Authors: Elizabeth Brundage
The Doctor's Wife (10 page)
It was why he agreed to help Celina James.
She paged him one morning in early August, just after he’d finished his rounds. He called the number and a woman answered the phone in a chipper voice. “Free Women’s.”
“It’s Dr. Knowles,” he said. “Somebody paged me.”
“Oh, yes, please hold for Dr. James.”
A moment later she came on the phone. “Hello, Michael.” Her voice brought on a swarm of memories.
“Celina. I can’t believe it. What’s it been, ten years?”
“Twelve, darling. Time flies when you’re having fun.”
“How’ve you been?”
“Dandy. And you?”
“Working like a dog,” he said.
“I’m intensely curious to see how you’ve aged.”
“Badly,” he said.
“I doubt that.”
“All work and no play.”
“Poor baby.”
“What can I do for you?”
“Actually, I have a proposition for you,” she said softly. She hesitated, then asked if he would meet her for lunch.
He didn’t usually take lunch, but he supposed, for her, he could make an exception and told her so.
“Oh, goody.” Her voice warmed with enthusiasm. “How about Lombardo’s, one o’clock?”
“All right.” When he hung up he realized he’d broken a sweat. What could she possibly want from him? Standing there in the hospital corridor, he felt her presence return like a fast, alarming storm. They’d been lovers, briefly, during their residency and although it had been a long time ago he had not forgotten her.
Their relationship had started at a party one of the residents had thrown:
postcall intoxication fest
—a lot of people drinking enormous quantities of gin out of stolen beakers. Celina was there with some girlfriends; he noticed her immediately. She had, he recalled, the lithe build of a dancer, an angular elegance. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen her. They’d worked together in the ER a few times. Once or twice they’d shared a table in the cafeteria, shoveling their food down in the welcome silence. He had known she was from Albany, but unlike him she had not gone to the academy, and their paths had never crossed. Michael was two years ahead of her; she was a wide-eyed intern when they met, eager to please, a beautiful black face in a crowd of dreary, overworked white students. He’d heard she was the smartest in her class.
postcall intoxication fest
—a lot of people drinking enormous quantities of gin out of stolen beakers. Celina was there with some girlfriends; he noticed her immediately. She had, he recalled, the lithe build of a dancer, an angular elegance. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen her. They’d worked together in the ER a few times. Once or twice they’d shared a table in the cafeteria, shoveling their food down in the welcome silence. He had known she was from Albany, but unlike him she had not gone to the academy, and their paths had never crossed. Michael was two years ahead of her; she was a wide-eyed intern when they met, eager to please, a beautiful black face in a crowd of dreary, overworked white students. He’d heard she was the smartest in her class.
Although he denied it in those days, Michael was a lightweight when it came to alcohol, but the liquor was a lousy excuse because he wanted her, there was no doubt about it. And much later, in the wee hours, they stumbled down the hall together and made love, rather savagely, in a stranger’s bed. The affair continued for a few months after that. They shared impassioned interludes in the call rooms between shifts, ripping off their scrubs for what they joyfully called stat satisfaction. And it was satisfying, deeply satisfying, until he met Annie. Convinced that Annie was the woman he wanted to marry, he broke off his relationship with Celina, explaining that he was returning home to Albany for his infertility fellowship and it would be too difficult to maintain a long-distance relationship. Several months later, after his and Annie’s engagement, he ran into Celina at a medical conference in Philadelphia. He didn’t like to think about it now, but they’d gone up to her room after a few drinks and taken a shower together, among other things. They had what he liked to think of as a sexual connection, nothing more, which was not to diminish his feelings for her; he admired her greatly, and considered her to be one of the best clinicians in their field.
But Celina had a reputation that often got her into trouble. She flaunted her intelligence; in some circles she shoved it down people’s throats. Her arrogance offended people. The fact that she was African American and had clawed her way out of the slums of Arbor Hill to attend Harvard on a full scholarship meant little to her. She’d never liked Boston. He remembered her saying it was a city for white people. When she’d finished her training, she’d come back to Albany and, with the help of a handful of wealthy libertarians, started a small family-planning clinic,
an abortion clinic,
on South Pearl Street, in her old neighborhood, taking over an old dilapidated bowling alley. Upon its completion, the clinic inspired a prickly controversy among the city’s politicians.
an abortion clinic,
on South Pearl Street, in her old neighborhood, taking over an old dilapidated bowling alley. Upon its completion, the clinic inspired a prickly controversy among the city’s politicians.
Lombardo’s was an Albany institution, a bustling Italian restaurant with a dwindling old-world elegance. Michael stepped into the narrow dining room with its black-and-white mosaic floors and red leather booths, murals of Italy on the walls. He spotted Celina immediately, sitting at a small table in the back and reviewing a stack of files. She was still beautiful, he thought, maybe even more so now. The only evidence that she’d aged was the pair of bifocals she wore on her nose, but she promptly removed them when she saw him. She’d acquired a woman’s sophistication, he thought, a penetrating gaze of wisdom.
“Celina James.”
