Turning Point(55)

“What happened to you in Paris?” he asked, genuinely upset.

“I woke up.”

“Is this because of Aspen?”

“That and a lot of other things. It’s the right decision for me.” He walked toward her and tried to kiss her then, but she didn’t let him. She couldn’t. She knew that if she did, she’d be trapped again. And this time she wanted to be free. Somewhere out there was a man who would love her seven days a week, not just once a week and then go home to his wife.

He walked to the door with a bereft expression, and turned to look at her again. “If you wait long enough…” he started to say, and she shook her head.

“Nothing’s going to change. We both know it.” He walked out the door then, and she closed it behind him. She heard him drive away a few minutes later. And after he was gone, she realized that he hadn’t told her he loved her for years while still trying to convince her to remain his mistress. She knew she had done the right thing, but she was suddenly panicked as she thought about what she’d done. What if she’d be alone forever? What if she never met anyone? What if she died all by herself one day? But it didn’t matter. Whatever happened, it would be better than what she had with him. She had nothing with Jeff except loneliness and grief. And she had done it. It was finally over. She felt sadness, but most of all relief.

    She felt whole again as she dressed for work, and proud of herself. And very brave. She was free.





Chapter Fourteen


Tom Wylie looked slightly disheveled and arrived ten minutes late for his shift at Alta Bates on Tuesday. It was his first day back to work after the trip to Paris. He was as handsome as ever, as he stopped at the nurses’ station and glanced at the admissions board, without noticing the nurses, which had never happened before.

“Well, look who’s back!” the senior nurse at the desk said, happy to see him. They had missed his stories and light touch for the last month. “How was Paris?” He smiled in answer to the question with a dreamy expression.

“Fantastic. Much better than expected.” He looked like a happy man. “What have we got in the house today?” he said, reading down the list of recent admissions, without a single lewd remark or inappropriate comment, which were his stock in trade, to the nurses. They all noticed it, and mentioned it to each other when he hurried off to the first room. He was back half an hour later, with the orders he wanted filled, and a list of tests the patient needed. He wanted him to have an EEG for a concussion and an MRI as soon as possible.

    “What happened to you?” his favorite nurse, Maisie, asked him, looking disappointed. He usually propositioned her at least once a week. She was sixty years old and married with six grandchildren. He didn’t mean it, and neither did she, but it was fun working with him. Maybe he was jet-lagged, but he seemed in good spirits and looked terrific. “How many hearts did you break in Paris?” He grinned at her when she asked.

“None. I met the woman of my dreams. I’ve spent the last two days cleaning my house because she’ll be here in two weeks. Speaking of which, where do I buy a vacuum cleaner?”

She stared at him in disbelief. This was not the Tom Wylie she knew. “This sounds serious. A hardware store or a department store. Do you know how to use it?” She was laughing at him. The Great Tom Wylie had fallen. The women of Alta Bates were going to be heartbroken, but she was happy for him. He acted like a nervous kid with his first girlfriend. In fact, Valérie was the first woman he had loved. It was a whole new experience for him.

“Is there an art to using a vacuum cleaner?” He was worried. “Do I need lessons or a license for it? Don’t I just plug it in and it does its job?” He was panicked.

“Yes, but there are different things it can do, depending on the attachments you use.”

“Can it do dishes and sort through old laundry? I don’t think I’ve cleaned my house since I moved in. Not seriously anyway. I buy new socks and underwear when I run out.”

“That sounds frightening. You’d better check out what’s under the bed.” He appeared anxious when she said it. He’d only been kidding with Bill.

    “Oh my God…good thought…probably the underwear of half the women on staff.” He never ventured far for his dalliances, he didn’t have to, they fell into his lap.

“We’re going to have a lot of sad nurses and interns around here,” she said, shaking her head. “So is the love of your life French?”

“Very much so, and the sexiest, most gorgeous woman you’ve ever seen.”

“Twenty-two to twenty-five years old, I assume,” she said, knowing him.

“Forty-two, never married and doesn’t want to, no kids. She’s a shrink with emergency services there.”

“She sounds perfect for you. You’d better get that vacuum cleaner and learn how to use it, and check under the bed,” she said as he nodded, grabbed another chart, and headed to the next room.

By the end of the day, word had spread, Tom Wylie had a girlfriend in Paris. Those who knew him well didn’t take it seriously. He’d be on to the next one in five minutes, but the nurse he’d confided in disagreed, and said he was cleaning house for this woman. She suggested that the staff nurses in the ER had better claim their underwear before he threw it away. They all laughed at the idea, a few of them looked disappointed, but most of them didn’t care. He was fun to be with, and he would always be around, even if he was momentarily off the market for some French girl. Whoever she was, they knew it wouldn’t last.