Wait for Me (32 page)

Later, Fred went to the grocery store to pick up more beer, so Mark and I took the opportunity to catch up on the balcony. He had been married to his wife Brenda for five years, and, like himself, she was a highly regarded doctor. They both returned to New York after they qualified. Mark had recently replaced a retiree in a local practice, subsequently inheriting a mass of patients – rich people with even richer problems. “Horror stories,” he told me.

“Like what?” I asked curiously.

He looked sullen and replied through clenched teeth: “Like your wrists.”

“You need to get some silver sulfadiazine,” he added after a minute of silence.

“Sorry?” I asked, puzzled.

“It's a topical cream that'll help with the swelling,” he said, pointing.

I instinctively pulled my sleeves over my hands. Mark gave me a sympathetic smile and I wanted the ground to swallow me.

“My professional opinion.”

I gestured somewhere towards a smile. “Thanks,” I said.

“Is everything okay Sophie?”

“Yeah, fine,” I replied, uncertain.

What was with that question today?

“I go climbing with Adam, he's really into it. The last one was tough though,” I said. “I was stuck for about an hour and the ropes have made a real mess.”

He smiled and took a swig of beer.

“Those marks are five hours old, at the very most,” he said, staring vacantly ahead.

I suspected that he knew a lot more than he was letting on. I stood up, annoyed. “Do you have some kind of problem?” I erupted.

His eyes widened. “I don't have a problem, but I think you might.”

“Excuse me?”

“Sophie, if you're in trouble then you can tell me, even if you don't want to get your family involved.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Very well then.”

My brother returned with the beers and put a swift end to that conversation. I went to the bathroom, trying to decide where to go from there. It was too early to go back to Adam's, but I didn't want to stay here at my mother's, where Mark had suddenly materialized from the past with an innate knowledge of my nocturnal activities. ‘Horror stories', he had said – his professional opinion.

I said a quick goodbye with some excuse about having to be somewhere and left to roam to the city. For a good hour, I sat on a park bench staring into the void. I had reached the definitive fork in the path, and this time there was no diversion. Going home would mean that I accepted this sick relationship, but at the same time, it was the only place that really felt like home. Paradoxically, he gave me a feeling of security, and the happiness he brought seemed to outweigh the torment. Whilst I was lost in these thoughts, a little girl tripped and began to cry. Her father rushed over and instantly made her laugh with a flick on her nose and a ridiculous face. She rushed back onto the slide, oblivious. I felt true envy; I would have given anything to dust off my wounds and watch them disappear. Nothing could fix this though, not even time. I had to leave Adam and he knew it. It was the only way I could get him to really confront his problems. With my mind made up, I set off home. Stewart greeted me and informed me that Adam was out. I entered the apartment with a little relief at this. Soon the silence was overwhelming and I went to lie on the bed.

I didn't have to wait long for his return. I had heart palpitations as his footsteps echoed across the wooden floor. I struggled to decide whether to stand or stay curled up on the bed. I chose the latter.

In silence, Adam lay down and held me tenderly.

“I don't want you to leave me, and I'm truly sorry,” he whispered. “But if you want to go, I won't do anything to stop you.”

“Who were those women?”

He buried his head into my hair and squeezed me tightly, awakening the pain in my back.

“You already know,” he said in a small voice. “I'm pathetic.”

I tried to turn around but he held me still.

“You have every reason to hate me. I didn't even think you would come back, and I won't ask you to forgive me because what I've done is beyond reason or excuse.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“You have to decide that for yourself. But I think you know what you have to do, Sophie.” He was short of breath.

“Do you love me?” I asked.

“So much that I end up hurting you, and that's not right.”

I was surprisingly appeased by this. I could not leave him. I could not bear it. I turned around to hold him with all the strength that I had and he returned the embrace. I kissed him hard. I wanted to lose myself. As I felt his lips and his tongue, I wanted more and more re-assurance that he still wanted me, in spite of everything.

After that horrific night, resuming normality was a struggle. Adam did not try to sleep with me. Rather, he limited himself to holding me tightly and kissing me for long periods of time. That was always where it ended. Initially I thought he was doing it rebuild my trust, but I realized that, actually, he was doing it to manage his own distress. He was suffering for what he had done to me, so much that he couldn't get excited any more – so much that he was afraid to even touch me. One night, I tried to be more insistent, but after a few kisses he slid between my thighs and used his tongue. I began to worry that soon he would need to satisfy his desires elsewhere.

Fred finally decided to take the plunge with Miranda, and got married for the third time. The reception consisted mainly of my brother's old friends and naturally among them was Mark Cameron.

I was at the buffet table when he surprised me with a kiss on the cheek.

“Ah, young Sophie,” he said.

His words from our last meeting were still etched into my mind and my greeting was a little frosty.

“You're looking lovely,” he said, with an almost undetectable glance at my wrists, which were covered in bracelets.

“Thank you,” I replied firmly. “Are you here with your wife?”

“Yeah, she's over there,” he said, pointing to a woman at the far table who was talking on the phone.

“So, how's the study going?”

“Good, thanks,” I replied.

A second later, Adam was by my side. Discomfort hit me like a meteorite.

“Mark, this is Adam.”

They shook hands, courteous but otherwise unreadable.

“Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr Scott,” Mark replied.

I immediately clarified the context. “Adam, this is Mark Cameron. He's my brother's best friend. He used to live across the street. He's almost like a second brother. We were all so close—”

“Good times,” said Mark.

Adam smiled thinly, but it was a struggle and this had not gone unnoticed.

“Sophie, great to see you again. If you want join us at the table, I'll introduce you to Brenda.”

“Of course, thanks”.

He left quickly, after throwing Adam a look of contempt.

“Is everything okay, Adam?”

