The Accident

3

3

Saturday I motored downtown to Carrie’s condo to pick her up for our evening with the Hempsteads. I called her just before I left so she would be ready. Parking around her building was always a problem. The building only contained underground parking for the residents. Nothing was provided for visitors who had to depend upon available street parking, or the public parking structures blocks away. Usually efficient, Carrie waited by the door and met me, dashing through a fine rain mist, as I pulled up in front of her condo.

“You smell good,” she said, as she shut the door and arranged herself into her seat.

“You do, too,” I glanced at her, curving my lips into a wide smile. “Your hair looks great, swept to one side and a head band that sparkles. I hope you didn’t spend a half day on that.”

“When do you care about how I spend my time? FYI a client owes me money for services and pays down her bill doing my hair.”

I merged into traffic. “That’s clever.”

“Yes, and you could have ended with the compliment.”

“You’re right. Should we start all over again?”

“We’re well beyond that. Why don’t you tell me about your friends?”

“Win and Sara Hempstead. Win is a psychiatrist and Sara …I’m not sure. She was a buyer for a furniture store. That ended when the company folded. I’m not sure what she is doing nowadays. The Hempsteads were a couple that Hanna and I frequently got together with. That stopped when we got divorced. One of its casualties.”

“Seems to be quite prevalent with divorces.”

“Sadly, that’s true. Anyways, Win and I have been running into each other at the hospital. He invited us to dinner.”

“Hmm, will I be compared to Hanna, your ex?”

“I only have limited control over the minds of my patients.”

She playfully squeezed my side with her hand. “I’ll play it up good. Flirt, tease you, make like I want to jump your body.”

I laughed. I knew Carrie was playing with me. Our relationship was platonic, the way we both wanted it to be. “You’ll like them. Nice people. Win can be a hard ass at times. Sara is always very warm.” The misting rain was blurring my vision. I did a quick swipe with the windshield wiper. “Win and I go way back… college, med school…”

“How come I never heard you mention him?”

“Good question…we had a falling out…years ago…I can’t really remember what happened. I’ll have to think about that. For some reason, we just didn’t get together. Neither of us called the other. Then after Kevin…nothing was like it used to be.” The mist was heavier now. I put the intermittent wiper on, then turned on to I-90 to cross Lake Washington and get to Mercer Island, which boasted of some of the most affluent housing in the Seattle area. Driving over the bridge surrounded by water among light traffic always lifted my senses as if I could commune with the free-wheeling seagulls that shared the area.

The Hempstead home had to be somewhere in the top tier of the housing on the island. I pulled in to the three-level glass home on the waterfront. The home was stunning, yet, for some reason, the proverb: people who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones reverberated in my head. Both Hempsteads greeted us at the front door and gave us an opportunity to marvel at the home. Carrie fawned over the glass structure and learned about insulated glass and self-washing windows, and the Hempsteads fawned over Carrie. Sara gave us a tour of the lower level while Win poured Carrie a glass of wine and fixed a scotch on the rocks for me.

“Forgive me for not having you over before now,” Sara said, once we were all seated in the living room. Tall and lithe, she was draped in an expensive violet chiffon lace dress; her short dark hair blunt cut. Near forty-two, she looked as young and vibrant as ever. “Certainly, we saw you and Hanna as individuals. I don’t know why…”

“I think couples are threatened by the divorce of their friends,” Win interjected.

“Good insight,” I said, “but you did come to the services for Kevin.”

Teary-eyed, Sara asked, “How is Hanna?”

“You haven’t talked with her?”

“Just that once after Kevin’s death. Not since.”

“I guess she is doing as well as can be expected. Neither of us will ever be the same. Call her. She would like that. You two were close. Hanna rarely initiates anything on her own yet.”

Sara nodded, her eyes misty. “I will.”

“I saw her walking down the street the other day,” Win said. “She appeared to be going to a Starbucks. She was looking good.” Sporting a pencil-thin mustache, he looked debonair with leading man movie-star looks. He dressed casually in a blousy blue shirt and dark blue linen pants.

“Better than she has in a long time,” I said, “but she still hasn’t gained all the weight back.”

