Evan was a radiologist. He used his x-ray vision to determine that my heart was the size of a hazelnut and just as hard. We dated for six weeks before he told me that I was nutty in other ways as well. My kisses, he said, left a bitter taste in his mouth. I had no delusions about the possible longevity of our relationship. His bedside manner was lacking and he was always trying to read me like a spot on one of his films.
He was the first in a line of –ologists. He introduced me to Barry, a psychologist. It was like a professional referral but with less paperwork and no insurance. Private sessions with Barry left me brain tired. I sat cross-legged on his couch for hours as he tried to crack my shell. As if the secrets of my mind might reveal the condition of my heart. It ended amicably enough, he with his cache of mind games freshly exercised and me with my shell still intact. He even introduced me to Carlos, a cardiologist friend of his who liked to say my name.
Carlos took me to dinner at an awning-covered sidewalk cafe. “What do you do for fun, Flora?” he asked. Not once did he pull out a stethoscope or try to wire me up for a cardiogram.
On our second date at the beach on a fog-shrouded afternoon, the seagulls circled, the ocean churned and he reached out to steady my unsure steps in the sand. The salt water sprayed over the rocks, hissing like the serpent in the Garden of Eden. Tempting me in ways I couldn’t resist. I bared soft-soled feet, climbed onto the sharp-edged tongue of stone and threw a handful of seaweed at him. He kicked off his shoes and followed me, teetering out onto the rocks. Laughing, I led him to the tip of the jetty where the stonework was slick and our footing untrustworthy. Still, when he reached me, we dove into the waters together, came up hysterical, sputtering, shivering like new lovers with blue lips.
Ruth Schiffmann puts pen to paper always hoping for that magical moment when the words take on a life of their own. More than a hundred of her stories, articles, essays, and poems have appeared both in print and online. To read more of her work, visit www.RuthSchiffmann.com.