Beyond the Frame – Chapter 3

Victoria sat in the waiting room of her doctor’s office. It was Thursday afternoon, and she fought a rising wave of anxiety while she waited for her appointment.

She had called her doctor the same day she discovered the truth about Ronald. Olive had insisted she come in that evening after work for a checkup, and the nurse had drawn three vials of blood. Victoria’s dread had spiked from that moment on.

Each time she thought about the test results, fear squeezed her lungs. She had barely gotten any work done. Shifting on the comfortable gray couch, she picked up a magazine and flipped through it without seeing the pages.

Across the room, the nurse typed briskly at her computer. Victoria glanced around the elegant, vanilla-scented waiting room and smiled. She and Olive had gone to university together and grown even closer once Olive started dating Victoria’s big brother, Clifford.

Victoria sighed and dropped the magazine on the glass table. She was afraid Clifford might walk in and find her waiting. She was not ready to explain why she was here. Ronald’s betrayal was too new, too painful. She was actually avoiding him at work; better not to see him until she could control the urge to scratch his eyes out.

Instead, she had thrown herself into the wedding reception plans for the Kamau wedding. Thinking about the event, she recalled Eric Kabuto’s ridiculous invitation. Her cheeks burned when she remembered he had witnessed her lowest moment; she shut her eyes, hoping to escape the embarrassing memory.

She had even considered skipping the church ceremony. Beth would be too busy getting married to notice her absence, and Victoria’s car was still at the repair shop. Clifford had promised to help her pick it up today, but…

She shrugged.

She also had nothing to wear. What she really needed was a day on the couch, a tub of ice cream, and time to mourn her own stupidity.

“Miss Waina,” the friendly nurse called. “Dr. Mulua is ready for you.”

Victoria rose on shaky knees and followed the nurse down the quiet corridor. Her anxiety returned tenfold when she stepped into the neat, antiseptic-bright office and found Olive jotting notes at her desk. Her friend looked every inch the successful doctor in a tailored gray skirt and matching silk blouse; gold-rimmed glasses completed the image.

“Vicky,” Olive said, glancing up. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting.”

She capped her pen, rounded the desk, and hugged Victoria.

“I’ve had the busiest day, and it’s not over. One of my patients was admitted this morning. I need to see him tonight.”

Emergencies ruled Olive’s life now; Victoria understood, since Clifford’s schedule looked the same. They were, she thought, the perfect couple.

“I don’t mind waiting,” Victoria said, taking a seat.

The butterflies in her stomach rioted when Olive chose the guest chair beside her, clearly intent on offering comfort. The thought that she might be seriously ill made her even queasier.

“Vicky,” Olive said, breaking into her thoughts, “I have your results.”

Victoria sucked in a breath as Olive unfolded the white paper.

“You asked for HIV testing and a full STD screen. You’re HIV-negative, and your bloodwork is clean, no sign of any infection. Your weight does need to go down a bit, but it isn’t critical. You’re healthy, sweetie. No problems in sight.”

Relief flooded her so hard she nearly sagged in the chair.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive,” Olive said gently. “Can I ask why you wanted these tests? Did something happen? You can tell me.”

Tears pricked Victoria’s eyes. They spilled before she could stop them, and she reached for the tissue box on Olive’s desk. The past forty-eight hours had been hell. Ever since she’d learned Ronald was cheating, she had lived inside a storm cloud, terrified he might have infected her with something.

“Vicky?” Olive squeezed her hand. “Honey, what happened?”

“It’s silly,” Victoria whispered, dabbing her cheeks. “I didn’t sleep last night, worrying. I was afraid.”

“Afraid of what?”

She sighed, and the words tumbled out.

“Ronald is cheating on me. I never would have known if Grace hadn’t heard it from Nick, Tropic’s chef. For Nick to know, who else already did? I’m such an idiot.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” Olive breathed. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s my fault. I should have seen it, but I guess I didn’t want to.”

Olive pulled her into a fierce hug.

“Your fear isn’t silly at all. You deserve better. He isn’t worth your tears.”

Victoria laughed weakly; Grace had said the same on Tuesday. She drew back to meet Olive’s worried gaze.

“Are you sure I’m okay? I won’t wake up in a month with some irreversible disease?”

“I’m sure. Nothing obvious now,” Olive assured her.

When Victoria still frowned, Olive squeezed her fingers again.

“Let’s schedule follow-ups in one month and again in two. Meanwhile, take it easy. I’d prescribe a week off work. When was your last vacation?”

Victoria searched her memory. “I think it was that trip we took to Diani Beach.”

“Two years ago!” Olive gaped. “Take time off, Vicky. You look exhausted.”

“I’m not stressed,” Victoria protested. “Work makes me happy.”

“Work is where Ronald is. You need space from him,” Olive said firmly. “Vacation: doctor’s orders.”

Her phone beeped. She grimaced. “The hospital. I must go.”

Victoria stood and hugged her again.

“Thank you for seeing me so fast.”

“Anything for you. Drinks this weekend?”

“I have a wedding thing Saturday at the hotel.”

“Great, I’ll crash. We can meet at the bar on the second floor.”

A genuine smile tugged at Victoria’s lips. “It’s a date.”

“Invite Grace. It will be like old times in college,” Olive said, grabbing her stethoscope and coat.

****

Buoyed by her clean bill of health, Victoria decided to walk back to her apartment. Hurlingham wasn’t far from Nairobi Hospital, and Olive had urged her to get more exercise. Thank goodness she’d worn flats. Weight management beats terminal diseases any day. She couldn’t stop thanking God for today’s mercy.

Stupid Ronald. What could she do to him that would feel half as bad as what he’d done to her?

At Hurlingham Shopping Center, she ducked into the supermarket for toiletries. Under harsh fluorescent lights, she debated toothpaste choices when her phone buzzed. Thinking it might be Grace, she answered without checking the caller ID.

“Where are you?” Ronald demanded. “You’re not in your office.”

“I took the afternoon off,” she snapped.

His voice alone ignited her anger.

“What do you want?”

“Vicky, why are you upset? Is it because I missed dinner on Monday? I told you…”

“Stop.” She gripped the shopping cart. “I don’t want anything to do with you, Ron. We’re over.”

“Vicky…”

“Don’t call me when I’m off again. You bastard. Ask Anita, the concierge, for a date; she’d love to hear from you.”

She hung up and blew out a shaky breath, body vibrating with rage. Only when her pulse slowed did she turn back to the toothpaste.

She had always bought the toothpaste her parents bought when she was a child; no wonder she’d clung to Ronald like a bad habit.

Well, habits could change. She reached for a different toothpaste brand without hesitation. She was done being the woman who let Ronald treat her like a fool. Never again.

With that conviction, she marched to the checkout, already plotting where to buy a knockout red dress in Nairobi.

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