A Better Next Read online

  A Better Next

  Copyright © 2019 by Maren Cooper

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, digital scanning, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, please address She Writes Press.

  Published May 2019

  Printed in the United States of America

  Print ISBN: 978-1-63152-493-6

  E-ISBN: 978-1-63152-494-3

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2018965117

  For information, address:

  She Writes Press

  1569 Solano Ave #546

  Berkeley, CA 94707

  Interior design by Tabitha Lahr

  She Writes Press is a division of SparkPoint Studio, LLC.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Epigraph

  And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.

  —Anaïs Nin

  Chapter 1

  An errant breeze unfurled her loosely belted robe as Jess dipped down to pick up the newspaper snagged between budding azalea branches near the front step. She savored the touch of her nakedness as she retied her robe and smiled, rested after the deep sleep that always followed making love with Arthur. His arrival in the early-morning hours after a late flight home had been a surprise. She remembered how her skin had tingled as she’d woken to his touch, their bodies instantly aroused, hungry to satisfy themselves and each other. It had been awhile but worth the wait. She pondered the possibility that the sex had been good because no words had been spoken, body language all they had needed. Of late, that was the safest communication between them.

  She went back inside, started coffee, and considered the rare luxury of the Saturday ahead: their son, Tom, away at baseball camp; their daughter, Beth, off at Stanford; and Arthur in town. She carried the newspaper to the bedroom, shivering as she dropped her robe on the floor near her nightgown, and slipped back into bed to spoon Arthur and extend the mood.

  “Your feet are cold.”

  “Exactly why I’m here.” She giggled and planted baby kisses on his shoulders, still youthful from years of hockey, now some thirty years earlier.

  “Paper here?” Arthur sat up and pulled it from the middle of the bed, forcing Jess to adjust her position. “And did I hear you start coffee?” He yawned, looked past her at the bedside clock, and flinched. “Is it really ten fifteen? I’ve got to get to the lab.” He gave her the briefest of kisses and hightailed it to the shower.

  She followed him into the bathroom, already losing hope. “You know, you just flew into town. Maybe you could take the day off, for a change, and spend some time with your wife?”

  “Can’t hear you. Can I have coffee ready to go in a thermal mug?”

  And that was that. No surprise to Jess. They again went their separate ways, she to the grocery store and dry cleaner, and Arthur to the lab for a few hours. After a midafternoon lunch together in the kitchen, Jess saw the opportunity to nail down the family calendar for the next few months. It was always complicated, and as Beth neared the end of her sophomore year and her upcoming theater performance and Tom approached his senior year of high school, they had important dates to prioritize that spring.

  “Aha! Gotcha. You’re here, so let’s do this thing.” Jess grabbed the calendar posted on the bulletin board above the kitchen-corner office with an eye on Arthur.

  “I’ve gotta go in a minute. Can this wait?” he groaned, taking his lunch dishes to the sink and dropping them in noisily.

  “It will take only five minutes, and no, it can’t wait. Your haircut isn’t until four.”

  “Can’t you just do it?” He was backing out of the kitchen.

  “Nope. This is our family, not my family, and if I schedule something that doesn’t work for you . . . well, we know how that ends.” She feigned pulling her hair out and put her arms around him to corral him back to the kitchen work island, placing the calendar in the center. His body was rigid as he perched on the lip of a stool. Exhaling loudly, he went through the mail stacked on the island and responded in monosyllables when prodded. Jess kept her eyes on the calendar, quickly transcribing the decisions, as she knew he would not indulge her for long.

  They made plans to meet at Stanford for Beth’s play in April; Arthur would fly in from a meeting, Jess from their home in St. Louis. Tom’s baseball games and prom night were still not sorted properly, but they had some luck with Arthur’s schedule around their son’s debate tournament. Jess wondered how they had ever been able to work any adults-only time into their schedule.

  She turned the page to July and pointed at the big circle in the middle. “I guess we’ll have a major celebration when the merger actually happens.”

  “You mean, if it happens,” Arthur challenged, a hard edge in his voice. Jess knew he was concerned his academic career would lose its luster when a large private health care system took over his university hospital. And the fact that Jess worked as a consultant representing Midwest Health, the very system in question, certainly didn’t help matters.

  “Don’t be silly. There’s no stopping it now,” Jess said, sorting through Tom’s college application papers to check fall deadlines.

  “You sound sure of yourself.” Arthur’s voice rose. “And you don’t have a clue how wrong it is, do you?” He threw the sorted mail down in a huff, empty envelopes scattering onto the floor.

  “Arthur, calm down. We don’t have to go to any celebration if you don’t want to go. I just thought it might be . . .” Jess reached for his hand, but he went for the envelopes.

  “Might be what—fun for you and your friends to have a victory party?” His face was growing red.

