STOLEN LOVE

OUR WORK LIFE

It was a question he hoped I’d ask. He smiled and nodded and led me down the hall to the master suite wing. My eyes lit up when I threw open the double doors to the master bedroom and I saw the made-up four-post king-sized bed.

As one of the major medical practitioners of a private hospital in Hatwick City, Martinez was responsible for the overall administration and management of the hospital's medical staff and services. As the head of the hospital, he would oversee and coordinate the delivery of medical care, ensure quality control, manage the hospital's finances, and implement policies to improve patient care and satisfaction.

This position required a combination of medical knowledge, leadership skills, and business acumen, which Martinez had altogether, and to crown it all, he made some good money from the profession.

Later on, Martinez decided to have his clinic. He rented a nice complex which he used for his clinic. He hired health professionals who were experienced in the field.

I and Martinez were always busy most of the time. I was working my a*s off at The Legends, but I did not neglect my husband. Martinez was working even longer hours than me as he threw himself into the fast-paced and demanding world of health care and medicine.

By the end of the third month, Martinez's clinic was receiving enough revenue for him to start paying himself a modest salary. I was also well paid and had a leased Lexus for which my firm paid, so we were well set financially. Martinez paid our household expenses and I used my salary to furnish the house and acquire a new wardrobe.

I was proud of my husband and Martinez was also proud of me as I blossomed and gained confidence. Although he missed my long hair, Martinez was happy for me when I had my tresses cut to a professional shoulder length and stylishly waved.

He did not begrudge the time and money I spent on my appearance, and he was pleased and proud when I started wearing figure-flattering skirts and blouses with my business jackets, instead of the tailored trousers I once preferred.

I thought my new look was much softer, more feminine and even a little sexy.

Martinez was a social animal, and I was delighted to be his escort at the frequent social functions he was required to attend. I wasn’t crazy about the idea of dressing up in figure-flattering skirts and blouses but being with my vivacious and sophisticated husband made it all worthwhile.

For his part, since I cleaned up well and could hold up my end of a conversation on most topics, Martinez never complained about me being less outgoing than he was, or that I didn’t have anything in common with his contemporaries. He also didn’t complain about me missing a number of his events because of my commitment to The Legends. How could he when “work comes first” was his mantra?

As I climbed up the ladder at The Legends, my workload throttled back, but Martinez’s kept increasing. He seldom arrived home before seven in the evening, and he usually brought some files home with him to go through. As his hours grew progressively longer, I made mention of it one night after we’d gone to bed.

“I’m worried you’re working too hard, Honey.”

I felt him shrug in the dark beside me.

“There's an influx of patients into the hospital these days, and we have to prove that we're up to the task as a clinic. I am more than willing to do whatever it takes. My medical assistant, Julie, encourages me a great deal. She has been of great help and encouragement these days.”

I met Julie Dane and two of the Senior Nurses of Martinez’s clinic at their Christmas party. Julie was one of the movers and shakers in our city, and the acknowledged driving force behind the clinic's success. I knew Julie’s effort carried a lot of weight regarding Martinez’s career.

“I understand, Mart. Just don’t burn yourself out, okay?” I said.

“Not a problem,” he confidently replied. With Martinez so often busy with his career, I started taking on more work and responsibilities at the firm. I set up one of our unused bedrooms as a home office for me and had Charles Manson hook me up with some computer equipment that kept me linked to the large terabyte server at my regular office. I didn’t share the large home office Martinez had designed, because he believed that my being in there was a distraction for him.

With all we had going on, I still thought Martinez and I had a very good relationship. Sure, we didn’t act all crazy in love like my parents, but I thought that was probably a good thing. I loved my husband with every fibre of my soul, and to me, our marriage was built on deep affection and respect for each other, traits I thought would much better stand the test of time. Also, I figured the early effort we were putting into our careers would soon pay off and we’d have more time for each other ... and for the family, I saw us within my daydreams.

It was apparent that all my hopes and dreams and expectations had been totally wrong, shattered in one fell swoop on the afternoon of our fourth anniversary.

I was broken out of my self-pitying reverie when George pulled to a stop in front of his immaculate three-bedroom Cape Cod-style house. It was one of the houses he inherited from his father before his death. His ex-wife would have claimed the house as a part of her divorce settlement in addition to the other things she claimed, if it were not an extended family property.

To his credit, George did not mention my problems as I followed him, zombie-like into the kitchen, even when his twin eighteen-year-old sons looked at us in wide-eyed surprise.