Chapter Four - Dealings - cont'd

That’s impossible.

Again, the doctor with the impeccable bedside manner. James fought the urge to smack him in the head.

He apologized then tried to explain what was so impossible about her recovery – statistics about organ failure, depriving the brain of oxygen, the amount of toxins in her blood stream.

She finally interrupted his litany.

“I get it, doc, I should be dead.”

Her hand went instinctively to the amulet around her neck, which was very warm to her touch. She noticed that a lot lately. For an instant, she thought of the old man. What did he do to me?

The doctor was still yammering away and James finally tuned back into what he was saying.

“… and your cholesterol is almost non-existent, which doesn’t make any sense.”

“Bottom-line it, doc.”

“You’re healthier than you were before your… accident.”

James suddenly felt her ire rise.

“It wasn’t an accident. It was definitely intentional.”

This stopped the doctor for a moment. Then he reached for his pen and a pad of paper.

“Have you seen anyone?”

“You mean a therapist?”

“Yes, to deal with your feelings and why you did this.”

“I was depressed. I wanted to kill myself.”

“Yes, but a therapist can help you figure out what triggered this urge and how to avoid it in the future.”

“The man I was in love with was a dick and he treated me like shit, that was the trigger. He figured if he fucked every woman on the west coast, that somehow would make his life worthwhile. And I know how to avoid it in the future. Don’t be with a dick.”

“Now, you know it’s not that simple.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Still, you should just make sure.”

“I am sure.”

“James, no one is that sure.”

James felt the amulet grow hotter with her temper. She pulled the pen out of the doctor’s hand.

“No man is worth giving up my life for. I don’t need to waste money on a shrink to do the math.”

She tucked the pen back into his lab coat pocket with a bit too much force, making it puncture the bottom seam of the pocket, leaving the pen to dangle helplessly.

“I think we’re done here. Have a nice day.”

James slammed the door behind her, thinking that now she’d have to find a new doctor.

***********************

James wasn’t surprised that her message machine was blinking when she walked in. She half expected it to be her doctor, telling her to not come back until she’d gone to the anger management course his assistant suggested to her on the way out.

The first message was one she had been kind of expecting.

“Hey, James, it’s me. Did I leave my coat at your place a couple of weeks ago? I can’t seem to find it and I think that’s where I remember it last.”

James looked guiltily at the leather coat hanging near her door. She’d seen Guy a handful of times with Maggie or Serena but always seemed to forget the coat at home and forget to mention she had it. It was irrational but she didn’t want to give up this piece of him yet.

“If I did, can you bring it with you next time I see you? Maybe we could grab a bite this week, without the peanut gallery. I haven’t had a chance to talk to you by yourself since…”

My accident, she thought bitterly. Why does no one want to say it? Since my suicide attempt.

“Let me know what’d be good for you. My treat. Your choice. Bye.”

She stared at the coat as though it could reveal things about Guy that she so desperately wanted to know. She was completely unprepared for the next message.

It was the voice she’d tried to forget.

“Hey, um, it’s me. I, um, heard what happened. Thought I’d see if you were… Well, I guess you are. Um, man, I guess... I’m sorry. Got your number through Pete, one of the guys that helped you move. He lives in my building and we got talking… I was surprised you moved and that your number was unlisted… Anyway, um, I’d like to see you, if you’d be okay with that. I guess I have a lot to say to you. Call me. Anyway…”

Click.

James went cold, her heart pounding in her throat. She thought she’d never hear that voice again and she was all right with that. And now, here he was, sounding contrite and pathetic. And she just wanted to rip his heart out and stuff it down his throat.

Instead, she ripped the tape out of the answering machine, walked into the kitchen, dug out a meat tenderizer and smashed the shit out of the tape. Then she swept the pieces off the counter and dropped them into the trash. She’d have to change her number again, she thought as she changed the bag in the trash and carried the full one out back. This time, she’d make sure it stayed unlisted.

She was back in the kitchen when it hit her – the pain, the sorrow, the loss, the anger. Like a freight train, the blackness of her feelings crippled her, driving her to the floor, stealing the breath from her chest. She couldn’t cry, she couldn’t scream, she couldn’t do anything because it was all too much. She hunkered on the tile, gasping, grimacing, trying to find some air. Her eyes leaked tears but she knew there were more to come. She suddenly saw it all, every woman he had ever touched, every lie he had told, every deception he had put on her. Everything was crystal clear and horrifying. There had not been a day when he had been honest with her and she had just gone along, accepting his lies, accepting his excuses. And now he had reached into her safe harbor and shattered that security.

Slowly, the pain and the sorrow gave way to the rage. Eventually, that rage burned as white hot as the amulet around her neck. Finally, the rage drove her off of the floor, on to her feet, her breathing still ragged but at least slowing down. He would not reach her again. He would not touch her again. He would not invade her world again. She would not allow it.

Now all she had to do was find him.

She smiled at last, relishing the task in front of her.