Chapter Eight: Law Suits
Greg was as good as his word. Two days after our conversation I was in the office of a dour-faced attorney, Simon Kensington, explaining the sordid details of my pregnancy and the improper revelations Blue Eyes had made to numerous individuals, but to my colleagues in particular. Simon's dull, brown eyes acquired a sparkle as he pulled out a Mont Blanc pen and got down to business.
"This doctor, how do you spell his name?"
"Dr. Gregory House at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Head of Diagnostics," I replied. I was not entirely comfortable with this procedure.
"I'll have the complaint filed by the end of the week. You said he has made a habit of visiting your apartment? Perhaps a restraining order is needed. It would prevent him from further harassment and add credence to our main complaint. Do you object?" His serious eyes bore into me.
I shook my head. Blue Eyes was going to sh!t a brick.
"Greg said you only want this guy to back off – you don't want to claim any punitive damages – correct?"
"No, I don't want money," I answered in panic.
Serious Simon shook his head disappointedly. "That's too bad. However, we'll still ask for a healthy sum just to let them know we mean business. From what you've told me, it'll be up to the hospital to keep this guy in check, and they won't want their reputation screwed with over a privacy violation. I just want to make sure, but you did report the rape to the police, didn't you?"
Simon had the look of a renegade vigilante. I suspected he wanted to go to Alabama to locate and eliminate the criminal himself.
"There's a complaint on file, Simon. It wasn't a date rape. I was attacked while on an evening jog. I'm being straight with you."
He nodded. "But you don't want Greg to know?"
"Simon, I'll tell him when he gets here for Christmas."
"Audra, you're one tough lady. You go get some rest and I'll put the fear of God into Dr. House."
We shook hands, and I made my way to the very hospital I was suing for my appointment with Dr. Castillo. This time the sonogram revealed a tiny, thumb-sucking, spread-eagle baby proudly displaying a vulva. Penis-less. Ulysses was a girl. I didn't mind crying this time.
Jim and I were meeting for dinner at a small Italian restaurant, Sofia's, and I was anxious to share my exciting news with him. The news about the lawsuit I thought I'd keep to myself. He had a secluded table secured for us by the time I arrived. He stood and greeted me with a kiss on the cheek.
"You must have had a good check-up – you're glowing," he complimented me.
I was wearing my black pregnancy skirt, but I had on a large, fluffy sweater, and my face was haloed in white wool.
"Oh, Jim, I have the most amazing news. Order yourself a large drink. Order yourself an entire split of champagne – Ulysses and I are buying."
"Oh, my," Jim puzzled. "Can I guess? You're not having twins, are you?"
"Am I that large?" I asked with a furrowed forehead.
Jim laughed at me. "Not at all. So, what's the big news?"
I could hold it in no longer. "Ulysses is a girl! I'm going to have a daughter! Isn't that astounding?"
He assumed a serious countenance. "Well, you know, Audra, the odds were the baby would be either a boy or a girl."
"Smartass."
"With a name like Ulysses, she'll grow up to be a lesbian," a familiar voice said from behind my chair.
"You told him we were meeting here?" I asked Jim angrily.
Blue Eyes pulled a chair up next to me while Jim shook his head dejectedly.
"I am still your physician of record, you know – I checked on your progress with Dr. Castillo just an hour ago."
The lawsuit should end his reign as my physician.
"And you followed Jim here?"
"Don't be an idiot, Mommy. I checked his appointment book. Waiter? The lady requested a split of champagne, I believe."
I wanted to beat my head on the table.
"Audra, I apologize. If you want to leave . . ." Jim began.
"No, Jim, it's all right. There won't be many opportunities for this to happen again."
Blue Eyes gave me a quizzical look.
"I have a favor I wanted to ask you anyway," I said to Jim.
"Anything," he answered with the look of a man ready to walk on hot coals to garner favor.
"Childbirth classes start in January and I need a coach. How encouraging do you feel?"
Before he could answer, Blue Eyes said, "I thought southern women just dropped their babies in the cotton fields and kept on working."
"Yes, well, that would be the usual routine. I know the hospital is a little high tech, but since I haven't actually seen any cotton fields here in New Jersey, I thought I'd be a pioneer for my people and try a delivery room. How about it, Jim?"
