God's Gift to Women (23 page)

“How do you know?”

“Experience, sweetheart. When you grow up you’ll realize
that all men are basically the same. They want to eat, watch basketball, and sleep. Of course, there’s a few other things they like to do, but you’re not old enough to know about that yet.”

“Oh, I know all about sex,” Samantha replied wisely. “I watch the Discovery Channel.”

Ms. Randall laughed as she walked into the kitchen. She pulled out a pot and began boiling water.

“Well, why don’t you discover that piano while I make us some tea?”

Before Samantha sat down at the piano, she peeked into the room that was adjacent to the foyer. It was dim inside, so she turned on the lights.

“Wow, this is great!” she said as her eyes scanned the paintings on the walls. She walked up closer to the painting she saw on the easel. It was a portrait of a young girl holding hands with her mother. They were dressed as if they were going to church. Samantha noticed that the girl in the picture looked just like her.

“What are you doing in here?” Ms. Randall shouted.

“I was just looking at your paintings. Is that me?”

“No, it’s not you. Now get out!”

She grabbed Samantha by the arm and jerked her out of the room, then she turned out the lights and closed the door.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Randall, I didn’t mean to—”

“No, sweetheart. You don’t have to apologize. That was my fault. I shouldn’t have overreacted. It’s just that I have your birthday present in there and I didn’t want you to ruin your surprise.”

“But my birthday isn’t until—”

“January first,” Ms. Randall finished her sentence.

“How did you know?”

“I’m your teacher—I know
everything,
” she said as she walked back toward the kitchen. “Now, why don’t you play something for me on the piano while I finish making us some tea? And remember, hold that note.”

Samantha began warming up on the huge piano. She had
never played on one so big. The piano her dad had bought her was smaller and less intimidating. Ms. Randall could hear her hesitation.

“It’s no different than any other piano, Samantha. Just let yourself go and be creative,” she called out from the kitchen.

“That sounds like something my daddy’s girlfriend, Terri, would say.”

Ms. Randall suddenly stopped washing dishes and pulled her soapy hand out of the water. She was holding a wineglass full of water.

“What did you say?”

“I said, my daddy’s girlfriend told me to be different and create my own style. I hated her at first, then I found out she was kinda cool,” Samantha said cheerfully. “She’s smart, and pretty, and she writes poetry just like my daddy.”

The more Samantha boasted about Terri, the more Ms. Randall tightened her grip on the wineglass.

“Oh, yeah, and she’s a doctor, too!”

Finally, it shattered. A large gash opened in the palm of her right hand and began to bleed profusely.

“You all right?” Samantha sprang up from the piano bench. “I’m fine, Samantha; sit down and finish playing!” She spoke calmly as she pulled another dish towel out of the drawer and wrapped it around the wound.

“You’re sure you don’t need a doctor?”

“How many times do I have to tell you, I’m fine!” she snapped. “Now, let’s get back to your lessons. Sit down!”

Ms. Randall sat down next to Samantha on the piano bench. As she began to play, the blood from her wound soaked through the towel.

“So, tell me, where did your daddy meet this smart and pretty
doctor
?”

“They met in the parking lot at his building.”

“Does she work in the building, too?”

“I think so.” Samantha’s voice was trembling. “Ms. Randall, I’m ready to go home now.”

“In a while, Princess, but first we have to practice your singing. Now remember to breathe.” She pressed down hard on Samantha’s hand, smearing it with blood. “And you’d better hold that note!”

“WHERE IS SHE?” Terri said to herself while pacing frantically in her office. “Julian is gonna kill me if I’m late again.” After a few minutes, she called the receptionist, Helen, on the intercom to confirm the appointment.

“Yes, Doctor.”

“Helen, have you heard from my four o’clock?”

“She called about fifteen minutes ago and said she was running late.”

“Okay. When she arrives, escort her into my office and make her comfortable. I’m going to the rest room to freshen up.”

“Another hot date with Mr. Payne, huh?”

“Listen to you, getting all in my business,” Terri laughed. “But since you asked, Ms. Nosybody, we have a dinner date.”

“I didn’t mean to pry. It’s just nice to see you so happy.”

