Not To Us (27 page)
Authors: Katherine Owen
“Who
told
you I was here?”
“Court Chandler called me about twenty-five minutes ago. I thought I might miss you; and then where would you be?” Lisa asks irritably.
“I would have figured it out,” I say. “And, just so you know, I’m not talking about
him
, so if you wouldn’t mind
not
mentioning his name…” My voice trails off at her fiery look.
“Whose name? Court’s?” Lisa asks, incredulous. She says his name like she knows him personally and this just sends me into a new spiral of angst and turmoil. I give her a withering look, nod, and swallow hard, attempting to chase back the tears that threaten once again.
Lisa gives me this intense look and alternates back and forth between my face and negotiating the traffic ahead. “God, you look fantastic,” she says with dismay, which actually makes me laugh. I sense her taking in the designer clothes Court bought for me and had tailored in Italy: the red silk blouse, the blue silk mini skirt perfectly cut at mid-thigh with a fantastic design that secretly hides my baby bump, and the Italian white leather sling back sandals and the freshly manicured red nails. I watch her sniff the air between us, taking in the expensive scent of my perfume made especially in Paris for me. “Nice trip?” Her sarcasm is hard to miss.
I give her an irritated look. “Nice enough.”
“You want to tell me what’s going on?”
“Didn’t Michael tell you?”
I glance away from Lisa’s close inspection and stare out the window, unseeing, because just saying Michael’s name brings about this unbelievable pain I haven’t allowed myself to feel all these weeks. It courses through me like an out of control forest fire and, amazingly enough, it’s far worse than the heartache I’ve just experienced with Court over the past few days.
“No,” she says softly, seeing my stricken face. “Oh God, Ellie, what happened? We’ve been out of our minds with worry for the past month.”
I’m starting to pay attention to where we’re going and getting more nervous as she skirts the side streets heading towards Swedish Hospital. “Where are you taking me?”
“We’re headed to the clinic. I can’t let you out of my sight until we’ve taken a few films and at least perform an ultrasound on that baby. I take it you haven’t done any of these things.”
“No,” I say in this small voice. I glance away from her accusatory stare. I haven’t thought about this baby, about my children, none of them often enough. Guilt overtakes me. My self-hatred runs especially high at the moment. Lisa grabs my hand.
“Sorry. Sorry. I told myself I wasn’t going to do this: put pressure on you as soon as you got off the plane. Court told me it’s been pretty rough. Sorry I didn’t mean to say his name. Okay,” she says, taking a deep breath. “We’ll just do the basics, blood work, x-rays, and an ultrasound.”
“Oh goody,” I say sarcastically.
“Then, we’ll take you home.”
“I can’t.”
“Can’t what?”
“I can’t go home,” I whisper.
Lisa looks over at me for a long moment. “Okay, you can stay with Stephen and me, but Ellie; you’re going to have to tell me what’s going on, sooner or later.”
I just nod as the unwanted tears make their way down my face. The car gets incredibly quiet the last ten minutes through the city. We pull into the physicians’ parking garage and I automatically glance over at Michael’s parking space as we pass and discover it’s empty. It’s surgery day
—
Friday. Michael should be here. There’s a part of me that cares that he’s not here and another part that is secretly relieved. Seeing Michael, facing Michael, is not something I’m prepared to do quite yet.
Lisa’s cell phone rings. “Hi. Yes, I’ve got her. Hey, thanks for calling me. We’ll take it from here.” Lisa glances at me. “I’ll let her know. Yes, she is,” Lisa says with a laugh. “Okay then. Take care.”
“Who was that?” I demand as soon as she hangs up.
“Who do you think?”
“
Court
?” I ask, incredulous. “He’s calling you? He basically strands me at the God damn airport, while his
wife
picks him up, and now he’s calling to check up on me? Give me your phone!”
“Do you think this is a good idea?”
“Probably not.” My hands shake as I press redial.
“Court Chandler.” The way he says his name in that fucking charming way of his practically has me jumping out of my seat.
“Do
not
call me. Do
not
ask how I am. Do
not
call my friends. Do
not
call me ever again.”
“Who is this?” Court asks with a nervous laugh.
Eve must be right there.
I end the call without answering.
“How’d that go for you?” Lisa asks, glancing over at me.
“Not well enough.”
I follow her up to the medical office without another word, reeling from this fury and heartbreak all at once.
≈ ≈ ≈
A Weird Combination
I
am supposed to be getting undressed. I am supposed to be changing into one of the designer patient gowns Lisa’s sporty nurse provided me with that opens in the front, but still spills everything out, regardless of how it’s been designed. I am supposed to be ready to go in five minutes, according to the militant Dr. Lisa Chatham, who has only my best interests in mind for blood work, x-rays, and an ultrasound. But I’m still dressed in my chic travel clothes, contemplating getting undressed, yet searching for a way out. I am fuming over Court and the scene with him greeting his wife at the airport and pretty much everything that has happened in the past forty-eight hours, but also lamenting over the way things are with Michael. My life is fucked up; what should I do? Get an ultrasound, give blood, and get undressed? None of these options are going to resolve things with Michael. And me. And my life. Cancer can probably wait until Monday. Seeing Michael again, seeing where things are, probably can’t wait that long.
