The Doctor and Mr. Dylan (13 page)

“He manages. She lives at his house half the time. Bobby buys the groceries, makes the meals, and keeps the house clean. Echo loves him and accepts him for what he is. She never knew him in the Bobby Johnson days. She only knows her dad as Bobby Dylan. What can I do? My daughter needs a father, and he’s the only one she’s got. How’s Bobby treating you?”

“He’s treating me like a friend.”

“Be careful. You’re a threat to him. You have more medical training than Bobby does. He’s got to feel inferior to you. The way you saved his patient’s life? My God, it was your first week here, and you already showed him up.”

“He’s been humble and grateful since. It was nice of him to ask me to play in his band.”

“Did Bobby get you laid last night?”

I cringed. “I’m married.”

“That doesn’t stop most people. Bobby slept around.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I never trusted the guy.”

“I have a hard time picturing you two together,” I said. “Bobby’s rough around the edges, hair flying everywhere, gruff.  You seem … more sophisticated.” I wanted to add “and a hell of a lot better looking than him,” but I held back.

She sighed. “Bobby intrigued me. It was all about his rock n’ roll. When I met him, he was singing in a Minneapolis club, and he was so sexy. His music made me fly. I loved him. I thought he was the one.”

“And now? Is it hard to work at the same hospital as your ex-husband?”

She laughed. “He’s not my ex-husband. We never divorced.”

“Why not?”

“Bobby didn’t want to sign the papers, and I didn’t push it.”

“You still love him?”

“Oh, God, no.”

“Does he love you?”

“In his weird Bobby-like way, he does. He still sends me flowers on my birthday and on Valentine’s Day. He still flirts with me.”

I couldn’t shake Bobby’s version of his wife as a quarrelsome nag. I had to know Lena’s version. “Did you two fight a lot?”

She nodded her head and said, “Did we ever. The crazy Dylan obsession was bad enough, but after I caught him in his third affair, I’d had enough. I threw his clothes in the snow bank and locked him out. Good riddance. Don’t fuck with me.”

Whoa.
She is woman, hear her roar
. The guise of the angelic nurse-mother was peeled back. I watched her face harden as she removed the cauldron of pasta from the stove and drained the noodles through a colander.

“Your turn,” she said. “How did you meet your wife?”

“It was in San Francisco. I was out drinking with some friends at a place called the Balboa Café. Alexandra leaned over me at the bar and said, “Can a girl get a martini in this place without kissing someone’s ass?” She was gorgeous. I bought her the martini, and I’ve been kissing her ass ever since. We got married a year later, and moved out of the city. I was a research fellow in the anesthesia department at Stanford, and Alexandra started a real estate company in downtown Palo Alto.”

“Why did you two split up?”

“She’s a workaholic who has no time for me. Alexandra makes a lot more money than I do, and she doesn’t respect me at all. It’s a dead marriage. It has been for a long time.” I shrugged. “Shit happens.”

Lena shrugged in return. “Shit does happen. Can you get the kids? It’s time to eat.”

I found Johnny and Echo sunken into the marshmallow cushions of a cream-colored couch. They were watching
The Simpsons
with their lanky limbs draped over each other and their fingers entwined. I envied everything I saw: their youthful beauty, their carefree laughter, and their obvious zeal for each other.

Lena’s living room was one-tenth the size of my TV lounge in California. I stretched out my arms and almost touched the opposing walls. The most striking feature of the room was a lineup of three-foot-tall trophies covering a tabletop behind the couch. Each trophy featured a female figurine holding a broom in her outstretched arm.

“Who’s the award-winner around here?” I said.

“Those are Echo’s curling trophies,” Johnny said. “Her team won the United States Junior Championship. Curling is this Canadian sport, kind of like shuffleboard on ice. I watched her team practice yesterday. She gets down in this yoga crouch and slides across the ice like a human arrow.”

“I know all about curling,” I said. “Curling is big up here. I’m impressed. We have a national champion in our midst.”

