We Need to Talk Ch. 05

With a quarter mile left to go, I'd heard footfalls behind me and automatically picked up the pace. You shall not pass! I could hear hard breathing right on my heels. I slipped into that zone all racers know well, that twilight state between ecstasy and agony, life and death. My vision narrowed to a tunnel and while I could hear the crowd and shouting, I could make sense of nothing. Ahead was the finish line, within my grasp but so, so, far away.

It was an out of body experience, and I knew of those. I was watching myself run. I was above, aloof, and feeling I might die but knowing I wouldn't. To my right and just behind me was a black blob, gaining on me. I reached for that last measure of energy and poured myself out; it was everything I had.

And then it was like being reborn, bursting a barrier, and coming back into life. I had not died. I was hugging someone and spinning her around. It was someone I knew, Sharon from work, a cracker-jack ER nurse.

"Doc, Doc, put me down." She was laughing and I was laughing and I trying to make sense of this. Myra was there, and Rich, and Claude from the gym.

"I tried to catch you but you held me off. Strong finish, Doc, I couldn't catch you," Sharon said, gasping. I felt immensely proud. It was only a community race but I had finished well.

"28:46, well under 30 minutes," said Claude. "Damn fine close finish, too, best of the race so far."

Myra gave me a hug and a kiss, and Rich shook my hand. Myra and Rich, just friends, of that I was sure.

It was only a short race but it did wonders for my ego. I was no longer that fat slob of six months ago. I thought I looked pretty good and Myra did, too. I knew I owed her a debt I could never repay. I didn't know it then, but that very night she would call the debt.

*****

Later that night my phone rang. I was already in bed and Myra was still downstairs. I was half asleep, exhausted from my race, but I recognized Rich's voice. He was in tears.

"Dell, she's gone. They just called me. They were putting Helen to bed and she just...died." He was choking back tears, then began sobbing.

Just then Myra came into the bedroom. "Who is it, Wendell?"

I held the phone away and whispered, "It's Rich. Helen just died."

Myra's hand went to her mouth. We knew it was coming but the reality of it, here, now, and the finality of it all, caught us unaware. You can never fully prepare for a death.

"I've got to go see him, Dell, right now. Give me the phone," Myra said.

I handed her the phone, confused. What? Now?

She talked with Rich for a minute then hung up, handing me back the phone. I got out of bed. She packed an overnight bag while I watched.

"Tonight, Myra? Right now? Why don't I get dressed and go with you?" I was confused, my head still full of sleep.

"No, Wendell, I've got to go alone. Rich needs me, he needs a woman. I'll call you in the morning. I'm sorry, but it has to be this way," she said. Before I knew it, she was gone.

*****

They had fallen in love right under my nose. For Myra, going to comfort Rich was an act of mercy. For me, it was an act of betrayal. I couldn't sleep and was sorely tempted to take a drink. The bars were still open.

I got to the downtown Hilton and charged straight into the bar. I was about to order a Manhattan when I recognized the barman, and he recognized me.

"Say, what happened, Doctor Cooper? Something bad?" he said.

I must have looked a fright. Hair uncombed, unshaven, frantic, and dressed in sweats and running shoes. I knew the man because he had brought his teenaged daughter to the ER late one night with a drug overdose. I'd intubated her and started supportive care, then sent her to the ICU. She'd nearly died.

"Mr. Morris, isn't it?" I said, shaking his hand.

"Yeah, Bill Morris, Dr. Cooper. You know, we're closing in 40 minutes; it's almost last call. You sure you want to start drinking? You don't look so good, like something awful has happened. You got someone you can call, talk about it?" he said.

That stopped me cold and I thanked him, then I dialed Claude. He arrived just at closing time and followed me home.

We sat down in my kitchen and I told him the whole story. I couple of times I wiped tears from my eyes. Everywhere I looked, I saw Myra. She had been here just hours ago and we had shared dinner. I never knew. I just could not believe it. My best friend. I felt crushed.

My best friend.

Suddenly, it was all clear. Claire Haskell had been Myra's best friend. I knew at that moment how much I had made my wife suffer. I'd been an insufferable cad, a monster, the lowest of the low. And it had all come around again to bite me in the ass, and it bit hard. I deserved all of this. And I wanted that drink. I wanted a lot of drink.

