Falling Forward (2 page)

What is truly difficult to understand is that everyone handles it differently. I didn’t believe I was ever quite as callous, but how could I know how anyone perceived my words? Did I do enough to convey that the patient was more than just another case, but a living and conscious being? Were my words nothing more than a well-rehearsed routine? Were the officer’s words more of the same? I doubt he realized he had just given me a death sentence. What I hadn’t realized was this was the first of several I’d receive on this special day, my 42nd birthday.

“Think, Olivia. You’re a problem solver. You’re smart, clever, and always in control,” I told myself aloud, still standing in my driveway, with most of  my neighbors still watching. I know, in my heart, that I am not a cold and callous person. And anyone who knows anything about me knows I do care deeply about my patients, my friends, and my life. Although I can’t remember ever shedding a tear, I have felt extreme sadness. I felt awful that I couldn’t muster a single tear when my mother or father passed away. I actually tried to cry, but I couldn’t. My friends will bawl their eyes out when reading sad books or watching sappy movies, and they’ll check on me and think I’m some sort of cold monster as I’m sitting there, completely engrossed, yet stone faced. It’s become comical. That’s just who I am. Some people shine in chaos, and I’m one of those people. I’m a crisis manager. That’s what I do. And for the first time, I had my own crisis. This was no different, but the stakes were much higher personally. It was time to see what Dr. Garvin was really made of.

I called Paul Perry, our attorney, and got his answering machine. I left a message. “Paul, Olivia Garvin. Richard was just arrested. I don’t know what to do next; I’ve never been in this type of situation. Please call me as soon as you get this.” Before I could hang up, Paul beeped in call waiting. I answered the call.

“Olivia, listen, I need you to come to the office as soon as you can, and I’ll explain everything. Are you OK?”

I was silent for a moment. “Paul, what the hell is going on?” I asked. It seemed he already knew about the situation, and that really infuriated me. How could I have missed this? “Paul, you knew about this? You actually knew he was going to get arrested?” Paul assured me everything was going to be alright. I realized the neighbors were still outside congregating, postulating about what horrible people we must be, so I went inside. I told Paul I’d be there in twenty minutes.

As I looked around for something to wear, I noticed Richard’s computer was gone. They must have seized it for evidence. His cell was missing too. I guessed that was par for the course in a murder investigation. I went in the bathroom to brush my teeth. I looked at myself in the mirror. I looked upset and insecure. I threw some water on my face and straightened my posture. For the first time, I noticed I was beginning to look older. I saw wrinkles on the corner of my eyes I had never noticed. People always joke about you looking older on your birthday. But on this birthday, in the mere half hour I had been awake, I felt like I had aged a decade. I put on my blue Florida Gators sweatshirt and a pair of jeans. My knee hurt a little as I put my pants on. I looked down, and noticed it must have been bruised by the takedown. I remembered the officers had their guns drawn, and it must have been pretty serious for them to tackle me like they did. The scenarios in my mind kept getting worse as my imagination ran wild. I put my running shoes back on and went to the garage.

I noticed Richard’s car door was still open. I guessed the police went through it. I started to close the door without thinking. But then I stopped. There had to be an explanation for all of this. Maybe there was something in the car the police missed. I sat in his seat and paused for a moment in an attempt to sort all this out. My analytical side was finally suppressing the shock.

I pulled the visor down, not really knowing what I was looking for. There were a few parking tickets that fell into my lap. I put them back. I looked through his cup holder and the small container that he usually tossed his change into, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. I opened the glove compartment, hoping a murder weapon or something worse wouldn’t fall out, but it was neat and tidy as always.

I noticed what looked like a business card on the floor wedged underneath the floor mat behind Richard’s gas pedal. It looked like one of his. I bent down to pick it up and looked at it for a moment. I flipped it over, and there was a phone number scribbled on the back with one of those poorly drawn smiley face characters all the kids seemed to be drawing. I put it in my purse and decided to get going to Paul’s office. As I got out, I saw what appeared to be something pink under the passenger side seat. I went around the other side, opened the door, and retrieved the clothing. As soon as I realized what they were, I dropped them. Victoria’s Secret. Size 5. Fluorescent pink thong. Definitely not my color. My heart dropped as I crashed into that proverbial wall once again. I remember exclaiming aloud, “Well, happy fucking birthday, Olivia. Could this day get any worse?” I carefully wrapped them in a tissue and dropped them into my purse, and drove to Paul’s office.

