Part 19 (1/2)
For a moment they sat in silence. They sipped their drinks and tried not to stare at each other. It was hard. He was handsome. But in a slightly outdated, unfas.h.i.+onable way, as though he should be wearing a soldier's uniform and kissing a girl with braids in a Norman Rockwell painting. It really was too bad about the ring. She checked his left hand. Still there.
”How old are you?” she asked, suddenly curious.
”Forty-six.”
”When did you get married?”
”A while ago. But my wife-”
”Never mind about your wife,” Meredith said. The last thing she wanted to hear listed were the virtues of the underage gazelle she'd seen him with in the drugstore. She wished she hadn't brought the marriage thing up. ”I want to hear about you. Where did you go to medical school?”
”University of Toronto. But I studied literature first and switched to medicine later. Listen, Meredith, I've been wanting to ask you ever since we spoke on the phone that day...”
”Uh-huh.”
”Did you ever end up seeing another doctor?”
”Well no, not exactly. I came over here and started working and things have been pretty crazy since then.”
”Crazy how? If you don't mind me asking.”
”I don't mind you asking but I'm surprised that you'd be interested.”
”Of course I'm interested.” He leaned forward slightly. ”I've thought about you.”
”What did you think?”
”I wondered how you were.”
”Were you worried? I mean, about my ovaries shrivelling up inside me?”
”Not like that, no.”
”Well, I've been dating. I guess you could call it that. I've been looking for, you know, the One. But not in the romantic sense. More in the biological sense.”
”Can you separate the two?”
”My mother did.”
Joe smiled. ”You'd know more about that than I would.”
She felt a hot stab of resentment. The smugness of married people! He probably drives a BMW sedan with leather interior. His wife was a former hospital candy striper-some innocent society flower who grew up in the suburbs surrounded by plush carpets and protective parents and now spends her days doing Pilates and taking Tuscan cooking courses. Probably has season tickets to the symphony and a time-share in Arizona. Probably they call each other some silly equal-opportunity pet name like Snooger Booger. What can people like this know about life?
Meredith felt indignant. How could he have any idea what it was like to be single for years and years and worry about growing middle-aged alone in a condo with exposed ductwork and no walls? What it was like to long for the company of a cat but resist getting one for fear of becoming a single woman with a cat? She drained her martini in a gulp.
Discovering a candle nub on a plate with a packet of matches, she lit the wick and set it on the floor between them. After a jittering start it flamed high. The smell of lilac and sulphur filled the trailer.
”Tell me, Doc, what's in your bag?”
Joe looked down at his battered antique doctor's bag, a gift from his late father-in-law, a retired obstetrician.
”Oh, you know. The usual tools of the trade-potions and lotions and a lot of frightening stainless steel devices.”
”Because I was thinking...”
Joe raised an eyebrow. ”You want to reschedule your appointment?”
”I want”-Meredith lowered her head, covered her face and spoke into the warm fleshy mask of her hands-”I have no idea what I want.”
Meredith uncovered her face and, dropping her arms clumsily, managed to send Mish's traveling minibar clattering to the linoleum.
”Oh s.h.i.+t.” She crouched down and began clutching at half-melted ice cubes that skittered out of her fingers like beetles.
”Meredith.” Joe managed to sound calm and deeply alarmed at the same time.
”Relax, it's nothing-” But before she could finish, Meredith understood. Her skirt had managed to skim the top of the candle and catch fire. She began to jump up and down like a mad pogo stick while Joe swatted her bottom with a rolled-up newspaper.
”Water!” she screamed. ”Stop, drop and roll!”
”No,” said Joe. ”Get it off.” And with a single yank he ripped off her skirt, leaving her naked except for her underwear.
The fire died as soon as it hit the soaking linoleum and the charred skirt lay smoldering on the floor between them.
Before they could say a word everything in the room changed: a whine of hinge, a s.h.i.+ft of light and a gust of damp outside air.
Richard Gla.s.s was in the trailer.
”Excuse me, sir,” Joe said as indignantly as he could manage. ”Can't you see we're occupied here?”
”Of course,” Richard said with a chilling politeness. ”I'll give you two a moment to straighten up.” He turned around and stepped out of the trailer, shutting the door firmly behind him.
”Oh G.o.d,” Meredith groaned.
Joe handed her a petticoat to put on. ”Not again,” she whispered.
”You've done this before?” Joe seemed slightly amused.
”No,” she snapped. ”I've been fired before.”
Joe laughed. ”No one would fire you for this.”
”Don't count on it.” Meredith struggled miserably with her shoelace. ”That was my boss.” Her hands were shaking. Joe noticed and put a hand on her shoulder. ”It's a long story.”
After a minute Richard stepped back into the trailer. He didn't knock, but simply came in and began inspecting the place. He lifted a martini gla.s.s to his nose, sniffed it once and set it down again. He picked up Meredith's novel, opened it to a random page and read a line or two, and then set it down again.
”Well, Miss Moore,” he said. ”It's been quite a day.”