"Of course, Audra, if you're sure you'd want me there."
Blue Eyes shifted in his chair. "What night are these classes on, because Jim and I have poker on Thursdays, and he has his traditional Icelandic knitting class on Tuesdays."
"Shut up, House," Jim said.
"I'm just trying to help you, bro," Blue Eyes mock-whispered to Jim.
"My mistake – I should have known better than to try to talk to anyone but you, Blue Eyes." I winked at Jim. "He gets so jealous."
The champagne was delivered. I had to practically force Jim to drink any. "I really do have another reason to celebrate, so the champagne is justified. Blue Eyes was actually correct about Ph.D. guy – he was trying to steal my lesson plans for a new online program at the university. However, since he didn't succeed, they offered the program to me. My program will be officially in the university catalog for the fall semester."
Jim beamed with joy. "Audra, you're going to head up your own program? Congratulations! That's fantastic. You must be excited."
Blue Eyes failed to offer any sign of enthusiasm. I concentrated on Jim's beaming smile. "Thanks, Jim. I am rather pleased."
"So," Blue Eyes interrupted, "have you thought of a better name for a girl?"
"I have a girl's name in mind, yes," I answered him.
"And will she have a black mammy?" he continued sullenly.
"Must you insist on controlling the conversation?" I asked.
"What if the rapist was black?"
All blood drained from my face. "I don't see a problem as long as he wasn't a doctor."
Jim jumped from his chair and grabbed Blue Eyes by the arm. "Now, House. Get up." His voice was low and filled with rage. Blue Eyes appeared stunned. Two uneasy waiters hovered nearby.
"Wilson, I'll go," Blue Eyes said in a calm, quiet voice.
Jim waited, but Blue Eyes didn't move.
"Sit back down, Wilson. Order your dinner. I'll leave."
Jim took a deep breath and stepped back from Blue Eyes. Nothing happened for a few moments; Blue Eyes found a pill in his jeans pocket and washed it down with champagne. Jim sat back in his chair. I started breathing again.
Blue Eyes studied my face, then asked, "What's the baby's name?"
"Zelda," I whispered.
He smiled ever so slightly. "After Zelda Fitzgerald. Of course. She was from Alabama. And crazy as a loon. Don't you think Zelda would really be a better name for a dog or a cat?"
"Since I'm not giving birth to a dog or a cat, the answer would be no."
"I hope you two enjoy your meal. And I'm sure Wilson will make an excellent birthing coach even though he never did manage to get any of his many wives pregnant."
"Blue Eyes," I scolded.
He stood. "I'm going." And he left, but he did so as if reluctant.
Simon called me the day Princeton-Plainsboro received the lawsuit. Their Dean of Medicine, Dr. Lisa Cuddy, wanted to meet with us. I told Simon he was authorized to act in my behalf; Greg was due in a few days to spend the Christmas holidays with me, and I wanted to wait until I had explained the situation to him before I agreed to anything. I dreaded having to tell Greg of the rape, but, at the same time, to have him know and to have him for advice would be an enormous relief.
I was cleaning the kitchen after a rare cooking attempt when I heard a scuffling noise in the hall. The winter night was dark and cold; I was dressed in my gray sweatpants and a Doobie Brothers t-shirt that barely met over Zelda's bulge. I had the saucepan and a dishtowel in my hand when my door swung open and a very unsteady Blue Eyes stumbled in. His eyes were bloodshot, and he dropped his cane just inside the doorway. He examined me from head to toe, shrugged off his overcoat, allowing it to drop on the floor, then struggled to get to the futon.
"Cool shirt," he slurred.
I closed my door and placed his cane beside the futon. "Apparently you know of the lawsuit but not the restraining order?" I asked him. I was standing in front of him still clenching the pan.
"Interstin' thin' bout tha' 'suit," he continued. "If I han't tol' Ph.D. guy you were raped, you woudn't hav gotn your new job."
Well, he!!, he had a point. Still, it hadn't been his news to deliver, particularly not to a stranger, nor in front of the larger audience at the Thanksgiving brunch. He rubbed his face with both his hands. He was listing to one side. I brought him a glass of water.
