Dear Emily. Fern Michaels
like the king of the mountain because for the first time in years I’ve gotten a good night’s sleep. Don’t you care, even a little bit, about my well-being? I need my wits to take care of my patients. You’re being selfish again. If you’re worried we won’t have sex, you can forget that. I’ll knock on your door or you knock on mine. Or we can plan ahead and make appointments. Now, you have to admit, that’s devilish.”
Devilish. Did he think she was stupid? Obviously. “Why didn’t you talk to me about it before you did it, Ian? You always consult me. At least you used to. I don’t know us anymore, Ian.” There was a quiver in her voice Ian was going to notice. Damn.
“And spoil the surprise? I thought I was doing something nice, keeping my promise to you. Consulting you would have ruined the surprise. And, dear Emily, I am aware, even if you pretend that you aren’t, that you are a good thirty pounds overweight. That makes a difference in a bed when you flop around like you do. We need rest, Emily. Why are you being so damn hard to get along with? I thought we were here to have a nice lunch. This is just more of the same.”
“We’re drifting apart, Ian. I can see it, feel it.”
“Now you’re a seer. Come off it, Emily. It’s your own insecurities. Suddenly you have all this free time and you’re running scared. I suppose in a way that’s understandable, but for God’s sake, what more do you want from me? Women would kill for that house. Women would kill to have free days. Women would kill to have some man pay for everything so they can sit on a velvet cushion. Not you, all you want to do is bitch, whine, and then bitch some more. I think you need to grow up, Emily, and see how things are done in the real world. If you don’t like the yellow bedroom, redo it. That’s part of it too, right? You don’t like the idea that a professional decorator made over the house. If I had let you do it, we’d be living in cutesy, snuggly Early American. I hate that stuff.”
Two down, one to go. Emily took a deep breath, signaled for a second glass of wine. “I know about the Park Avenue Clinic. You should have talked to me about that, Ian, before you went ahead and set things up. I feel like you betrayed me. I don’t know if I can forgive you for that. I went there this morning to see how things were going and I heard the workmen talking. Why didn’t you talk to me, Ian?”
Ian’s eyes narrowed as he leaned across the table. “Let me see if I understand this right, Emily. You’re unhappy because I went ahead and made a decision without consulting you. You told me when it was time for you to quit working you didn’t want any part of those clinics. You goddamn signed away your rights, on advice of your own personal attorney that I and the corporate attorney insisted you hire and paid for by me. You waived your rights. I retired you quite handsomely. So, what the hell is the big bitch here?”
Emily unclenched her jaw. “The bitch is you’re turning family clinics into abortion clinics. Sperm banks! My God, Ian, here I am pleading with you for a baby and what are you going to do, you’re going to terminate pregnancies. I want a baby so bad I can…You said we would have a family. I need to get pregnant before I’m too old. You yourself said it’s not good to have a baby late in life.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, Emily, but didn’t you on more than one occasion tell me and anyone else who would listen that you were in favor of a woman’s right to choose? True, you always said it wouldn’t be your own choice, for yourself, but you committed. You can’t have it both ways.”
“Why not? Isn’t that what choice is all about? I would never choose that for myself, but I don’t have the right to make that decision for someone else. Don’t put me on the defensive, Ian. You did something we agreed not to do early on. We said we would discuss everything, that we were a team and a team worked together. I guess what you’re saying is we aren’t a team anymore in more ways than the business. Now that you have your own bedroom, you’ve put me out. You’ve actually pensioned me off. How much do I get a month, Ian?”
“Is that what this is all about? You want a check?”
“Among other things. I’ve never taken a salary, but I’m on the books. I should get something. I want to see it in writing, Ian.”
“How much do you want, Emily?”
“Two thousand dollars a month.”
“Fine. I’ll set it up. All you had to do was say that’s what you wanted. You realize the money is going to come from the clinics, don’t you?”
“What?” Suddenly she felt stupid and wished she could hide under the table. She’d never seen such a pitying look on Ian’s face. Hold her ground now or make another stupid mistake like she’d made when she waived her rights to the family clinics. Tears of frustration burned her eyes. Three down. Suddenly all her expectations evaporated and she could feel her shoulders slump. “Why don’t we just get a divorce and be done with it?”
“Is that what you want, Emily? On what grounds?”
God, no, it wasn’t what she wanted. “Grounds?”
“Yes, grounds. Yes, if you file for a divorce, what grounds will you sue for? Are you going to say I’ve been good to you? That I’m trying to make life easier for you? Are you going to say I’m being generous and kind, I just gave you a magnificent house for a Christmas present? What are you going to charge me with? Oh, I get it, the separate bedroom thing. Well, when a judge hears that I’m on call twenty-four hours a day and need my sleep, what do you think he’s going to say? You never think, Emily. I’ll tell you what I think right now. I don’t think we need to get a divorce. Yet. I think we should live under the same roof. You lead your life and I’ll lead mine. In a year, if you want a divorce, I’ll agree.”
Emily’s head reeled. She gulped at the wine. “That means we won’t have a baby.”
“Exactly. If you think I’m going to bring a baby into this world with your attitude, you have another thought coming. You expect me to have passion for you? Forget it, Emily. You know, I have here in my pocket two airline tickets to the Cayman Islands. See,” he said, placing the tickets in the middle of the table. Another folder was added. “This is a first-class hotel, ocean view. It was another surprise. I thought we’d leave Christmas morning. I know how much you like Christmas Eve so I thought we’d celebrate then, and leave in the morning. I even hired a limo to pick us up. It was my way of making up for that other botched up trip we couldn’t make. See this,” Ian said, lifting the flap of the ticket that had her name on it, “now watch me carefully, Emily.” He ripped the ticket in two and placed it on her bread plate. “Merry Christmas, Emily.” A moment later he was gone.
The waiter appeared at her elbow. “Will Dr. Thorn be returning or did he have an emergency? Will you want to take his lunch home or shall I cancel it?”
“Cancel it, and yes, he had an emergency.” She would have left herself, but she knew her legs wouldn’t hold her up. She opted to stay and eat the lunch she knew would stick in her throat. She’d stay till most of the patrons were gone so she wouldn’t look like the fool she knew she was.
Emily didn’t cry until she got home. When she’d finished, she walked up the long staircase to Ian’s room. His suitcase was gone and so were a lot of his clothes and toilet articles. Obviously he wasn’t coming back home till after his vacation. She pulled back the spread on the bed and buried her face in her husband’s pillow. She wished she could fall asleep and not wake up until she was old and gray, when things like this would no longer bother her.
Downstairs in the kitchen, Emily took stock of the refrigerator and pantry. She needed groceries if she was to get through the next week or until Ian returned from his vacation. She made out a list, ordering the best of everything. She called the Plainfield Market and told them to deliver everything by six o’clock and to charge it to the Terrill Road Clinic.
Emily stared for hours at the bare Christmas tree. Decorate it or not decorate it? At eight o’clock, after all the groceries were put away and she’d eaten a sandwich and showered, she dragged the tree through the living room and out to the foyer. She opened the door and gave the fir a mighty shove. It slid down the brick steps, the heavy,