away. More like months.
“Well, I should be going.” Doctor Lewis
pulled his tie off, shoved it in his pocket and turned to Jem. “I’ll see you
tomorrow. Maybe we shouldn’t speak of Gerald’s disease any longer. It’d be for
the best.”
“Yes, of course. I’m sorry Sid. I don’t
know what came over me.”
“Sure you do.” Marjorie poured Jem another
glass of wine. “My sister’s had a hate-on for you since the first time Gerald
brought you home. I never understood why, I think you’re a treat. But you two
were made to pour salt in each other’s wounds.” She patted Jem on the shoulder.
“Don’t you worry about it. You had a right to know. Especially before he died.”
She sighed. “But she’s right, you know. It doesn’t matter now.”
“It matters to me.” Jem wiped tears from
her cheeks with the back of her hand. “Maybe if I knew, I could find an answer
to all the whys. Why did he go off his meds? Why did he leave?” She hung her
head. “Why did he prefer crazy with strangers to some semblance of normal life
with me?” She looked at Marjorie. “If he didn’t want me, he could have said so.
So it does matter to me. If I could even begin to understand why, then I might
be able to close the Gerald door. Move on. Start over. There’s a new door
waiting to be opened.”
Doctor Lewis shifted his weight from foot
to foot. “Maybe we can talk when we get back to Calgary. I’ll give you a call
and come by the house. With Gerald gone, I think the doctor-patient privilege
rules don’t need to be so strictly enforced.”
Jem’s heart sped up. Sid knew why Gerald
was ill. All this time?
Marjorie walked the doctor to the door and
closed it behind him. She turned to Jem. “Now. I want to hear all about the man
behind door number two.”
“Oh Marj. I need a cigarette.”
“Oooh, me too. Let’s go sit on the porch.”
one of
the unfaithful
The ringing phone jarred Jem awake. She sat
up too fast. Pain stabbed her temples. She snatched the receiver.
“This is your nine-thirty wake-up call.”
Nothing like a robotic pre-recorded message
to shock you into a nasty wine hangover. She should have passed on those last
couple of glasses but Marjorie was hard to say no to.
When the cab dropped her off at the hotel
the night before, she found herself wide awake. She called Finn and, for the
first time in her life, had phone sex. They went from filling each other in on
their days to her railing on about Althea to detailed descriptions of what they
were doing to themselves while masturbating a thousand kilometers apart. When
she hung up the phone she felt satisfied, uncomfortable, and just plain silly.
But Finn didn’t mind it one bit. Even at a distance, in the middle of the
night, awakened from a dead sleep by her phone call, he wanted her. She’d
fallen asleep at four o’clock hugging the extra pillow and dreaming of him.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed
and ran her hands through her hair. She poked at the phone and made a quick
call to room service before she jumped into a steaming shower.
Minutes later, enveloped in a thick hotel
robe with a towel wrapped around her wet hair, she answered a quiet knock at
her door. A young fellow in a maroon waistcoat and starched white shirt whirled
into the room, a tray balanced on one hand. She salivated at the smell that wafted
from the hole in the chrome plate cover.
She signed the chit, tipped him twenty-five
percent, and showed him out. The best hangover cure ever — greasy food and
strong coffee. She sat at the table by the window and gobbled two eggs over
medium, maple sausage, and buttery toast while she scanned the view. With only
one crust of bread remaining on her plate, she guzzled her coffee and glanced
at her watch. "Shit." Time to face the funeral music. And Althea.
She did her hair up, clipping and spraying
it into place. She put on makeup, something rare for her, saved for special
events and court appearances. A little
“Well, I should be going.” Doctor Lewis
pulled his tie off, shoved it in his pocket and turned to Jem. “I’ll see you
tomorrow. Maybe we shouldn’t speak of Gerald’s disease any longer. It’d be for
the best.”
“Yes, of course. I’m sorry Sid. I don’t
know what came over me.”
“Sure you do.” Marjorie poured Jem another
glass of wine. “My sister’s had a hate-on for you since the first time Gerald
brought you home. I never understood why, I think you’re a treat. But you two
were made to pour salt in each other’s wounds.” She patted Jem on the shoulder.
“Don’t you worry about it. You had a right to know. Especially before he died.”
She sighed. “But she’s right, you know. It doesn’t matter now.”
“It matters to me.” Jem wiped tears from
her cheeks with the back of her hand. “Maybe if I knew, I could find an answer
to all the whys. Why did he go off his meds? Why did he leave?” She hung her
head. “Why did he prefer crazy with strangers to some semblance of normal life
with me?” She looked at Marjorie. “If he didn’t want me, he could have said so.
So it does matter to me. If I could even begin to understand why, then I might
be able to close the Gerald door. Move on. Start over. There’s a new door
waiting to be opened.”
Doctor Lewis shifted his weight from foot
to foot. “Maybe we can talk when we get back to Calgary. I’ll give you a call
and come by the house. With Gerald gone, I think the doctor-patient privilege
rules don’t need to be so strictly enforced.”
Jem’s heart sped up. Sid knew why Gerald
was ill. All this time?
Marjorie walked the doctor to the door and
closed it behind him. She turned to Jem. “Now. I want to hear all about the man
behind door number two.”
“Oh Marj. I need a cigarette.”
“Oooh, me too. Let’s go sit on the porch.”
one of
the unfaithful
The ringing phone jarred Jem awake. She sat
up too fast. Pain stabbed her temples. She snatched the receiver.
“This is your nine-thirty wake-up call.”
Nothing like a robotic pre-recorded message
to shock you into a nasty wine hangover. She should have passed on those last
couple of glasses but Marjorie was hard to say no to.
When the cab dropped her off at the hotel
the night before, she found herself wide awake. She called Finn and, for the
first time in her life, had phone sex. They went from filling each other in on
their days to her railing on about Althea to detailed descriptions of what they
were doing to themselves while masturbating a thousand kilometers apart. When
she hung up the phone she felt satisfied, uncomfortable, and just plain silly.
But Finn didn’t mind it one bit. Even at a distance, in the middle of the
night, awakened from a dead sleep by her phone call, he wanted her. She’d
fallen asleep at four o’clock hugging the extra pillow and dreaming of him.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed
and ran her hands through her hair. She poked at the phone and made a quick
call to room service before she jumped into a steaming shower.
Minutes later, enveloped in a thick hotel
robe with a towel wrapped around her wet hair, she answered a quiet knock at
her door. A young fellow in a maroon waistcoat and starched white shirt whirled
into the room, a tray balanced on one hand. She salivated at the smell that wafted
from the hole in the chrome plate cover.
She signed the chit, tipped him twenty-five
percent, and showed him out. The best hangover cure ever — greasy food and
strong coffee. She sat at the table by the window and gobbled two eggs over
medium, maple sausage, and buttery toast while she scanned the view. With only
one crust of bread remaining on her plate, she guzzled her coffee and glanced
at her watch. "Shit." Time to face the funeral music. And Althea.
She did her hair up, clipping and spraying
it into place. She put on makeup, something rare for her, saved for special
events and court appearances. A little
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