One Summer In Paris

“Hi, Sally. How is he today?”

“Doing better. Dr. Morton saw him this morning, and she promised to drop by and talk to you both once you arrived. I’ll let her know you’re here.” She reached for the phone, and Grace walked into David’s room.

His eyes were closed, his skin pale but even a heart attack didn’t stop him being handsome.

She remembered what he’d said about feeling as if the best days of his life were behind him. The memory was like a sharp stab. What he’d really been saying was that there was nothing left to look forward to. The life with her wasn’t enough for him.

Forcing herself forward, she walked to the chair next to his bed.

David opened his eyes. “Grace.”

She put her bag on the floor. “How are you feeling?”

“Terrible. I guess you’re thinking it’s just punishment. They put in a stent, did they tell you?”

Had they? Maybe. She hoped he didn’t ask her any other questions, but fortunately at that moment Dr. Morton walked in. Elizabeth Morton had a daughter in Grace’s class, so they knew each other from school events.

“Hi, Grace. How are you?”

“I’m good, thanks.” As well as can be expected for a woman who has just been dumped by her husband of twenty-five years. Did Dr. Morton know? How far had word spread? Grace tried to remember who had been in the restaurant that night.

“I’m the patient.” David made a feeble attempt at a joke. “You’re supposed to be asking me how I am.”

Was it her imagination, or did Dr. Morton’s smile cool slightly as she looked at him?

Oh God, Grace thought. She knows.

The thought of female solidarity should have cheered her, but it didn’t. She hated the thought of people gossiping about her. It was so personal. Humiliating.

Everyone would be wondering why David Porter had chosen to leave his wife. They’d be looking at her and speculating. Did she nag? Was she bad in bed?

Maybe they all thought she was boring, too.

She could feel droplets of confidence evaporating like water in sunlight.

“You can go home tomorrow.” Dr. Morton flipped through the notes. She was clinical. Efficient. “We’ll send you a date for a follow-up.” She gave some general advice and then added, “This is a question I find some patients are embarrassed to ask, so I always give the answer anyway. Sex.” Her face was expressionless, but Grace knew she’d never be able to meet her at the school gates without remembering this conversation.

She didn’t want Dr. Morton to talk about sex, but it seemed her wishes no longer counted for anything.

Grace gripped the edge of the chair until the plastic dug into her hands.

“You should take it easy for the next month.” Dr. Morton went on to elaborate, and Grace tried to shut it out.

She emerged from her trance to hear Dr. Morton saying, “After that, you’re good to go.”

Grace felt her anger rise. He was good to go, but what about her?

David squirmed. “Thank you.”

“Don’t look so gloomy. People recover well from this and go on to live good lives.” The doctor outlined plans for his discharge, and then left the room with a final nod toward Grace.

“No sex for a month,” Grace said. “I guess that’s going to be tough on whoever it is you’re sleeping with.”

She saw the shock in David’s eyes and then the spreading color in his cheeks.

“You’re angry. I understand.”

“You understand? You can’t do this and still get to be the nice guy, David. This wasn’t an accident, or some random thing that happened to us that you regret. You chose this path. You knew what this would do to us. To me. But you did it anyway.”

Because he’d wanted it.

It wasn’t the first time someone hadn’t loved her enough to fight temptation.

Feelings she’d worked hard to subdue swirled to life inside her.

“I didn’t plan it, Grace. I was unhappy, and she was there and—Well, it just happened.”

It was the worst thing he could have said to her.

“What happened to self-control, David?”

He shifted in the bed. “You don’t have to tell me how important self-control is to you. I already know.”

“But I didn’t know how unimportant it was to you.”

“Grace—”

“You didn’t tell me you were unhappy. You didn’t give us a chance.” The more she thought about it, the more she realized she wasn’t just angry, she was furious. It was almost a relief. Anger was fuel, and easier to handle than grief and confusion.

“Everything you say is true, and I feel terrible.”

“I feel terrible, too. The difference is that you deserve to feel terrible, and I don’t.” She stopped. He looked so pale she was afraid he might be having another heart attack.

How could she care so much about his welfare, when he’d given no thought to hers?

It seemed that love defied logic.

“Grace—”

“Do you know what it’s like to be in love with someone, and to assume they feel the same way, and then to discover that it was all fake? It makes you question everything.” She heard the catch in her own voice. “All those memories we made together, I’m wondering how many of them were real.”

“They were real. They are real.”

“What’s real is that at some point you started feeling differently and you didn’t share that with me. I made a chicken salad with low calorie dressing.” She unloaded the bag and slapped the containers on the table next to the bed.

“You’ve had a few messages. Rick from the golf club called. He sent you his best wishes.”

“Right.”