Infidelity (6 page)

"What was that all about?" Persha asked as soon as Clarke made it to the table. He pulled his chair out and sat down. She noticed he hadn't offered a kiss, but she was too tired to fuss.

"Oh, I was supposed to get Dude’s nephew an internship. I haven’t done it yet, so he just asked me about the details," Clarke answered.

Persha looked at the stranger again, then back at Clarke when a lovely young woman sat at the man's table.

"Well, why don't you get on top of that? You don't need people attacking you in public places," she joked.

"Yeah, I know you're right, but I've been swamped lately. I'll get around to it though."

He picked up his menu and sighed. "It's been a rough day." Clarke looked at Persha. "Hey whassup? You don't look too hot," he said.

She couldn't believe he had finally noticed. Lately he seemed preoccupied when they were together. She had called this lunch meeting to talk about a bad habit he had suddenly developed. The last few dates they'd made, he called and cancelled at the very last minute. Sometimes it happened after she’d already been waiting.

Persha knew she had to proceed carefully with Clarke, after all, he was married. By sleeping with him, she realized she was opening herself up for heartache.

But she understood that he was going to have a little talk with his wife about a separation. Lately, he hadn't been saying too much about that either.

"You order yet?" Clarke asked.

"No, I wanted to wait for you." She struggled to sit up straight. There was simply no explanation for her recent failing health. She had a doctor's appointment for later that afternoon. She hoped she’d walk out of the doctor's office with a pill to make her better, instantly if she could help it.

"Is it still cool for me to stop by tonight?" Clarke placed the menu down for a moment.

"Yeah, that's cool. But are you going to come or are you just going to cancel on me again?"

Persha told herself it wasn’t the time for tears, she didn't want to break down like some silly little girl, but she couldn't help it.

When Clarke reached for her hands across the table, it was as if he opened the floodgate. Tears quickly rolled down her checks and she couldn’t do a thing to stop them.

"Hey, hey Shorty, what's wrong? Whassup?"

"I'm sorry, Clarke. I haven't been feeling well, and with work and everything else, I guess I need you and, um… I-ah, I just don't know," she stammered.

He immediately got up and sat in the chair next to her.

"I know this isn't easy, but don't worry about it. We'll work it through. I had a little talk with Kelsa just last weekend and she knows things just aren’t working between us. She asked me to give her some time. Her mom or somebody's real sick, so she's got a lot going on."

Clarke put his hand on Persha’s shoulder and rubbed her back.

"Why don't we eat and then bounce up outta here?" he said.

With a look of sheer shock on her face, Persha didn't quite know what to say. She didn't want to over react and force him to take back his offer, but she didn't want to seem desperate either.

"You mean you'd come over like right now?" Her eyes brightened slightly.

"Yeah, if you'll have me, Shorty."

"Well, we don't even have to stay. We can pick up something on the way and eat back at my place," she offered longingly.

Clarke glanced at the dude’s table he had stopped to talk to earlier and hesitated before speaking.

"You want to do that?" Persha asked. Her mind had already started thinking about the great sex they could have. They’d cap it off by falling asleep in each other's arms. She'd even muster up enough energy to cook something later, once they got up.

"Clarke?" He quickly turned to face her. "I asked if you want to just pick something up on the way back to my place."

"Oh, well, since we're here, why don't we order then leave after we eat. I thought you liked Landry's."

"I do, but I'd much rather be at home with you." She waited again for his response. Clarke picked up the menu and didn't say another word until the waiter came back.

"You know what you want?" he asked Persha when the waiter appeared.

She was too embarrassed to say anything other than her selection. After the waiter gathered the menus and worked his way to his next table, Persha adjusted the linen napkin in her lap.

"So you didn't have any plans for this afternoon?" Clarke asked.

"I did, but nothing I couldn't reschedule if we’re going to my place," she tossed in, hoping to refresh his memory.

"Well, I tell you what, why don't you take care of what you need to after lunch, then we'll meet back at your place." He looked at his watch then continued. "Say about five. How does that sound?"