“In the flesh.” She flashed her famous grin, and stood up and shook his hand. “You can do better than that, can’t you?”
She clutched his arm and pulled him toward her for a kiss, and he lingered there at her cheek a moment longer than he should have. She smiled. “That’s much better.”
“It’s good to see you, Dr. James.”
“Been a long time. You look”—she paused—“married.”
He laughed. “Do I?”
“She looks good on you.”
He slid into the booth and for a moment they sat there appraising each other.
“I never thought you’d come back here.”
I never thought I’d see you again.
I never thought I’d see you again.
“Well, I have. Back with a vengeance,” she said almost adamantly. “My grandmother died and left me her house. I came back for her funeral and never left. I’ve got people here, you know?”
“I’m sorry about your grandmother.”
“She was a lovely woman. I miss her terribly.”
A waiter appeared and asked Michael what he wanted to drink. He ordered a Coke, and then they both ordered lunch.
“I’ve been hearing all sorts of nice things about you, Dr. Knowles,” she said flirtatiously. “You’re very famous with the nurses.”
“Oh, yeah, especially the ones in habits.”
“How’s the lucky woman?”
He couldn’t help detecting her sarcasm. “Annie? She’s well. Busy with the kids. The usual stuff.”
“The usual stuff?”
“Her work, her writing.” He stumbled in meek defense of his wife. “She started teaching over at St. Catherine’s.”
“Now, there’s an exciting place. The cutting edge of academia, I’m sure.”
“Actually, she likes it. She likes her students.”
“Insipid white girls in Fair Isle sweaters.”
“Something like that.”
“Well, good for her. Doctor’s wife that she is.” Celina smiled. “Unlike our dear Mrs. Finney. Now, there’s what I call a full schedule. Eighteen holes of golf and lunch at the club—oh, and let’s not forget the pedicure. No wonder he drinks so fucking much. Talk about insipid.”
“Finney’s all right.”
“I hear Tony B’s giving up the deliveries.” She was referring to his other partner, Bianco, who had just turned sixty. “More work for you, you lucky boy.”
“Lots of women out there having babies, it’s good for business.” The waiter appeared with their order and they began to eat. “What about you? I thought I heard somewhere you got married.” He hadn’t, but he was curious.
“Me, married?” She said it like a dirty word. “I don’t think so.” She grinned apologetically. “I do, however, happen to be madly in love.”
He chewed his lettuce. Suddenly it didn’t taste so good. “Lucky you.”
“I’ve never been so happy.”
“That’s great. That’s great news.”
“Look at you, you’re jealous! Aha!”
He laughed, embarrassed. “I suppose you caught me.”
She touched her heart. “I’m immensely flattered.”
“Amazing, isn’t it, after all these years,” he said. “But you started it. You’ve been flirting with me ever since I sat down.”
“You’re right. I can’t resist flirting with you, Michael—you’re so delicious.”
“Now
I’m
immensely flattered.”
I’m
immensely flattered.”
“Anyway, it’s harmless, isn’t it?”
“Thoroughly harmless.”
“And it was fun, wasn’t it? What we had.”
“Yes, it was.”
“And now we’re old.”
“Not so old.”
“And you’ve got all those kids.”
“Just two.”
“And your incredibly capable wife.”
“That’s my Annie.”
“Your Annie,” she repeated, gazing at him with her big eyes. “Are you happy, Michael? Have things worked out the way you’d hoped? You were such a starry-eyed resident after all, weren’t you?”
He thought for a moment. “I guess I was, wasn’t I.” He smiled. “You’ll have to come out and visit us. We bought this great house in the country.”
“Ah, you escaped.”
“We got the fuck out of Loudonville, all those women in their Suburbans.”
“Those women are your patients, Michael. I wouldn’t disparage them if I were you.”
“It got too intense here. We just wanted a different life. We wanted space.”
“Space.” She smiled. “Well, I hope you’ve found it.” She finished off her iced tea and glanced at her watch. “I’ve got to go. Don’t worry about the check, I took care of it.”
“I thought you were going to proposition me.”
“I was. But I’ve changed my mind.”
“I don’t get it.”
“You’re too damn happy. I don’t want to spoil that.” She shoved her files into a briefcase and pulled on her blazer. “But it was a very nice lunch.”
“You hardly ate anything.” He reached out and caught her hand and she stopped, suddenly flustered. Her hand was cool and delicate. “What can I do for you, Celina? Just tell me.”
She settled back into the booth and hesitated, as if she were trying to make up her mind. “I need help, Michael. I wouldn’t ask you if it wasn’t completely necessary.” She took a card out of her pocketbook and gave it to him. It said FREE WOMEN’S HEALTH AND WELLNESS CENTER and listed the address. “You may have heard that I started a clinic. On South Pearl Street. It’s been an enormous challenge, an overwhelming challenge at times, but also an amazing part of my life. A lot of our patients live up the road, in city housing. Most of them don’t have insurance. We offer family counseling, pregnancy-crises counseling, and intervention. We’ve got a hotline—the works.”
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