Paul was waiting in the parking lot. He hugged me, obviously thinking that in some kind of naïve way that might help. He fumbled for his office key; and finally unlocked the door.

His office wasn’t remarkable. Two old-fashioned wood chairs with some kind of awful paisley pattern on the back and seat cushions surrounded a very well-worn mahogany colored leather couch. Two lamp tables with slate insets housed all kinds of brochures and magazines in a haphazard mess. The hardwood floor squeaked no matter how lightly I tried to float over it.

We went through the reception door into the hallway that housed his office. He pulled a chair out from the opposite side of his desk and asked me to have a seat. Paul went through some folders stacked on his desk and found one in bright yellow that had my last name on it. He opened it up and flipped through some papers.

“Olivia, I know how hard this must be. I can’t imagine how you’re feeling. And trust me, it’s even more difficult for me. We go way back, Olivia. And never, in a million years, would I have expected to see Richard in this kind of predicament. Never.”

I sat there silently, awaiting the bombshell that was going to be the last and final wound that was going to kill me. I knew it was coming. It was like someone sitting in my office with a hideously large sarcoma, knowing in her heart it wasn’t going to heal itself. I had never felt so alone and insignificant.

“I don’t know how to put this gently, and I know you’re a no-nonsense person, Olivia, so I’ll just get to the point. I don’t know all the details, but here’s what I know.” Paul sat back and took a deep breath. He nervously twisted a pencil on his desk. I braced myself and held on tightly to the arms of the chair until the color ran from my fingers.

“Richard had an affair. The new girl, that secretary he hired about five or six months ago. He’s been seeing her, off and on, for about two years. About a year ago, things began to get a little out of control. She threatened Richard she was going to disclose the affair to you in a very public manner if he broke it off. Obviously, he didn’t want that to happen, so he continued to see her. Eventually, she began to ask for money. Richard said he couldn’t hide that from you, so the only way he could pay her was if she was formerly on the payroll, and that’s how the secretary thing went down.”

I stopped him and asked for a cup of water. He offered something stronger. Although that sounded wonderful at the time, it was only 7 in the morning, so I declined. I looked around Paul’s office and noticed a photo of Paul and his wife, Julie. He had been married for more than 20 years, and they always seemed so happy when we saw them together. For the first time I can remember, I felt envy. I wanted that photograph to be Richard and I. I wondered what could have possibly gone wrong in my own relationship that would lead to something like this.

“Olivia, Richard didn’t want you to find out about this. He realized he made a huge mistake. He had wanted to end the affair for some time now. Richard truly cares for you, and he never meant to hurt you. I deal with liars all the time, but I know Richard means what he says.”

I kept staring at that photo of Paul and Julie. “You know, it’s my birthday today. Richard was going to take me to Hawaii. We haven’t had a vacation in over eight years. Maybe that’s why we fell apart. We didn’t spend enough time together.”

Paul was silent as he put his elbows on his desk and cupped his own forehead. He twisted his pencil a little too hard and it fell off his desk. Perhaps that was a bad omen. Should have seen that coming. “Olivia, you weren’t supposed to know. That trip was for Richard and Kimberly. She forced him to do it. He was going to tell you he had a sudden business trip. I am so sorry.”

Paul got up and walked around the desk and sat in the chair next to me. “Listen, this might seem really bad now. But they don’t have enough evidence to convict him. Now that the cat’s out of the bag, we’ll get Richard through this, they’ll drop the charges, and you two can work things out. She’ll finally be out of the picture.”

“Paul, the damage is done. Regardless of how this turns out, how could – how could I go back to him?”

“Olivia, I think you two can make it – I’ve seen people get through much worse. A LOT worse. I’d tell you some stories if I could.” Paul reached over and pulled a tissue from the box on his desk and handed it to me. But I wasn’t crying. I declined. Paul seemed surprised.

