Bigamist Page 3

  I slid into my new linen pantsuit. It was a shade of pale blue that matched my eyes perfectly. I was planning to rush off to my doctor’s appointment, anxious to see the full and final results of my new face, hoping to look great for an afternoon meet-up with Coach Wagner. But that plan slowly fell apart when I heard the garage door coming up. I grabbed my handbag lying in the chair and headed down the stairs, through the kitchen, and towards the back door. I wanted Ricky to see me headed out before he started a conversation.

  Ricky mostly slept at the hospital days at a time, so I never really knew when he’d be coming home. And with the kids both away at college, I increased my hours at the dance studio, so I was rarely home during the day. We never knew when we’d actually lay eyes on each other and I stopped complaining about it years ago.

  “Hey…” Ricky came through the door quietly, peeling off his scrubs. “Where are you off to?”

  “You know what day it is.” The plastic surgery I’d had was no secret even though I had been tucked away in the house for weeks with bandages practically from head to toe.

  “That’s right; today’s the big reveal.”

  I clicked my tongue and winked even though I knew he wasn’t even looking my way.

  Just before stepping into the laundry room, Ricky stopped and turned around. “How about lunch to celebrate the new you?”

  Ricky hadn’t joined me for a meal outside the house in so long, I could hardly believe he was asking but I guess he wanted to be first to see what he had paid for. “What, today?”

  “Well, yeah… I could even join you at your doctor appointment.”

  At first I didn’t know how to respond but then I figured he wouldn’t question me, so I said, “I already have lunch plans.” I didn’t know what I would say if he inquired with whom those plans were. But he didn’t.

  “Change ’em.” Ricky was down to his under-wear, holding his scrubs, headed to the shower. “You should show off the new you. Let’s go out—spend the day together.”

  “Okay, I guess.” I sat my purse on the kitchen counter. “How quickly can you shower and dress?”

  “Ten minutes.” He dashed up the back stairs and seconds later I heard shower water.

  I dug my phone out of the bottom of my purse.

  Hey… so sorry…

  something suddenly came up.

  I typed, feeling like Marsha Brady—less the text messaging.

  I have to cancel lunch.

  Dinner instead?

  I then silenced my phone and waited on an answer. Unlike Coach Wagner, I frequently can-celled one of our meetings, so I was sure he wouldn’t be surprised. I really wanted to keep our date, but I didn’t know how to get out of Ricky’s proposal to spend the day together. I just hoped Coach wouldn’t be too angry since I’d refused to see him while I was healing.

  Dinner will be fine.

  What time?

  I didn’t have an answer, but I would let him know as soon as I did.

  After chumming it up with the plastic surgeon, his med school buddy, glorifying his work, Ricky drove me to the salon and sat in the waiting area while I received highlights and a haircut. It felt a little like old times, so I tried not to overthink it.

  The complete new me sat across from Ricky on the patio of a cute little place he chose for what turned out to be a late lunch. I was looking and feeling like People Magazine’s Most Beautiful Woman with my face wrinkle free and my newly cut hair slightly blowing in the breeze. I hadn’t felt that way in a long time, like my old self—or rather, my younger self. We enjoyed cocktails and grilled fish, having conversation that was both strange and familiar. I constantly caught my reflection in the window’s glass next to us and I was more than happy with what I imagined would be Ricky’s view of my new face.

  “Can you stop looking at yourself for one minute?” he asked jokingly over an icy platter of half-eaten oysters.

  “I can’t help it,” I said, blushing, not really embarrassed that he’d caught me, but because I was surprised at how great the day was going.

  “You do look beautiful—I mean, you always have—” Ricky leaned in, reaching across the table, and touched my hand.

  “What’s gotten into you today?”

  “This is long overdue.”

  “I don’t want to start an argument but what, exactly, is long overdue?”

  “Look, we’ve been together half of our lives, built a life, raised two children together—we aren’t enemies…” He squeezed my hand. “…and we still love each other—if I’m not speaking out of turn.”

  I tossed my hair over my shoulder with one hand and took ahold of his hand that had been covering mine. I sucked in a deep breath and whispered, “As long as I live, I’ll love you.” I let go of his hand and picked up my margarita, taking a sip. “I don’t know if you deserve it, but it’s a fact.”

  “I assure you, I don’t. But, that’s precisely the reason I love you. After everything we’ve been through—”

  I wanted to remind him of the years of neglect and cheating but what good would that do? Plus, I was enjoying this—all of it—and didn’t want the tide to turn with harsh reminders of all the rough patches in our past. I wanted to stay focused on what was happening in the moment—what I was feeling and seeing. Like Ricky’s slender frame that was dressed in a gray and white pinstriped suit with a white open collar shirt, bathed in one of my favorite colognes. As men go, he aged incredibly well—hence my need to try and keep up.

  “—I know I could’ve been a better husband to you, and a better father to Korey and Kiley. But… we can’t go back, only forward.” He took a long swig of his Dos Equis, picked up an oyster shell and sprinkled hot sauce over it. “Instead of rebuilding what we had, let’s work at building something new. We don’t want the old relationship. We want something new, right?” He slurped the delicacy while watching me.

