The Alphabet of Love Ch. 07

Story Info
Trevor goes to Boise; Shiloh gets an exciting promotion.
3.1k words
4.67
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Part 7 of the 24 part series

Updated 06/08/2023
Created 08/16/2017
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I spent Sunday morning mainly on the phone with Isabel. Trevor had called early to let me know he was on his way to do his rounds and would call me when he was done. Maybe he could stay the night with me?

Isabel had talked me through so many breakups and bad romantic decisions, I knew she had to be biting her tongue on this one. It had 'no future' emblazoned all over it. And when I gave her my old saw that I could handle a just-sex encounter, she knew better. And so did I. I was already attached to Trevor in an unhealthy way. I wanted him in my arms, in my bed. I wanted to look at him, savor him. Learn everything about him. Love everything about him.

Insatiably curious, as soon as Isabel said goodbye to attend to her daughter, I turned on the television to see if Kyle Banks showed up on any of the political programs. I never watched these things; I found them annoying, full of pedantic lying sacks of shit whom I couldn't believe anyone paid to sit and yammer about politics.

While Kyle Banks wasn't a guest, they talked about him a little, showed some video of him giving a talk to a supportive group in Idaho. I looked behind him to see if I could catch a glimpse of some woman who might be Amanda. There was an older redhead, probably his wife, Amanda's mother. I thought I spied another woman just behind him; I caught sight of her when he'd shift from one foot to the other while he spoke. Of course the clip was only a few seconds so I had no inkling or even a very good look.

I resorted to Google, as much as I hated doing it. I Googled "Amanda Robinson Banks politics" and got thousands of hits. The woman had been very busy. She even had a bio as a lobbyist in Washington DC, from several years ago. An old photo, showing a dark-haired, serious-looking woman in a business suit. She was from Boise, it said, degree in political science and government from the University of Maryland. Other sites produced more recent photos of her, almost all of them taken alongside politicians she'd worked for or advised. She had business couture down pat. Just-above-the-knee skirts, well-cut jackets, neat blouses, neutral-toned pumps. I thought of what Trevor'd told me about her sexual proclivities. No one would ever guess that someone who looked so staid could have such --

Whoa, wait a minute. What was this? Wedding photos. Trevor Banks weds Amanda Robinson in Boise Idaho. Facebook photos, in someone's photo album. A guy, probably a friend of Trevor's. Holding my breath I scrolled through them. Amanda looked stunning, I had to admit. She wore a pale lavender dress, all covered in lace, her long dark hair shimmering, her figure so slim it defied reality.

The photo of her with her parents told me at once that she got her looks from her father. Dark, angular. I wondered about him a little; he and her mother were divorced . Was he a career-driven man? Was that where she'd got it? The photo of Trevor with his parents was equally intriguing to me. He looked sexy and relaxed, arms around his future Governor of Idaho father and his astoundingly beautiful mother.

Camille Banks-Jones, the caption read. The woman stood probably five-eight or five-nine, in a designer suit, her exotic eyes made up expertly, her shapely legs posed like a model's. He wasn't shitting when he'd said she was beautiful.

I scrolled through more of the photos and found his movie star sister, Lindsay Banks, who'd barely begun her Hollywood career at the time. And his other sister, Rowena Stockdale, with her husband. She had the statuesque poise of her mother, but a decidedly bored look and monochrome style. Math whiz, indeed, I thought.

Photos of the wedding reception, the happy couple dancing together, cutting the cake, laughing at a table with friends. She looked happy, young, in love. My, how things change.

As much as I felt like a total outsider, even a voyeur, looking at these pictures, it told me that Trevor hadn't lied about who he was. I wondered if he'd looked me up online? I had my doubts. Not only was he working so much it had probably not occurred to him, I also felt that he was the trusting sort. He wouldn't check up on me unless he had some reason to think I'd lied to him. I liked this about him; he was exactly what you saw, there was no other layer, no secret. I'd had quite enough of game players, guys who made shit up just to get you in bed or, worse, take advantage of your financial assets. Yeah, I'd been stupid enough to fall for that a time or two.

When I looked up at the time on my computer, I saw that I'd spent the last hour looking at all these pictures of Trevor's wedding. What was wrong with me? Angry with myself, I shut the laptop and went to put on some shoes. I needed a walk in the fresh air, maybe that would clear my head. Something needed to whack some sense into me.

I had to look at this from a completely neutral mindset. If I were a friend of mine - or, better yet, if I knew nothing about me, my past, nor anything about Trevor other than that he was married - what advice would I give? The glaring thing, of course, was the total folly of involvement with a married man. Even if he left his wife for me, it set a precedent - he'd leave a woman for another woman. What would keep him from doing it to me sometime down the line? My mother always said, 'once a cheater, always a cheater,' and I'd cynically thought she was talking about herself.

