Page 118 of Just One Look
Wives and Girlfriends
Drat.Elizabeth’s phone was ringing. Here she was, cramming in some exercise after work with Webster on Friday evening before heading over to Luka’s for dinner with Marko and Nyree, and now, she had to answer the phone.
She stopped running, almost fell over, since Websterdidn’tstop, pulled the phone out of her bra to check the number, switched her headphones on, and said, “Hi, Dad.”
“I’m on call and had a free moment,” her father said, “so I’m checking in. I’ve barely heard from you since you arrived. Tell me that means that you’ve recognized the likely consequences of this decision and are arranging to come home to repair the damage.”
“Nope,” she said. Her father hated “Nope.” More lazy language. That was probably why she said it. “Know what I’m doing right now?”
“Not ground-breaking surgery, apparently,” he said.
“I’m running with my dog along Viaduct Harbour at sunset. Well, I’m walking now, but Iwasrunning. Beside a yacht harbor, at the moment, and alongside all these outdoor restaurants where people are sitting and relaxing and having another glass of wine, because it’s Friday night and it’s not actually freezing.”
“It’s barely six-thirty,” he said.
“You’re right. It’ll get much busier later. People here are serious about their leisure time.”
“You know I’m not talking about that. You’re finished with work already? And a dog? What dog?”
“Mydog. Well, my temporary dog. It’s actually surprisingly gratifying, having a dog.”
“I hope it’s well behaved, at least,” Baxter said. “And clean.”
“It’s just exactly not,” she said. “I’m working on it, but you could call my progress ‘mixed.’ It’s also the hairiest dog in the world. But after we do this run, which will sadly be accompanied by a lot of moaning and sweating, which won’t be the dog, I’m going to have dinner with a couple of rugby players.”
“With a couple of …”
“I’m a rugby WAG,” she said. “That’s what they call it.”
“Awhat?”
“Wives and girlfriends. WAGs. I’m one. Surprise!”
“Elizabeth,” he said. “Have you been drinking?”
“Well, not yet. But later tonight? Probably. You wanted to check in, and that’s my news. Big, hairy dog. Pro-rugby-player boyfriend. General air of chaos. How are things going for you?”
He paused, and when he went on, his voice was deliberately calm, but with such withering disapproval behind it. That voice had scared her as a kid. Well, all right, as an adult, too. “If this is some belated adolescent rebellion,” he said, “it’s not cute, and it’s not funny. It’s pathetic. You’re thirty-four years old. You’re a Hopkins-trained surgeon. You’re a Wolcott, and I hope that still means something. You’re throwing your life away, and this … this groupie thing, or whatever it is? That’s worse. Do you actually believe that an elite athlete is going to be seriously interested in you? Those men date models. He wants sex, I’ll believe that. He’s not going to want anything more from you. And all of this, this trying to be something you’re not—it’ll do nothing but embarrass you. And me, too, because behavior like this? If you’re really doing it, and not just talking about it like a sullen teenager? It dishonors both of us. Is that what you want, when your colleagues ask how you’re doing at conferences, for me to tell them the truth? For me to admit that this is my daughter?”
She didn’t seem to be scared. Instead, she was partly mad, and partly … well, it was funny, wasn’t it? Because she seemed to be laughing. Angrily, but still. “Itdishonorsme?Andyou? What, having sex? That’s a pretty high bar, isn’t it? Am I the priestess of medicine, then? Or maybe it’s practicing surgery in another country. All I know is—I’ve been acting like a grown woman all my life. Maybe Iwantto be a teenager. Maybe I’ll start, I don’t know, surfing and smoking marijuana. I’ve decided I need a hobby, and so far, all I have is this dog and one very mediocre game of squash. I don’t think I’m going to improve much as a runner, so that’s probably out. The marijuana could be a bad idea, but I’m looking forward to the squash. My new boyfriend says he’ll teach me, since he’s a professional athlete and all. Although possibly imaginary, since I’m apparently delusional.”
“I can’t talk to you,” her father said, “if you’re going to behave so irrationally. The world isn’t a joke. Your life isn’t a joke.”
“Really? Maybe my lifeisa joke. Maybe it’s supposed to be a joke.” It was amazing how freeing ten thousand miles of distance could be, except that now, the doubt was trying to creep in.
This wasn’t her. It had all felt brave and daring to say, butwasit actually pathetic? Was it just all the emotional yo-yoing she’d done, these past weeks? Or had her stunted emotions actually been protecting her, because what lay beneath them was some kind of personality disorder?
No. She’d know if she had a personality disorder, or Jordan would, and Jordan would tell her. And she wasn’t going to think about what her father had said about elite athletes and so forth. She was going to erase that. “I saw Lauren last night, by the way,” she said instead. “Still beautiful, and as kind as ever. She’s very happy and doing great, if you wanted to know.”
Her dad had barely mentioned Lauren to her since that long-ago trip. She’d been glad, in a cowardly way, because thinking about Lauren made her feel guilty. Now, she wondered—didhefeel guilty? Was that why he’d never brought her up?
“When did I suggest,” he said, “that I wanted to know?”
“You didn’t? Sorry, then.” Either he did feel guilty, or he was still mad at Lauren for leaving him. Or he was mad at Laurenbecausehe felt guilty.
Wait. It was definitely that last one. It was as if she were holding a glass up to a wall to listen to what the people on the other side were saying, she had so much more clarity now. And it was time to cut this off.
“Well, look,” she said. “I’ve got to run back home with this dog and get ready for my date with the imaginary rugby players.”