  “I’ve been seeing someone,” I blurted out. “I mean—I’ve been talking to someone. It hasn’t gotten serious or anything, but…”

  “I assumed as much and I don’t mind admitting that I’m happy it’s not serious.”

  The waiter placed baked, parmesan crusted halibut in front of me and pan-roasted swordfish with peppercorn butter in front of Ricky. We said grace and dug in.

  “So… is that who you had plans with today? You know this morning, you said you already had plans.”

  I didn’t answer; I just smiled. “Oh, my God. This is so good!” I forked up a nice sized piece of the halibut, placing it on his plate. “You have to try this.”

  Ricky laughed a little, tasted the treat I’d given him, and nodded his approval. “That’s delicious.”

  I promptly reached across the table, getting a fork full of his swordfish and stuffed it in my mouth.

  “You like it?” he asked me.

  “Hmm… not as much as I like mine,” I said with a full mouth.

  The banter remained light and easy the rest of the day. It was clear that we were both trying hard not bring up anything that would crush the mood. We laughed, we joked, and conveniently forgot about the past. It felt like love.

  By the time we reached the house, the sun was setting. We opened a bottle of Riesling, Ricky turned on music, and we slow danced in front of the picture window in our living room. We kissed and held each other before making our way up the stairs.

  Wine was still being poured when we found our way under the duvet. Ricky covered my neck, shoulder, and back with kisses and I covered his face and lips the same way. Our legs were entangled under the sheets and ‘I love you’ dripped from our tongues.

  The love we made was incredible and better than I remembered. I didn’t know what had gotten into him and I didn’t have the energy to ask. I also knew there was a chance that things would most likely go back to the same ol’ same ol’. But I made a decision to just enjoy the moment.

  “I can’t wait to grow old with you,” Ricky said, breathing heavily and resting back on his pillow.

  “
Isn’t that what we’re already doing?”

  “You know what I mean—dentures, canes, walkers.” He laughed a little.

  “Any dentures, cane, or walker will all be yours, so speak for yourself.”

  Ricky laughed louder this time, rolled over, and reached for his pants on the floor. When he dug his phone from a pocket, the excitement dimmed inside me.

  “You expected at the hospital tonight?”

  “Not until the morning.”

  “And then the fairytale ends…”

  “Every day can’t be like today, but I promise, things will be better between us.” He kissed my lips once more and whispered, “I promise.”

  4

  Rose

  …everything looks good here…

  If I’m being honest with myself, I’ve had the ability to sense when things were about to fall apart since I was a kid. I may not have known in what way they were falling apart but I would stand guard and sure enough, all hell would break loose. I had that feeling when we returned from Cozumel and it became stronger with every passing day.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Freeman. How did you sleep?” I was making rounds, checking on patients. Irene Freeman was the third stop with two more to go.

  “Better than the night before.”

  “That’s good to hear.” I pulled open her blinds, letting the sunlight in.

  “Thanks for giving in on the pill.” Mrs. Freeman wasn’t a hypochondriac more than an exaggerator of symptoms. I had successfully implanted a pace-maker to correct her arrhythmia six months earlier, but every little thing had her running back to see me. And my holistic approach to medicine went against her longtime habits of pill popping so I’d never figured out why she remained one of my loyal patients.

  “Yeah, you wore me down last night,” I said, giving her an insincere laugh. “Don’t expect that to happen tonight. Today, only decaffeinated drinks.” I made the change on her diet chart and slipped it on the clipboard. “That’ll help you fall asleep naturally.”

  Mrs. Freeman grunted.

  I knew what that meant; she didn’t like giving up caffeine. She didn’t like most things I suggested. And she certainly didn’t like me discussing her health, or as she called it, her “personal business” in front of her roommate so I made it a point to either whisper or write things down for her to read. But today I waited until she was alone while her roommate was out getting a CT scan.

  I checked over the readout for her heart’s rhythm, checked her IV fluids and other vitals. She was doing great and probably didn’t need a stay in the hospital, but I knew it would put her mind at ease. I seemed to only have either risk-taking patients or overly cautious patients and she’s definitely one of the cautious ones—which, I’ll admit, a brush with death would make most people keenly concerned.

  “I’m going to monitor you for one more day, but I expect you’ll be ready to go home tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “And we’re going to try something new. It’s a drug.” I hated to admit it, but I needed to try something she’d have more confidence in, therefore decreasing her anxiety while increasing her chances of success with the pacemaker. “I think for you, instead of the acupuncture and other remedies I prescribed before, we’ll try Rythmol.”

  Mrs. Freeman’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

  “Yes, we’ll give it a try and see how you do with it. I’ll start you on it today and determine a regimen for you when you leave.”

  There was a faint knock on the door just before it opened. A nurse and an aid were wheeling in Ms. Gomez.

  I turned back to Mrs. Freeman and asked, “So, how does that sound to you?”

  “Good—good. That sounds real good,” she whispered.