  “Arthur, you know that’s not the way anyone looks at this.” But Jess’s words rang hollow, even to her. She knew mergers were always tough, even when both parties got something they wanted; people always needed a winning side. This one was particularly challenging. Protecting a university’s mission of medical education and research while pursuing Midwest Health’s business need to drive patient volume was akin to walking a tightrope.

  Suddenly, Arthur’s face became a mask of anger. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll be gone once the new regime is in charge!” he blustered as he shot off his stool so quickly, it rocked back and forth precariously. He stormed out of the room, leaving Jess open-mouthed, holding the family calendar. She jumped up, steadied the stool, and followed him.

  “Arthur, why are you so upset? Let’s discuss this.” Arthur dodged her, and seeing that he intended to leave the room, she quickened her pace. Her anger finally matched his. “What are you talking about?” she yelled at him. “Come back here! What are you saying?”

  He rounded the corner from the kitchen, beelining for the door to the garage, and said, “I’ve had enough! I’m taking my research to Portland, where I’ll be appreciated.” Behind him a step or two, she opened the just-slammed door to the garage in time to see his body turn to drive out. With no chance to make eye contact or be heard, she screamed, “Arthur! Arthur! What are you saying? Come back here!”

  Her heart beating out of her chest and her fists closed tightly, she watched the door move down its track, looking like a willing prizefighter with no ready opponent.

  She slammed the same door almost as hard as Arthur, but failed an
d then tried again and succeeded. She backed herself against it and lowered herself to the floor. Her breathing slowed. She saw Tom’s missing sock under the bench in the entry and reached for it. It reminded her that she had laundry to fold. She pulled herself up and sleepwalked to the laundry room. She took out the fluffy and fresh-smelling clothes and swaddled herself with a still-warm towel while she stood at the utility room table, sorting and folding. Lots of men’s briefs and T-shirts—nothing of Beth’s. She missed having her daughter’s girlie clothes around.

  She climbed the stairs to put it all away, finally taking the towel from her shoulders, and peeked into Beth’s room. The stuffed animals were still in order. She reached for her daughter’s favorite dog-eared teddy bear and hugged it tightly to her chest, closing her eyes. After a moment, she repositioned the bear on the bed and returned to the kitchen.

  The damn calendar had landed on a stool, pages aflutter. She picked it up and threw it back on the island. It landed, face up to June, that month now undone from its spiral tether.

  As she threaded it back into place, she thought, I can’t even breathe. I have to get some air before I explode, and pictured the welcome feel of pavement under her feet. She walked through the house twice before she found her running shoes, and searched three closets for a waterproof jacket. She fiddled with the stuck zipper until it unlocked so suddenly that the rapid motion got away from her and nearly pinched her neck. She looked at the ceiling and held her breath for five beats before leaving the house.

  The wind whipped the patio furniture covers as she set out for her jog. It was starting to rain—not the best conditions for running. But nothing could stop her from finding a way to rebalance, maybe just go numb for a bit, not overthink anything.

  After a block or two, she stopped gulping for air and breathed more steadily. She settled enough to take a quick inventory of her body and confirm that she was sure-footed as she navigated the slippery pavement. She was already getting wet, but her slicker would keep her upper body dry, so she was good to go the distance without turning back and facing Arthur too soon. She had to be calm before she could see him again.

  Jess hoped her forty-five-year-old legs wouldn’t give out as she rounded the first mile, past the nearby college campus buildings, noticing lights on inside and out. Dusk was falling, and the rain was coming down harder. Not many people around. Spring was unpredictable and could range from snow and sleet to early heat all in one week. She watched a couple run for their car, laughing as they tried to share an umbrella.

  During the second mile, she tried to collect her thoughts, and on the third mile challenged herself to close off all emotion and focus on her next steps. She would not give up on this relationship. Too much at stake, too much pain for the people she loved to consider that.

  Her mind darted wildly to an assortment of theories for Arthur’s outburst. She had felt him pulling away for months. She couldn’t remember the last time they had taken an evening stroll through their neighborhood or shared an intimate dinner out. She knew their work situation was part of the problem. It was bound to be difficult for them to be involved in opposing sides of a health care merger, but she had thought her twenty-plus-year marriage could survive the temporary strain.

  All the principals at her firm who were working on the merger had had to disclose any real or potential conflicts of interest, and of course Jess had done so. She stated that she was married to a professor of surgery whose interest would lie with the university and not with Midwest Health, run by Dick Morrison, her client. Paperwork filed, she and Arthur had agreed not to discuss business at home during this time. But that wasn’t a real change. Although he appreciated the sizable salary she brought in, he had never considered her health care consulting work particularly important. Not like curing cancer—which was, of course, what he was attempting to do.

  But what would picking up his research and moving to Portland mean? It was an announcement, not up for discussion. Arthur was a gifted scientist with intellectual interests ranging far and wide. She had never known him to get overwrought about any business aspects of health care. Did the merger with his beloved university really make him feel this distraught? Was he that worried his research would be compromised in the new system?

