No, we never talked about what he did, but we both knew what he was.
Ten minutes later, he accompanied two young boys and a girl out of his main digs, his arm around the girl, talking to all of them in whispered tones. The girl sneaked a sidelong glimpse at me. I smiled, but she did not. After everyone had left, he motioned me in but put his finger to his lips. He picked up his ubiquitous bottle of scotch and we walked into a sizable but windowless office-neat as expected-with lots of security equipment. A ceiling fan added some air to the place, but the fluorescent overhead lighting was harsh. When he saw me squinting, he turned it off and elected to go with a soft pole lamp. I sat on one side of the square table; he lowered his body into a cushy chair on the other side. He gulped some booze, then followed it with an Evian chaser.
“Where were you hit?” I asked him.
His laugh was muted. “She called you. Rina did.”
I cocked my head. “You’re on a first-name basis with her?”
“Actually not. That’s her doing, not mine.”
“You like her?”
“She’s very attractive.”
“She sounds very nice.”
“She is very nice.” More water. “Where’s the kid?”
“Your son,” I corrected him. “I left him at home with a baby-sitter.”
“That’s nice. I like being alone with you.”
“Your paternal devotion is touching.”
“That’s assuming that I’ve acknowledged paternity.”
I gave a long, suffering sigh. “Will you please take a simple blood test so we can be done with this? Why do you like to torture me? Why do you enjoy torturing yourself?”
His eyes narrowed. “Don’t yell at me. I hurt.”
I stood up and walked over to him. I put my hands on his strong, tight shoulders. “Let me see.”
“You’re not a doctor yet. Leave me alone-”
“Chris-”
“Leave me alone.”
“Please?”
He stood up and held my chin. He brought my face to his and kissed me hard. “No.”
“You’re being stubborn.”
“You look gorgeous, Terry. You always look great-”
“Let me see-”
“Jesus, you’re impossible!”
He attempted to lift up his shirt. When I tried to help, he slapped my hand away. He showed me his wound.
“I’m not taking off the bandage.”
“You should,” I said. “The wound is weeping through the gauze. Do you have any medication or replacement bandages or salves?”
He held out his hand in exasperation, then gave me a bag filled with medical material-tape, bandages, medicines, salves, ointments. I went through the supplies, then wiped down my hands with a new bottle of Betadine. I started to take off the outer layer of adhesive. He winced.
“I’m sorry. Hopefully, it won’t take long.”
“Do you know what you’re doing?” he asked me.
“Yes.”
His expression was dubious, but he stood still. I peeled back the layers. “Who dressed this? He did a good job.”
“She.”
I laughed. “God, I can’t believe what a sexist I am. Who’s she? Mrs. Decker?”
“Yeah.”
“Does Lieutenant Decker know about this?”
“Nope. Doesn’t know about his wife being here, doesn’t know that I’ve been shot. There’s a lot that Lieutenant Decker doesn’t know.”
“What’s going on?”
“It’s complicated.”
“My plane doesn’t take off for a while.”
He talked to me while I worked. His sentences were terse. I was getting the encapsulated version. Probably the sanitized version as well. Twenty minutes later, I had patched him up. He sat down and took another swipe of booze.
“You shouldn’t drink and take painkillers at the same time,” I told him.
“I gave up cigarettes for you. Leave me alone.”
“I care. It’s not safe.”
“My system’s impervious to drugs. It’s a wonder I’m still alive.”
I took the bottle out of his hands, brushed my fingers over his grizzled face. “I’m glad you are.”
He regarded me, scrutinized me. A long time ago, his penetrating eyes made me nervous. Not anymore. Years of dealing with Chris’s unpredictability had hardened me. I needed him-as my son’s father, as my bank account. Initially, my grandparents had supported my son and me. They are lovely people, and I knew we were a burden. After eighteen months, I assured them that I would be fine and convinced them to move to a retirement community in Florida. Immediately, I was plunged into poverty. For almost two years, I put myself through college while trying to put bread on the table. Debt took on a life of its own. I was drowning, and Chris was watching. As I exhaled my last breath-a heartbeat away from eviction-Chris offered me a life preserver. I took it and haven’t looked back, although someday I’m sure I will. It will not be a sterling moment in my moral history. Still, being his courtesan was better than choosing between quitting med school or suffering through another frigid Chicago winter without decent heat.
His hands went to my face. He kissed me… long and gentle. I could feel the ball of his tongue pierce as he swept through my mouth. He loosened my hair from the ponytail holder and ran his fingers through my long tresses. He kissed me again and again. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Not true,” I told him. “Would I be here if I didn’t?”
“Yeah, you’d do it out of obligation.”
“You sell my affections short,” I said. “Don’t be nasty.” I let my hand travel down to his inner thigh. “Be nice.”
He placed it over his groin, and I felt him grow in my fingers. He closed his eyes, his breathing audible. He whispered, “I keep forgetting what you do to me.” He gave me hungry eyes. “This is the safest place, Teresa. The only place where I feel comfortable talking.”
“I didn’t know you wanted to talk.” I stood on my tiptoes and kissed his lips, then bit them gently. “Doesn’t matter, Chris. Here’s fine. Anywhere’s fine.”
“You want a pillow or something?”
“Do you have something that’s clean?”
He made a face. “You’re very funny.”
“I’m dead serious. I don’t know who you bring in here.”
“No one. You know how meticulous I am.”
That he was.
“I have a stereo hooked up, too,” he said. “Vivaldi’s ‘Four Seasons’?” A rare sort of smile graced his lips, one that shot light into his eyes and showed how incredibly good-looking he could be. “Gipsy Kings?”
“You beast you.” I answered his smile in kind.
“I’ll be right back.”
His face had become suffused with little-boy excitement, like the first time I had given him a birthday gift. He put on the music and brought in a big, fluffy pillow, placing it on top of the desk. I pushed it off, letting it fall to the ground.
I dropped to my knees.
A couple of hours later, I asked if there was a place where I could bathe. Though he claimed to use condoms assiduously, he refused to use them when he was with me, saying it was the one time he could let his guard down. But it was more than that. Anything less than full culmination implied my rejecting his basic being, so my pleas had fallen on deaf ears. I had had the good sense to get an IUD when we became intimate again, but it did nothing for disease. The last time I had begged him to wear protection, he became very angry-that silent, dreadful fury that sent waves of fear into my gut. He had this look-this deadly look. He used it whenever he meant business. I had been on the receiving end of his wrath and revenge. There were some things I just couldn’t push him on.
“I have a unit upstairs. I’ll come with you in a minute.” He took my hand and kissed my fingers one by one. Then he let go and got dressed. He was still breathing hard when he sat down. “Let me rest for a moment. You gave me a workout, you animal.”
I got up from his desk and put on my clothes and clipped my hair back. I gulped down half the bottle of Evian, then gave it to him. He took a big swallow, then closed his eyes. He was drenched with perspiration. He didn’t look well at all. I felt his forehead. “You’re very hot.”