look again. Shit!
She starts for the door.
Andy says, “Excuse me,” pushing Angelovic out of the booth so he can slide.
Aw, Jesus …
Two excruciating minutes later Andy’s back, slaps a piece of paper on the table in front of Lucas. “Name’s Laura. Call her.”
Lucas gripped the phone harder. “I don’t want to get into another argument about Andy. Could you please just do it for me?”
“ You’re the one who’s arguing,” she said.
He massaged his forehead and tried to think of a way to cajole her into calling him but couldn’t. She wasn’t going to call. Period.
The reason Laura despised Andy? Because he was a womanizer. That, and the fact that she and Trish, Andy’s ex-wife, were good friends.
Regardless, he and Andy had been friends since grade school, and right now he was worried about him. “Please just do it for me?”
“Oh, all right.”
From her tone he knew she wouldn’t do it. And if he asked her tomorrow, she’d claim he never answered his phone or give some other excuse. But what could he say?
“Thanks. I’ll check with you in the morning.”
“Good-bye.” She hung up without waiting for his good-bye.
Lucas returned to the window to stare out at the harbor.
“You did what?” Lucas asks, shocked.
Andy is obviously embarrassed. “I gave Trish a case of clap.”
“Aw, Jesus, Andy …”
“I know, I know … it’s just … it wasn’t a hooker, this time.”
“That makes it okay?”
The infection caused enough fallopian tube scarring to make Trish infertile. This, in turn, sparked bitter emotions between the couple. Laura instantly sided with Trish and condemned Lucas for not cutting off his friendship with his life-long buddy. Both Trish and Laura developed an openly hostile attitude that seemed to generalize to all men. Lucas tried to reason with her, but it only mired him deeper into quicksand.
The next huge test of the Baer marriage came three years later when David, their son, turned fourteen. Andy took him on a skiing vacation in the Bugaboos for some adrenaline pumping downhill. David lost control on a steep slope and ended up sailing over a cliff, while Andy could do nothing but watch in dumb horror. By the time rescuers reached the broken body, David was cold and dead.
Trish and Laura never forgave Andy. Trish filed for divorce two months later.
Staring out the window, he sipped scotch and wondered how his own marriage had become so entangled in a thickening bramble of constant little irritations for the past two years. This phone call, for example. What was the Chinese saying? Death from a thousand little cuts?
The really frustrating thing was being totally powerless to change the downward spiral. His personality—typical of a surgeon—was to diagnose the problem and fix it. Simple. This approach didn’t work for his marriage because Laura refused to talk about their problems or see a marriage counselor. To make matters worse, he believed, was her agitated depression. Angry explosions over seemingly nothing, leaving him mystified.
“Laura, maybe you’re depressed. Maybe a small dose of an antidepressant might help.”
“Oh, now I have mental illness? Perhaps you should look at yourself, Lucas. Have you ever thought of that? Who’s going to argue with the neurosurgeon?”
“Is this what you want? To always be on edge around each other?”
“What do you mean, ‘around each other’? You’re always at the hospital, always have more important things to do. Maybe you should’ve shared some of the responsibility of raising Josh?”
So, where did that leave them?
On the slippery slope toward divorce. And he hated that. He wished he could find a way to change things back to the way they’d been five, ten years ago as a happy couple. He thought of the shared joy of buying their first house and the work spent together making it their house: Painting walls, cleaning out the basement, reworking the garden, buying their first furniture as a
She starts for the door.
Andy says, “Excuse me,” pushing Angelovic out of the booth so he can slide.
Aw, Jesus …
Two excruciating minutes later Andy’s back, slaps a piece of paper on the table in front of Lucas. “Name’s Laura. Call her.”
Lucas gripped the phone harder. “I don’t want to get into another argument about Andy. Could you please just do it for me?”
“ You’re the one who’s arguing,” she said.
He massaged his forehead and tried to think of a way to cajole her into calling him but couldn’t. She wasn’t going to call. Period.
The reason Laura despised Andy? Because he was a womanizer. That, and the fact that she and Trish, Andy’s ex-wife, were good friends.
Regardless, he and Andy had been friends since grade school, and right now he was worried about him. “Please just do it for me?”
“Oh, all right.”
From her tone he knew she wouldn’t do it. And if he asked her tomorrow, she’d claim he never answered his phone or give some other excuse. But what could he say?
“Thanks. I’ll check with you in the morning.”
“Good-bye.” She hung up without waiting for his good-bye.
Lucas returned to the window to stare out at the harbor.
“You did what?” Lucas asks, shocked.
Andy is obviously embarrassed. “I gave Trish a case of clap.”
“Aw, Jesus, Andy …”
“I know, I know … it’s just … it wasn’t a hooker, this time.”
“That makes it okay?”
The infection caused enough fallopian tube scarring to make Trish infertile. This, in turn, sparked bitter emotions between the couple. Laura instantly sided with Trish and condemned Lucas for not cutting off his friendship with his life-long buddy. Both Trish and Laura developed an openly hostile attitude that seemed to generalize to all men. Lucas tried to reason with her, but it only mired him deeper into quicksand.
The next huge test of the Baer marriage came three years later when David, their son, turned fourteen. Andy took him on a skiing vacation in the Bugaboos for some adrenaline pumping downhill. David lost control on a steep slope and ended up sailing over a cliff, while Andy could do nothing but watch in dumb horror. By the time rescuers reached the broken body, David was cold and dead.
Trish and Laura never forgave Andy. Trish filed for divorce two months later.
Staring out the window, he sipped scotch and wondered how his own marriage had become so entangled in a thickening bramble of constant little irritations for the past two years. This phone call, for example. What was the Chinese saying? Death from a thousand little cuts?
The really frustrating thing was being totally powerless to change the downward spiral. His personality—typical of a surgeon—was to diagnose the problem and fix it. Simple. This approach didn’t work for his marriage because Laura refused to talk about their problems or see a marriage counselor. To make matters worse, he believed, was her agitated depression. Angry explosions over seemingly nothing, leaving him mystified.
“Laura, maybe you’re depressed. Maybe a small dose of an antidepressant might help.”
“Oh, now I have mental illness? Perhaps you should look at yourself, Lucas. Have you ever thought of that? Who’s going to argue with the neurosurgeon?”
“Is this what you want? To always be on edge around each other?”
“What do you mean, ‘around each other’? You’re always at the hospital, always have more important things to do. Maybe you should’ve shared some of the responsibility of raising Josh?”
So, where did that leave them?
On the slippery slope toward divorce. And he hated that. He wished he could find a way to change things back to the way they’d been five, ten years ago as a happy couple. He thought of the shared joy of buying their first house and the work spent together making it their house: Painting walls, cleaning out the basement, reworking the garden, buying their first furniture as a
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