“What is it about me? Am I too old? I’m not that bad looking. Guys at the gym still whistle at me. At least I think they’re whistling at me. I don’t understand. I’m in damn good shape for 42. We had sex two or three times a week, when he wasn’t too tired. Although now I understand why he was so tired; Jesus, I’d better get checked for STDs.” I rubbed my eyes in an effort to compose myself. “Paul, did he ever mention why?”

Paul sat back and sighed. “Olivia, men are interesting creatures. I don’t know for a fact why Richard did what he did. And in all honesty, I don’t think he knows why either. You’re a hell of a catch, Olivia. You’re beautiful. You’re smart. And you’re a lady all the way around, and that’s exactly what you should be. Julie is a woman all the way around. But some guys think they need something else. Maybe you’ve heard the phrase, I think it’s ‘lady in the living room, whore in the bedroom?’ Honestly, I think Richard is having a mid-life crisis, and I think he knows he fucked up. And he knows he wants to make it right by you, if you can find it in your heart to forgive him. I, for one, would love to see you guys work it out. But that’s all up to you.”

Lady in the living room, whore in the bedroom… I shook my head in disbelief as I thought to myself – that’s textbook schizophrenia. “Maybe you’ve heard this phrase – ‘once an asshole, always an asshole.’ Richard has always been a flirt, even since his football days in college. My mother warned me not to date a jock. I should have listened to her. You know what, Paul, he can have his schizophrenic mistress. Maybe she’ll take him back. Let him go to Hawaii with that home wrecking little whore. I deserve more than that – so much more than that.”

Paul inched closer. “Olivia, this is a big mess. You two should really talk. See if you can work something out. You’ve been married, what, 14, 15 years? That’s a lot to throw away.”

“You know, I could forgive him. I understand how stupid men can be, Paul. But… how could he possibly expect me to
trust
him again? If you don’t have trust, you don’t have anything. He’s a sociopath, both him and his whore. I’ve seen him lie to his customers. Hell, I’ve even seen him lie to his own mother. And he’s so entirely convincing. I feel like a fool thinking he’d never lie to me too. I think that’s what really hurts, Paul. I feel like an idiot.”

“Olivia, I hear what you’re saying, and again, I am so sorry. But don’t you at least want to hear him out? Listen to his side of the story?”

“What, that he tried to kill her to save me? It sounds like a bad movie. Not interested.”

“Richard didn’t do it. He wasn’t there. Their theory is he hired someone else.”

“Oh, even better. Richard hired a hit man! Jesus! Who is this guy?”

“Olivia, I know it’s difficult…”

“Paul, I can’t. I can’t do this. I don’t want to see him. I never want to see him again. I want to pretend our marriage never happened. But I can’t. So now I’ve got to pack it all up and start all over again. I can’t go home, I… I don’t know what I’m going to do. But I know I can’t ever get back together with Richard.”

I got up and collected myself. I was determined to get my life back on track. I didn’t need Richard, and as far as I was concerned, he was dead too. I walked to the door and let myself out. Paul got up and followed me, then stood in the doorway.

“Olivia, again, I’m so sorry. As much as you know Julie and I care for you, you know I… I can’t represent you if you do decide to get divorced.”

Apparently, Paul had already chosen sides. I wondered who would end up where in our small circle of friends.

I walked to the parking lot. I got in my car and sat there for a moment. I had to be at work at 8, but I was already running late. I went home, showered, changed, and got ready for work.

I looked at my lab coat and saw my name –
Dr. Olivia Marie Garvin –
embroidered on the front. Well that’s just great. Every time someone called me
Dr. Garvin
, I would now feel like a damned fool. I wondered if all divorced women shared that feeling. I decided at that moment that Olivia Marie Garvin was now dead. From that moment on, maybe I’d be Olivia Marie
Clausen
once again. And I might never change that name again, even if I did remarry. I’ve always found hyphenated surnames kind of surly. Like they were trying to keep at least a fraction of their independence. Why get married then? I began to think about a situation, perhaps far, far away, where I could reboot my life.