The question lingered on the tip of her. She wanted to ask so badly, but couldn't bring herself to utter the words. Instead she shook her head in agreement and fumbled with her napkin again.

Clarke's cell phone broke the silence. At that moment, Persha felt her heart sink at an unbelievable speed. She swallowed back tears as he looked down at his waist. She had a strong feeling he wasn’t going to show up. She could all but feel it, despite the knowing feeling; she still refused to ask whether he would.

"Damn, what now?" he cursed as he picked up the phone and began pushing buttons.

"It's the office paging me," Clarke’s eyes were still on the phone. "Shit! It's 911!" He moved his chair back to get up. "I need to call them back, excuse me for a moment. If the food comes before I get back, start without me."

Persha' watched him walk toward the restrooms. A part of her felt relieved that she would still make her doctor's appointment. The last thing she needed was this sickness to turn into something worse. So she decided she'd have lunch with Clarke, go to the doctor, and then meet him back at her place.

Her heart wanted to believe he'd show up this time. She noticed him approaching the table with a look of bewilderment on his face. All she could do was prepare herself for whatever lame excuse she was sure was about to spill from his lips.

"Damn, Shorty! What the hell's wrong with you? Don’t you feel that?" Clarke flapped his arms to nervously emphasize his words.

Persha sat confused by his comment. Her heart started racing. She was frowning. When the waiter came to the table, he dropped his entire tray and stood staring at her.

"Jesus, Ma'am!" the waiter exclaimed. "Are you okay?" His blue eyes stretched wide in horror.

Persha had no idea why they were both staring at her in shock, and not at all the food on the floor.

"Baby, your nose, it's bleeding!" Clarke screamed with his face completely twisted.

"What?" When Persha jumped up from the table, Clarke and the waiter stumbled back.

"My nose?" Persha grabbed the napkin and held it to her face. Suddenly feeling the wetness she franticly started looking around for the restroom. Blood was all over her blouse.

"Should we call an ambulance?" The waiter yelled after her. Before she could make it to the bathroom, she felt all eyes glued to her and the bloody mess.

"I don't need anything! I'm fine," she mumbled through the blood-drenched napkin.

A few minutes later she emerged from the bathroom. Although her silk blouse was still stained with the blood that she couldn't wash out, she felt okay.

Clarke was waiting for her at the bathroom door.

"I don't know what's wrong. I have a doctor's appointment today. I'm sorry about lunch. I'm sure your appetite is gone, but I'll make it up to you later. You are still coming by this evening, right?"

"Yeah, but whassup with you. What's going on, Shorty?"

Persha felt more hurt by the look of sheer disgust that was plastered across his face.

"I really don't know. I've been so sick lately. I have no idea what's wrong. When I'm home all I can do for relief is sleep. I think it'd be best if I try to head over to my doctor's office right away."

"You need me to drive you?" he asked. But his expression remained the same.

What the hell do you think? Persha thought. Blood was just gushing out of my head like a water fountain and I have no idea why. Do you really think I need to be driving?

"Well, I don't want to put you out," she mumbled softly. But deep down, she hoped he’d insist.

"Okay, well, I do need to get back to the office anyway. So, I tell you what, why don't you call me to let me know you made it there safely. Here, let me walk you to your car," Clarke offered, all but pushing her toward the front of the restaurant.

Persha was pissed, but what could she say? At least he did offer, even if he didn't really mean it. On their way out of the restaurant, she noticed Clarke's friend and his date were already gone. She was oddly relieved at that even though she didn’t know him or the woman.

At the doctor’s office, Persha felt lucky she had made it safely. As she sat in the waiting room, she couldn't wait to hear her name called. Finally, the nurse called her into the back and led her into one of the five patient rooms while she checked her heart, pulse and everything. After that, Persha was more than ready to see the doctor.

As she sat in the room waiting, she remembered that she was supposed to call Clarke. At first she was a bit concerned by leaving him to worry about her. But then she figured that if he was all that concerned about her well being, he would’ve driven her and waited to find out what was wrong with her in the first place.

