They ordered dinner.
The following Saturday, Robert left for Portugal, and when he returned three weeks later, Susan greeted him excitedly.
“Monte walked today for the first time!” Her kiss was perfunctory.
“Monte?”
“Monte Banks. That’s his name. He’s going to be fine. The doctors couldn’t believe it, but we wouldn’t give up.”
We. “Tell me about him.”
“He’s really darling. He’s always giving us gifts. He’s very wealthy. He flies his own plane, and he was in a bad crash, and—”
“What kind of gifts?”
“Oh, you know, just little things—candies and flowers and books and records. He tried to give all of us expensive watches but of course we had to refuse.”
“Of course.”
“He has a yacht, polo ponies…”
That was the day Robert began calling him Moneybags.
Susan talked about him every time she came home from the hospital.
“He’s really dear, Robert.”
Dear is dangerous.
“And he’s so thoughtful. Do you know what he did today? He had lunch sent from the Jockey Club for all the nurses on the floor.”
The man is sickening. Ridiculously, Robert found himself getting angry. “Is this wonderful patient of yours married?”
“No, darling. Why?”
“I just wondered.”
She laughed. “For heaven’s sake, you’re not jealous, are you?”
“Of some old man who’s just learning to walk? Of course not.” Like hell I’m not. But he wouldn’t give Susan the satisfaction of saying so.
When Robert was at home, Susan tried not to talk about her patient, but if she did not bring up the subject, Robert would.
“How is old Moneybags doing?”
“His name is not Moneybags,” she chided. “It’s Monte Banks.”
“Whatever.” It’s too bad the sonofabitch couldn’t have died in the plane crash.
The following day was Susan’s birthday.
“I’ll tell you what,” Robert said, enthusiastically, “we’ll celebrate. We’ll go out and have a wonderful dinner somewhere and—”
“I have to work at the hospital until eight.”
“All right. I’ll pick you up there.”
“Fine. Monte is dying to meet you. I’ve told him all about you.”
“I look forward to meeting the old man,” Robert assured her.
When Robert arrived at the hospital, the receptionist said, “Good evening, Commander. Susan is working in the orthopedic ward on the third floor. She’s expecting you.” She picked up the telephone.
When Robert got off the elevator, Susan was waiting for him, wearing her white starched uniform, and his heart skipped a beat. She was, oh, so damned beautiful.
“Hello, gorgeous.”
Susan smiled, strangely ill at ease. “Hello, Robert. I’ll be off duty in a few minutes. Come on. I’ll introduce you to Monte.”
I can’t wait.
She led him into a large private room filled with books and flowers and baskets of fruit, and said, “Monte, this is my husband, Robert.”
Robert stood there staring at the man in the bed. He was three or four years older than Robert and resembled Paul Newman. Robert despised him on sight.
“I’m certainly pleased to meet you, Commander. Susan has been telling me all about you.”
Is that what they talk about when she is at his bedside in the middle of the night?
“She’s very proud of you.”
That’s it, buddy, throw me a few crumbs.
Susan was looking at Robert, willing him to be polite. He made an effort.
“I understand you’ll be getting out of here soon.”
“Yes, thanks mostly to your wife. She’s a miracle worker.”
“Come on, sailor. Do you think I’m going to let some other nurse have that great body?” “Yes, that’s her specialty.” Robert could not keep the bitterness out of his voice.
The birthday dinner was a fiasco. All Susan wanted to talk about was her patient.
“Did he remind you of anyone, darling?”
“Boris Karloff.”
“Why did you have to be so rude to him?”
He said coldly, “I thought I was very civil. I don’t happen to like the man.”
Susan stared at him. “You don’t even know him. What don’t you like about him?”
I don’t like the way he looks at you. I don’t like the way you look at him. I don’t like the way our marriage is going to hell. God, I don’t want to lose you. “Sorry. I guess I’m just tired.”