Once Upon Another Time (40 page)

Opening the
bathroom window to let out the steam, a wave of chilly September night air
rushed in, bringing with it the lingering charred odor of items I’d burned on
the beach.  The cicadas had quieted, giving way to the gentle lapping of waves
and the rhythmic croaking of bullfrogs. 

Turning away from
the window, I pulled a towel from the bar next to the tub to dry my hair and
glanced up at the mirror above the sink.  My heart practically leapt from my
chest, as the words
LOVE YOU ALWAYS
written on the mirror evaporated
into the September air.  

Standing in the
yellow-walled break room in front of the vending machine with arms folded
across my chest, I studied my reflection.  It showed a fairly attractive woman
dressed in a corporate gray herringbone jacket, matching knee length pencil
skirt, lavender knit top with a wide gray belt cinching my waist and gray
buttery leather four-inch high heels on my feet.

 I certainly look
sane, I thought, while trying to decide if I should get the chili cheese chips
or Nutter Butters.  Did the words on the bathroom mirror confirm that Matt was
neither here nor there, wherever
there
is?  Or should I just settle on
the Raisinettes? 

After watching
those poignant words fade from the mirror, I dashed down the stairs still
dressed in a towel and flung open the French doors to the study.  As I sat in
the dark with “Love Spirit” opened on my desk, I had hoped to see the pages
magically flip to another passage to give me some kind of clue as to what was
happening. 

It was then that
the dawning of wisdom was like a hard wakeup slap to the face.  Feeling sad and
hurt, while stumbling through life was the whole purpose of living--to face
problems, learn, adapt, and solve them was the reward.  It seemed odd, but I
felt that Gavin’s betrayal actually molded the more secure person I’d become. 
And Matt’s role was to be my guiding force.  I could only speculate at whether
he’d continue to appear throughout my life.

I fed a dollar
fifty into the vending machine and punched A2 to get a bag of chips.  While
walking out of the room and wrestling with the bag to open it, I heard angry
sounding muffled voices.  Placing one stiletto-clad foot into the hallway,
Oreos sailed past me like tiny Frisbees.  

“This is bullshit,
no wonder you’re still a lard ass,” said Mrs. Fendworth through clenched
teeth.  Standing to the right of the doorway, she rose on her toes and flung a
handful of cookies at Fendworth.  Looking to my left, Fendworth was bobbing
around the hallway like a heavyweight prizefighter in a ring, the cookies hitting
the white walls leaving tiny brown pockmarks.  It’s what he deserved for
marrying someone young enough to still be in the temper tantrum stage. 

With her fiery red
hair pulled up into her signature I Dream of Jeanie ponytail and pink designer
workout attire of poured on tights and matching top, I assumed she must have
just finished her daily seven a.m. workout.  My morning workout consisted of
lying in bed flexing my bladder muscles to see how long I could hold it before
having to jump out of bed.

  Trying to avoid
the ruckus, I was about to step back into the break room, when Mrs. Fendworth
sashayed her tiny size two hips in my direction, her face was in an angry lock
and load position.  As our eyes made contact, her eyebrows shot up, her
expression changing to a smile, as if she were trying to retain her irritation. 
“Hey Cory, how’s it going?” 

“Um, great!”  I
said and stepped back, clearing a path for her to pass. 

As she passed
Fendworth, she stopped to shoot him a look over her shoulder as if to say,
We’ll
continue this later
. 

Waiting the
appropriate twenty seconds for the dust to settle, I made my way back to my
office.  Unfortunately, that meant walking past Fendworth.  Heading in his
direction, I tried to act blasé as Oreos crunched under my feet.  Fendworth
cleared his throat and adjusted his tie, his bushy Groucho Marx unibrow was
stuck in an agitated deep V.

“Aubrey, I was
just headed to your office to give you this,” he said, as he handed me a file
folder.  “You’ll need to review this case for a meeting I’ve set up for
tomorrow.”

 “Sure, not a problem.” 

He quickly
retreated down the hall in the opposite direction of his wife.  Maybe there was
something to that astrology hocus-pocus of planets not aligned and
relationships not working out, because between Laura, Fendworth, and me, the
planets seemed to have collided and blown-up.

