Prescription for Miss Walker

As I drove back to work from the park, it took all possible will inside me not to look back. I knew it was stupid, that Shira was going to be safe, but all fear was wrecking with my head today.

I'd left the hospital to get some air. Peace of mind, if you will. Only to find less than five minutes after I get there, she's out for a jog. To see that she's wearing some baggy hoodie and grey sweatpants to cover up her frail and withering body.

And even when she looks like hell... I can't see her any short of perfect.

I mean, I knew she looked like her disease, but I was still attracted to her nonetheless. On anyone else, it would probably repulse me. So, I had no clue why she was so different.

I liked her, of course, why else would I keep crawling back for more? She could be funny, and sweet when she didn't have to be -- but she was also manipulative and shallow. Selfish and completely unfazed by her best friend dumping her in public. It's almost like she honestly had no shame.

Although, I had no right to say that about anyone.

I squeezed my eyes between my thumb and forefinger as I parked on my reserved spot. Then, with a quick look into the rearview mirror to check for any hickeys or scratch marks, I locked it as I got out.

Most of my day consisted of paperwork and signings. I'd sit by my desk and type away, waiting for reception to call me saying I had a patient on the line... but it never happened.

I was staring at the photograph of my wife when there was a knock on the door. Before I even got to give permission, it opened. Rolling my eyes, I knew it could only be one person.

Dr Michael Spears entered, lab coat waving behind him in a surrender. He gave me a soft smile as he plopped down on a chair in front of me, took out his stress ball and threw his head back.

Well, at least one of us had an eventful day.

Work-related, I mean.

"What do you do when a patient's brain tumors have grown to the size of a knuckle... and they're refusing to do the surgery until their AWOL relatives show up? Social services are on their way, but still."

I raised an eyebrow and leaned back.

"How old is the kid?"

"It's the Chapman case." When I breathed through my teeth, he groaned in displeasure. "The boy has the stones, but we can't keep putting off the surgery. We tell him he's going to die otherwise and he just shrugs it off. He's fourteen, for Christ's sake!"

One thing I really liked about Michael: he never gave up. Even when his patient has lost all hope, he always seemed to find a way to comfort them or make everything better somehow.

Blowing raspberries, he tossed the ball my way. I caught it, not liking the interest that overcame his expression.

"Speaking of dying. How's Miss Walker getting on?"

"She's fine." I didn't mean for it to sound so snarky, but I didn't want to talk about her.

My concentration flickered back towards the photo. My wife was a wonderful woman, she gave money to charity every month, hosted parties for the neighbors and although she always spoke out about her distaste for them, followed me to antique buys. We'd been married for six years now and I never thought twice of it.

We'd met while I was still in university. I didn't have many friends, but the ones I kept close saw the way I looked at her and dared me to ask her out. So I did. And I never regretted anything I ever did since...

Except for the way I was behaving now. I'd been in the same room as a potential patient for less than two minutes and couldn't get over how calm and composed she'd been. I'd just told her she had an abnormal growth in her larynx and she didn't cry, or beg for information, or try to tell me I was wrong. No, she just sat there and let me consult with a colleague.

And now we were having a full-blown affair. After a few mistaken kisses, and some very sexy lingerie she'd ultimately seduced me in, I was cheating on my devoted wife with this woman I'd only known for little more than a month.

That was right. It hadn't been long at all, but with the way we conversed and how comfortable she felt in my arms, I was startled that it hadn't been months we'd spent together. I'd grown attached to her laugh, her devious smile and the way she sighed when we kissed.

Passion is not where it hurts, it's where it comes from that does.

"So I was thinking, we should all go out for dinner. You, Amy, Cheryl and I. It's been a while and Cheryl keeps going on about--"

"I'm having an affair."

I never planned on telling anyone, but the guilt of sneaking around and lying was getting to me. Plus, Michael was a friend (or at least, the closest I had to one), if there was anyone I could trust with this, then it was him.