On impulse, I call Carrie. Carrie should be at work in downtown Seattle. I don’t have access to a car, so I’m hoping this is the case. I can’t deal with Lisa’s lecture today. And, I definitely can’t talk about Court Chandler with Lisa. Who will, without a doubt, ask.
“I just need to know the lay of the land,” I say without preamble as soon as Carrie answers. We used to say this kind of thing to each other. It was our secret code for: tell me what’s really going on. I haven’t spoken to her on such a personal level in months. It feels weird to do so now.
“Jesus, Ellie. Where the hell are you?”
“Let’s leave that a minute,” I say. “Just tell me where everyone is.” A part of me misses all of this and it’s coming back to me now.
“Emily’s at school,” she says with a sigh. “I’m picking her up in an hour. Mathew has a baseball game. Robert and I were going to go to that. Michael…is, well, he’s at
home
, Ellie. You’re obviously not there.”
“Why isn’t he in surgery? This is his surgery day.”
“He hasn’t been able to do surgeries for a while. The doctors think it’s stress-related. He’s been pretty broken up about you being gone. Ellie, where did you go?”
“That’s a long story and there’s only one person who’s going to hear it,” I say to her now. “I would appreciate it, if you wouldn’t say anything to the kids just yet. Are you downtown?”
“Yes. I was just getting ready to leave for the ferry.”
“Can you pick me up? I’m at Swedish at Lisa’s clinic. I’ll meet you at the side entrance by the physicians’ parking garage.”
“Yes, of course.”
“Carrie,” I say. “Don’t call Michael.”
“I won’t.” I hear the contrition in her tone. I’m almost ready to accept it.
“Thanks.”
“I’ll be there in ten.”
Call ended comes up on my phone and I stare at it for a few moments.
I write a quick note to Lisa:
I’ll call you tomorrow. I have some stuff I need to deal with first. Sorry. Ellie
With a heavy sigh, I gather up my belongings, sneak out of Lisa’s medical spa, and trudge to the side entrance of the hospital to wait for Carrie. The irony of all of this is not lost on me.
I’m waiting for Carrie.
≈≈
I slide into the passenger seat of her white Mercedes, while she stows my luggage and laptop in the trunk. I attempt to put the scene of Carrie and Michael in this very car as far out of my mind as it will go.
“How are you?” Carrie casts me a sideways glance. “You look amazing.”
Her face is incredulous as she inspects me. I can see her taking in my tanned legs, the designer outfit, and the manicure of perfection, just like Lisa did less than an hour before.
I can’t even smile.
Who is the biggest sinner among us now?
Avoiding her direct gaze, I look out the window because this woman can still read me like no other.
“I’m so sorry, Ellie,” Carrie says to me now.
“Tell me all of it,” I say in a demanding, do-not-fuck-with-me-in-any-way voice.
“It was this weird combination of things,” she says slowly.
I glance over. She has this haunted look. I almost feel sorry for her, asking her like this, but not enough to stop her.
“He was so sad. We shared that sadness. He would be on one side of her and I was on the other, our hands touching. Robert was grieving over Nick; I couldn’t really reach him. So,” she says with heavy sigh. “We began to have this connection to each other, just like the one I saw him have with you on your wedding day. I remember the way he didn’t hesitate to tell you he loved you in a way he never could with me. And, I wanted that.”
She stops talking for a moment and wipes away a tear. I try to breathe, fascinated in some bizarre way and paralyzed with what she’s telling me.
“I wanted the three of us together and I thought, maybe somehow, we could make it work. I needed it to work. He was despondent, vulnerable over Elaina and so was I. And, I think we began to feel this connection might somehow save her. We both wanted that so badly. So, one night when we were there late with Elaina, I talked him into staying at a hotel instead of going home to you. And, it just happened. He was so guilty about it. He cried afterward and I…I was so angry that he was thinking of you, instead of me, even then. We tried to put it behind us.” She pauses and looks over at me with this fresh look of remorse and guilt. “Then Elaina died; and we started up again.”
I gasp as she says this, feeling this additional pain take hold of me now. Somehow learning their affair was more than a one-time thing completely changes my perspective. It’s even more devastating. I struggle to cope and hide it from Carrie. “It happened more than once,” I finally manage to say.
Carrie nods and gets this tormented look. “It’s like we were feeding off of each other’s grief, both knowing we were destroying any chance we had apart with anyone else. Me with Robert. Him with you.” She sighs. “But, God, we ended it, after you found out. I’ve barely seen him. We just exchange the kids. Then, he started having tremors with his hands and had to quit doing surgeries.” She has this accusatory look when she glances over at me, before looking away to negotiate the ferry line and drive the car onto the boat.
“You’re kidding; right? You’re not going to blame his God damn tremor problem on me because if you are, you can stop the fucking car, right now.”
“We’re getting on the ferry. Where are you going to go?” she asks irritably.
“Don’t fuck with me, Carrie.”
She gets this fearful look; she’s never really experienced my wrath before. The old Ellie always capitulated to Carrie; the new one doesn’t.