* * * *

With Nicholas in
bed, I padded downstairs to the kitchen.  Snapping my briefcase open, I pulled
out the file folder Fendworth had given me that morning.  The phone rang. 
Looking at the caller ID, I saw that it was Gavin’s cell number and waited for
the answering machine to pick up the call.

“Aubrey?  I know
you’re there.  Please pick up.”

I leaned against
the wall while clutching the file folder to my chest.  Just because I’d
accepted the fact that our relationship not working out was just one of life’s
challenges, it still didn’t make my heart hurt any less.

“Okay, so I bought
the excuse from Ashley that you were sick, and Laura had told me some odd story
about you and PMS, but I’m done listening to excuses.  It’s obvious you’re
avoiding me.  It seems something’s happened in our relationship that I don’t
know about.” 

It was more
like something had happened in our relationship that you didn’t think I’d find
out about.
  I stomped over to the freezer, tossed the frozen turkey aside,
and grabbed my pack of cigarettes.

“Aubrey, I just
can’t believe you’re acting like this.  Can’t we talk?  Can you at least pick
up the phone?  Hey, if for some reason you don’t want to see me anymore, the
least you could do is tell me.”  He sounded annoyed.

Reaching on top of
the refrigerator, I grabbed my lighter.

“I need to talk to
you.”  He paused then softly said, “Guess I’ll have to wait till I get back in
town.”

Things were not
getting any easier.  I just wanted everything back to the way it used to be
between us.  Maybe he’ll change his mind about Vanessa and want me back. 

Stop thinking
like the desperate woman you used to be.

 I gazed at the
box of Krispy Kremes sitting innocently on the kitchen counter. 
C’mon, open
me!
 
I’ll make you feel better
they seemed to say.  I grabbed the
box along with the pack of cigarettes, lighter, and chucked it all into the
garbage.

“Good riddance! 
Dating a cheater could be hazardous to one’s health!”

Seated at the
conference table in the boardroom Fendworth and I were well into our second
hour of discussing a pending civil lawsuit case with Mr. Garafino, a new
client.  The guy didn’t seem like he was on the up and up, and he definitely
wasn’t wearing Brooks Brothers IBM attire.  His gray pinstripe suit looked
custom made by some little old Italian man who probably couldn’t speak English
very well.  By the size of the diamond ring on his pinky and his tough Philly
accent, he gave the impression he’d be more comfortable hanging out at the Bada
Bing club as opposed to running a fortune 500 company. 

 While staring at
the fuzzy brown mole on Garafino’s cheek wondering if I were wrong and that
soon it would sprout legs and crawl off his face, I couldn’t help but feel
anxious knowing Gavin would soon arrive back in town.

“So, what do you
think, Aubrey?”  Fendworth asked, as he kicked back in his chair.  One black
leather loafer stuck out from under the conference table and shined like glass.

“I can assure you
everything will be fine, Mr. Garafino,” I said.  “Although opposing counsel
wants to start court proceedings with a deposition from your CEO, after I take
you through a rehearsal, you’ll have nothing to worry about.”

“So I’ve heard,
Ms. McCory.  Your exceptional reputation in such legal matters precedes you,”
Garafino said, with a wink.

Fendworth jumped
in to discuss some procedures, while I barely paid attention.  The thought of
having to soon speak to Gavin was weighing so heavily on my mind that trying to
remain focused was as difficult as trying not to blink when a sharp object is headed
straight for your eye. 

For two days, I’d
been rehearsing what I’d say.  I volleyed with the idea of letting him speak
first.  Maybe he’d apologize, say he didn’t know what he was thinking when he
took Vanessa with him on his business trip.  That it was just some stupid
reaction to him being scared knowing he was head over heels in love with me,
and thinking that I wasn’t in love with him because I’d never told him.  Maybe
he was just trying to protect his heart. 

Right!  And
pigs can fly.

As the long arm of
the clock inched its way toward two in the afternoon, I became more
apprehensive.  Gavin’s plane was due to arrive at Green International at 3:00. 
I prayed he wouldn’t stop by my office.  A public confrontation would be
humiliating.  After hearing what he had to say on my home recorder the night
before, I suspected that he knew that I knew something about him and Vanessa.

“Isn’t that right
Aubrey?” said Fendworth.

I snapped to
attention and blinked like a startled owl, as the client and Fendworth pushed
back from their seats and got to their feet.