Lena came up behind me and said, “Let’s eat, guys.” She touched my forearm, and her light caress made my skin tingle. It felt as if some angel had fluttered down and landed on the tiny hairs of my arm for a millisecond, and then flown away.

Echo and Lena led the way into the dining room. Johnny lingered behind and whispered into my ear, “This is so awesome, Dad. Everything. Coming to Minnesota was the best move we ever made.”

“It is working out, isn’t it?” I said. Life was changing, swirling like a Great Plains twister, dizzying me with newness. The two blonde Minnesota women awaited us at the dining table. I took my seat between them. Echo said, “I’ll do grace.” She held hands with Johnny and me. Lena did the same, and the four of us formed a circle of warmth around the steaming platter of pasta.

Echo prayed, “Dear Lord, thank you for this food, the roof over our heads, and my mother who takes wonderful care of me. Thank you for bringing Johnny and his dad into our lives. Help us to remember every day that all that is good comes from You. Amen.”

“Amen,” Lena said.

“Amen,” Johnny and I mumbled in quiet unison. The Antone family had never bothered to sit down together for dinner, let alone close our eyes in prayer. We’d raised our son to know that God was out there somewhere, but the only true religion was the pursuit of material success. I could see from Johnny’s face that he had no problem with Echo’s spirituality. He would have chanted incantations to Satan if that pleased her.

We released each other’s hands. Lena held onto mine a bit longer than she needed to. She picked up the platter of pasta and held it out toward Johnny. As she did, I took the opportunity to study Lena’s profile—the swoop of blonde waves over her forehead, the tiny upturned nose, the pout of her ruby lower lip—and I could not look away. Our incomparable hostess had the face of a movie starlet.

“I’ve never been to California,” Lena said. “But I feel like I have, since it seems every movie is filmed there.”

I said, “It was the same for me when I grew up here. All the TV programs showed gorgeous people driving around California in red convertibles. Every New Year’s Day the Rose Bowl game was on television. There was five feet of snow on the ground in Hibbing, but all the fans at the Rose Bowl were wearing T-shirts and shorts. I told myself, ‘I’m going to move there,’ and I did.”

“The furthest west I’ve been is Fargo,” Lena said. “I’ve never even seen an ocean.”

“Echo and her mom could come out to Palo Alto with us this summer for a vacation,” Johnny said.

“I’d like to go to Disneyland,” Echo said.

“Disneyland is about 400 miles away from where we live,” I said.

“We could take them on a drive down there. No problem,” Johnny said. “Right, Dad?”

I tried to imagine all four of us driving down Interstate 5 toward L.A. Johnny, Echo, Lena, and me. And oh yeah, how about Alexandra, that woman who just happened to be living in my house back there in Palo Alto? That woman who just happened to be my wife?

I chose the high ground and said, “Right.” The fraudulent tone of my voice said
great idea
, but the reality in my gut was
it’s never gonna happen in a million years.

Lena switched topics and said, “What’s your favorite class at Hibbing High, Johnny?”

“Physics. It’s tough, but Echo sits right behind me and whispers all the answers to me. She’s the smartest kid in school. She really is.”

Echo blushed. “Not since you moved to town.”

Johnny countered, “I’ve never seen anyone study as hard as you. Tell my dad, Echo. Tell him your plan.”

“I want to be a doctor some day,” she said.

“Tremendous. Why did you decide on that?” I said.

“I’ve been diabetic since I was six years old, and I learned first-hand how important doctors are.”

“You’re all set for your medical school interviews,” I said. “When the admissions officer asks, ‘Why do you want to be a doctor?’ you can say, ‘I’ve had diabetes since I was six, and doctors saved my life. From that moment on, I’ve never wanted to be anything else.’ The admissions officer will say to himself, ‘We need more doctors like this young woman.’”

“That’s funny,” Echo said.

“Maybe you can convince Johnny to be a doc, too.”

“Johnny can do anything he sets his mind to,” she said. “He’s a star.”

Johnny blushed and feigned intent interest in his pasta.