Claude listened with the patience of a saint. I was maudlin and sentimental and angry and ready to kill someone and ready to curl up into a ball and just die.

Finally, he said, "Well, that's life, Dell, you take the good with the bad. Everyone gets a good liberal dose of suffering every so often. Don't jump to any conclusions yet; she's only been gone 6 hours. For all we know, she's baking him cookies and will be home in the morning. And even if she isn't? Let her be. She's doing what she thinks she has to do. My money says she's back here first thing tomorrow. And if she isn't, give her time. Whatever you do, don't go over there."

I mumbled some self-pitying nonsense and Claude listened, then he continued.

"I've seen you two together, like two lovebirds. I've seen them together, too, and I've wondered. I thought you had things under control but maybe not. Look, the lieutenant has just lost his wife. I know he's got no right to claim yours, but cut them some slack. You're all pretty close, going back to grade school. This thing will sort itself out by itself, I'm sure of it. Nothings been done that can't be fixed. Only death is final," he concluded.

He made me give him my pistols and I assured him I had no booze or sleeping pills in the house. I went upstairs to bed and Claude slept on the couch. Right then, he was my best friend in the world.

*****

In the morning, Myra was still gone. Claude had to leave for work and I called in sick, the first time in 20 years. Truly, I was sick at heart.

By 9 a.m. I was desperate. Using all my willpower, I sent a text message to Myra with a single '?' but received no reply. I didn't want to call because what I had to say could only be said in person. I was deathly afraid I'd lose my temper and make matters worse.

By 10 a.m. I was in my car and headed to Rich's house. I found Myra's car in his driveway but no one answered the door. I did a chin-up on the window sill and saw his garage was empty. Where could they be? I felt utterly defeated.

At 11 a.m. Myra sent a terse text message.

'I'm helping Rich. Please don't call me. Patience, please. I love you.'

At least that was something. But why the secrecy? Why was I excluded? Had she spent the night in his bed? Had she left me for Rich? It seemed as though she might have, but maybe not. I again thought about taking a drink but in the bright light of morning it seemed a terrible idea.

I stumbled through the day, accomplishing not much of anything. I drove by Rich's house twice but nothing had changed; they weren't there, or they weren't answering the door. I stopped by the gym but could generate no enthusiasm. I told Claude the news and he consoled patience. Of course. It wasn't his wife who had gone missing with her boyfriend.

I stopped by the police station and was told Rich was on bereavement leave for two weeks. Two weeks is enough time to fly to Hawaii. I was thinking those kinds of thoughts but knew I was over reacting. Claude was right. Patience.

At 6 pm I received another text from Myra.

'Feeding Rich dinner. Please don't call. Am staying another night. Home in the morning. I Love you.'

Why couldn't we talk? Why was I excluded? Now I was mad and I expected answers in the morning. Claude called, checking in on me. I told him I was coping but really, I felt abandoned.

*****

And then she was home. I was having my second cup of coffee at 10 a.m. when I heard her car pull in. I hadn't slept well for two nights and felt exhausted. It occurred to me I needed extraordinary self-control to keep my temper.

I was the aggrieved party and I had every right to be furious. Except I had relinquished the right to be angry with Myra because of my affair with Myra's best friend, Claire Haskell. The fearful symmetry of these two 'affairs' was haunting. Would I ever be free of Claire?

I was sitting unshaven at the kitchen table with my coffee. Certainly I looked like hell and probably smelled worse. She opened the door from the garage and stopped, suitcase in hand. Ordinarily, I get up to greet her but fatigue and anger kept me rooted in place. We looked at each other, each bedraggled, each with much to say but each unwilling to say it. Myra spoke first.

"You aren't going to like what I just did."

I stared at her.

"Go clean up. I'll wait."

*****

Thirty minutes later she walked downstairs, a new Myra. She looked refreshed but wary. I had just made her a cup of coffee and I handed it to her. We took opposite sides of the kitchen table.

"You go first," I said.

"Well," she started, clearing her throat. "First, I'm glad I went when I did. I didn't know it, but Rich has a drinking problem, too. When I got there he had already drank too much. He didn't answer the door so I just walked in. What I saw scared the hell out of me. He was sobbing incoherently at the kitchen table and playing with his gun, loading and unloading it.