  “Okay, take it easy today and let your nurse know if you need anything.” I turned and made my way to the sink to wash up. “Good timing, Ms. Gomez. I’m filling in for Dr. Hart. He’s in surgery all day.”

  The nurse secured the younger woman of the two patients’ bed, and her IV pole, while I dried my hands.

  Ms. Gomez was at full attention and didn’t appear too happy at my announcement. “Oh, he’s not coming by?”

  “I’m sorry, he won’t make it today, but he gave me specific instructions,” I lied a little.

  “Well, I can just wait on him…” The overweight woman’s eyes moved over me from head to toe. “…if you don’t mind.”

  “Dr. Hart won’t be able to check on you until tomorrow.” I approached her bed, about to pick up her chart.

  “No! Dr. Hart is my doctor and that’s who I want looking in on me.”

  This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. Rick’s patients loved him like groupies love Jay Z. I never took it personal because I had my own groupies.

  Mrs. Freeman sat straight up in her bed and snatched back the curtain. “Dr. McDaniel is just as good as Dr. Hart—besides, she’s his wife so she knows everything he knows.”

  I politely took ahold of the curtain, prying the thin fabric from her fingers. “It’s okay… sit back, relax, and let me handle this.” I made eye contact with my patient, letting her know I was capable.

  Mrs. Freeman grunted again when I pulled the curtain back in place.

  “Ms. Gomez, I’ll take note and report to Dr. Hart—”

  “Wife?”

  “—if there is anything to be concerned with today. He’ll be back on his rounds tomorrow.”

  “I met Dr. Hart’s wife a few years ago, so…”

  I smiled as politely as I could. This wasn’t a first time for this either. “Yes, I’m his wife.”

  “No—no. I’ve met Mrs. Hart.”

  “You met his first wife—I’m sure it was years back.”

  “It wasn’t that many years back,” she mumbled slowly, continuing to look me over.

  “In any case…” I picked up her chart. “…I will take a look at your vitals, see how you were last night, and report back to Dr. Hart. He’ll be happy to know that everything looks good here.” I scrolled through the readout from the monitor. “How did your CT scan go?”

  “Fine…” She was obviously still unsure about me and who I was to Rick. “How long have you and Dr. Hart been married?”

  I smiled and exhaled slowly. “We just celebrated eleven years.”

  “Eleven years?” she asked as if she didn’t believe me. “Do you have a little girl?”

  “No… I will let him know you’re improving and depending on the results of your scan, he may release you by the end of the week. How’s that?”

  “Dr. Hart has a little girl…”

  “Dr. McDaniel,” Mrs. Freeman interrupted, pulling the curtain back again. “Can you tell the nurse it’s okay if I get an extra dessert? It’s for Mr. Freeman when he comes.”

  As if she had wished him up, Mr. Freeman opened the door while knocking on it with his cane. I pulled the curtain, enclosing Ms. Gomez and myself.

  “I’ll see what I can do, Mrs. Freeman. Good morning, Mr. Freeman,” I called out beyond the barrier.

  “G’morning, Doc,” his heavy voice echoed throughout the room. Soon after, a kiss was heard that he’d given his wife, and then a few whispers.

  “So, Dr. Hart will be by tomorrow, okay?”

  Ms. Gomez only stared at me.

  “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

  Ms. Gomez only shook her head, so I touched her hand, patting it lightly, and made my way toward the door. She questioned me being Rick’s wife and at first, I thought nothing of it. As the day moved forward, her questions and the expression on her face kept popping into my mind.

  5

  Iris

  Virtual hearts floated abundantly…

  Erick was home the week I went into labor. The Braxton Hicks contractions had started so he didn’t want me to be alone if actual labor kicked in. Even though I was scheduled for a C-section, it was a good thing because it was Thursday at four in the morning and the time had come—and I had promised my follower
s I’d go live so I touched the Facebook icon, tossed my curls about, and put on a bit of lip gloss while I waited on the page to load.

  I had already sent a text to Marigold, my assistant, to come on over or meet us at the hospital. Jersey was tucked away in bed and Erick was down the hall knocking on the guest bedroom door where my mother was.

  I tapped the “live” button and cleared my throat.

  “Who’s up? Anybody? I know it’s four in the morning… Oh, there’s Debbie and Sophie. Hey, Marsha. I was hoping I wasn’t the only one up at this hour.”

  Hearts and thumbs-up icons floated across my screen.

  Marsha: Is it time???

  Sophie: U headed to

  the hospital, girl…

  More hearts floated onto the screen as other viewers joined in the broadcast.

  “Yes Sophie, hubby is pulling the car around now. Contractions are eight minutes apart so little Darius is on his way. Bags are packed, Range Rover is gassed up, and I’m on my way to conclude this pregnancy journey. Hallelujah!”

  The front door opened and Erick stepped in to grab my suitcase, picked up my coat, holding it out towards me. “Let’s hit it.”

  Marigold stumbled through the opened door, bumping into Erick. “Where’s your wife?”

  “Hey, Mari.” Erick pointed in my direction. “Turn that off, Iris.”

  “You guys heard that, didn’t you? Hubby is ready but I’ll be checking back in as soon as I can…”