Chapter 28
Heather
Heather cut through the kitchen to grab a few cans of Ensure for a patient. She selected a chocolate and a vanilla, and then raced out of the storeroom. She accelerated around the deserted tray line, the dietary workers all on their mid-morning break, and then bolted past the salad room. She would make it.
Jean took one enormous step out of the cook’s area and into her path. Her bottom lip curled down and her left eye protruded like it was about to pop out. “Why do you refuse to wear a hairnet in my kitchen?” she asked.
“Just getting some Ensure for a patient. No one’s in here, no food being prepared or served, nothing to contaminate.” Her melodious tone echoed in the abandoned space. Silvatri’s morning kiss, stolen in the back stairwell, lingered in her mind.
“You do realize your long, straggly horse-hair can fly off into various areas of my kitchen and make their way into my food?” Jean’s short yellow hair, greased with some kind of lubricant, had no chance for escape. Throw in her tangerine muumuu dress, and her face appeared jaundiced.
Heather, in no mood to fight with the tyrant, stared back waiting for the punishment. Either way there would be fight, why waste her breath.
Tyrell enter the kitchen and upon seeing Heather, gripped his stomach, keeled over and pretended to laugh hysterically. She held her poker face and listened to Jean grumble on.
“Are you listening to me?”
“Yes.”
Jean, hoping for a fight stared back, but Heather continued to fix her emotionless gaze on her. Tyrell broke into jumping jacks and then finished with a lame attempt at a cartwheel.
Jean dismissed her finally and Heather strode over to Tyrell who hid behind the wall in the main hallway.
“Think you’re funny, don’t you?”
“I know I am. You wanted to laugh, admit it. You’re just good at holding in your true emotions.” Tyrell flipped up the lapel on his cook’s uniform and spun on his heels. “So…you going tonight?”
“Louisa’s retirement party? I might make an appearance.”
“Too good for it?”
“Nah, just need to make sure my mother can watch the girls. I’m hoping to drop all three off and not worry about returning at a reasonable hour.”
“Planning on staying at the party all night then?”
“I’m planning on staying
out
all night, yes.” She attempted to hide a smirk but failed.
“You dog! Whatta ya have planned?”
“Nothing for you to be worried about.”
“You’ll tell me by the end of the night. I have my ways.” Tyrell flicked the strands of hair in front of her face and strutted back into the kitchen.
Heather and Victoria left the dance floor drenched, and searched for their waters. A scratchy paper napkin wiped the sweat from Heather’s chest. She was glad she threw on that tank top and short skirt before leaving the house.
Victoria slung her pocket book over her shoulder and grinned at Heather. Heather’s eyebrows dropped but then reality sunk in. “Where do you think you’re going, missy?”
“You’re not the only one using the party as an excuse to meet up with a fine gentleman. We have such limited time to see each other, have to make the most of it.”
She continued to feel guilty about Victoria’s decision. Heather didn’t care what happened to her marriage, but Victoria’s? Not many people celebrated thirty years with the same man. Heather suggested other resources but she would hear no part of it. Victoria made her decision and like everything else in her life, would stick with it until the end.
But what was the end? She hated to think of the consequences.
“Where are you meeting Aiden?”
“His home. And you?”
“Silvatri and I are meeting down the block in a parking lot. Car sex is just as good.”
Heather said good night to her friend and then chugged the remainder of her water. Loud hoots emerged from behind. She swiveled on the barstool. Tyrell sauntered in wearing a black button down shirt, a loose black tie, black baggy dress pants and matching shoes. His skin color blended perfectly with his clothing. Such a different look from his white kitchen scrubs.
Heather asked the bartended for another water, drank it in four large gulps and then asked for one more. She fanned herself with a Stella Artois beer coaster and then combed her hair back into a high ponytail with her fingers. Before she could finish the last twist, a hand reached over and tugged the tail.
“Hey, hey Heather, what’s happening?”
“Nice of you to join us Tyrell, I was just leaving.”
“Leaving? You can’t, the party’s just starting.”
“That’s funny, it was going pretty strong the whole time I was here.”
“Yeah, I heard, bat girl.”
“Bat girl?”