This got my attention. Another boozer from our old school? Drunk and playing with his pistol? I nodded for her to continue. It was alarming to think about, but obviously she had survived.

"I couldn't call 911 because I didn't want to provoke him, and I was afraid he'd lose his job if they came. I got him to put down the gun and I put it in my purse. Here it is," she said, placing a Glock 19 in front of me.

I checked and it was unloaded. I didn't know Myra knew how to unload a Glock.

"Okay, then what?" I said.

"Well, I poured the whisky down the drain and we talked. I got him into the living room and we sat on the couch. We talked for hours."

"Why didn't you call me? Why was I excluded? I'm his best friend, for gawd's sake," I said. I was trying to avoid being petulant but not succeeding.

"Rich was embarrassed for being drunk. He thought he was weak and he asked me not to call you. He was ashamed. He wasn't prepared for Helen to die, in spite of her long decline. He hadn't made any preparations. I know it doesn't make sense, but that's what happened," she said.

"Why didn't you come home?"

"It was late, nearly morning. Rich was still upset and I thought I should stay, just to watch him," she said. I saw a look on her face that I knew. Guilt.

"Where did you sleep?" I asked. I kept my voice calm and even.

"We didn't have sex, if that's what you're asking," she replied, sniffing.

"Where did you sleep?" I repeated. My eyes were boring holes through her. She looked away like a guilty puppy, wiped her nose, then looked at me again. Time seemed to stop.

"In his bed. With him."

"Fuck, Myra, I knew it! Goddammit!" I shouted, pounding my fist on the table. I saw her cringe as if my words had physically struck her.

As quickly as my anger had erupted, I forced it back down. I had no right to anger. Claire Haskell had seen to that.

They had slept together. She had worn her panties and one of Rich's old dress shirts. They had cuddled and briefly kissed, comforting each other to sleep. Myra swore they had not had sex and oddly enough, I believed her.

"I've heard enough," I said, rising to get my shower.

In the shower I wondered at how context makes all the difference. Weeks ago I had willingly shared Myra with Rich and heard and watched them having sex. Now, Myra comforting our friend by holding him in his bed was threatening my sanity, and our marriage.

*****

When I returned I felt half-human again, and we picked up where we'd left off.

"So what took all day?" I asked.

"We visited Helen at the funeral home and arranged for her cremation. We met with his lawyer and insurance agent. We had papers to sign at the nursing home. We talked with a priest at St. Mary's. It took all day and we were both mentally exhausted. His brothers came by after work and I cooked them all dinner. They stayed late and then, after they left..." her voice trailed off.

She looked at me pleadingly.

"And you didn't call or come home why, exactly?" I said.

"I don't know, Wendell, I don't know," she said, and she began great wracking sobs.

Thank God for a woman's tears. It gives us men time to think. I knew what she'd done the second night, it was written all over her face. The question was, what would I do about it?

*****

We existed for days in a state of limbo. I arranged for vacation time and we stayed home and just stared at each other. I kept my voice down; in fact, I was overly polite. Myra went out of her way to be thoughtful and pleasant, but beneath the surface we were teeming with anger and frustration. After nearly a week of this I was looking for something, anything at all, to break the logjam.

As with many momentous things, it came on it's own and quite unexpectedly. Myra and I had just finished a quiet if overly polite dinner when the doorbell rang. We weren't expecting visitors. Myra and I looked at each other and I got up to answer the door. I wondered, could it be Rich? Is it illegal to punch a policeman if he's off duty? I might get to find out.

I opened the door to see a young woman standing there; an older teenager, I thought. I expected her to say something but instead she just stared into my face. I was looking at her, too, trying to remember why she looked familiar.

It was her eyes, I thought, I'd seen them before.

"Can I help you Miss?" I said. She was blinking rapidly and her eyes glistened. She smiled weakly.

"Are you Dr, Wendell Cooper?' she asked in a small voice.

I answered in the affirmative. A former patient? A former neighbor? I didn't know.

"My name is Jillian Haskell. I think you might be my father."

*****

Thanks for reading. Ch 06 will be the final chapter. It will be delayed a week or two, but stay tuned. Thanks for the comments and feedback, both good and bad.