The Doctor's Wife (36 page)
Authors: Elizabeth Brundage
“It’s one of the things he does,” she said cautiously. “You’re not against it, are you?”
“I suppose it’s a necessity in a society like ours.”
She scowled at him impatiently. “It has always been a necessity. It’s not like it’s some revolutionary new procedure.”
“You get mean when you’re angry, I
like
that.”
like
that.”
“Fuck you, Simon.”
“I was kidding, okay? What kind of threats?”
“Phone calls, pranks. We’re being watched. Michael skulks around like a thief.” She shot him a look. “Don’t tell me you’re voting for Nash.”
“All right, I won’t tell you.”
Her eyes watered. “You
are
despicable. Take me home.”
are
despicable. Take me home.”
“I’m sorry, Annie. I’m not very political. It’s all the same bullshit if you ask me.”
“That’s a lame excuse.”
They walked to the car and moments later were stuck in traffic. She sighed and said, as if to punish him, “I can see that it would never work out between us. I find your apathy insulting. Especially with what’s been going on with Michael. You’re totally absorbed in yourself.” She rolled her window down, letting in the sound of the traffic. “Sometimes I feel like I hardly know you. Sometimes I feel like you’re somebody else in my head. Somebody better.”
“I’m not sure I like the sound of that,” he said, feeling spurned.
“It never would work out,” she said again. “We’re different people.”
“You know what they say: opposites attract.”
“I still love Michael,” she said softly, looking away.
“Although I am sick with jealousy, I never expected that to change.”
“I wish you hadn’t met Lydia,” she said. “Because you might have had a different life. You might have been happier.”
He didn’t know why, but the comment offended him. “It’s not in my disposition to be happy, Annie.”
“You know what I mean.” She gave him a dirty look.
“You’re overlooking something. It’s that naughty romantic in you again.”
She crossed her arms over her breasts. “What?”
“You’re overlooking the fact that, at my core, I’m inherently nasty. It’s a survival skill I’ve learned to perfect.”
“You know I don’t believe that.”
“If I had found you, Annie, I would have married you,” he said, because he knew she needed to hear it. “You would have been a poor painter’s wife. Mommy would not have been pleased.”
“But you didn’t find me, and I didn’t find you.” She frowned. “We can’t regret the past.”
“No,” he said.
“And I don’t regret that we’ve done this.”
“Nor I.”
“Everything happens for a reason. Don’t you think?”
“If you hadn’t married Michael, you wouldn’t have Henry and Rosie,” he said generously, even though he sometimes wished he’d been the one to father her children.
“And if you hadn’t married Lydia, you wouldn’t have any of those incredible paintings. You might not have become a famous painter. You might have become a used-car salesman.”
“And I would have sold you a minivan.”
This made her smile.
“I would have taken you for a test drive and stuck my hand down your underpants.”
She laughed. “And I would have taken your sticky hand and bitten it.”
“Ooh la la.”
They drove for a while in silence, and then she asked, “Do you love her?”
He hesitated, then told her the truth. “No.”
“If you’re so unhappy with her, why don’t you leave her?”
“I couldn’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because it would kill her.”
34
THE MACHINE WAS BLINKING when she got home from the city. Michael had called. She rang him at the office. “Where the hell have you been?” he said, angry. “I’ve been trying to call you all day.”
“I went to the city.” She’d decided not to lie. “To the museum to see a painting by Haas. For the article. I’m sure I told you.”
“Look, Annie, you need to be careful now, okay? Wherever you go. You need to understand that. It’s for your own good.”
“What’s wrong, Michael? Is everything all right?”
“Everything’s fine,” he said levelly. “But I want you to be extra cautious. Pick up the kids right after school and don’t be late. I don’t want them riding the bus.”
Her heart tumbled. “Michael, what’s going on?”
“I got another threat, that’s all. I just want you to be careful.”
She could hear him breathing on the other end. “Are you coming home tonight?”
He sighed heavily. “I’ve got two women ready to pop. I’m on call tonight. We’ve got a lot of patients down here to see. I’m getting creamed. I’ll be late. That’s why I want you home. Pull the drapes, lock the doors. Don’t answer the phone.”
Tears ran down her face. “Please just come home, Michael.”
“You know I can’t do that.”
“Why can’t you switch with Finney?”
“Look, I’ll get home as soon as I can.”
“You’re so fucking dedicated,” she said contemptuously.
“Annie. Don’t make this any harder than it already is.”
“They fucking brainwashed you and I hate them for it.” She hung up on him and burst into tears.
For the next hour Annie felt unhinged with doubt. It seemed impossible to do anything. Even cleaning the house was a complicated task. Molly wanted to go out, scratching at the door. Annie put on her Bean boots and took her for a walk in the woods behind the house. She felt keen to the sounds around her. The rush of dry leaves under her feet. As they ventured deeper into the woods, Molly grew agitated and then Annie heard a gunshot. It made her hair stand up on the back of her neck. She scanned the trees and saw a group of men, maybe five in all, in camouflage attire, carrying rifles. Tremulous, she broke a sweat and small gasping breaths escaped her mouth. For a fleeting moment she imagined in vivid detail these men storming her home—a mental barrage of carnal images stolen from television movies. Again she scanned the trees and saw that the men were laughing, sharing a joke. They all had hunting permits in laminated tags on the arms of their coats.