“It’s okay, Helen. Thanks for noticing.” Terri blushed. “By the way, you can go home after you check the patient in. Just leave her folder on my desk.”

After Terri hung up, she rushed out the rear door to the employees’
rest room. No sooner did the door close behind her than there was a knock on the lobby door. Helen checked to see who it was and then buzzed her in.

“You must be Ms. Johnson,” Helen said while trying not to stare at her outfit.

The woman was wearing a black tuxedo dress, fishnet stockings, and three-inch heeled pumps. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun revealing her pearl choker.

“Sorry I’m late; the traffic was horrible and the elevators were out of order. I thought I was going to faint walking up those fifteen flights of stairs,” she said, nearly out of breath. “Is the doctor still in?”

“Yes, she’s been expecting you. Now, if you would just fill out this paperwork, we can get you set up in our system.”

“That’s not necessary. I’m paying cash.”

Helen was in too much of a hurry to worry about formalities, so she signed her in, collected one hundred fifty dollars, then escorted her into the office.

“Have a seat. Dr. Ross will be with you shortly.”

The second Helen closed the door, Ms. Johnson walked over to Terri’s desk and began going through the Rolodex. She scrolled through the letters J and P looking for Julian’s new home number. When she didn’t find it, she opened Terri’s laptop and was about to log on when she noticed a picture underneath a transparent desk pad. It was a five-by-seven of Terri and Julian at a nightclub. Terri was wearing a low-cut dress that showed off her cleavage. “Fuckin’ lovebirds!” she cursed, then she spit on it.

Just then Terri came in from the back entrance snapping her fingers and singing “I Shot the Sheriff.” Ms. Johnson rushed back over to the sofa and sat down.

“Oh, my goodness!” Terri put her hand over her chest. “I didn’t realize you were here.”

“Sorry, Doctor, I didn’t mean to startle you.” She stood and extended her hand. “Thanks for seeing me on such short notice.”

“No problem. Have a seat,” Terri said, then sat down at her desk. “What happened to your hand?”

“It’s nothing; just a little domestic accident.”

Terri reached for the folder Helen had left on her desk and unknowingly wiped the wad of spit on her blouse sleeve. Ms. Johnson smiled.

“It says here that you’re suffering from depression,” Terri said. “Do you know what’s causing this?”

“I’ve got so much drama in my life, I don’t know where to start.”

“Why don’t we start with your childhood.”

“Now, that’s classic!” she laughed. “I guess you’re expecting me to tell you a story about my daddy molesting me when I was seven.”

“Well, did he?”

“My father wasn’t at home often enough to molest me, or even raise me, for that matter.”

“Do you resent him for not being there for you?”

“Resentment isn’t a strong enough word. I hate the bastard!” she said. “A father is supposed to be your hero, your first love. But my father was nothing but a cheating dog. Instead of being my first love, he was my first heartbreak.” She paused briefly to compose herself. “What about you, Doctor, do you resent your father?”

“My father was a very affectionate and responsible man. I was blessed to have him in my life until he died five years ago.”

“Good for you,” she replied sarcastically as she reached for her purse. “Look, can we change the subject? I didn’t come here to talk about my father.”

“We can talk about anything you want. It’s your time.”

Ms. Johnson reached into her purse and took a cigarette out of a gold case, then leaned back on the sofa.

“Do you mind if I smoke?”

“I’d rather you didn’t, but if it will help you to relax, then—”

Before Terri could finish her sentence, she lit the cigarette.

Terri handed her an ashtray.

“Thank you, Doctor.”

“Why don’t we dispense with the formalities? It makes it easier to communicate.” Terri pulled her chair closer to the sofa. “From now on, call me, Terri. What’s your first name?”

“Evelyn, but my friends call me Eve.”

“Okay, Eve, let’s get down to business.” Terri began taking notes. “What are you depressed about?”

“Like most women, I’m depressed over a man.”

“Can you be more specific?”

“I want to be with him, but he doesn’t want to be with me,” she replied. “I’ve called him a thousand times, left him messages at his job, I’ve even followed him.”

“Is this a former boyfriend, husband, or lover?”

“He’s just some guy I like to fuck.”

“Why not go fuck someone else and save yourself all this time, energy, and drama?”

