fraction of an inch. Her hand only
intensified its pressure on his.

“Simon, you have no idea how attractive you
are. What if we went to your office? No one will bother us there.
What do you say?”

For a second he thought he might do it. Anita
Carter, after all, was an extremely beautiful woman. An opportunity
like this didn’t come along every day. He was almost about to nod
when he looked into her eyes again. An unpleasant feeling ran down
his back. He pulled his hand away sharply and moved off the
barstool. “I don’t think that would be wise. Considering that we
work together.”

Her lips got thinner, her eyes even glassier.
“You really think we couldn’t make it work?”

Now that he had freed himself from her touch
he could be more decisive. “Yes, Anita. I think we should just be
good friends. That would be best.”

A beeping noise came from his pocket. His
pager displayed a number he had to call. This was almost certainly
something urgent. The pager in Anita’s pocket was also beeping.

Five minutes later they found themselves
together in the same operating room. A woman had been in a car
accident and because she had not been wearing a seat belt, her head
had gone through the windshield. An operation was needed
immediately or there could be long-term consequences. She might
even die. The woman, who was fully conscious, was crying.

“We need a CT scan immediately,” Dr.
Patterson called out to the staff.

The duty nurse helped move the patient onto
another table and guided her into a special apparatus.

A few minutes later, the doctor slowly shook
his head as he examined the scans of the cranial cross-sections.
It won’t be an easy operation.

When the patient was on the operating table,
Dr. Anita Carter started the anesthesia. She monitored the
patient’s heart rate and blood pressure. “The patient will be ready
in two minutes.”

Dr. Patterson could still feel the pressure
of Anita’s hand on his, and did not even want to look at her. He
said only, “Fine. Jerry will be here in twenty minutes. The poor
guy was sound asleep. I think we can go ahead and start.”

The operation at first went smoothly, without
complications. Anita Carter kept her eye on various monitors; the
duty instrument nurse handed out the instruments; and Dr. Patterson
operated.

The first trouble appeared just as Dr. Jerry
Duncan was coming through the door. Dr. Patterson had removed a
large piece of the cranium that had dug itself into the brain
tissue. The heart rate monitor started beeping loudly, which meant
the patient’s heart had stopped.

“Quick! Resuscitate!” Dr. Patterson
shouted.

Jerry Duncan, who a little while earlier had
been sleeping soundly, looked around in confusion to see what was
going on. He wanted to go over to the resuscitation apparatus, but
the duty nurse got there first. She placed the defibrillator
electrodes in Dr. Patterson’s hands.

After the patient’s body momentarily rose
into the air, all eyes shifted to the heart rate monitor. It still
showed a flat line. Dr. Patterson waited another moment and then
placed the electrodes once more on the patient. Again, nothing.
After the woman had been tossed into the air a third time, cardiac
activity resumed. The room echoed with sighs of relief.

The whole of the next part of the operation
took place in an electrified atmosphere. Dr. Patterson was as tense
as a bowstring. He yelled once at the nurse when she gave him the
wrong instrument, and twice at Jerry Duncan for not removing the
aspirator at the right time.

Anita Carter knew she was partly to blame for
his irritability. Many times before, when an operation did not run
smoothly, Dr. Patterson had always stayed calm. He had never spoken
harshly to anyone. But she didn’t care. She was upset with him for
having turned her down. This had never happened to her. She
considered how she might get revenge. Angrily, she glanced at the
monitor that showed the oscillating curve of the patient’s cardiac
activity. She hoped everything would be alright since she’d had
enough of dealing with this patient. Anita yawned furtively and
looked at the clock. It showed a few minutes past two.

After the operation, Dr. Patterson apologized
to everyone for his sharp words. “I was really afraid we would lose
her. I apologize.”

Everyone nodded except Anita, whose thin lips
were drawn in a straight line. She knew how she’d get her
revenge.

Chapter 9

_______________________

The short woman crawled beneath the big
wooden kitchen table on her knees and started wiping the floor. She
had already cleaned the bedroom, the hallway, and the bathroom. The
kitchen was the only thing she had left to do. She worked as fast
as she could; it was getting close to five, and Dr. Patterson would
be home in half an hour.