Of course!
she remembered, feeling a bit foolish; it was hunting season. The men had every right to be there.
Of course!
she remembered, feeling a bit foolish; it was hunting season. The men had every right to be there.
“Come on, Molly, come on, girl.” She tugged at the dog’s collar, but the dog wouldn’t budge. “Molly!
Come!
” But Molly had other plans, and twisted free of her, baring her fangs. She took off into the woods after the men, barking savagely. It wasn’t like Molly to bark like that. Annie felt torn, afraid to go after her. She did not want to get near those men, hunting permits or not. She did not want to have to talk to them. Abruptly, Molly’s barking stopped. It suddenly became quiet. Annie scanned the woods, but she didn’t see the men now, and she didn’t see Molly either. She stood for a moment, listening. A branch cracked in the distance. She had the feeling she was being watched. There was no way she was going in after Molly. She turned and ran back across the field to the house.
Come!
” But Molly had other plans, and twisted free of her, baring her fangs. She took off into the woods after the men, barking savagely. It wasn’t like Molly to bark like that. Annie felt torn, afraid to go after her. She did not want to get near those men, hunting permits or not. She did not want to have to talk to them. Abruptly, Molly’s barking stopped. It suddenly became quiet. Annie scanned the woods, but she didn’t see the men now, and she didn’t see Molly either. She stood for a moment, listening. A branch cracked in the distance. She had the feeling she was being watched. There was no way she was going in after Molly. She turned and ran back across the field to the house.
At three o’clock, she drove to the school and waited for the children. Everything appeared to be normal in the parking lot. She recognized some of the other mothers’ cars, but when she made eye contact with them and smiled, they went stone-faced and turned away.
You’re being paranoid,
she thought.
she thought.
At quarter past three, the doors opened and a throng of kids came out. She didn’t see Henry and Rosie at first, and she could feel the back of her neck going damp—but there they were, Henry in his down jacket, lugging his pack, wearing his usual disgruntled scowl, and Rosie, neatly assembled in her little red coat, pink jumper, blueberry tights, and black high-tops, skipping toward the car. Rosie was holding something. It looked like a Barbie doll.
“Hi, Mom,” Henry said, climbing into the front seat.
“Look what I got, Mommy,” Rosie said, holding up the doll, climbing into the back.
Annie waited until the children were safely inside the car with the doors locked before asking to see the doll. Rosie proudly showed it off, and Annie saw that it was no ordinary Barbie. The clothes it had on looked familiar, and it swiftly came to her that the doll was wearing the outfit she herself had worn on her last visit to the motel. The doll’s red sweater was an exact rendition of hers. Even the snow boots were identical.
“Isn’t she pretty, Mommy?”
“Who gave this to you, honey?”
“It was in my cubby. It’s a present.”
“Yes, Rosie, but from
who
?”
who
?”
Rosie shrugged. “It’s a secret, Mommy,
okay
?”
okay
?”
A horn beeped behind them and Annie realized she was holding up the car line. “Put it back in your pack so she gets home safe,” Annie said, and they drove home in silence. Once inside, she closed all the blinds and drapes and locked the doors.
“Where’s Molly?” Henry asked.
“She ran into the woods.” Annie tried to sound lighthearted. “She’s off on a jaunt.”
“Probably chasing foxes,” Henry said.
Annie nodded her agreement, but in her heart she had a sinking feeling about Molly.
Henry went into the family room and turned on the TV. Rosie opened her pack and took out the doll. “Oh, no you don’t. You’ve got homework,” Annie reminded her. “No playing until it’s done.” Rosie frowned and dropped the mysterious doll into her pack. She took out her math sheet and sat down at the kitchen table, her forehead scrunched with utter boredom in the heel of her hand. She tapped her pencil irritably. The doorbell rang. Annie went to the door and peered out the side window, relieved to see Mrs. Keller with her violin case. Annie had forgotten that Henry had a lesson today. “Henry,” she called, “Mrs. Keller’s here.” Henry groaned. Annie opened the door and smiled at the woman. “Mrs. Keller.”
Mrs. Keller didn’t seem to notice that the house was all closed up. While Henry sawed away at his violin, producing a high-pitched melody that Annie had learned to construe as progress, Annie returned to the kitchen to help Rosie with her homework. “Need some help?”
“No, Mommy, I can do it myself.”
Annie puttered around for a moment, putting dishes into the dishwasher, wiping down the counter, and for a few precious moments everything seemed pleasantly ordinary, the way it used to be. With Rosie immersed in her math, Annie snuck the Barbie into the bathroom to examine it. She removed the doll’s clothes, discovering white cotton underpants and a bra just like her own. Shaking, she removed the underwear only to discover the word SLUT written across its naked buttocks with a black marker. She turned on the water and attempted to scrub the awful word off, but whoever had done this had used a permanent marker. The word could not be removed.
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