muscles at the back of his neck with her thumbs.
"How's
Dr. Duncan today?" Duncan had everyone at the clinic refer to him as
"Dr. Duncan." It was a legitimate moniker and it obscured the Lathram
name.
He
didn't want it getting around that Duncan Lathram was doing charity work. He'd
made such a point of refusing to deal with insurance companies, private,
government, or whatever, and about performing no surgery that was necessary,
that he didn't want to have to explain why he was fixing up ghetto kids for
free.
He
had stopped explaining.
"I'm
fine, and that feels good."
"So,
what're you doing after we finish here? Ready to buy that drink you've been
promising?" Duncan tried to keep his shoulders from tightening. He'd been
ducking Cassie for months now. Not long after his divorce they'd had a little
fling.
Very
hot. Too hot not to cool down, as the song went. She was an excellent nurse and
uninhibited under the covers. He remembered one night when . . . no, now was
not the time to relive that, not with her fingers kneading his shoulders.
Eventually, they'd gone their own ways, but every now and again Cassie seemed
to like to fan the embers of old blazes. Duncan knew there were plenty of old blazes in Cassie's
past.
Too
many for comfort nowadays when casual sex had stopped being a recreational
sport and metamorphosed into serious business, grim business, requiring
research and background checks, especially with someone with such a busy and
enthusiastically varied history as Cassie Trainor.
He
hated that something so basic and so wonderful as sex had become a source of
paranoia and anxiety, a new religious sect with purification rites and latex
Eucharists.
What
a world. What a goddamn screwed-up world.
Casual
sex was all he had the heart for these days, and casual sex was like Russian
roulette. No time or heart to invest in a lasting relationship, and no desire
to pursue one, not after what had happened to his marriage.
What
had happened to him since the divorce? Where had his passion for life gone?
He'd withdrawn from all his old friends. Not consciously.
He
hadn't even realized what was happening until it was done. He spent a lot of
time alone now, but that didn't seem to bother him. He didn't know this
preoccupied, isolated man he had become.
Maybe
Lisa hadn't been an aberration. Maybe it ran in the family.
Whatever
the reason, he realized he'd become a man who feared intimacy more than
solitude.
But
at least today he could tell Cassie the truth.
"I'd
love to, Cassie, but I'm meeting my son for dinner."
"Too bad. How old is he
now?"
"Twenty-one last month."
Lisa would have been 23 last spring, already graduated a year. "Starting
his senior year in college. We're trying that new Italian restaurant in Georgetown ."
"Giardia?"
Duncan laughed. "Not funny. Giardinello. I'd
ask you along but we're going to talk about the flare."
"I
getcha. Okay. Maybe next time"
"Definitely."
She glided away and he watched the white fabric of her uniform slide back and
forth over her buttocks, an urge rose within and he almost changed his mind,
almost called her back. Instead he looked at his watch. He'd have to pick Brad
up soon at the house.
The
house . . .
Used
to be his house too. Now it was just Diana's. He wondered how she could live
there, walk through that foyer where . . .
Duncan rubbed his eyes and rose from the chair.
When things
"How's
Dr. Duncan today?" Duncan had everyone at the clinic refer to him as
"Dr. Duncan." It was a legitimate moniker and it obscured the Lathram
name.
He
didn't want it getting around that Duncan Lathram was doing charity work. He'd
made such a point of refusing to deal with insurance companies, private,
government, or whatever, and about performing no surgery that was necessary,
that he didn't want to have to explain why he was fixing up ghetto kids for
free.
He
had stopped explaining.
"I'm
fine, and that feels good."
"So,
what're you doing after we finish here? Ready to buy that drink you've been
promising?" Duncan tried to keep his shoulders from tightening. He'd been
ducking Cassie for months now. Not long after his divorce they'd had a little
fling.
Very
hot. Too hot not to cool down, as the song went. She was an excellent nurse and
uninhibited under the covers. He remembered one night when . . . no, now was
not the time to relive that, not with her fingers kneading his shoulders.
Eventually, they'd gone their own ways, but every now and again Cassie seemed
to like to fan the embers of old blazes. Duncan knew there were plenty of old blazes in Cassie's
past.
Too
many for comfort nowadays when casual sex had stopped being a recreational
sport and metamorphosed into serious business, grim business, requiring
research and background checks, especially with someone with such a busy and
enthusiastically varied history as Cassie Trainor.
He
hated that something so basic and so wonderful as sex had become a source of
paranoia and anxiety, a new religious sect with purification rites and latex
Eucharists.
What
a world. What a goddamn screwed-up world.
Casual
sex was all he had the heart for these days, and casual sex was like Russian
roulette. No time or heart to invest in a lasting relationship, and no desire
to pursue one, not after what had happened to his marriage.
What
had happened to him since the divorce? Where had his passion for life gone?
He'd withdrawn from all his old friends. Not consciously.
He
hadn't even realized what was happening until it was done. He spent a lot of
time alone now, but that didn't seem to bother him. He didn't know this
preoccupied, isolated man he had become.
Maybe
Lisa hadn't been an aberration. Maybe it ran in the family.
Whatever
the reason, he realized he'd become a man who feared intimacy more than
solitude.
But
at least today he could tell Cassie the truth.
"I'd
love to, Cassie, but I'm meeting my son for dinner."
"Too bad. How old is he
now?"
"Twenty-one last month."
Lisa would have been 23 last spring, already graduated a year. "Starting
his senior year in college. We're trying that new Italian restaurant in Georgetown ."
"Giardia?"
Duncan laughed. "Not funny. Giardinello. I'd
ask you along but we're going to talk about the flare."
"I
getcha. Okay. Maybe next time"
"Definitely."
She glided away and he watched the white fabric of her uniform slide back and
forth over her buttocks, an urge rose within and he almost changed his mind,
almost called her back. Instead he looked at his watch. He'd have to pick Brad
up soon at the house.
The
house . . .
Used
to be his house too. Now it was just Diana's. He wondered how she could live
there, walk through that foyer where . . .
Duncan rubbed his eyes and rose from the chair.
When things
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