“I want him to try curling,” she said. “After dinner tonight, I’m taking him down to the curling club so he can give it a whirl.”

“Watch out. She’ll get you hooked,” Lena said to Johnny.

“Maybe she will,” Johnny said. “I hope she does.”

Echo and Johnny were out the door five minutes after the dinner table was cleared, and I found myself alone with Lena. She refilled our wine glasses.

“Let’s sit down and relax for a few minutes,” she said. She walked into the living room, and sank into the white couch that Echo and Johnny had warmed up earlier. There were no other chairs in the room, so I sat beside her. Our arms were touching, and we molded into the cushions.

The room light was dim. Her hair floated inches from my face, and the scent of her, part vanilla, part animal, made my head swirl. How much wine had I drunk? Enough to eradicate most of my inhibitions. She cast me a brazen, inviting smile. She was a stranger, but at this point my world was adrift in strangers.

Lena kicked off her shoes, and ran the sole of her bare foot up the length of my calf. My heart thumped. She’d played the role of a homemaker all evening. Comfortable, hospitable, unthreatening. Now she bit into her lower lip, a hungry carnivore. We were alone, and it was now apparent Lena didn’t intend to watch television. I was attracted to her—I longed to taste her lips, to touch her cheek. But just as I had with Peggy Stimac the night before, I felt an unseen barrier. I’d been attached to Alexandra for too long. I couldn’t push things any further. I pogo-sticked to my feet and said, “What a fantastic evening. I’d better get going.”

She looked puzzled and rejected. “You have to go?” Lena stood to face me, her face even with my chest. She craned her head up and looked at me, and the awkwardness of the moment paralyzed me. What was I doing? This wasn’t a date. This wasn’t the time for a good night kiss. What was it time for? Always the physician, always the professional, always the gentleman, I extended my right hand toward her and said, “Thanks so much.”

“My pleasure, Dr. Antone.”

“I told you to call me Nico.”

“OK, from now on, you’re Nico.” She shook my hand, and instead of a handshake, she tickled the inside of my palm with the tips of her fingers. It was at once flirtatious and titillating. I giggled. She grew taller, onto her tiptoes. She reached up to caress my cheek with the lightest touch imaginable, and kissed me full on the mouth.

I made no move to break the embrace. She pressed her breasts against me. My intellect told me to run, but my emotions were in a jumble. I was a lonesome soul and I craved the connection.

Lena nibbled on my lower lip and whispered, “Do you like saunas, Nico?”

“I do.”

“I have a sauna in the basement, and it’s heated up and waiting. Come. Follow me.” She took my hand and led me down a flight of stairs into a crude, unfinished basement. The only light was from a single bulb, swinging from the ceiling by its wire. She reached up, pulled a chain, and the light went off. The darkness was absolute. I heard the rustling of clothing. She grasped my hand again and guided it. Her nipple, firm and upturned, scraped against my palm. The warm peach of her breast, firm and foreign, filled my hand. Her breathing quickened in a crescendo that thrilled me, intoxicated me. In the blackness, the unseen unfolded like a dream sequence.

Lena’s mouth covered mine, and her hands worked my belt buckle. My clothes hit the floor, and she pulled me through a doorway into a desert of infernal heat. The air was sordid, torched, difficult to inhale. My eyes stung with the temperature, but in the darkness they were useless anyway.

Lena’s fingers dug into my back, and she wrapped her legs around me. Braided together, we settled downward onto the softness of a towel along a horizontal surface. I gasped in the oppressive heat. Lena Johnson was a fantasy, invisible to me and perfect. I gnawed the side of her neck like an animal. All patience descended into fury. She guided me into her—a violent, urgent, needy entry. I discarded years of frustration in mordant screams that shook the basement walls.

I’d been faithful to my wife our entire marriage, and I’d forgotten the feel, the scent, or the wetness of any woman before Alexandra. In the sightless abyss of this night, as blind as King Lear in the storm, I found Lena. I was overwhelmed and elated, touched by the wonder of physical love.

“Let’s do this again sometime, Nico,” she whispered into my ear.