The smile died from Michael's lips, as he leaned forward in his chair. When he did, I went further back. I didn't want to risk any smacks to my face.

"What?" He was incredulous, gripping the edges of my desk. "When? Who?"

I threw the ball back to him, he got it before it hit him in the chest. But he didn't blink and he kept looking for answers he couldn't find himself.

I sat up, propping my chin upon my clasped hands.

"I'm sleeping with someone who isn't Amy. It hasn't been long. I just couldn't keep it bottled up anymore."

"Who?" He repeated, head thrashing around like a bobble-head.

"That's none of your business. Just... try and get Cheryl to calm down with the idea. Otherwise Amy will insist upon it and I don't want her to--"

"To what? Go out for dinner? Like married couples do?" He enunciated the correct word.

I glared. Perhaps Shira was right, maybe secrets are best kept as such.

I scrutinized him closely as he slouched back down, rubbing his hands over his face like it could wash everything away. I suspected he wouldn't be too happy about the news. Hell, I even considered a freak out, but I wasn't going to accept a talk down from him. I already knew what I was doing was wrong.

He squeezed the ball every two seconds now. Good, it meant he was calming down.

"I thought you were happy." He said.

"For the most part, yes, we are. There are things, like everyone else on the planet, we just can't seem to get over. We've argued more this year than we ever have done before." Which was true, and it was always over the same thing.

"Is that what you're going to fault this on? A few arguments?" He clicked his tongue and breathed out. I didn't like it.

"No, of course not. I just... maybe I'm getting tired." That part, I had no idea about. I didn't even know why I said it. Amy and I had been married for little more than half a decade now and she was the only woman I ever visualized myself being with since the wedding. I'd taken her hand, put on the golden band and promised her forever. I vowed never to leave, to share my fears and goals, to never sleep in anyone else's bed...

It didn't feel like a lie then, is that what it was now? All this time, had my marriage to her been a sham?

"Divorce her."

I looked up from my hands, from the photo that continued to haunt me and stared at my friend, open-mouthed.

"If you can't commit, like you promised you could, there's no other option. I mean, come on Ash, do you really want to keep doing this to her?"

Shira once said that what people don't know can't hurt them, and I accepted that. I didn't know if it was just at face-value or if I thought about it, even for a second. I just know that it didn't sound wrong.

She'd brought me round to her way of thinking. Her ways were slowly working their way through me like poison.

I told Michael no, I didn't want to put Amy through anything harmful, whether it was to get him off my back or not I still had to figure out. It was nearing the end of my shift, he went home to his own spouse and I hung back in the office, contemplating about what to do with mine.

When I came home, it was after eleven, but the lights were still on. The scampering of hyper feet raced for me and bounced lovingly at my feet.

"Hey Charlie. Have you been a good girl?"

The white Westie puppy barked in reply. So I picked her up and cuddled her close, walking with her to the kitchen where I could smell burned toast.

I stood in the doorway, taking in my surroundings. The kitchen was large, like the rest of the house, with too much free space on the floor and endless rows of counters. It glimmered every day, as Amy always had been quite the neat freak, and looked the exact picture of upper class. Obsidian made cabinets, fridge with ice dispenser, a blender we hadn't used since its purchase, each of which blended nicely with the walls, which were dark grey. The same color as the rainy skies.

The woman I'd loved for six years stood in the middle of it all, grin wider than the sea. Her dark coffee skin radiated health and her hair was loose, black spirals falling perfectly to her shoulders. She wore a tight jade green dress that stopped just above the knee and heels to match. They made her just tall enough to speak to me face-to-face.

"Welcome home, I thought I'd make you something before we went to bed, but Charlie decided it would be fun to run away with my slippers." She giggled, I went along with her as I put the rascal down. "Hello honey, how was your day?"

Placing a soft kiss to my lips, she took my hand and guided me towards my overcooked meal.