Once the doctor came into the room and began questioning Persha about what had been ailing her, Persha found it hard to describe what the past few weeks had been like for her. She told the doctor how she was constantly tired and described her bouts with diarrhea, the nosebleeds and a few other flu-like symptoms, even though she knew the flu was not the culprit.

"Okay, Ms. Townsend, are you allergic to anything?" Doctor Connell asked.

"No," Persha replied, shaking her head.

Doctor Connell studied her chart again. "Well, you don't have asthma. I do see signs of an upper respiratory infection, but there’s more to it than that. Based on what you've told me so far, I'd have to say I think you're suffering from mold poisoning. Have you notice any mold growing on any of your walls in your home, typically the basement?"

"Mold what?" She frowned and waited for clarification.

"Yes, mold. We've seen an increase in the number of patients falling victim to mold and it can get worse. There was a sudden rash in our area, especially after the recent rains and hurricanes along the coast." He flipped through her chart, then placed it on a nearby table.

"What? Mold? Is that what I think you're saying, or actually what is mold? And mold poisoning?" Persha cleared her throat.

"Throat a little sore?" Doctor Connell asked.

Persha answered by nodding. She was still trying to gather her composure.

"Any wheezing? Problems breathing? Dry eyes?"

"Yes, and diarrhea. At night I'm coughing so much I can hardly sleep."

"Sounds like all the usual symptoms. This can be serious, and depending on the severity, you may need to make some life changes." The doctor got up. "I'd suggest taking a good look around your house."

"Like get a test done? How do I know I have a mold problem?"

"Oh, depending on how bad it is, you can smell it; you can also find mold spores."

She wondered if her face showed any signs of just how confused she was at that very moment. The only thing she knew about mold was what happened when you let a loaf of bread go bad.

"Let me see if I can make this any clearer for you. Molds are fungi. Tiny particles of mold are present in both indoor and outdoor air. Molds produce microscopic cells called spores, which are very tiny and spread through the air. Live spores act like seeds, forming new colonies when the conditions are right."

"So it multiplies? How does it even form?" Persha asked.

"Moisture. Plain and simple. Any major plumbing leak, firewood stored indoors, failure to vent clothes dryer exhaust outdoors, even watering plants can generate large amounts of moisture. Like I said, after the massive floods from Tropical storm Allison, we saw hundreds of people suffering from it. I’m sure we’ll see more cases when people start returning to their homes after Hurricanes Katrina and Rita clean ups."

"Well, now that you mention it, I did have several pipes burst during the storm, but that was repaired and I have some firewood I've been holding on to for what, two years now, I just had no idea. How come I've never heard of this?"

"Unfortunately, Ms. Townsend, you're like many people who suffer from mold-related illnesses. They don't find out about it until it actually affects them or strikes close to home."

He leaned against the counter and looked at her chart again.

"I'm um, I’m still so confused," she said.

"And I understand that confusion, but at this point, at least until the blood work comes back, I strongly recommend that you stay at a friend's house; at least for tonight so that we can verify or count out mold poisoning."

"So I need to leave my house?"

"I'm suggesting that until we get your test results back. If it's not mold poisoning as I suspect, then you can go back home and we will keep hunting for the real culprit."

"What if it is mold poisoning?" she asked.

"I don't want to scare you, but things won't get any better."

Persha's eyes narrowed. She had no idea what she was going to do, but she knew for sure she had to consider the worse case scenario.

"We'll work through this. If it's mold poisoning, we'll get you feeling better soon."

"Yeah, but basically you're saying my house is making me sick. So that means I'll have to leave the house for good if, in fact, it's mold."

"I've seen cases where that has happened."

"So what am I supposed to do while we wait?"

"You'll find someplace else to stay. I'll put you on antibiotics to clear up the mild infection, then we'll find out for sure about mold and move from there."

"Fair enough."

She felt better having been somewhat diagnosed. By the time she made it to the lobby, the doctor had suggested she go on antibiotics as a precaution.