About halfway through my second glass of iced tea, my beeper went off. It was a call from St. John’s, so I excused myself to use my cell phone. Afraid my voice would carry too loudly even from there, I took the stairs to the second floor. On the first landing, something caught my eye, an eight-by-ten photo framed an hung on the wall. By then, I was already on the phone, and it was a long conversation; one of my patients was scheduled for angioplasty and Naresh didn’t think it was necessary. It’s rare for me to forget the details of a case, but now I could hardly remember enough to make my argument. After I hung up with him, I figured I should check my messages, and as I half-hoped, half-feared, Charlie had called again.
“Adrienne, Charlie here.” There was a new sadness in his voice now, almost resignation. “Okay, thanks for calling. At least I know you’re alive. I don’t see why you had to mislead the folks at the hospital, and hide from me, but that’s your prerogative. Obviously you don’t want to talk to me at this point. Okay. I’ll wait. You have stuff you have to work through I guess, so I’m going to try to be patient with that. In the meantime, I thought you’d want to know I’m not seeing Zulya anymore. Call me.” After the message ended, I stood for several seconds with the phone still pressed to my ear, wanting to hear more as relief gushed through my body. No more Zulya! Charlie had repented then. I could have him back! Then I froze up again, remembering how he’d lied to me. What if he was just trying to lure me back again, so he could get the kids? How was I ever going to know if I could trust him?
What is your advice?