章 3: Am I Loved?
The depression worsened as the days went by. Lying awake by myself and staring at the ceiling didn't help at all. Even when Mark was there, loneliness prevailed. Work was the only thing that remotely helped lift the depression. Helping others brightened each moment and brought with it a sense of belonging.
However, not even work could help today. As lunch time rolled around, a sigh escaped my lips. The day had been unusually stressful with cranky doctors and even crankier patients behind each door. A few moments of quiet would have been very much appreciated.
An empty table near one of the large windows beckoned me. Sitting alone there was definitely preferred over sharing a table, or even a lunchroom, with others. It was the perfect chance to catch up on some reading. As my book opened, its pages sucked me in, and reality was left behind. The world around me disappeared when one of the characters overtook not only my thoughts, but my entire being. Then the chair across the room moved and rudely shattered my dreamworld. No one else should have been in the room right then. Annoyed, I glanced up and saw George from radiology. His black hair fell across his forehead and down to his even darker eyes as he motioned to the empty chair.
“Do you mind?” I looked around the obviously empty cafeteria. There were forty-nine other tables, each one with four empty chairs. As usual at this time of day, I was the only one in the cafeteria. Well, the only one except for George. It would be another hour before the wave of hospital personnel teams came in to get their lunch.
Puzzled as to why he wanted this particular seat, but too nice to refuse him, I said, “Go ahead.”
George set his tray down and settled into the seat. We worked together, but since nothing was ever said beyond the needs of the patient, I didn't know him very well. His olive skin and black hair made him good-looking in a dark, mysterious sort of way. Because he was so attractive, and better yet single, many of the women in the hospital considered him a catch and would love to have had him sitting at a lunch table with them. He adjusted his lab coat and motioned toward my tray. “How is the pasta salad? It looked good on the bar.”
I glanced down at my tray that contained the pasta salad along with a ham sandwich. “It's all right. Could do with some cheese though. You can’t have a pasta salad with practically no cheese.” Trying to think of what else to say, I nodded toward his tray. “Those ribs look good. I almost got them.”
The conversation continued around the cafeteria food and how it was better than most hospital food. The place had quite a variety to offer, and every selection came with flavor. It wasn’t just sandwiches. You could have a sandwich from the bar, along with a salad. All of that, you could make yourself. Or you could choose from the freshly prepared foods like the ribs George had. Then there were the pre-packaged sandwiches and salads for those really on the go. They even had a pizza bar where you could choose from one of three pizzas that were always piping hot and waiting for you.
We ended up talking through the entire meal. It was the first time I had enjoyed someone else's company in a long time, and it felt great. We actually talked. We conversed. Yes, we had talked on the floor, but it was usually work-related. When it was not, a sentence or two was all we could manage to get in. I was still smiling when I left the cafeteria. Not even contrary Mr. Haberstein in room 405, who was still not satisfied with how cold his water was, could make the smile disappear.
The smile was still there when I got home with groceries falling out of my arms. All the fixings for lasagna were in the bags. Mark loved my special lasagna. Maybe a little Italian food along with some wine would get his attention tonight. It wasn’t like I was asking for wild, passionate sex, but if it happened who was I to complain?
A couple of hours later, the table was set. The boys were working that night at the movie theater, so they would not be home anytime soon. It was the perfect night for just the two of us. Before leaving for work that morning, he had told me that he had no plans tonight. Candlelight, wine, just me and Mark...I was really looking forward to it. A smile was still on my face as my eyes surveyed the scene, everything looked perfect. I felt so in control and good about it all. It was the first time in years that the feeling had raised its head. I felt like a woman again.
The clock struck seven, and it was time to put the finishing touches on the table. The lasagna was cooling on the stovetop and the bread was warming in the oven. He should walk in the door any minute. I tried to time everything just perfect.
Seven-thirty came and went. Mark still wasn't home. I dialed his cell for the fifteenth time. Still no answer. The lasagna sat on the table. The bread was already cool. The first glass of wine already gone.
Eight o’clock chimed through the house. I tried his phone again. Should the police be called? Visions of his car rolling down an embankment flooded through my mind. Or what if someone had hit him? What if no one had witnessed the crash and he was out there all alone, stranded and dying? No, I had to calm down. It wasn't the first time he had been out like that, and he had always come back home safely. But why did it have to happen tonight?
Eight-thirty ever so slowly came and drifted past. One plate now held the remains of lasagna, salad, and bread. Three glasses of expensive wine gone. One chair was still empty.
Nine o’clock and all the food was put up and the dishes done. My tears increased with each step toward the bedroom. Was he having an affair? Every time that thought crossed my enquiring mind, it became evident that he was exactly where he claimed to have been. A hole in his schedule couldn't be found at all. Although, it could be a virtual affair. Those weren't unheard of these days. Too scared to check his email, I told myself it just didn't make sense. My gut told me there was no other woman, although part of me wished there was. At least then I’d know who my challenger was. One cannot fight something invisible or non-existent.
Just as the sheets slid over my body, the sound of a car entering the garage made its way upstairs. I just stayed there. The kitchen door opened. Silent footsteps crossed the house and came up the stairs. He paused when he saw the light on.
“Sorry I'm late. I met John Leeson at the gas station and we stood there and talked until just a few minutes ago. I didn't realize what time it was.” He talked as he walked to the bathroom to change his clothes.
“Dinner is in the fridge.” I turned onto my side and pulled the blankets up around my chin like a protective barrier.
Mark stuck his head out from behind the bathroom door. “You made dinner? I am so very sorry, dear. I had no way of knowing. Why did you make dinner with the boys working?”
My arms crossed over my chest as I sat up to face him. “You told me you would be home tonight. I thought we could have dinner together and spend the evening without interference. Sorry I took you at your word.” I couldn’t help but have attitude creep into my voice. I was mad and wasn’t about to let him get by this time.
“You don’t have to get testy.” Mark stepped into the bedroom. He was loosening the silk tie from around his neck. A reprimanding scowl appeared on his face. “How was I to know you were cooking dinner for me?”
“If you ever answered your phone when I called, you would have known. I called you no less than twenty times.”
“The phone never rang.” He saw my head tilt to one side in disbelief. “Honest. The phone never rang.”
“Funny how it never rings when I call.” I resumed the position of sleep and closed my eyes tightly as though it would take me away from it all. I needed an escape of some kind.
“There you go getting all angry again over something I have no control over.” He began to mumble and toss things around, then jerked the covers back on the bed and climbed in. Turning his back to me, he switched off the lights.
Silence descended on the room as two breathing patterns expressed the anger inside each person. I just wanted to feel important, like I mattered to him. I wanted to feel like he loved me. Was that too much to ask?
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