Evelyn laughed at Terri’s blunt retort.

“Because.”

“Because what?”

“Because I don’t have a damn thing else to do, that’s why!”

“Are you in love with him?”

“Of course I am! Why else would I be here talking to you?”

“Does he love you?”

“What difference does that make? A person once told me that if you truly love someone,
nothing
should come between you!”

“Look, Eve, letting go isn’t easy. And it’s even more difficult when the sex is good—believe me, I know. It’s like a crack addict going through withdrawal. But like any drug, it ultimately destroys you.” Terri put her hand on her shoulder. “From one woman to another—let it go. A situation like this can only get worse.”

“You got that right, worse for him!” She yelled as she sprang up from the sofa. “I’m sick and tired of these arrogantass
men using women like doormats then throwing us away like garbage. They’ve got to learn that there’s a price to pay for toying with a woman’s emotions!”

“So, I guess this isn’t the first time you’ve been hurt?” Evelyn calmly walked back over to the sofa and sat down. “Everything I tell you will remain just between us, right?” she whispered.

“I’m bound by law not to divulge my patients’ secrets.”

“What if I told you I killed someone?”

Terri squirmed in her seat, trying to disguise her discomfort.

“Relax, Doc, I haven’t gone that far—not yet,” she said with a sly grin.

Suddenly Terri felt dizzy. She put her hand on her stomach and rushed over to the trash can next to her desk and began vomiting. Evelyn rushed over with a Kleenex.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. It must have been something I ate for lunch.”

Evelyn happened to glance over at the photo of Julian and Terri on the desk. She noticed how much smaller her breasts were in the picture.

“Are you sure it’s not morning sickness?”

Terri looked up at her with a shocked expression as she wiped her mouth with the Kleenex.

“What made you say that?”

“I was a mother myself—well, almost.” She went back to the sofa and sat down. “The first time I got pregnant I was in high school. I was so afraid of my father finding out that I rushed to the clinic and had an abortion.”

“And the second time?”

“It was six months ago—I was married then. But three months into the pregnancy I had a miscarriage.”

“I’m so sorry, Eve. I’m sure you and your husband were devastated.”

“He was devastated, all right, when the police came and arrested his ass,” Eve said as tears rolled down her face. “I lost the
baby because he was beating the shit out of me. I’ll never forget the silly grin on his face when the doctors told him I could never get pregnant again. I should have killed that mother—”

She stopped abruptly. Terri passed her the box of Kleenex.

“Look, Evelyn, I know this is very difficult, but I can’t help you if you don’t open up and face your problems.”

“Is that what you want, Doctor, you want me to open myself up to you? Okay, how’s this?”

She slid up to the edge of the sofa and spread her legs. As Evelyn continued to cry, Terri noticed that her right eye began to change colors. The more she rubbed it with the Kleenex the more it changed from brown to hazel. Her contact lens had fallen out.

Suddenly all the pieces began to fall into place. There was the story about Evelyn being beaten by her husband and not being able to bear children. Mitch told her about the radio interview in Chicago when Olivia claimed she became sterile after being raped. But the dead giveaway was when she called herself Eve. It was the same name Terri used when she seduced Julian on the radio.

Terri’s hands were shaking as she stood up from her chair and walked over to her desk.

“Maybe you should come back when you’re not so agitated. Why don’t we get together next Wednesday, Ms. Johnson?”

“Ms. Johnson? I thought we were on a first-name basis,” she said. “Don’t you want to know why I hate my father and the rest of these goddamn men?”

“I think you need to take a deep breath and relax.”

“You’ve gotta lot of nerve calling yourself a doctor! You can’t cure me! And you damn sure can’t erase a lifetime of pain and misery. You don’t have the slightest idea of what it feels like not knowing if your husband is going to come home with a hand full of roses or a balled-up fist. After so many years of abuse, all the anger builds up inside you until it erupts like a volcano.” She picked up her purse and began walking toward
Terri. “Do your college textbooks and sophisticated degrees teach you about that kind of hell?”

Terri was terrified as she pretended to write in her appointment book.

“You sure you can fit me into your
tight
schedule?” she said, while reaching inside her purse. “I know how busy you are nowadays.”