“I'm not sure yet. Cold showers, I suppose. I've never tried that.”
“Maybe we should try them together,” he said, and then regretted it. He couldn't seem to handle being anywhere near her, all he wanted was to be with her, and charm and seduce her. This had never happened to him before, and he had no idea what to do to stop it. They were like matchsticks near a flame, and the conflagration was instant. “We're just going to have to behave,” he said finally and firmly.
“Yes, sir,” she saluted him with a smile, and then disappeared down the hall to her office next to Simon's. But as she went, he stood there watching her, unable to keep his eyes off her figure.
“Watch out!” Larry, his old partner, said as he passed him in the hall. “She's dangerous …English girls are,” he whispered.
“Why has no one ever warned me?” Sam pretended to moan as he went back to his own office. And as though to clear his head, he called Alex.
“Where were you last night?” she asked plaintively. “I called you.”
“I know. I'm sorry. I was out with Simon and some new clients from London. He called after I got home and talked me into it. We went to Le Cirque for dinner.” He suddenly felt as though he was saying too much and owed her an explanation. “How are you feeling today?”
“Okay,” she said, still sounding depressed. “I saw Liz Hascomb last night, it turns out she's a volunteer here for one of the support groups.”
“That's nice,” he said, feeling alienated from her. All she talked about was her illness and the things that related to it. “Do you think she'll tell people at your office?” He knew how much she wanted to keep this private, but she sounded confident when she answered.
“I don't think so. Liz is very discreet. But she was pretty surprised when she saw me …and very help-fizl”
“I'm glad.”
“How's Annabelle?”
“Great. She's getting all excited about Halloween. She keeps trying on her costume.” Tears sprang to Alex's eyes as she listened.
“Are you coming up today?” She said it hesitantly, as though she wasn't sure if she could count on him anymore, and hearing that in her voice hurt him.
“Of course I am. I'll stop by on my way home.” She'd been hoping he'd come for lunch, but she didn't want to press him. He told her he was staying in, and trying to get some work done.
But when he tried to concentrate, all he found he could think of was Daphne. It was nightmarish. He had a sick wife, a young child, and a load of responsibilities, and all he could think of was Simon's hot little cousin from Britain. It put him in a rotten mood by the time he saw Alex. He was feeling guilty and on edge and he was sorry he'd ever met Daphne. He didn't need any more complications in his life, but he was suddenly obsessed with her, like a drug he had to have and had never tasted.
“What's up? You're all wound up.” Alex spotted it immediately, which annoyed him even more. It was like a neon sign someone had hung around his neck and it kept flashing the word “Daphne.”
“Don't be silly,” he snapped at her, without meaning to, “I'm just worried about you. We can't wait for you to come home on Friday.”
“Have you said anything to Annabelle yet?”
“Of course not.”
“I think we ought to tell her I had a little accident on my trip.”
“Why say anything?”
There it was. Denial again. It never ceased to amaze Alex. “I'm wearing a bandage. I'm going to have a scar, my breast is gone. I'm not feeling well. She can't jump all over me. How do you think we'd get away with not telling her anything, Sam? She's not stupid.”
“You don't have to parade around naked in front of her.”
“For the rest of my life? She takes baths with me, she watches me get dressed. I've never hidden my body from her. Besides, in a few weeks I'm going to be sick, and apparently very tired, from the chemotherapy. She needs to know that.”
“Why do you have to keep making so much about this thing? Why does it have to be Annabelle's problem, and mine? Why can't you just live with it quietly? I don't understand it.”
“Neither do I. I don't understand how you can keep pretending this isn't happening. It's not just happening to me, it is happening to all of us, at least to the extent that you both have to understand it.”
“She's three and a half years old for chrissake. What do you want from her? Sympathy? Is that it? Alex, this is sick.”
“I think you're crazy.”
“Stop whining about everything, stop turning it into a nightmare for everyone. Talk to a therapist, do something, go to a group, but don't put it on me and Annabelle like a lead weight. Don't punish us for your misfortunes.” She turned her back on him then and looked out the window.
“I'd like you to go now.” Her tone was icy.
“That would be a pleasure.” He stormed out of her hospital room and he never called her that night. Nor did she call him. She called Annabelle and kissed her good night, but she didn't ask to speak to Sam, which only Carmen noticed.
He stayed home alone that night, thinking of what lay ahead of them, and he didn't like it. She was going to make a big deal about everything, her scar, her missing breast, her health, and eventually her “treatment,” her chemotherapy, and then they were going to have to hear about her hair, or the lack of it, and how sick she was, and then months and years of waiting to hear if her tests were all right, if it had recurred, if she was going to live another year. He just couldn't take it. It was just like his mother. And this was not how he wanted to spend the rest of his days, listening to her daily reports about her cancer. Suddenly he saw her as a tragic figure trying to swallow him alive and ruin his life. The Alex he had known and loved had disappeared, and in her place was this angry, frightened, depressing woman.
They spoke twice on Thursday about Annabelle, but they agreed it was better if he didn't come to see her. But Liz Hascomb did. She had come every day since discovering that Alex was there, and what had happened.
And on Friday, Sam came at noon to take her home from the hospital. It was the first time he had seen her in two days, and she looked suddenly very fragile when he saw her. She was wearing a dress she had asked him to bring her. It was a loose knit that fit easily over her bandage, and for the most part concealed it. And he had brought her a bright blue coat to wear over it. She hadn't bothered to put any makeup on, but she looked tall and thin, her hair was clean, and falling generously over her shoulders. She looked better than he had expected her to, but she also looked very frightened. Her eyes seemed huge, and her face pale, and he saw that her hands shook, as she put her nightgown away in her tote bag.
“Are you feeling all right, Alex? Are you in pain?” He was surprised by how unnerved she looked. She had actually looked better to him on Tuesday and Wednesday, and he wondered if she had had some kind of surgical setback. It made him feel guilty again for not seeing her the day before, but he just couldn't take the pressure. But now she looked so upset and so nervous.
“I'm okay,” she said a little hoarsely. “It's just kind of scary going home. No nurses, no help with my dressings, no volunteers from the support group. Suddenly, I have to go out in the world again, and everything is different, or at least I am. And what do I say to Annabelle when I see her?” Her eyes filled with tears as she thought of it, she had cried about it with Liz Hascomb the night before, and Liz kept reassuring her that everything Alex was feeling was completely normal.
“Then why does Sam keep acting like I'm crazy?” she had asked her.
“Because he's scared too. And that's normal too. The only problem with Sam is that he doesn't admit it.”
And he didn't look afraid now, as he put an arm around Alex and picked up her tote bag. He looked completely in control, and very calm, as they rode downstairs in the elevator and got into a limousine he had hired for the occasion.