  The fourth and last mile was a struggle. The wind grew stronger and the rain even heavier. Her lower body was soaked through. And even though she was not ready to go home, she needed to deal with whatever came next. Her pace slowed considerably. One of her laces had come loose, and her socks had disappeared into the heels of her shoes, but she had made it. Only one light was on, in the living room.

  As Jess came up the stairs after shedding her wet clothes, Arthur called to her from the lit corner of the room, using his dismissive voice: “You have forty-five minutes to get ready for the concert. We’re picking up the Myerlys at seven fifteen.”

  She considered storming in and yelling her head off, but she was so bedraggled that she didn’t have it in her to grasp the moment, so she merely whispered, “OK.” She finally released tears of hurt and confusion in the sanctuary of a hot shower. Ever the well-preserved doctor’s wife, she was ready for the concert in forty minutes flat, but not for the conversation now looming ahead of them.

  Chapter 2

  No time for chatting on Sunday. The usual blur of catching up on laundry and household tasks and planning for the week occupied Jess, who barely saw Arthur, out somewhere until dinner. Sunday evening was always reserved for family and real conversation with the kids, now just Tom, at home. She was tired but put some effort into making chicken marsala, one of Tom’s favorite dishes. He was full of fun stories about the baseball camp and hungry for home cooking. Arthur went to his home office after dinner cleanup, and Jess went to bed. She chalked up Saturday’s drama to his letting off steam, something he could do safely with her. She was glad the merger would be finished soon—they needed to get back on the same team.

  She overslept and got to work after nine a.m. on Monday. A scrawled note from Dan taped to her door and a blinking message light on her phone greeted her as she walked into her roomy space in the law offices of Getz and Braun. A floor-to-ceiling window facing north toward the Mississippi River gave her light without the blinding sun of an east or west orientation. A sitting area for casual meetings and a small conference table for work sessions allowed her to get most of her office work done right here.

  Dan had offered her a corner office opposite his, but that wasn’t her style. She much preferred being in the middle of things, able to watch people traffic up and down the corridor through the glass door. She had given up the freedom of her private consulting practice to bring her staff in-house with his law firm three years before. She had tired of the marketing part of her business, and Dan had the infrastructure she needed to tap into. She found she no longer craved the ego boost of finding new business in the complicated world of health care. Her clients followed her, and Dan seemed to love having her business skill set readily available to his legal clients.

  They had a good working relationship, based on mutual respect and a shared moral code honed by having faced similar family dysfunction as children. But it was rare for him to summon her this way. What could be so urgent?

  “Ah, Jess, good. You’re here,” Dan said as he motioned for her to take a seat in his grand corner office, with a panoramic view of downtown St. Louis. The skyline had grown more impressive over the past few years, new towers having diminished the size of the US Bank Plaza and One Metropolitan Square. The Gateway Arch remained the breathtaking structural statement among them all.

  “Of course,” she responded, still curious about why he had hunted her down early this Monday morning, when she wanted to do nothing more than put the surreal events of the weekend behind her and delve into work.

  “What’s this about Arthur leaving the university?” Dan asked her.

  Her head jerked up so suddenly that she was sure her glasses moved. She looked at him straight on and noticed
he seemed uncharacteristically flustered. Buying time, she asked, “Excuse me? Who told you that?”

  “Dick called me this morning and asked me about it. He’s concerned that any departure by a senior university doctor will cause a morale problem and wondered if I had heard. Frankly, he was ticked that I hadn’t given him a heads-up.” Dan stood against the sunlit window, causing her to squint up at him. She couldn’t see his eyes, but his crossed arms and stiff posture told her he was annoyed. If that annoyance was directed at her, she was about to let him know he was wrong.

  She slowly stood up and moved behind his desk to face him directly. Nose to nose, they were the same height when Jess wore heels. “Dan, whose business is this, may I ask?”

  He moved back slightly, shrinking into a more conciliatory pose. “Jess, you know how this looks to Dick.”

  “How about you, Dan? How does ‘this’ look to you? What is this anyway?” She held her ground, glad that she had taken the time to dress in an elegant brown-and-cream business suit that helped her pull off her steely tone. Her career depended on being impeccably groomed and ready to exert personal power at a moment’s notice. After the ragged weekend she’d had, she had a reserve of anger that she could access easily.

  Just then, Amy, Dan’s assistant, brought coffee in and set it on the table near the sitting area, picking up on the thick tension in the room. Amy was new to the job but a pro in knowing when to listen in on conversations and when to make a quick departure, which she did now, taking some of the battle out with her.

  “Jess, listen. Let’s have some coffee.” Dan touched her shoulder lightly and guided her back to the table. “I apologize. But Dick has a way of getting me irked more than I should let him.”

  They sat. Dan poured her coffee, his voice softening. “So, how do you think Amy is doing so far? Her first performance check-in is next week. Any input for me?”