What nagged at me was the gut feeling I had that Trevor was not typical. He didn't have the lines, the sleazy moves, the sneaky looks, the evasiveness, of a man who's trying to con you. I'd known enough of those I could write a book. Trevor was a different animal altogether. I believed him when he told me he felt sad that he'd failed at marriage, that he wanted someone to love and have a family with. It was what I wanted, too. I'd failed at relationship after relationship, due to my own blindness, and seeing what I wanted to see in all the wrong people.

The fresh air and wind seemed to wake me up in every way. I had to stop hesitating with Trevor. All right, he was going to be gone for months upon months. I was under no obligation - he'd said so himself - to 'save myself' for him. If I met someone while he was gone, I wouldn't deny myself the chance to find out if he might be 'the one.' After all, he'd be sleeping with his wife, even if they weren't having sex.

The wildcard in all this was, what if they actually managed to patch up their marriage? I'd feel stupid all over again, stupid that I'd ever slept with him, stupid that I'd believed he was sincere. God, I hated this. Why did relationships have to be so damned hard?

When I came down the street back to my apartment, sweaty and no closer to a resolution in my mind than before, I saw Trevor. He sat on a bench in front of my apartment building, phone in hand, waiting for me. No doubt Faldo had gone insane knowing his favorite person was at the door and no way to let him in.

"Hi," I said, a little out of breath as I walked up to him.

He smiled and got to his feet. "There you are. I was a little worried. You didn't answer your door and your car's here."

"Just went for a walk. It's such a great day."

"Yeah, it is," he glanced around my neighborhood with its fall hint in the air. A few people had put out Halloween decorations, someone was out in his yard raking leaves. The sun shone down on us but there was still a cool nip in the air.

"Come on up," I said, leading him inside. "How was your morning?"

"All right," he answered. "Did my rounds, charting, and all that. I wasn't sure I should come see you or not."

"Why not?" I turned to him before we started up the stairs.

He shrugged. "Maybe you've seen too much of me. Maybe you need a break."

"Maybe I don't," I said a little flirtatiously, and started upstairs.

We reached my floor and I unlocked the door. Faldo must have been right there ever since he heard Trevor; he meowed loudly and went right to him.

"My cat's going to be traumatized when you don't come over anymore," I said, watching as Trevor bent down to pick up the pathetic animal.

"Me too," Trevor rubbed Faldo's belly, cradling him in one arm.

I went to the fridge and got two bottles of water. I handed one to Trevor and he took it, and sat on the couch with the cat on his lap. I sat next to him and sipped.

"I have a confession," I said.

"Oh?" he smiled at me.

"I looked you up online. I saw your wedding pictures."

His eyes widened. "How did you do that?"

"Facebook. Someone had them in an album."

"Oh," he nodded, "probably Woody. He took the pictures. Ski buddy of mine."

"You weren't shitting about your Mom. She's beautiful."

He laughed. "And she knows it."

"What does she do?"

"Do? Oh, you mean like work? She doesn't. Never has. She met my Dad in college and then they had kids, and by the time we were old enough to get a job, she didn't have to. Dad didn't care. He made plenty. And when they got divorced she took him for a lot, and then she got married again to another guy with money."

"Oh," was all I said. I didn't know women could get away with things like that these days.

He shrugged. "Mom is pretty vain, I guess that's her job, more or less. To look good."

"It . . . looks like it was a nice wedding," I ventured.

"It was. We got married in church because it's what her Dad wanted. I didn't care. My Dad wasn't real happy because he's an atheist, but Anita made him behave."

"What about you?"

"Me?" he looked up from Faldo, whom he was still rubbing and taunting.

"Are you religious?"

"No. More agnostic, I guess. I really don't care."

"Neither do I."

He laughed. "I guess we won't have a church wedding, then."

I gazed at him for a moment, wondering if he was just being flippant or if marrying me was really something on his mind.

"I see us jetting off to Vegas or the Bahamas or someplace," he went on.

"You're serious?" I asked at last.

"Well, obviously not right now," he amended, looking a little sheepish. He finally gave Faldo a little nudge to get off his lap, and put an arm around me, pulling me close. "I want to be with you, Shiloh. It feels so right, I can talk to you and we can just be - easy with each other."

I nodded. "I know. I feel the same way. I just -"

He kissed me. "I wish I wasn't going away, either. I've thought it out to death, how I can get divorced and not fuck up my Dad's campaign. Amanda's so high strung I'm afraid she'd be useless to him as campaign manager if I told her now. Even when we get divorced there will still be that connection."

"That means I'll probably meet her eventually," I mused.

"Probably. I'll warn you, she's likely to say something really harsh and cutting. That's just how she is."

I sighed. "I can deal with that. I don't let people get to me that way. I just - it's going to be awkward with your Dad and his wife. But I guess I'm not going to have to worry about that for a year or more."

"I'm sorry," he kissed me again.

