Cheating to Survive (Fix It or Get Out) (13 page)

“What are you doing home so early, anyway?” Ed asked.

“I’m giving my lecture at SandCrest Laboratories this evening for the Cancer Research Depar—”

“Laboratory?” He reached up and continued to look in earnest for whatever it was. “When you cooking dinner?”

Her fists tightened. “The lecture’s at four o’clock. About an hour. I’ll be home in time to cook you dinner.”

“Oh, sorry it’s such an inconvenience.”

“It’s not an inconvenience.” She lowered her voice not wanting to upset him further. Victoria plunked herself onto the garage step. His silence pained her more than anything. She attempted to shift the conversation. “The article I wrote for the magazine is due next week and it’s a disaster. I wouldn’t want to run the race after reading it.”

“Magazine? You’re writing for a magazine now? Here I have no work and you have a million jobs.”

“It’s not a job, it’s for the 10K race.”

“Why do you insist on talking about things that’re over my head? You trying to make me feel stupid?”

“I’m talking about writing an article, for a magazine, to promote my fundraiser. Is that too difficult to understand?”

”I don’t have time for this shit.” Ed kicked the front of his tool chest.

“Time for what? Talking to me? When do you ever talk to me? You only talk to me when you want something.”

His construction boot belted the side of the tool chest. Two screwdrivers rolled off the top and plunged onto the cement floor.

Victoria charged inside. She leaped onto her bed and released the tears she harbored. They fell onto the teal quilt leaving a deepened hue on the patch. Andrew had returned from college for the summer and although he closed his door, she refused to let him hear her cry. No one could see her in this weakened state. Failure intolerable.

But she had failed at her marriage, incapable of making her husband happy anymore. Her article a flop, incompetent at work, and now an important lecture loomed ahead of her. Her life corkscrewed out of control.

****

Victoria drifted through the glorious grounds of SandCrest Laboratories in awe of the kaleidoscopic landscaping and sculptures surrounding the buildings. The perfectly trimmed hedges, the quaint cobblestone walkway lined with perennials, and the Tudor style buildings comforted her.

They greeted Victoria in the front lobby and directed her to the Stephan Granderson auditorium. She carried her briefcase and laptop into the vast conference room and the rows of black-plush cushioned chairs startled her. At least 300 seats. The ten-foot long screen assembled on the stage enveloped her small podium.

She paused at the door, then journeyed to her podium unsure where to find the program leader. Masses of people crowded the room devouring the catered food, while more piled in. Vinegar whizzed past her nose making her already queasy stomach volatile.

Victoria climbed the four steps to the stage. A man in a tapered black suit mounted himself on the far end. The stage lighting made his suit sparkle with a glossy appearance, his salt and pepper hair glistened like a tree frosted with morning snow.

He rotated slowly and his lavender shirt played up on the black and silver checked tie knotted tightly around his neck. His green eyes hit her, encircled by lunging eyebrows and an upward curve of the right side of his mouth.

“Victoria Elling?” He extended his right hand while his other rested in his left pant pocket.

“Yes, hello.”

“I’m Aiden McLoughlin, the program leader of the Cancer Research center. Nice to meet you.”

“I’m excited to be here.” Victoria examined the architecture on the ceiling but her view returned to Aiden. Like a magnet.

“We’re delighted to have you here today and are excited for your presentation.”

She beheld the large crowd and a rolling feeling overtook her stomach. “As am I.”

“Don’t be nervous. You’re the expert and we’re here to gain as much knowledge as we can.” Aiden motioned to the food. “Would you like something to eat?”

Food. Was he serious? She couldn’t stomach anything and failed to eat prior to the lecture as it was. The room spun and her head filled with helium. “Perhaps a drink. I mean juice or something?” Of course a glass of wine wouldn’t hurt either.

“Certainly, and Joe over here will help you set up.” He disappeared down the stairs and his rear-end bounced up and down under his jacket.

“Oh God, this is not happening.”

“What?” Joe asked.

“Nothing, sorry. Here’s my laptop.”

In the first few minutes of her speech, her voice quavered, but then she caught sight of Aiden in the front row. He whisked back his frosted spiked hair and winked at her. Instead of escalating her angst, he transferred his soothing manner to her.