“Is she seeing anyone?” Win asked.

“She’s been dating on and off. Besides that, I don’t know.”

We were seated on soft, stylish chairs in front of the living room bay window with a magnificent view of Lake Washington when Win asked, “How long have the two of you been dating?”

I smiled at Carrie’s wink. “We’re just good friends.”

“Bosom buddies,” Carrie interjected with a devilish smile.

“Friends with benefits?” Win asked, a gleam in his eye.

“Many benefits,” I said, “but not the kind you mean. We are good friends, have been for many years. In fact, I’m surprised you’ve never met. Carrie and I work out of the same building. I rent offices from Carrie’s father.”

“You still upstairs?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Isn’t that a problem for elderly patients, the stairs, I mean.”

“Not as much as I imagined. For most, hiking upstairs is good for your health. I do have one lady with a heart condition who can’t manage. Carrie lets me use the conference room for her.”

“What do you do, Carrie?”

“I’m an attorney. Criminal defense.”

“I can never tell when I might need a defense attorney what with the number of malpractice lawsuits,” Win said.

“That’s not my specialty. I hope you’re never sued.”

“So far, so good.” He knocked on the arm of the chair. “I didn’t know men and women could be close friends without…a…”

“We work at it,” Carrie said, anticipating his question.

Win stood and motioned Carrie over. “Come, I want to show you something.” When she stood he walked her over to the fireplace mantle, picked up an NCAA baseball trophy on a walnut stand with the NCAA coat of arms engraved in gold and a gold-plated baseball pitcher on the bottom. “This is an exact replica of the 1996 baseball championship trophy at Udub. Having this is a no-no,” He winked, “but what the hell, it’s for my private use. I make no secret it’s not the original.”

Sara shook her head. “He’s so vain. Had to have it. I think he polishes it once a week.”

Win laughed. “She’s just jealous because she doesn’t have one. We won the championship that year. Did your boyfriend…?”

“My friend…”

“Grant must have told you about it.”

Forehead creased, Carrie looked at me.

I shrugged.

“He and I won the big game,” Win continued, primping for Carrie. “Bottom of the ninth. We’re losing by a run. Two outs. Grant is up. He has two strikes on him. Looks like we’re going to lose. He lines a single over second base. Then I come up…” He looks at me “Tell her what happens, Grant.”

I looked at Carrie and said in a low key voice “Win hits one out of the park. We win the championship.”

“Yes!” Win shouts and raises his arms into the air.

Carrie politely claps.

“We should go into the dining room,” Sara said, standing. “The roast is ready to be carved.”

“You’re going to love this,” Win said as we walked in. “Sara let Nan, our cook, go for the evening. Sara wanted to personally make this for you.”

After a wonderful prime rib dinner Win and I retired to the heated solarium and dropped down into cushy leather chairs while Sara showed Carrie the rest of the house.

“This is the only room Sara lets me smoke in,” Win said, offering me a thick, Cuban cigar. “I’m down to, maybe, one a month now. Special times like now, when relaxing with a good friend, demand a goddamn good cigar.” He mouthed his cigar to wet the end. “Besides, at $25 a pop, I can’t see giving them up until I finish the box.”

I smiled, lifted the cigar up to my nose and inhaled the earthy, leathery scent.

Win lit his, then held the butane lighter while I lit mine. He poured us each a brandy snifter. “You got to like this. A French brandy I brought back from Paris.”

I sipped. It was smooth. Delicious. “You’re spoiling me, Win. This could become a habit.”

“That’s what friends are for. You want to start up those poker games again?”

“No, I lost interest and Al and Gene moved away. You still playing?”

“Yeah, I got into some high stakes games. Probably shouldn’t play anymore. Keep this to yourself. Sara doesn’t know.” He swirled the brandy in his glass, and a sad smile turned the corners of his mouth. “I’ve got a patient I’d like you to see. Her name is Lara Stewart. Mid-thirties, she’s bi-polar and has been exhibiting some bizarre behavior, like running outside in her birthday suit among other things. I don’t think I can help her anymore. I’d like you to takeover.” Anticipating my objection from the puzzled look on my face, he glanced over his shoulder to make sure the door was closed, leaned closer, grimaced and lowered his voice. “I might as well tell you because she will. We had a thing…It was brief and years ago. She was irresistible. One thing led to another.”

