"Yeah. It's been a long time coming and I don't think I can turn back now."
He waited patiently through another long pause. Finally she lifted her face to him.
"Me neither."
He kissed her then and she responded, bringing her hands up to his face and then clasping her fingers behind his neck.
Alan pressed her against him, nearly overwhelmed by the feelings growing within him, old feelings that had lain dormant so long he had almost forgotten they existed. He opened the front of her robe and she parted his, and then her skin was hot against the length of him. Soon the robes had fallen to the floor and he led her to the couch, where he explored every inch of her with his fingers and his lips as she explored him. Then they were together, straining against each other, strobe-lit by lightning, the thunder and pounding rain all but drowning out the sounds they made as they peaked with the storm.
"God! Is that what it's like?" she heard him say after they had caught their breaths and lay together on the couch.
"You mean it's been so long you've forgotten?" Sylvia asked with a laugh.
She could almost see him smile in the dark.
"Yeah. Seems like forever since it's been like this. I've been going through the motions so long I've forgotten what passion feels like. I mean real passion. It's great! It's like being cleansed. Like being run through a wringer and hung up to dry."
The lights remained out. Lightning still flickered, but not as brightly, and there were increasingly longer intervals between the flashes and the rumbles.
Alan pulled away and went to the window. He seemed to love the storm.
"Do you know that you're the second woman I've ever made love to?"
Sylvia was startled. "Ever?"
"Ever."
"You must have had plenty of opportunities."
"I guess so. Lots of offers, anyway. I don't know how many were serious." She saw the silhouette of his head turn her way. "Only one offerer ever attracted me."
"But you never took her up on them."
"Not because she didn't appeal to me."
"But because you were married."
"Yeah. The Faithful Husband. Who committed adultery every day."
That puzzled her. "I don't get you."
"My paramour was my practice," he said in a low voice, as if talking to himself. "She came first. Ginny had to be satisfied with what was left over. To have been the kind of husband she needed, I would have had to settle for being something less than the kind of doctor I wanted to be. I made my choice. It wasn't a conscious decision. And I never really saw it before. But now that Ginny's gone and the practice is gone, it's all very clear. Too often my mind was someplace else. I cheated on her every hour of every day."
Is he trying to scare me off?
"And now that they're both gone, I feel free to be with you, and that's the most important thing in the world right now."
Sylvia felt a glow upon hearing those words. "Come back over here," she said, but he didn't seem to hear. She decided to let him talk. She sensed it was good for him. Besides, she wanted to hear what he had to say.
"And I'm talking about how I feel. I can't tell you the last time I opened up to anybody. Anybody. Trouble is, I feel lost. I mean, what am I going to do with myself? For the first time in my life I don't know what I want to do. Ever since I was a kid I've wanted to be a doctor. And do you know why? For the money and the prestige."
"I don't believe that!"
"Actually, I wanted to be a rock star but found I had no musical talent. So I settled on medicine." He laughed. "Seriously, though—money and prestige. Those were what were important to the kid from Brooklyn all the way through pre-med and most of med school."
"What changed you?"
"No big deal. I didn't renounce all things material and don sackcloth and ashes. I just changed. Gradually. It started during my clinical training, when I got my first contact with patients and realized they were more than just case histories— they were flesh-and-blood people. Anyway, I achieved both my goals. The prestige automatically came with the degree, and the money came, too. Like one of my professors had told us: 'Take good care of your patients and you won't have to worry about balancing the books.' He was right.
"So I came out determined to be the best goddamn doctor in the whole world. And after I got into practice, it was an all-day job to try to be that kind of doctor. But now I'm not any kind of doctor. I'm a tool. I've become some sort of organic healing machine. Maybe it's time to quit." He grunted a laugh. "You know, Tony and I used to say that when the legal jungle got too thick and the politicians made twenty minutes of paperwork necessary for each ten minutes spent with a patient, we'd chuck it all and open a pizzeria."
He finally turned away from the window.
"Speaking of pizza, I'm starved. Got anything to eat, lady?"
Sylvia slipped into her Mae West voice. "Of course, honey. Don't you remember? You were just—"
"Food, lady. Food!"
"Oh, that stuff. Come on."
They groped for their robes and put them on, then she took him by the hand to the kitchen. She was fumbling in a drawer for a flashlight when the lights came on.
"Whatcha got?" Alan said, hanging over her shoulder as she peered into the refrigerator.
The shelves were almost bare. With taking Jeffy into the Foundation, she hadn't got around to shopping today.
"Nothing but hot dogs."
"Oh, my!" Alan said. "What would Dr. Freud say about that?"
"He'd tell you to eat them or go hungry."
"Any port in a storm. Pop them in the microwave and we'll have byproducts-in-a-blanket."
"That sounds awful!"
"Can't be worse than the meatloaf I had last night. Made it myself—all the flavor and consistency of a Duraflame log." He stuck his tongue out in a disgusted grimace. "Blech!"
Sylvia leaned against him and began to laugh. This was a side of Alan she had never known. A little-boy side that she hadn't even dreamed existed. Whoever would have guessed that the handsome and dedicated Dr. Bulmer could be charming and witty and fun? Fun!
She stretched up on tiptoe and kissed him. He returned the kiss. Without separating her lips from his, she tossed the package of hot dogs back into the refrigerator and closed the door. As she put her arms around his neck, he lifted her and carried her back to the library.
Later, as they lay exhausted on the couch, she said, "We've got to try this in a bed sometime."
He lifted his face from between her breasts. "How about now?"
"You've got to be kidding!"
"Maybe I am," he said with a smile. "Maybe I'm not. All I know is I feel like my life has just begun tonight. I feel giddy, high, like I can do anything. And it's because of you."
"Oh, now—"
"It's true! Look at what's happened to me in the past few weeks. None of it matters now that I'm with you. I can't believe it, but touching you, loving you, it shrinks all those troubles to nothing. For the first time in my life I don't know what I'm going to be doing tomorrow and I… don't… care!"
He got up and put Charles' robe on again. Seeing him in the light now, she noticed how thin he was. He couldn't have been eating well at all since his wife walked out on him.
"Maybe you should open that pizzeria on your own. Put some meat on your bones if nothing else."
"Maybe," he said, walking back to the window.
She put on her own robe and followed him.
"Maybe, like hell," she said, snaking her arms around him and snuggling against his back. The storm was completely gone now. Still he stared out at the sky. "You'll never quit medicine and you know it."