He put his arm around me. “All good. Are you having fun?”

“Yeah, are you?”

He smiled.

“I know – another hour and we'll go home.”

“Thanks.”

We returned to my mother's table to eat, but Adam was vacant for the whole meal. It was as though his entire being had drifted to the edge of the earth.

On the ride home, I tried to ask what was bothering him, but he just told me that he was thinking about work. He disappeared into his office as soon as we got back. I heard him talking on the phone, and then an eerie silence fell upon the apartment.

I got undressed and waited for him on the bed. I wanted to show him that I hoped to make love.

“Let's just watch a movie,” was his response.

We watched something uniquely boring and I fell asleep in the middle of the first half.

The following day I went to the parking lot. My brother had left for his honeymoon so I was in command for the next two weeks. I would stay there for a few hours in the morning, then after my shift at the gallery, come back to close up. There wasn't much to do. I was mostly there as a presence to greet a few customers and waste time on the Internet. Until Friday, however, when Mark appeared in the office.

“Hello, Sophie,” he said, surprised to see me. “What are you doing here?” he asked, looking around.

“I'm just covering for Fred. He's away on honeymoon.”

“Yeah I know, still though, I didn't expect to find you.”

“And here I am. Do you want a coffee or anything?”

“That's alright, thanks. I'm in a bit of a hurry. I was just dropping by to leave my car. There's a problem with the suspension and, at the wedding, Fred told me to bring it here and leave it with Gustav.”

“No problem, we'll go and find him. Follow me—”

We moved into the workshop and they had a short conversation about the repair. Back at the office, he gave me a look of concern and asked me not to tell Adam that he was here.

“Why not?”

“Sophie, you know better than me,” he replied bitterly.

“I'm not following.”

“Sophie… you know better than me. I don't want to land you in any trouble.”

I had a hint of what he was getting at but I wanted him to speak directly. “Do you know him or something?” I asked, confused.

I began to wonder whether there was a link between the sulfadiazine cream on the bedside table and his suggestion at my mother's house.

He nodded and I felt ashamed.

“Please, Sophie, don't tell him I was here.”

“Can you at least tell me how you know him? And why does it feel like you're hiding something?”

“I can't.”

“You can't?”

“Confidentiality,” he said frowning. “Sophie, please promise me you won't say anything.”

“Mark, you can't ask me that and leave out all the rest.”

“Listen, it's okay, I'll take the car elsewhere.”

“Mark, come on, Gustav will tell my brother and he'll be disappointed.”

“Then you give me your word that this visit stays between the two of us. Look, I've met Adam before in a professional context, and it's through this that I know about, let's just say… his tastes.”

Immediately I lowered my eyes. “You've been to his house?” I asked in a broken whisper.

Mark stared at me without answering.

“Look, Sophie, I'm not judging you, I would never do that. But for your own good, don't breathe a word of this.”

Eventually, I managed to re-assure him, but his encounter had unleashed a ravenous curiosity. I had to play this very carefully. At dinner, I decided to address the issue from a remote distance.

“I was thinking of seeing a gynecologist for a pap test,” I said, dishing the meat onto our plates.

“Sounds like a good idea.”

“I don't know how you organize that kind of thing. Can you ask Dr Murdoch?” I asked, setting the plates on the table.

I noticed him tense a little.

“He retired a few months back. I'm looking for another doctor now,” he replied, sitting down.

“I thought about asking Mark, my brother's friend, the one you met at the wedding. I imagine he'll be able to recommend somebody.” I carefully watched his reaction.

He ate a forkful and stared at me. “If you want, I'll get some information from the hospital that I've always used here.”

“Which one do you use?” I asked.

“What's the name now? Memorial? Yeah, Memorial is a good hospital. I can call them tomorrow to fix an appointment.”

I took two mouthfuls, looked into his eyes and smiled.

“That's okay. I think I'll ask Mark. I barely spoke to him at the wedding. It'll be a chance to catch up with him too.”

Adam laid his fork on the table, wiped his mouth with the napkin, took a long sip of wine and stared at me with increased intensity. I held his gaze.

“If I ask you not to do that, will you listen?”

“Sure,” I replied with a smile.

“Good,” and picked up his fork again.

“As long as you tell me the reason,” I added.

He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He swallowed his food, lowered his fork again and wiped his lips.

“Sophie, are you trying to make me lose my patience?”

“No.”

“Good – then tell me what you're getting at with this.”

“Are you jealous?” I asked.

“Always, Sophie, you know that.”

“Is that what this is about?”

Annoyed, he stood up, knocking the glass of wine onto the tablecloth.

Two seconds later he was behind the door of his office.

I cleared the table, put Adam's cold plate of food in the microwave and knocked on the door.

“I'm busy.”

“I warmed the steak up for you,” I said, trying the handle.

“I'm not hungry. Leave it on the table and I'll eat it later.”

“You want to—” He cut me off.

“Sophie, I don't want to do anything. Just go to bed or watch TV. I'm busy.”

For the whole evening I waited on the couch in front of the television, until I fell asleep. Towards 1 a.m., Adam woke me up.

“Let's go to bed.”

I followed him into the bedroom. He turned off the light and I tried to snuggle close to him. For the first time ever, he purposely turned his back to me.

“I'm tired Sophie, let's just go to sleep.”

I spent the night scrutinizing every inch of his shoulders, his neck, the profile of his ear, wondering what was going through his mind; wondering which nerve I had touched this time.

The following morning I woke up alone. Adam had left a note on the table.

Had to leave earlier today, I'll see you tonight.

Usually he would call me mid-morning. When I hadn't heard anything by 2 p.m., I decided to call for myself. Within thirty seconds he got rid of me, with the excuse of a meeting.