"Wha's this?"
"Water. To keep you from dehydrating."
"Got an' whiskey you can put 'n it?"
I raised the saucepan in a menacing posture. He held up his hand.
"'S all right. Don git your panties in a wad." He used the water to wash down a couple of his pills.
Then he slumped on his side and started snoring.
I tried to wake him, but he was out. I pushed and pulled until I finally had the futon extended enough to serve as a bed. B.E. had just slid out along with the mattress and gave every impression of sleeping on it without moving. I took off his shoes. He looked sad. His face was long and thin with a graying, cropped beard. I ran my fingers lightly across the stubble, and he grumbled briefly in his sleep but didn't wake. I left my clothes on and laid down on the futon beside him, covering us both in several heavy quilts. My apartment wasn't well heated and I was cold. And I was nervous having him so close to me.
Just as I began to drift off, Blue Eyes rolled my way, threw his right arm around my expanding belly, dragged me against his chest, murmured something incomprehensible into my hair, and settled back into a familiar, sleeping hum. I relaxed under his arm and rubbed my ass against his groin for good measure, then fell into my own version of a sleeping hum.
The apartment was still dark when B.E. moved from the bed and lurched into the bathroom. He peed and lurched back, gracelessly crawling over me and under the blankets. I kept still and pretended to be asleep.
He nuzzled the back of my head. He slipped his right hand just inside the waist of my sweat pants and rubbed my belly. His icy feet entwined themselves with mine. I felt his teeth nip my ear lobe; instinctively, I turned my head back towards him.
"Ahhh, you are awake, Tiger," he whispered.
His hand continued stroking my belly, slipping beneath the top of my panties, and began caressing the downward slope of Zelda's bulge. I, cowardly, didn't speak.
"Come here, Tiger," he whispered.
I let him guide me onto my back. His face was inches from mine. He was propped on his left elbow and used his left hand to push the hair from my face. I studied him even as he studied me. He leaned to me and his lips touched mine, softly and tenderly. I sighed and closed my eyes. But he stopped and pulled back from me.
"What?" I started.
"Hush," he whispered. "Don't spoil anything by talking."
I tensed in an angry response; immediately, he kissed me purposefully, pressing his open mouth against mine until I relented and allowed his tongue inside. I didn't know whether to blame the hormones of pregnancy or the many months of celibacy or the shock of below freezing temperatures, but I didn't want him to stop kissing me. I wrapped my arms around his waist and clasped him to me fiercely. His fingers moved lower and grazed my clump of pubic hair. I jumped in alarm.
"Shhhh," he whispered against my panicked mouth. "Let me."
He sat up and pulled his shirts off, then he helped pull my t-shirt over my head. I felt exposed and vulnerable with my enlarged pregnancy breasts, but he touched them gingerly, using his thumb to rub the nipples. He seemed inpatient and tugged at my sweat pants, so I lifted my butt off the bed as he pulled them and my panties off. He removed his own pants and covered us back in the quilts, bringing his face back nose-to-nose with mine.
"Close your eyes," he told me as he kissed my nose, my chin, my neck, and then ducked his head beneath the blankets.
I felt his erection rubbing against my side as he gently and then more vigorously sucked on first one nipple and then the other. At the same time, his hand nudged my thighs apart and his fingers slid through the folds of my labia and found my clitoris. He rubbed some of the moisture from my vagina around to aid his ministrations. My back arched, and I strained against him as I felt my orgasm nearing. He brought his mouth back to mine, kissing me, as he felt me shivering with the building tension.
"Say my name," he whispered. "Say my name when you come."
Hearing his voice so close to my ear and feeling his breath on my cheek was all I needed to dissolve into the convulsions of my orgasm. I curled towards him, closing myself around his hand, whispering, "Blue Eyes," into his neck. He covered me with his body and sheltered me until my shivering stopped.
Once I was calm, he tenderly turned me away from him and entered me from behind with both of us on our sides. With Zelda's bulge a definite encumbrance, the positioning was tricky, and I felt distanced from him. He held one breast in one hand and cradled my belly with the other as he rocked against me. I heard him, as he came, grunt in my ear, "Tiger." He was asleep as soon as he finished. I fell asleep wondering if having sex with him invalidated the restraining order.