She would not disappoint him. She fired away the latest research in nutrition and cancer and her striking power point slides caused Aiden’s eyes to widen numerous times. Her late night hours paid off. She felt self-satisfaction and fulfillment for the first time in years. A valuable asset instead of an incompetent dietitian.

Her knowledge shined and in the end, thundering applause erupted. Aiden bolted upright and clapped, triggering others to follow and stand as well.

Victoria attempted to pack her briefcase with her materials but instead, attendees stormed the stage with numerous inquiries. An hour-long lecture turned into two with questions and commendations. She managed to put the last of her supplies away when Aiden approached from behind.

“That was truly enlightening, Victoria.” He shook her hand but held it a moment longer. “Have you eaten at all? You must be starving.”

“I do feel hungry now.”

“Please, let me treat you to something, you’ve been standing for almost two hours. There’s a nice bistro located on the main level.”

“Maybe I should just grab something from your buffet here.”

“Nonsense. You will not stand a moment longer, I insist.”

Victoria relished the succulent food Aiden ordered for her. Beef tenderloin, roasted fingerling potatoes, and Key West vegetables. She wolfed down every morsel while he spoke about his career.

“…and then they offered me the position of program leader for the Cancer Research Center. We’re currently working on tumor development and progression. Also exploring the genomic changes in a variety of cancers.”

Victoria did not know which stimulated her more, the delectable food or intelligent conversation. She clung to every word, devouring them.

“Genomics can have an extensive impact on various forms of medical care. It can identify the best strategy to fight certain cancers.” He paused and watched her savor the meal.

Little did he realize she relished his conversation more. Or was it his eyes? Eyes that bounced off his hair like green streetlights shining through snow covered trees.

“I’m so sorry, I’ve been babbling, not giving you a chance to talk. Please, Victoria, tell me about yourself.”

What could she tell him? That she was sad, depressed, lonely? That she felt abandoned and isolated.

Or, perhaps, for the first time in years, she wanted to run through the crashing waves on the seashore with the moon shining down on her. Naked. She felt alive. Hungry. Sexy. She licked her lips and wiped the gravy off her chin.

Chapter 19
Heather

Lance bounded into the kitchen and ignored Laurel and Gia, both sitting at the table. Textbooks, pencils and worksheets covered the wood surface.

For once, he flashed a grin upon his face. “Family, I have good news! Heather, come here.”

Heather struggled off the den carpeting leaving Rori to finish the Madeline puzzle herself. She took three steps into the kitchen, folded her arms and leaned back on the kitchen counter.

“I have a surprise for all of us, something pretty exciting.”

Please let it be the Disney vacation. Please. Hopefully a week of the silent treatment snapped Lance into reality. The girls cried until they discharged him from the hospital and even when he returned home, they clung to him. He sensed her disappointment in him as well.

“What is it daddy?” Rori asked, wanting to be included.

Instead of answering, he clutched one of the kitchen chairs, its legs scraped against the tile floor in an annoying, high-pitched screech. He climbed up and raised his good arm into the air. The Statue of Liberty would’ve be offended.

“Well, are you going to tell us?” Laurel bit the end of her pencil.

“Guess,” he said, extending the melodrama.

“A toy?” Rori asked.

“Nope.”

“A trampoline?” Gia asked.

“Wrong again.”

Laurel examined her mother for the answer, but Heather shrugged her shoulders. “Disney?” Laurel prayed.

Lance shot her a glare. “Nope, not even close.”

“Please tell us. Please. Pleeeeease.” Heather’s sarcastic tone droned on.

“You won’t believe it, I’ll just have to show you.” Lance led the pack into the garage and then towards the driveway. He twirled with arms out-stretched like one of the models on the Price is Right.

He didn’t. He did.

A Corvette convertible. The girls ran to the car screaming with enthusiasm. Gia grasped the door handle and yanked the door open.

“No, no. You can’t touch it.”

“What do you mean? You said you had a surprise for
us
.” Gia said.