Edna Weiss had the appearance of a
good-natured woman, full of energy and vitality for less than fifty
years old. She wore her brown hair tamed into a neat French bun.
Twice a week she came to help with the housework.

Hearing the sound of a car in the gravel
driveway, she got up quickly and went to the window. She brightened
when she saw the familiar figure and hurried to open the door.

“Oh, it’s you, Dr. Patterson. You’re home
early today.” She was relieved to see him because she had been
afraid it might be Helen. She didn’t like that woman.

“Good afternoon, Edna. Yes, you’re right. I
am early, aren’t I?” He glanced at his watch. “If you want to put
it that way.” It was one of those rare days when he had finished
work by four thirty.

“Can I fix you some tea?” she offered.

“Thanks, that’s very nice of you. First I’d
like to take a shower, but I’d be glad to have some tea later.”

She watched him go upstairs and admired his
elegant walk. She had a deep respect for the doctor and liked him
because he was always so kind and friendly toward her.

Edna loaded the dirty dishes in the
dishwasher and pressed the start button. She said to herself,
I’ll wipe down the cabinets and then I’m done.

She heard the water running as Dr. Patterson
had his shower. She knew he’d soon be ready and then would go sit
on the patio. She quickly ran outside to make sure the patio table
was tidy and everything clean. She sighed with relief when she saw
it was all in the best possible order.

He almost always invited her to have a cup of
tea with him and then they would talk about all sorts of things.
The other day he told her that he and Helen were not getting along
that well, but that he thought everything would work out. He said
Helen was often under a lot of stress at work because she had so
many clients.

He came downstairs while she was still
cleaning the window. He was wearing casual blue pants and a red
polo shirt. She tried to imagine him in his white work clothes; she
had never seen him dressed that way.

“I’ll fix your tea right away, Dr.
Patterson.” She closed the window and put the kettle on the
burner.

Dr. Patterson thanked her, picked up the
newspaper, and went outside. He obliquely watched the sun as it hid
intermittently behind blue-shadowed clouds, and when it came out
again its bright rays bathed everything in an amber glow. Sitting
on the patio always calmed his nerves.

“Here you go, Doctor. The tea’s ready.”

He put down the newspaper and was cheered by
the sight of the cloud of steam twisting above the porcelain
teacup. He tried to guess which tea she had made this time and
fairly soon recognized the smell of cinnamon and dried apple. “But
where’s your cup? You must join me, Edna.”

Out of politeness she never brought out a cup
for herself, although she always knew he’d invite her to join him.
She had brewed a full pot so there would be enough for the both of
them.

The table where they sat rested on two
concrete legs. A roof of gray corrugated plastic sheltered them
from any possible rain or too much sun. The yard they were looking
at stretched out before them in a well-tended lawn. In front of the
fence, not far off, the rosebushes bloomed fully for the season.
The roses clustered so abundantly that one had to wonder how the
thin stems could bear the weight of all these blossoms without
breaking. Behind the wooden fence, young trees stood in solid rows,
their branches curving thickly above the road.

Every time Edna Weiss got ready to leave, Dr.
Patterson reminded her to take some flowers home with her. At first
she would decline, but he always insisted that they had far too
many.

“Roses are the most beautiful flowers,” he
said, looking in the direction of the wooden fence.

“I don’t know how you manage to get them to
bloom so beautifully, Doctor. What do you water them with?”

Dr. Patterson smiled and said, “I water them
with love, Edna.”

She responded with a big, warm smile.

“By the way, you know I’ve never asked you,
what is it you’re researching in that lab of yours down in the
basement?” She instantly regretted the question. She felt she was
intruding too much into his private life.

He looked pensively toward the sun, shading
his eyes with his right hand. “You won’t believe it when I tell you
I’m researching plant fertilizers.” It was a deliberate lie. What
point was there in explaining to her what he was really doing?

“Oh,” she exclaimed. “That’s why you have
such beautiful roses! Incredible!”
What a genius,
she
thought.
All day at work he does brain surgery and at home he
does research on flower fertilizers.