Sunlight was peeping through the window blinds when I finally began to surface from a deep sleep. Blue Eyes was lying on his back beside me, his hands joined behind his head. He felt me stirring.
"Well, that was a first," he mused.
"New position?"
"No. But I've never had sex with a pregnant woman before, at least not knowingly."
"Glad I could help you scratch that goal off your list," I snarled as I moved away.
"Wait, Mommy. I want to look at your belly in the light." He snatched the bedclothes back and proceeded to stare at my naked body.
"Come on. You've seen naked pregnant women before."
"Hundreds. I could feel Zelda moving while we were . . ."
"Okay, enough. The freak show is over." And I rolled off the futon and into the bathroom with as much grace as a bull elephant.
"Your belly button is about ready to pop out," he yelled.
"Pop out of what?" I yelled back.
"Just pop out. You'll no longer have an inny – it'll be a true outy. A way outy." He sounded insufferably pleased with himself.
I turned on the shower and eased myself into the stinging spray. I couldn't quite believe the activities of the previous evening. I heard the door creak and the sound of Blue Eyes peeing. He was humming.
"Don't . . ." I started, but he had already flushed.
I leapt from the scalding shower and knocked full throttle into Blue Eyes. He caught me as he was going down. We landed in a pile on the slippery linoleum.
"Sh!t!" he yelled.
I was wedged on top of his right thigh. The scar was enormous and the flesh was uneven and angry looking. I scrambled off, but I couldn't stop looking at his leg. I felt humbled by his injury. I ran my hand across the expanse of missing muscle. He tried to push me away, but I persisted. Without thinking, I leaned over and kissed his thigh as a mother would kiss a child's boo-boo to make it better. When I finally looked into his lovely eyes, I saw an anguish there I had not previously noticed.
"How?"
"It doesn't matter."
"Of course it does. You can tell me." I was almost begging him. I wanted to be taken into his confidence. I wanted to be a part of this thing that so defined his life – that gave his life its parameters. I reached my hand out to caress his cheek. He turned his face into my hand and kissed my palm. He closed his eyes and sighed as weary a sigh as I had ever heard.
We both startled at the sound of his cell phone ringing. He pulled himself to his feet and hobbled into the other room. By the time I had turned off the shower and wrapped my robe around me, he was dressed and preparing to leave.
"Hospital," he said. "I have a patient."
I nodded.
He hesitated for an instant, and then he regained his purpose and left.
December twentieth I went to meet my brother at the Newark airport. I was nervous and jumpy since he still didn't know about Zelda. He was the last to deplane; he rolled his wheelchair right up to me, skidded to a stop, then motioned for me to lean down.
"Cissy, I don't want to alarm you, but you seem to have put on a good bit of weight," he whispered loudly.
I straightened back up and grinned at his handsome face. "Pregnancy."
"Ahhh," he said. "Then you did notice. I was concerned. Is Allen responsible?"
My ex. "No, no, not at all," I stammered.
"Thank God. There's a gene pool that doesn't need to propagate. Don't tell me you've spawned with some left-wing, liberal, English lit, Yankee?"
"I only wish. Come on, Greg, let's get your bags, and I'll fill in the details in the truck."
"This is what you've been keeping secret, isn't it?" he continued.
"No flies on you, slick," I replied as we moved to the baggage claim.
"Nope. I'm pretty quick, in case you've forgotten, Cissy," he said with a huge, beaming grin.
Once inside the truck, I told Greg about the rape. I also told him about my stay in Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital and how my doctor had spread the information of the rape to my university colleagues. Greg listened without much response, but I could feel the anger radiating off of him. When he saw my apartment, he found an outlet for some of his emotions.
"Christ, woman, you're living in the ghetto," he yelled.
"Listen, Elvis, don't insult my home unless you want my neighbors to hurt you," I warned him.
"Now you're going to be heading up your own program, can't they pay you enough to afford a real apartment – one with bedrooms, for example?" he complained as he wheeled around. "Am I sleeping on the inflatable bed again? I'm old enough to warrant a real bed, you know."
