breasts, and her prominent nipples made me acutely aware that there was nothing under it. In all the time I’d known her, even when we’d traveled together on business, I’d never seen her when she wasn’t fully dressed, and I wondered now if she was aware of the picture she presented.
I didn’t know where this was going, but the longer it went on the more culpable it made me feel. It couldn’t lead to anything positive. I probably waited a little too long to extricate myself and wound up dropping her hand like it was sun-baked iron, rising awkwardly from the side of her bed, with nowhere to go in the crowded hospital room. Gayle looked startled, and then awareness seemed to set in.
“I’m sor…” she began, her expression a mixture of misery and contrition.
“Don’t, Gayle. It’s okay. We’re both having emotional weeks. I shouldn’t have over-reacted.”
“You too? What’s going on?”
“I’ve…” I almost blurted it all out. She must have gotten to me more than I realized. “Just stuff piling up. Nothing as serious as what you’ve been through.” I wanted to change the subject. “You sounded upset when I was coming down the hall, before. Your doctor keeping you waiting?”
“No, he already signed the order to send me home. It’s Rod. God, he can be an asshole sometimes.”
Oh. If it was her anger at Rod that made her reach out to me the way she had, I’d have to be careful not to be drawn into whatever was going on between them.
She grimaced in the direction of her elevated leg. “I’m stuck here like this until he gets around to picking me up. I hate being dependent!” The last four words were almost a shout.
“When do you expect him?”
“He said he’d get here when he could. Another of his mysterious projects. They always come first.”
Rod was employed by a think tank whose name was an acronym that’ll never appear on any stock exchange. He traveled half the time and worked from home when he was in town. I’d had only limited contact with him, but he always seemed surrounded by an air of mystery, helped in no small measure by his swarthy, brooding countenance. I had a knee-jerk aversion to his aloofness the first time we met. Still, I thought it best to play devil’s advocate.
“I’m sure it must be something urgent,” I offered, lamely. “He knows how badly you want out of here.”
If Gayle’s anger hadn’t been dowsed, most of her energy had. She looked defeated, and I felt a pang inside. We were friends. I cared about her and it hurt to see her so unhappy.
I knew she hadn’t been seriously coming on to me, earlier. She wouldn’t behave that way with her friend’s husband and she wouldn’t allow such feelings to invade our professional lives. She was obviously embarrassed about the way she had been acting.
My watch said 3:13. Ilene wouldn’t be home till at least 7:00. Gayle lived on the Jersey side of the river, about twenty miles northwest of us, near the New York State line.
“Let’s call someone to help get your things together. I’m taking you home.”
“But…”
“But nothing. If they don’t let me sign you out I’ll put you in a wheelchair and we’ll just walk out on our own. What are they going to do, shoot us?”
“We’ll have to take a cab thru the tunnel. I’m obviously not going anywhere by train today.”
“We won’t need a cab. Jim arranged for a limo to take you into town and back once you get your walking cast. Let me see what I can come up with.”
A nurse helped her dress while I made some calls from the visitors lounge. She left a message for Rod telling him she’d find her own way home from the hospital and I found a limo driver who was free until a late gig ferrying some execs out to the Hamptons for the weekend. He said he’d be outside the hospital at four. I reached Ilene, but could barely hear her over the background
I didn’t know where this was going, but the longer it went on the more culpable it made me feel. It couldn’t lead to anything positive. I probably waited a little too long to extricate myself and wound up dropping her hand like it was sun-baked iron, rising awkwardly from the side of her bed, with nowhere to go in the crowded hospital room. Gayle looked startled, and then awareness seemed to set in.
“I’m sor…” she began, her expression a mixture of misery and contrition.
“Don’t, Gayle. It’s okay. We’re both having emotional weeks. I shouldn’t have over-reacted.”
“You too? What’s going on?”
“I’ve…” I almost blurted it all out. She must have gotten to me more than I realized. “Just stuff piling up. Nothing as serious as what you’ve been through.” I wanted to change the subject. “You sounded upset when I was coming down the hall, before. Your doctor keeping you waiting?”
“No, he already signed the order to send me home. It’s Rod. God, he can be an asshole sometimes.”
Oh. If it was her anger at Rod that made her reach out to me the way she had, I’d have to be careful not to be drawn into whatever was going on between them.
She grimaced in the direction of her elevated leg. “I’m stuck here like this until he gets around to picking me up. I hate being dependent!” The last four words were almost a shout.
“When do you expect him?”
“He said he’d get here when he could. Another of his mysterious projects. They always come first.”
Rod was employed by a think tank whose name was an acronym that’ll never appear on any stock exchange. He traveled half the time and worked from home when he was in town. I’d had only limited contact with him, but he always seemed surrounded by an air of mystery, helped in no small measure by his swarthy, brooding countenance. I had a knee-jerk aversion to his aloofness the first time we met. Still, I thought it best to play devil’s advocate.
“I’m sure it must be something urgent,” I offered, lamely. “He knows how badly you want out of here.”
If Gayle’s anger hadn’t been dowsed, most of her energy had. She looked defeated, and I felt a pang inside. We were friends. I cared about her and it hurt to see her so unhappy.
I knew she hadn’t been seriously coming on to me, earlier. She wouldn’t behave that way with her friend’s husband and she wouldn’t allow such feelings to invade our professional lives. She was obviously embarrassed about the way she had been acting.
My watch said 3:13. Ilene wouldn’t be home till at least 7:00. Gayle lived on the Jersey side of the river, about twenty miles northwest of us, near the New York State line.
“Let’s call someone to help get your things together. I’m taking you home.”
“But…”
“But nothing. If they don’t let me sign you out I’ll put you in a wheelchair and we’ll just walk out on our own. What are they going to do, shoot us?”
“We’ll have to take a cab thru the tunnel. I’m obviously not going anywhere by train today.”
“We won’t need a cab. Jim arranged for a limo to take you into town and back once you get your walking cast. Let me see what I can come up with.”
A nurse helped her dress while I made some calls from the visitors lounge. She left a message for Rod telling him she’d find her own way home from the hospital and I found a limo driver who was free until a late gig ferrying some execs out to the Hamptons for the weekend. He said he’d be outside the hospital at four. I reached Ilene, but could barely hear her over the background
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