“Well it is a surprise, but it’s for me. A late promotion gift.” He slid his hand over the roof of the car. “With my other car totaled, this fits the bill.”

“It only has two seats,” Heather said.

“Of course, it’s a Corvette. Duh.”

“We have three children, did you forget? Duh.”

“Oh, no, no, no. The girls will not set foot in this car. There will be no Cheerios tossed around or fingerprints on this baby.”

“And what do we do when we go on trips?”

“That’s what your Jeep’s for. You wanted that and you got it, this is my choice.”

“And what happens when my car’s in the repair shop?”

“No one is stepping inside this car but me.” Lance ran both his hands through his hair and jerked on it. “Once again you have to ruin my happiness.”

****

Heather practically skipped out of the patient’s room. Finally, someone interested in learning about their diet. The patient asked many questions and she enjoyed helping him and promised to return later with more literature.

Heather’s fascination with nutrition and fitness began in high school and she hoped to share her enthusiasm with others. Unfortunately, people showed no interest in changing their lifestyles and she found her job more and more frustrating over the years. All this knowledge and no one wanted to listen.

She wrote in the chart about the patient’s good understanding and his expected compliance, then smelled the familiar pungent scent of sour cologne. Dr. Mangle strolled into the unit, a bitter tang rose in Heather’s mouth.

His bony fingers perused the rack for his charts and then he secured three under his armpit. He turned to find a seat but two steps in, a nurse blocked him.

“Dr. Mangle, I asked you yesterday to call Ericka Pesina’s daughter. She’s very angry that you haven’t returned any of her calls.”

“I did try to call, several times, but there was this peculiar busy signal. Is her phone operating correctly?”

Heather wanted to throw her chart at his head and smack some sense into the man. How naive could everyone be? Were they so gullible, so dense to believe him every freakin’ time?

“I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe her phone wasn’t working or perhaps she was on another line. I’m so sorry.”

“No, not at all,” Dr. Mangle slanted toward her. “Did you do something new with your hair Jessica?”

Jessica flushed and then ran her hand over her unwashed, greasy, up in a ponytail, mess. “Um, no, in fact I need to get it done.”

“Nonsense, it is simply beautiful just as it is.”

A choking, barfing noise burst from Heather’s throat. Dr. Mangle twisted his neck, spied Heather and then grinned. The chair next to her wrenched out from under the counter.

“And Heather, how are you today?”

“I was well but suddenly I have this burning in my mouth and a need to spit.”

“Maybe you’re coming down with something and need an examination. Do you have your own doctor? You can always come in to see me.” Dead twigs scraped across Heather’s shoulder and then down toward her elbow. Heather flinched. He lowered his voice, “if I ever do anything that makes you feel uncomfortable, just let me know.”

“Look,” she bent in leaving only inches between their faces, “there’s no way I would ever let you examine me or…” she removed his crusty hand from her arm, “…touch me. Consider this my letting-you-know, got it?”

He reclined in his chair and leered.

“You might fool these new nurses, but not me. You’d have to be pretty desperate and have some low self-esteem to fall for your crap.”

She snapped up and exited the unit knowing if she stayed it would only escalate. Her heels clicked down the hallway toward the patient lounge. She opened the door and then slammed it behind her.

“Heather?”

Her head spun. “Tyrell, what are you doing in here?”

His face withered but then a poor attempt at a smile lifted. “Nothing, just taking a break.”

“In here, by yourself, during the lunch line?”

He tucked his white cook’s shirt in his pants and straightened up.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“What’s always wrong. Jean. She gets under your skin, ya know?”

“Yeah, I know, we all know. What’d she do now?” Heather sat next to Tyrell.

He fixed his eyes on his hands and spoke slowly. “I was carrying the soup for the line. It was heavy, hot, and spilling on my hands. Burning them. Even with the gloves on it was getting underneath. I’m putting it into the hole when Jean storms out. She just went nuts yelling and cursing at me.”

“For what? What‘d she say?”

“Wanted to know if I checked the temperature, that patients complained the soup was cold so it’s my fault. Wanted to know where my hair net was.”

“Your head is shaven.”

“She cursed, in front of everyone. Told me I was fuckin’ incompetent.”