"When I get a real bed, then I'll get you a real bed. Until then, you can have the futon and I'll take the inflatable mattress."
"Good. I bet you can hear the insects marching down there."
"There are no insects here, Greg," I protested.
"You're just used to them. They probably like pregnant women. They're waiting for you to give birth so they can eat your baby."
"You're disgusting."
"But you love me." And he was right. More than almost anyone, I loved him.
The next morning I was supposed to meet Simon at Dr. Lisa Cuddy's office about the lawsuit; I hadn't heard a word from Blue Eyes since the hit-and-run sex. I wanted to drop the whole thing, but Simon insisted we make an appearance to insure Blue Eyes' mouth was silenced. I took Greg with me. Naturally, just as Greg, Simon, and I exited the elevator outside Dr. Cuddy's office, Blue Eyes and Jim appeared.
"Still going through with this frivolous lawsuit?" Blue Eyes demanded. He was angry and unbalanced; something was not right with him.
"Why are you here? Jim, why is he here?" I asked in confusion.
"Is this guy your lawyer?" Blue Eyes asked, pointing to Greg with his cane.
"No, sir, I'm not her lawyer, unfortunately for her." Greg then turned to me. "Who is this c#cksucking b.p.?"
"What did he just call me?" B.E. asked.
"This is Dr. Greg House," I said to my brother. "And he called you a b.p., which is his abbreviation for biped," I said to B.E.
"Fortunately for you," my brother said to Blue Eyes, "my area of practice is limited to violations of the Americans with Disabilities Act – not HIPAA violations."
"Oh, I see. Guy in a wheelchair representing other people whining about not being accommodated – I bet you get all the sympathy," Blue Eyes said.
My brother leaned back in his chair and curved his lips into a lazy smile. "Boy, you've made an error in judgment by harassing my sister." Greg had on his best 'good ole boy lawyer' face.
"She made an error in judgment by screwing the guy she was suing."
My mouth dropped open, and I broke out in a cold sweat.
"House," Jim cautioned. He put his hand on Blue Eyes' arm, but B.E. shook him off.
"I came here to drop the lawsuit – you didn't have to blackmail me into it," I hissed at B.E.
"You look like an athletic man, Dr. House," my brother continued in his easy drawl. "You seem to be in pain. Have you ever used a chair?"
Blue Eyes stepped back and stared at Greg, trying to decipher his motives. "I've used a wheelchair."
"And yet you prefer to walk with a cane. Why is that?" Greg continued.
"Because I can."
Greg nodded in understanding. "Yes, I can walk, too, but not for long. I tire easily. Do you have that problem?"
Blue Eyes looked completely befuddled. "Are you diagnosing me?"
Greg chuckled. "Actually, I was going to suggest we find a gym and shoot some hoops. Have you ever played wheelchair basketball, Dr. House?"
I finally realized what Greg was up to. "Greg, no. I have to meet with Dr. Cuddy, and then we'll go to lunch. Please."
Blue Eyes looked at me but addressed Greg. "We have a gym with a basketball goal. I'm sure I can find a free wheelchair, Greg."
Greg turned to Simon. "Why don't you take Cissy into her meeting with Dr. Cuddy while Dr. House and I go play horse? I'll meet you in the lobby when we're through."
"Greg," I snapped.
Both Gregs looked at me.
"Are you so worried I'll beat your baby brother?" Blue Eyes asked.
"No. I know he'll beat you. I'm worried, however, he'll hurt you."
Jim said, "Audra, you've just challenged House."
I looked at Blue Eyes and saw the glint of competitive zeal in his eyes and knew Jim was right. Greg was not only on the United States Wheelchair Basketball Team in the Paralympics, but he was widely recognized as one of the most fearless and most ferocious of all players.
"Wheelchair basketball is brutal," I said to Jim. "We can't let them play."
Simon touched my arm. "Audra, your doctor hasn't been impressed by any of my legal machinations. Perhaps Greg's administration of humility will do him some good."
"Jim," I said, "if they insist on playing, you must come, too."
"Why?" he asked helplessly.
"To referee," I answered, a bit hysterically, "and to provide CPR."