Hiss Of Death

Slut,” Thadia Martin spit.

“Look who’s talking,” Paula Benton fired right back. “And just what the hell are you doing in my driveway at six at night?”

“I couldn’t stand it anymore. I’m sick and tired of your lying.”

“Thadia, you’re back on drugs.”

“How convenient. My past. I haven’t taken a drink or a toot in eleven years. I’m as sober as a judge, and you know it.” Thadia pulled the soft cashmere scarf tighter around her neck, exposing a graceful scarab bracelet on her left wrist. She jammed her hands back into her pockets as the air turned sharp, cold, this Thursday early evening.

“So what are you talking about?” Paula crossed her arms over her chest.

“Cory Schaeffer.”

“What has Dr. Schaeffer got to do with this? I assist him in the operating room.”

“You’re in love with him.”

Paula involuntarily smacked her forehead with her gloved hand. “You’re certifiable. Get out of my driveway.”

“You’ve been sleeping with him for the last year, I know it. I see how you look at him. How you make unnecessary trips to his office, and if he isn’t there you leave disappointed.”

Realizing that insulting Thadia wasn’t going to drive her away, Paula settled down as best she could under the volatile circumstances. “One, I am not sleeping with Cory Schaeffer. Two, he’s not my type. Three, he’s not my type emotionally. He asks for me whenever he operates, so, naturally, I see him in his office as well as in the operating room. If you’re this crazed about Cory, it must be you that’s in love with him. Not me.”

Good-looking Cory had boxed as an undergraduate at Iowa State. He continued as an amateur throughout medical school, still doing bag work, rope jumping, and speed bag work at Heavy Metal Gym. He participated in boxing matches if he felt he was in good condition. Certainly, he looked good to Thadia, or to any woman who admired a well-muscled man.

Thadia’s baby face mottled. “There’s more to it. You’re a liar.”

“People have been shot for calling someone that in Virginia. That’s what the natives tell me.”

“Well, I’m a native, and I’m telling you you’re a liar and a slut.”

“If it isn’t too much of an effort, upon what do you base your erroneous conclusion?”

“He always, always asks for you when he operates. Toni Enright is just as good an operating nurse as you are. This way the two of you can pretend to go over stuff after the operation and before the operation. I’m not fooled. Like I said, he could use Toni Enright at least some of the time.”

“Look. You’re not a doctor, and you’re not a nurse. You’re a drug rehab counselor. You don’t know as much as you think you know about procedure and protocol. A family practitioner sees or feels a lump. An X ray, mammogram, or MRI is administered. The patient does, in fact, have cancer. The family practitioner sends that person to Cory or another surgeon who might order a second set of diagnostics. Cory’s very good at pinpointing anything murky in the first set or looking for more in the tests he’s ordered. He sees things others don’t. If he operates, I go over those tests with him before the operation. I don’t always see what he sees. He doesn’t have to do that. He feels we’ll be a better team if I have seen the test results.”

“Bullshit.”

Paula threw up her hands. “Why am I wasting my time talking to a crazy woman? I’m going inside, and you can go back down the driveway.”

As Paula turned around, Thadia reached for her shoulder and clamped her bare hand on it. She spun Paula around. Paula threw up her arm, expecting a blow. Thadia reached up to pull her arm down. She hadn’t intended to hit Paula, but her scarab bracelet snagged Paula’s old coat and a stone flew out. Thadia, enraged, didn’t notice. Neither did Paula.

“Don’t you turn your back on me.”

Paula, one hand in her coat, felt for her cellphone. If she had to, she’d call the sheriff’s department—whatever it took to get away from this nutcase.

“Thadia, if you do not take your hand off me, if you do not get in that sorry old heap of yours and haul ass down my driveway, I am calling the sheriff.”

As furious as Thadia was, she immediately dropped her hand, pulling herself together. She’d been in prison. She’d endured three years of parole. She now had a good job working with people who had been what she once was. She understood her clients. Most drug counselors who were not former addicts did not. No matter how shaky she felt at this moment, she had enough self-possession to know that if the sheriff’s department came and wrote a complaint or, worse, took her away, she’d lose her job. It would be a long, long time before she’d find another. Her family had already disowned her. Rich though they were, she’d never inherit a penny. Her old friends had no time for her anymore, either.

“I’m sorry.” Tears came.

“You should be. You’re in love with someone who will never love you back.”

“Why?”

“Because he loves himself too much.”

“I thought you liked him. I thought you loved him.” Thadia blinked, confused.

“I wouldn’t love Cory Schaeffer if he was the last man on earth, but I’ll work with him until one of us dies.”

Thadia was more upset than ever, but no longer angry at Paula, she walked toward her car. “He’s a brilliant man. He’s a good man. He’s not afraid to try new methods.”

“No, he’s not. I wish he’d be a little less experimental, but that’s me. He has a wife and three children. Thadia, he cheats on his wife a lot. Forget him.”

“I can’t.”

“In fact, forget any man who works in the hospital but most especially a doctor. Hospitals are like petri dishes: Infidelity flourishes.” With that, Paula strolled back into her modest but attractive farmhouse.

Thadia got in her car and left. She worried that she was probably a nicer person when she was on drugs. She’d been happier inside until she had reached the point where she couldn’t afford her habit. She also knew that if you become addicted, you stop maturing when you start drinking or drugging. Emotionally, she was about twenty-five. Intellectually, she knew that, but that didn’t mean she could control her emotions in a mature manner. The irresponsibility that attends immaturity and all addictions was so much easier than growing up. However, it was hell on everyone else.

Most of all, Thadia felt wretched because she was in love with Cory Schaeffer. She wanted the attention and respect he gave Paula.

Thadia wanted a lot of things that she would probably never get.

• • •

Taking off her coat in the front hall, Paula wanted a glass of wine. Already fatigued, and now more tired out from Thadia’s outburst, she wanted only to relax. Tomorrow she wasn’t working, and she’d happily spend the day fooling around in her potting shed—an area she’d fixed up in the old barn. That gave her something to look forward to.

She smiled at last, grateful she wasn’t Thadia Martin.