Startled from her thoughts, she returned her attention to the present, hoping she hadn’t appeared far away.
He continued to look at the chart. “Your blood pressure was extremely low. You fainted. Also, your husband thought you might be depressed. He said this incident began with an argument with his niece?” After a measured nod, he puckered his lips as if the story was clear to him.
“Wayde isn’t my husband, and I fainted because I was dehydrated.” She’d spoken too fast, sounding rushed and defensive. Her eyes closed briefly as she drew in a steady breath, she needed to slow down. “The heat index was one hundred and ten degrees, and I hadn’t eaten.”
With an authoritative expression, he peered above his black rimmed glasses, took them off, and slicked his oiled black hair to the side. His appearance was reminiscent of the 1950’s. “Well, who is he?”
This time, she was the one to lower her eyes because explaining things would be difficult. After all, if she thought her decisions were foolish and reckless, what would a doctor think? “I’m separated from my husband, Nick. I live with Wayde. Things haven’t worked out. I’m planning on returning home to New York. I won’t be here much longer.”
“Says here, his young niece, Savannah, also lives with you?”
“Woman. Savannah is a woman.” Savannah is a stripper, a belligerent slob, and a drunkard whose sole purpose in life is to provoke me. Kinsley refrained with difficulty from displaying her disgust, stopping just short of an eye roll and a jerk of her head. The picture of Savannah, upside down with her shoulders and bleached blond hair hanging over the edge of the sofa seat, crossed her mind. The red stilettos she wore pointed to the ceiling, and her legs made scissoring movements as her shoulders undulated making the tassels spin. Savannah laughed as Max giggled and pointed. How could anyone act that way in front of a child?
“And your three year-old son lives with you also?” He leaned back in his chair and stared at her.
It was unsettling.
“Yes, that’s right.” Not knowing what he wanted her to say next, she stared back at him.
“Any history of anxiety?”
“No. I don’t know what Wayde said happened, but I need to get back to my son.” She may have sounded a little too desperate. Breaking eye contact, she stared at her thumbs as she began twirling them around one another. “I need to leave.” She blurted the statement out. Fearing it made her appear desperate, she clasped her restless hands and smiled, making eye contact again.
He sat, silent, with a questioning glare and jotted something down before he asked, “Mrs. Wentworth, do you have a history of depression?” He put his hands together and rested them against his lips. The way she’d learned to pray as a child.
“A long time ago … almost six years, I took some pills. So yes, at the time, I was depressed. Before the pills, but more so after, considering taking them was such a brainless move.” Unfortunately, she couldn’t avoid direct questions. She wanted him to discharge her. Would it make a difference if I told him more than wanting to die, I wanted to shake some, any type, of reaction out of my drunken husband?
It was so vivid—Angela consoling her when she heard of Nick’s tryst with Stephanie. She explained that affairs came with the territory, especially when you’re married to a rich, handsome man. Angela said she was lucky because women like Stephanie were all purchased in some way. Wives, on the other hand, were loved and compensated. “Hold your head up. This will pass. If you fight the issue, you’ll destroy the love he has for you.”
Kinsley didn’t listen, and when she fought with Nick that fateful night, she told him what Angela said. When his drunken head lifted, he stared boldly into her eyes and said, “It’s sound advice.” It broke her. The minute she swallowed the sixty Xanax, she regretted it. When Nick casually got up, went to bed, and passed out without a word—she regretted the move even more.
Nick had had several affairs following the incident with Stephanie, and she’d swallowed every one of them, but when it came to Mia, his best friend, a family friend, it was devastating. The only connection she felt for him any longer was one based on her desire for Max to grow up in a traditional family. Nick loved them, as much as he knew how to love. Despite