"It's okay," I nodded, stroking his face, looking into his eyes. "It's all happened so fast, it might be good for us to have some perspective and know if it's what we really want."

"I know what I want."

"Besides sex."

He grinned. "You said it."

"Do you think we might be able to see each other while you're campaigning? I could fly somewhere and we could have a secret tryst," I suggested.

"I'd love that," he said, nodding. "But we'll have to be really careful, because people will know who I am."

I nodded. "I think it'll be fun, actually. The subterfuge. Might make it even sexier."

"You think?" he smiled.

"Yes, of course. Isn't the convention here in Seattle?"

"Is it?"

I smiled. "You don't even know. You're so funny."

"Amanda handles all that. If so, then that's not until summer. I can't wait that long to see you. You can come to some of the other primary states. We'll be in New Hampshire and Iowa for awhile, then all the others. I'll get the schedule and send it to you, and you can plan to come."

"I will," I told him, kissing him.

"Maybe it won't be so bad, if I get to see you every now and then."

We kissed again, this time longer and more fervently. I insisted on showering before we got into my bed, and he joined me. We spent the afternoon and early evening making love, then we went out to eat. I wanted to bottle up this day and save it forever, open it up whenever I needed to feel loved.

I felt a little better knowing I wouldn't have to go an entire year without seeing Trevor, but knew also that the fleeting time we'd have together would just make me ache for him. He left for Boise two days later. I cried in his arms, and he held me, promised me we'd see each other soon. I begged him to find some lie to tell his wife so he could join me in Vegas for Christmas, but I knew it was impossible. It wasn't just her. His parents, her parents - he had to be with the family, especially as they were embarking on their political odyssey in January.

Some people at work convinced me to go to a Halloween party at the home of our clinic director, Dr. Miliano. He'd invited all the physicians and staff, as he had a fantastic home overlooking Lake Washington, and often hosted parties. His wife loved organizing and decorating for these affairs, and insisted that everyone be costumed. Thinking up a costume gave me a good distraction from missing Trevor, although we talked and texted every day. He encouraged me to go to the party and have fun.

So I did, in a crazy blob of a costume that was supposed to be a kidney - we were all nephrologists. Most of the other women had opted for more feminine, sexy get-ups. Leave it to me to look foolish. It wasn't until the evening was half over and I was on my third glass of vile, heavily alcoholed punch that I realized I'd chosen to look like this on purpose, so no men would find me attractive. I'd already broken one of my intentions: I'd told myself I wouldn't avoid meeting men, because a good one just might be out there.

Our clinic had a lot of staff, some of whom I didn't really know. Doctors, nurses, social workers, receptionists, billing staff, counselors, nutritionists - the big, elegant house was full. Laughter and music surrounded me. I nibbled at a croquette and looked out at the lake, shimmering in the moonlight, and wished Trevor were beside me.

"Shiloh," came a man's voice, and I turned to see Dr. Miliano coming toward me. His swashbuckling pirate costume looked good on him; his tall, swarthy looks complemented the rakish hat, the fake mustache. He had a hand on the fake sword at his hip, and a drink in the other.

"What a lovely evening," I said, nodding toward the view.

"Thank you, we love it," he said. "I keep hearing good things about you." '

"Oh? Like what?" I asked, mystified.

"Your patients love you, and your outcomes are better than average. I'm very pleased. I was wondering if you'd be interested in a promotion, of sorts."

"I'm listening," I said, looking up at him. I must have been a sight; my pink makeup matching my pink flabby costume, my hair in a bun under a short pink wig.

"As you may have heard, Dr. Hinckley is retiring. He and Dr. Couslard go to most of the nephrology conferences, representing us, and have written for nephrology journals. I understand that you've got a paper you're putting together."

"Oh," I said, a little embarrassed. My paper had languished since I'd met Trevor.

"I wondered if you'd like to take Dr. Hinckley's place. You'll still see patients, of course, but I'd like to move some of them to other providers to free you up for consultation and work with nephrologists around the country, and for writing for medical journals. Is that something you'd be interested in?"

I was overwhelmed. It never occurred to me that I'd be considered for a position like this. There were many more senior physicians than me on staff.

He smiled, sipping his drink. "You're probably wondering why I'm asking you," he said. "As I said, your work has been outstanding. And Dr. Couslard recommended you. I also believe someone young, such as yourself, getting in at this level now, can have a long term influence and give our clinic recognition."

Dr. Couslard recommended me? I thought. I hardly knew the man. Twenty years older than me, we nodded at each other in the halls but that was about it. Even when I saw him in the lunch room he rarely said more than hello.

"Of course there will be a commensurate salary increase," Dr. Miliano added.

I hoped my makeup disguised my raised eyebrows. "I see," I tried to sound cool.

"I know you'd like to think about it. Just let me know in the next few weeks. I'll get some more information to you."

I nodded.

Damn, I thought, as he wandered away, this was the last thing I'd expected.

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