He held two fingers up on each of his hands and made a V. Then he whisked each V over his eyes imitating a dance move. “Heard you were doing the bat girl dance, woo hoo!” He continued his bizarre undulating movements.
“No, I wasn’t.”
“Yes you were. Didn’t know you could dance to hip-hop.” His hips flexed, gyrated, then his legs kicked out side to side as the V shapes flew past his face. “You’re a black girl in a white girl’s body,” he sang repeatedly.
Heather folded her arms in her chest and leaned back for the show.
“Bat girl, that’s your new name. Come on, show Tyrell how you dance, show me what you got.” Tyrell continued to sing and then turned around, bent forward, stuck his butt out and shook it back and forth like a food processor.
A snort erupted from the back of Heather’s throat. She keeled over and grasped the bar stool in front of her.
“Yeah, yeah, you like it. Admit it, I got style. Oh, yeah.” Tyrell threw his hands in the air, twirled once and proceeded to do the Batman dance again.
“There
is
something wrong with you.”
“Come on Heather, show me the Batman dance. Get up, let’s go.” Tyrell slinked over and slipped his hands over hers. He lifted her off the stool and then put the V shape’s up to his eyes again, mocking her. “Show me. Show me how you dance, come on, don’t be shy.”
She stood there for a minute in disbelief. Then her hips shifted, shoulders rocked. Heather’s hands flew up and the V’s navigated past her eyes.
“There you go, there you go. I knew you had the Batman in you.”
She swayed closer, fixing her eyes on his. Two could play this game. She journeyed in tighter, until her legs straddled his left leg, squeezed, then gyrated. He peeked down at her silver skirt as it lifted inch by inch, until the faint glimmer of pink lace fluttered before him.
Tyrell flashed his eyes up to hers. They glossed over. His knees weakened and he clutched the edge of the table behind him. He attempted to take a step back, lost his footing and tumbled into a chair. His eyes travelled along the length of her body, down to the three-inch stilettos.
Heather, not allowing him get off easy, sauntered in, arms raised high above her head as if ready to give him a lap dance.
Tyrell’s lips parted, he rubbed the back of his neck, then lurched up. His chair flung back and crashed to the floor. He ran out of the bar area and straight into the men’s bathroom.
Chapter 29
Catherine
Victoria called the second floor nurse’s station and asked for Catherine. “Can I speak to you for a few minutes? Privately?”
“Okey-dokey-karaoke!” Catherine’s cheery voice sang out. She hung up the phone but then plodded to the patient lounge at the end of the hall. Had she documented something incorrectly on one of her patients? Did she forget to counsel someone? She wouldn’t want to disappoint anyone else.
Victoria arrived a minute later and immediately unloaded the past two months of escapades on Catherine. Her chest ached. “You’re cheating too?”
“It’s not a club, it just happened.”
“I could see Heather, but you? You’re planning your 30th wedding anniversary. How could you?”
Victoria recoiled at her accusation. Her harsh words criticized her integrity but Catherine didn’t care.
Catherine clutched the box of tissues beside her and tore one out, then slammed the box back on the end table knocking over the table-tent of hospital phone numbers. The tissue ripped into shreds from her fingernails.
Victoria continued to explain, rationalize her behavior, but Catherine heard only babbles despite Victoria’s clear speech. This could not be the answer.
She endured Heather’s raunchy sex stories every week during their lunch hour discussions, now Victoria poured out hers. Details, too. Was everyone having sex but her? Did it have to be so tempting, seductive? Was that normal?
Catherine stormed out leaving Victoria behind, no longer wanting to hear happy tales of romance and all this God forsaken cheating, and sex and…how could they? Victoria was in her fifties! Did people that age run around and cheat and still have sex? At thirty-five, her sex life was over.
Visions of Victoria having sex nauseated her. Or was it anger, or jealousy? Could she really be jealous of Victoria? What was she feeling? Feel something, dammit!
Numb, she returned to the nurse’s station and swept up her pen, but the drivel words marked in the chart only enraged her further. Her ribs squeezed and suffocated her. She deserved happiness as much as them. How dare they cheat the system.
****
2 a.m. Saturday morning, Peter’s side of the bed remained cold. His late nights multiplied leaving her alone with the kids several times a week. She enjoyed the added time with her children but missed the intimacy with Peter. What a fool she was all these years.
