Authors: Elizabeth Brundage

The Doctor's Wife (11 page)

BOOK: The Doctor's Wife

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When Celina talked about her work, her eyes seemed lit from within. He found her passion inspiring. But Celina had always been different. As a resident, she’d been out every night on the streets treating homeless people, venturing into crack houses, tenements. That was her world; she’d grown up inside it and had at last returned to it. Money didn’t seem to be an issue. She’d never had it; he imagined she could go on living without it. Whereas he’d grown accustomed to having money in his pocket. He had kids; she didn’t. He doubted, for some reason, that she ever would, and kids made a difference in the way you thought about money. Still, it took a lot of courage to do what Celina was doing; he didn’t know if he could do it. “You always wanted that,” he said. “Remember that bum we met?”

“That
homeless
man,” she corrected him.

They’d found him outside the hospital, middle of winter, without shoes. She’d taken him to the store and had bought him a pair of sneakers.

“You bought him orange juice,” he remembered.

“Ah, yes. But I don’t think he was that kind of thirsty,” she said with a laugh, but then her smile faded and she looked almost frightened. He sensed her uneasiness, her uncertainty.

“When I heard you were at St. Vincent’s I thought you might be our last hope.” Her eyes glimmered with tears that she irritably swatted away. “I’m sorry,” she said, regaining her composure. “It’s been a hard time for me.”

He took her hand. “Tell me what you need, Celina.”

She leaned toward him and spoke softly. “It’s an ugly subject these days, but we do abortions. We’re the only place in town. We’ve had other doctors, but they’ve dropped out. They couldn’t take it.”

“Couldn’t take what?”

“The threats. I’m not going to lie to you. This is a fairly conservative town when it comes to this subject. It gets pretty intense sometimes.”

“What kind of threats?”

Her forehead tightened and he knew that things were worse than she would say. “Crank calls, mostly. There’s an anti-choice group, Life Force. They’re big around here and they’re very tenacious. With the election and stuff they’re trying to make a lasting impression.”

“I’ve heard,” he told her. “I’ve seen pictures in the paper.”

She met his eyes head-on. “Most of the new guys getting out of residency don’t even know how to do the procedure. They’re shunned if they show any interest. It’s unbelievable. It’s frightening. It’s a war out there, Michael. I really mean it, you’re our last hope.”

He realized they were still holding hands. “Talk about a little pressure,” he said, trying to make a joke. She took her hand back and folded her arms across her chest, waiting for him to decide.

They didn’t do abortions in his group unless the woman’s life was at risk, and even then it required a bit of red tape. Michael’s two partners, Finney and Bianco, were staunch Republicans; he didn’t imagine they would appreciate his volunteering at an abortion clinic, especially for Celina James. It also meant more time away from his family, something he and Annie didn’t need right now. They had little time together as it was, not to mention the rare occasions he spent with his kids. On the other hand, his wife was adamantly pro-choice; she’d respect him for doing it. Annie admired people with churning political fervor, people who put themselves on the line, and he knew she thought they’d gotten complacent over the years. “A compost pile is not my idea of a political statement,” he recalled her complaining. Although he sensed that it was not a good idea to get involved with Celina James for a variety of obvious reasons, he didn’t like the idea of not helping her clinic, which embodied his own political ideology. He supposed he could try it for a while and see how things went. He could keep it from his partners. They didn’t have to know what he did on his days off.

“Obviously, I can’t work when I’m on call,” he told her.

“Of course you can’t,” she said, and then she grinned. “How about tomorrow?”

He smiled. “I don’t believe I’m on call tomorrow.”

“Well, come on by. I’m sure we can find something for you to do.” She leaned across the table and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “I knew I could count on you, Michael. Thanks.” And then she was gone.

He sat there for a moment, reflecting on her beauty. Who had succeeded in capturing her heart, he wondered, amazed that he was actually feeling jealous. His pager sounded, but he didn’t bother to answer it, and he sat at the table for a few minutes more, remembering their intimate times together. The way she had smelled when her body went damp—like wet hay, he thought, like mist. The outrageous underwear she wore under her scrubs.

“Can I get you anything else?” The waiter’s voice startled him.

“No, no,” he stuttered, like a man who’d been caught stealing. He stood up, grateful for the interruption. He had no business thinking about Celina James, not like that.

Michael would have to discuss his plans to work at the clinic with Annie. The idea of him working on Saturdays would not sit well with her, he knew. And although they had what he considered to be a strong marriage, Annie was always on his case about needing more time with him. She’d complain that he wasn’t home enough, that he wasn’t
there
for her. Sometimes she even seemed suspicious that he might be seeing someone on the side. She’d playfully question him about the nurses at the hospital— did they flirt with him often, did they hit on him—but there was always an edge to her voice that made him think she worried about these things more than she should. He was, in fact, enormously faithful to his wife. There had been occasions when he’d gotten a certain feeling from one of the nurses, a kind of warm interest, but he’d never encouraged or pursued it. But Celina was different; she’d been in his life before Annie, and although their affair had lasted only a few months, it had been powerful.

