About six months ago, I started a new job at a place called St. Agatha's Hospital for Women, located in Chicago. It mainly focused on women's health. The nurses were mostly women as were the doctors. Even the custodians and administration were mostly women. But then there was me, one of two clinical psychologists and one of the few guys.
I had grown up around mostly women so St. Agatha's wasn't awkward for me. I was perfectly comfortable with so many female friends among the staff and working with predominately female patients. They were comfortable around me as well.
One particular friend of mine was one of the gynecologists, Dr. Theresa CΓ‘rdenas or "Resa" as she insisted I call her. "It's like the word for laughter and you make me laugh," she said when I asked her. "But in a good way!" Resa was from Mexico, moving to Chicago when she was 18. She still had her accent from Veracruz. I thought it sounded heavenly.
Resa and I were close and often spent our lunches together. We went to a museum or the park or to see a play every other weekend. Resa would confide in me and I in her. I met her family and she met mine. She was very important to me. We often said we loved each other. Every time I said the words, part of me wondered if I meant it in a platonic way.
After treating a regular patient of mine, a woman with post-partum depression (one of quite a few patients me and Resa shared), I got a call from the doctor. She wanted me to come over to her house tonight for dinner and a movie. It was Friday and we wouldn't be working the weekend so I said yes.
Theresa's house was quite big and fancy, even among the other houses of Forest Glen. She did make triple my salary. It was red brick, artistically designed, with a fountain in the yard two stone paths snaking around. I knocked and she came to the door, wearing a purple nightgown.
Resa was a stunning woman. Her gown hugged her wide hips and showed off her generous cleavage. She had silky black hair and brown eyes and a stare alone that could make a man weak.
"Eddie, I'm very happy to see you. Come in."
She gestured me inside. It was an extravagant place with antique furniture and art and sculptures. She grabbed my hand and took me to her kitchen which looked like a fancy restaurant tonight. On the table was boeuf bourguignon, still hot, served with ricotta gnocchi and a pinot noir in tall glasses. Theresa had always told me I should try her cooking and I can see why.