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Chapter Thirty-Three
Grace
Dr.Branson’s office looks different.It looks like he’s rearranged the furniture; everything has been moved about.It smells stuffy, like mold and old books, the way moving tends to make things smell.It’s like walking into a library that hasn’t been opened in years, the scent of paper, dust, and mold causing you to wrinkle your nose.
He greets us with a pleasant smile, despite the disarray.I watch with trepidation as he locks the door, as he turns and motions toward the champagne chilling in the wastepaper basket.It’s the same one he’d handed me when he thought I might be sick.
I do a scan of the room, immediately spotting three champagne flutes on his desk.I think about Elizabeth and how she spent all afternoon carefully crushing the pills, stuffing the remnants in a sock which she currently has buried in her bosom.It's a good thing.There's no good way to hide much of anything where I am concerned.Sadly, I was not blessed with Elizabeth's curves.
“Nice to see you both,” he says, walking to his desk, where he leans forward and pulls the glasses closer.Elizabeth smiles as he lifts the bottle from the ice, pops the cork, and pours three glasses.He does not give her his usual smile in return.Instead, he gives her a quick nod that makes her squirm.I don't blame her.I want to squirm, too, when I see the way he looks at her.
He offers us each a flute and we take them, a little confused, though this is what he promised.This is what we came for.“I’m glad you're both here.I have some news to tell you.”
“Let’s toast,” he says.“To Elizabeth on her birthday.”
“To Elizabeth,” I say, and we each take a sip of champagne.I nearly choke, and it’s not just on account of my nerves.The bubbles feel foreign on my tongue.It's been so long since I've had anything other than the cloudy water they serve in this place, and immediately my senses feel overwhelmed.
“Have a seat,” he says.Elizabeth and I look at each other.“Go on,” he motions.“Make yourself comfortable.”
We have to sit on the floor, it's all so cluttered with boxes and books.The chairs are stacked against the wall.Dr.Branson perches on the edge of his desk.Elizabeth sits opposite me, her back against the filing cabinet.I can't help but notice she sticks close to the door.
His office looks really different.And it feels different too.I don't like it.
“I’m leaving my practice,” he says, looking at each of us in turn.
We glance at each other at the same time and then at him.
“Consider this my going away party.”
This is unexpected, to say the least.Does he sense the walls closing in on him?Does he sense that one or both of us is going to talk, that we are going to tell someone what he has been up to?Someone who matters.Someone who might do something about it.
“Also, it’s your pre-op party, Grace.Sort of the same thing, no?”
I try to form a response, but nothing comes.This is unfortunate because it’s my job to distract him.That was the deal.“Dr.Branson,” I say, batting my eyes, overplaying my hand.Elizabeth gives me a look as though to tell me what everyone is thinking.I would make a terrible actress.“About the surgery…” I nod toward the bathroom.“Could you step over there with me?I have some news about my husband.”
“Anything you have to say, Grace, you can say it.”He smiles gleefully.“We’re all friends here.”
“Not this.”
With a look of pleasant curiosity, Dr.Branson follows me to the bathroom just off his office.We do not have to go beyond the locked door.But first, he does the most important part.He leaves his glass on the desk.
In the bathroom, he takes my arm and pulls me in close.“What about Charles?”
His proximity makes me nervous, and I realize what a terrible idea this was.I think back to the hydrotherapy, to that room and that machine attached to my head.I do not want to go through that again.If Elizabeth and I get caught, it’s going to be very bad for us both.Suddenly, all the repercussions are playing out in my mind.What was I thinking agreeing to this?How did I think this would play out?What did I think was going to happen?
I have no idea.In my mind, I’d only gotten so far as to distract him, so that Elizabeth could slip the powder in his drink, but I really don’t know what I thought was going to happen after that.I know what I wanted to happen, but what you want and what you get are often two very different things.
In that moment, I wished Elizabeth and I had switched roles.She was used to this.I wanted it to be Elizabeth in his arms.I wanted it to be her clothes he was removing, not mine.
“What is it, Grace?What do you have to tell me?”I can smell the champagne on his breath.He sounds drunk in the way he speaks, but I know better.Dr.Branson is not the sort of man to lose control.
I had imagined this moment so many times, but never once had I imagined it with that white coat falling to the floor.
I hear Elizabeth say, “What are you doing?”And then she says to Dr.Branson, “I—”
Dr.Branson’s voice changes.The cheerful doctor is gone, and in his place is the voice of a man who was both intrigued and angry.“Don’t you know it’s rude to interrupt people, Elizabeth?”
Elizabeth stands there, eyeing us for a long beat.She has the bottle clutched in her hand, and my first thought is that she’s going to smash it over his head.Especially considering the way she’s staring at Dr.Branson, all wide-eyed.