That night, Michael drove home faster than usual, feeling rather pleased with himself. Of course he would help Celina. Why shouldn’t he? After all, they were doctors in the same community, they had to stick together—and he believed in what she was doing. An expansive mood rushed through him. He could hardly wait to see her again.

He put the windows down and accelerated, inviting the smell of plowed fields into the car. It was the wild smell of freedom, and he breathed it deeply into his lungs. The sky was dark and clear and smelled of wood smoke. Millions of stars glittered overhead. He couldn’t imagine a more beautiful night.

The house was all lit up when he pulled up the gravel driveway, and he could see Henry in the living room practicing his violin. Then Rosie’s towhead flew into the room, bobbing this way and that like a sunflower. Michael sat there for a moment, pondering their good fortune, admiring the large windows casting their yellow light onto the grass. He had to admit, it was an impressive old place. Suddenly the front door opened and Annie came out, wrapped up in her ratty brown cardigan, followed by the children and the dog, all of whom raced across the lawn to his waiting arms.

The kitchen was in its usual state of chaos. Spaghetti boiling over on the stove, a salad in progress on the counter, wet watercolors rippling on the table, peanut shells scattered across the scuffed wood planks. Back-packs tossed haphazardly, lunch boxes, muddy shoes. Annie handed him a glass of wine. “Hey, nice to see you for a change.”

They kissed. “Nice to see you, too.”

Henry leaned in the doorway, considerably less enthusiastic. “Hi, Dad.”

“Hey. High five.” Michael held his hand up and their hands met in midair. “What’s up?”

“Finished my project.”

“Cool, Hen. Can I see it?”

“After dinner, guys,” Annie said, holding a bowl of steaming spaghetti. “Everything’s hot and ready.”

“Just the way I like it.” Michael squeezed her from behind and she smiled at him, flushed, maneuvering her way to the table. Unwittingly, he found himself comparing Annie’s breasts to Celina’s. Annie’s were wondrously abundant, whereas Celina’s were modest. He remembered Celina’s skimpy bras like slithery vertebrate animals. Annie’s bras were huge, maternal contraptions. Annie was staring at him. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Did you say something?”

“I was wondering where they went.”

“Who?”

“The
kids.
” Annie frowned and then screamed,
“Dinner!”

Henry and Rosie charged in and noisily pulled out their chairs while Annie prepared their plates. Molly rambled after them, panting, wagging her feathery tail. “Molly, you’re out. Can you put her out, Michael?”

“Come on, Molly. Out you go.” He grabbed one of her treats and tossed it into the dark. Molly ran out after it.

“Try not to eat like animals,” Annie said to the kids, to which Henry promptly snorted like a pig, which delighted Rosie, who followed suit.

Annie shook her head. “I just don’t know what we’re going to do with these little animals.” Rosie squealed with laughter and Michael laughed, too, and snorted for good measure. “You’re as bad as they are.” Annie smiled at him. She poured herself more wine and drank some of it, then resumed the wild routine of getting the rest of the meal on the table. His wife was not industrious when it came to cooking. A week’s menu, generally speaking, included any of an assortment of variously shaped pastas and a salad of some sort. Tonight it looked like spinach.

He drank off the whole of his wine and poured himself another glass, letting his mind drift for a moment around the room, over the heads of his wife and children, through the window, where the warm air smelled sweet like buttered toast. He saw the white picket fence that they had painted laboriously as a family, and the lilies that Annie had planted along the edge of it. He saw the barn in the distance with its rooster weather vane, and the apple trees beyond, twisted and black. People thought they were crazy for moving out here. “How are you going to survive without a Blockbuster?” he remembered Finney asking him. But the land, the space, was extraordinary. It changed the way you thought about things; it had changed him.

“I only got to play for ten minutes,” Henry was complaining about the afternoon’s soccer game. “I had to sit on the bench.”

“Why, honey?” Annie looked concerned.

“I’m no good,” the boy answered glumly. “I’m too slow.”

“You can’t get better if you don’t play,” Michael said. “I don’t like that he makes you sit out.”

“Only the good people get to play.”

“Maybe you and Daddy can practice together this weekend,” Annie said.

“Okay, Dad?” Henry squinted up at him hopefully.

“Sure, Hen,” he said, but it was a lie. He knew he wouldn’t have any time with his son this weekend.

“You’re not hungry?” Annie noticed his full plate.

“Had a big lunch.” This was as good a time as any, he thought. “Lombardo’s.”

“One of the drug reps?”

“Someone from Harvard.” He explained how he’d gotten the call from Celina James.

Annie grimaced. “I remember her. She’s the one who had the hots for you.”

To his knowledge, Annie knew nothing of his relationship with Celina before their marriage. “What are you talking about?” he said casually, but he was intensely curious.

“She was always flirting with you.”

“I don’t remember that.”

“Yes, right in front of me. We were engaged, for Christ’s sake, and she’d come over and flirt with you. It was humiliating.”

BOOK: The Doctor's Wife

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