She lay awake, face up, watching a thin band of moonlight travel inch by inch along the wall. Catherine needed her full eight hours of sleep for work in the morning or she would not perform up to potential. The weekends were brutal. Let’s not mention the huge bags under her eyes.
The front door clicked, scraped open, then rubbed back into position. Shoes shuffled across the wood floor, awkward stumbling followed. Did he just trip? Tumble into the wall?
Her vision focused perfectly in the darkness, the full moon provided just enough light to see Peter hold onto the bedroom wall as he entered, one shoe in his hand. He removed the scraps of clothing left on him and tossed them onto the floor, pant legs inside out.
He attempted to crawl into bed, the smell of tequila over whelming. She should have chastised him but draped her arm around his waist and cuddled him instead. Heather and Victoria’s stories filled her mind. She wanted to have sex again regardless of what her body looked like. She wanted her husband’s touch, his warmth, his mouth on hers.
Peter swung his arm toward her but then jabbed her in the shoulder with his elbow. Then he took his leg and kicked her away. Twice. She rolled to her side and coiled into a fetal position.
****
Lunchtime arrived and Catherine needed the energy boost. Did she sleep at all last night? She dragged her feet down the long, desolate corridor to her office. Dim lighting, vacant rooms and closed doors saluted her. She unbuttoned her lab coat releasing the heat from beneath. Despite the air conditioning, the ninety-eight degree temperatures outside competed for their space in the building. She could remove the coat once safely in her office.
She inserted her key in the door but the silver piece of metal failed to penetrate the lock. She rotated it and tried again, her binder and papers ready to cartwheel onto the filthy linoleum.
“Need any help?” A voice echoed in the darkness.
Fear stole her voice. Had a psych patient escaped from his unit and followed her down here? Had a family member lost their way and cornered her in the abandoned passageway? The key dropped to the floor. She bent to sweep it up, but a man’s hand extended to retrieve it.
“I didn’t frighten you, did I?”
Catherine sighed. “Oh, it’s only you.”
“Well, excuse me, were you expecting someone else?” Dr. Mangle positioned his hand on the wall above her.
“No, so sorry, I just thought…sorry, I didn’t mean– ” How could she insult a man like him? The only man that spoke to her.
“Here, let me get that for you.” He reached for the key, touching her hand with his and then trailed the sharp edge up her wrist eliciting a flood of goose bumps.
Dr. Mangle unlocked the door, pushed it open, secured a few steps in and mounted himself against the door to let her pass. She lowered her gaze, heard the door close behind her, and cringed. She set her binder on the desk knocking the picture of Peter and her down. He sprang towards her and helped upright it, never bothering to notice the image behind the glass.
He balled his hand into a fist and raised Catherine’s chin until her eyes locked on to his. Dr. Mangle’s gaze roamed from her sleepy face to her tight ponytail and then plunged down her neck into the cleavage exposed by her shirt. His brows shot up but his eyes remained on her huge breasts. Why had she unbuttoned her lab coat?
Her heart quickened.
His hand caressed her cheek and travelled to the back of her neck where he removed her hair tie in one sweep.
“You’re simply beautiful, Catherine. You should wear your hair down more often. And your eyes, they hypnotize me, do you realize that?”
She shook her head, unable to speak.
“Every time I see you I cannot resist. You mesmerize me and I cannot escape. Do you understand that you have the power to do this to me?”
She shook her head again, quivering under his grip. How could someone as plain as her attract him? Were her eyes that amazing?
“Your blonde hair frames your face so perfectly, bringing out that warm hue you have that welcomes me. Do you realize what you do to me Catherine? Captivate me and lure me to you, drawing me in and I think of nothing else all day.”
Lightheaded, a tingling swept up the back of her spine. His hand glided down her neck, paused and then bit-by-bit lowered. He reached her collarbone and his finger stroked calculatingly, back and forth in gentle waves. His eyes squinted, lips smirked. Dr. Mangle’s self-assurance and control made the space between Catherine’s thighs throb like a beating heart.
“I can’t sleep at night because of you. I dream of you and my thirst cannot be quenched. It’s torture being away from you. I look for you daily on your floors, do you know that?”