I was pleased he called the next
day. He wanted to see me again. Instead we talked. I told him he was crazy. Why
me? , a married woman with kids, he a doctor, nurses chasing him? He whispered
he kept thinking of me then said again I was beautiful. I loved the way he said
it, wanted him to say it again.
He called daily thereafter. We
talked about everything. I revealed things I never told others, even learned
things about myself. I began to sit near the phone for his call. When we talked
I awoke, alive and listened with rapture to his resonant voice.
Talking to him
was communicating with a soul mate. He understood what I meant even as I was
I knew when the phone rang it was
him as he called shortly after noon. A few times I attempted to not pick up the
receiver but after some extra rings my hand would jerk and grasp the phone.
During two weeks of rapport
he learned more about me and what I
was thinking than my husband knew.
hung up I felt guilty, told myself I wouldn’t answer his next call but always
did. He filled the void that had crept into life with the excitement the girls
at work talked about. I was scared but fear was part of the attraction.
he was unmarried, three years older, graduated from the University of Michigan,
consumed novels, owned a Porsche and was interning at Stanford
Hospital and worked 6 nights a week.
I could close my eyes and see his smile, smell his after shave and hear his voice. My lips would part in a smile with eyes shut. My husband seeing me thus asked.
"Vixen, why are you smiling?”
“I am thinking how lucky I am, dear.”
The more I told Edward the more I thought I knew him despite my doing the talking.
My husband, in contrast, ignored me, only pretending to hear, responded by what he wanted to inform me about instead. Having someone actually listen was enthralling.
We talked about music, cooking, novels he was reading his Porsche
and what I was thinking while introducing me to new ideas. We didn’t talk about
sex but of course it was all about sex. Every conversation ended with his
asking to meet again.
Despite our intimate conversations, however, I remained nervous seeing him at other than a safe public place. After verifying with Stanford he was an intern, I agreed to meet the next Saturday for lunch at the Mall fountain. I left on schedule to go “shopping” Saturday morning leaving hubby to take the kids to the park.