“Christ, Win, you should have known…”

“Several years ago, Grant…I…” He flushed, bowed his head in embarrassment.

He didn’t need my moralizing. I shook my head. “Go on.”

“It was my one and only…Sara can’t know… Lara started making innuendos… suggesting we pick up where we left off…it’s best that I don’t see her.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I want you to make her go away.”

“I’m not your heavy, Win. I’m a psychiatrist.”

Sara knocked, then opened the door. She waved the smoke away. “Put that smoke eater on, Win.” She smiled at me to show that she wasn’t upset that we were smoking. “Win, what did you do with those carpet swatches? I want to show Carrie.”

He rolled his eyes “I didn’t do anything with them. I saw you put them in the closet.”

“You’re right. Sorry to bother you. I’m such a scatterbrain lately.” She waved to me, shut the door and left.

“I would never ask you to do anything illegal or immoral.” Win said, continuing where he left off. “She needs help. Should she tell you about our affair, or that she has designs on me, simply push her in another direction. Getting involved with me does not resolve her problems.”

I agreed although I suspected there was more to the story than Win was letting on.

He grimaced. “I’m not proud of what I did, Grant. It was when Sara and I were at a low point.”

“I assume Cole is out for the evening?” I asked once we were all gathered in the living room.

“Yeah.” Win shook his head. “Who knows where he goes? If we try to pin him down, he gets defensive.”

“It’s been worse since he’s been away at school. He’s used to living on his own,” Sara said.

“I know you can’t tell me what you talked about,” Win said. “Cole sees me as controlling, but you have to understand that he graduated with a 2.0 average. Most grad schools won’t take him with that average. That’s why I’m on his back. We need to begin planning now.”

“Everyone doesn’t need to go to grad school,” I said.

“I mean…if he knew what he wanted to do…”

“Win, we don’t need to discuss this now,” Sara said.

“I just want Grant to know where I’m coming from.”

“Please,” she said, daring him to continue.

The conversation turned to other things. Before long it was after 11:00 PM, time for Carrie and me to leave. As soon as we set foot outside, Sara joined us and shut the door behind her. She spoke directly to me. “I’m not opposed to Cole going to Europe as Win is. I understand his need to find himself. But I’m frightened by all the violence over there. I need you to keep an eye on him, Grant. I know you can’t share what he told you, but he’s not making good choices. He comes home bombed. He knows not to drink and drive. I’d rather he call me anytime, day or night, and I’d pick him up rather than have him drive drunk. We’ve talked about that. If I’m not available, he is to take a taxi or an Uber.”

“I’ll do what I can, but Cole determines when to see me. We’re not on any kind of a regular appointment structure.”

“I’ll talk to Cole, urge him to set up a schedule.” She hugged me, then hugged Carrie again.

“Thanks for a wonderful evening,” Carrie said.

“Your friend is full of himself,” Carrie said, as we drove away. “Is he always like that?”

“Especially when he wants to show off.”

“That baseball championship is something to be proud of. How come you never mentioned it?”

I shrugged, turned on to the highway. “That was a long time ago.”

“Still?”

“I don’t live in the past.” I glanced at her and made eye contact. “It was a fantastic experience I’ll always be proud of and treasure, but no one wants to hear me rail about it.”

“Does Win live in the past?”

I paused to think about my answer. “He frequently replays the past. I think there’s something about that which accounts for the break in our contact. But no, I wouldn’t say he lives in the past. He was born into privilege and believes he’s entitled, that all the rules don’t apply to him. We’re from different sides of the tracks. It’s a wonder we’re friends.”

She scoffed, raised her eyes to me. “Did he always have that tic by his right eye?”

“What tic?”

She tried to reproduce it, opening and closing her right eye. I burst out laughing. “If he did that I would have noticed. Did you like Sara?”

She had many good things to say about Sara.