“Um, yes
absolutely,” I said, and shook Garafino’s extended hand.

“Come on,”
Fendworth said, addressing Garafino.  “I’ll walk you to the lobby.”

As soon as I
approached my desk, I noticed the red flashing message light on my phone.  Mr.
Burns a friend of Mr. Davis’s who worked in Gavin’s office was on my
voicemail.  He left his phone number and said to call him back.  A foreboding
feeling similar to a phone ringing in the middle of the night crept into the
pit of my stomach, as I punched in the phone number.    

“Hello, Mr.
Burns?”

“Yes?”

“This is Aubrey
McCory.  You left a message to call you.”

“Oh, yes.  I don’t
know if anyone has contacted you, but I know Mr. Davis is a good friend of
yours.  So I wanted to be sure you knew he was rushed to the hospital last
night.”

“Oh my God, no I
didn’t know!  What happened?  Is he all right?  What hospital is he at?”

“He’s had a severe
heart attack.  He’s in a coma.  The doctors have him in the critical care unit
at Rhode Island Hospital, but at least they were able to stabilize him.” 

* * * *

The glass hospital
doors jerked and slid open automatically.  I stepped through, hesitated, and like
a guillotine, the doors sliced shut behind me.  A short, heavyset woman crashed
past me, bumping into the old man in front of her.  Thoughts of death and dying
seeped into my head, as I hurriedly walked over to the receiving desk, told the
receptionist I was there to see Mr. Davis, and thanked her after she gave me
instructions on how to get to the ICU.

Walking down
corridors lined with empty gurneys, some with black cracked cushions, I saw
what looked like a spot of blood on a retractable metal rail.  The spot seemed
to gleam under the bright lights.  The nauseating odor of chloride and carbolic
acid used as disinfectants regurgitated memories of seven years before, and
suddenly it felt as if I were in an encore nightmare of the day Matt died.

I passed a man
standing in the corridor, his hands fidgeted, jingling the coins in his pants
pockets.  His eyes darted back and forth from the big clock on the wall to a
nurse who sat at her station talking on the phone.  A doctor wearing green
scrubs hastened toward the man.  My stomach felt queasy, as I recalled seeing those
same green scrubs and same sympathetic look in the doctor’s eyes who pronounced
Matt dead. 

Finally arriving
at the critical care ward, I hurried toward the circular station desk that was
buzzing with staff reading charts, while medics wheeled a woman on a gurney
down the hall. 

“Excuse me,” I
said to who I assumed was a nurse standing behind the desk.  “Could you tell me
if Mr. Davis is in this ward?  He was admitted yesterday--he had a heart
attack.”   

“Oh, yes, Mr.
Davis.  He’s in stable condition, but still in a coma,” she said, peering at me
over her reading glasses.  “And you are?”

“Aubrey McCory. 
Can you direct me to his room?” 

The woman scanned
the paperwork on a clipboard lying on the desk next to the phone.  “I’m sorry,”
she said while running a stubby finger down a list of names, “your name is not
on the approved visitor’s list.  Only immediate family members are allowed to
see him.”  Removing her glasses, she let them hang from the silver beaded chain
around her neck. 

“Thank you
doctor,” I heard a woman say behind me.

Looking over my
shoulder, I saw a sophisticated fifty-something woman with sculpted cheekbones
arched high.  Her mocha complexion was flawless, her warm sepia eyes
expressive.  She had an exotic, Lena Horne look, and when she walked up to
where I stood the nurse behind the desk greeted her.

“Ms. DuBois you’ve
been here all night.  Why don’t you go to the cafeteria and get a bite to eat? 
I promise that if Mr. Davis wakes up I’ll send someone to get you.”

 “Excuse me,” I
said.  “I don’t mean to eavesdrop, but you know Mr. Davis?”

“And you are?”
asked Ms. DuBois.

“I’m sorry.  My
name’s Aubrey McCory.”  I dug in my purse, pulled out a business card, and
handed it to her.  “I’ve known Mr. Davis for several years.”

She stared at me
with a quizzical look.  “So
you’re
the lawyer!”

“Um, yes, I said,
trying to figure out why she’d be familiar with who I was.

She extended her
hand.  “My brother has mentioned you several times.  It’s nice to meet you. 
I’m Althea.”