Amor Prohibido

 I was lonely.

I know: it sounds like the perfect setting (or excuse) for an act born of bad judgment. Her name was xxx. She was 33 and I, 58. This is our ‘story’.

I met xxx for the first time, I think, 3 years ago. My family and I had just moved to Buffalo, New York. For the first 4 years of marriage, my wife had been a stay-at-home mom, because our daughter was still little (5 to 9 years old, in thse years). The move to Buffalo was exciting for both of us. I was moving from working for a Clinic to being a professor at a University. I was going to be an Associate Professor of Internal Medicine & Pediatrics. I would practice medicine, teach students and residents and get some time to do research. My wife, Amy was excited too. She had always wanted to do a PhD in math and this was her chance. She had already been accepted into the program by the time we moved here.

Back to xxx. I came home one day from work and there was a shorter, black-haired, brown-eyed woman sitting on our couch with my wife. She had larger eyes and curly black hair that fell on her shoulders.

“Vijay! This is xxx. She’s in the math program with me.” Amy said this by way of introduction. xxx smiled and said ‘hi’. Amy was 42 at the time, and xxx looked much younger. I could not tell how much younger. She looked in her early 30s. From her appearance, she seemed Latin.

“Where are you from, xxx?” I asked.

“Oh, I was born here. But my parents are from --- (a country in Latin America.”

“Que bien! Gusto conocerlo.” I said, smiling.

“Vijay speaks Spanish, xxx.” Amy added.

Over the next 3 years, xxx would come over often. Mostly, Amy and she would sit together, chatting, or working separately on math in Amy’s office or the table in the hall. Sometimes, xxx would cook something (she loved to cook). She helped Amy clean the house a couple of times (“xxx loves to clean!” Amy would explain.) xxx always said ‘hi’ even when neither Amy nor Phoebe would acknowledge my return home. We exchanged a few words every now and then, sometimes in Spanish and sometimes in English.

Amy had other friends in the program, but xxx was the one that came over the most. In November, 2018, xxx had a car accident. The accident totaled her car. Fortunately, she was okay, except for some contusions. She came home.

“xxx! Let Vijay take a look at you! He is the best doctor I know. In fact, you should become his patient.” Amy was saying this to xxx as I stood in front of them. Despite our relationship falling apart, Amy had always maintained that I was an excellent doctor and my patients were lucky to me. She blamed my devotion to my patients for some of what destroyed our marriage.

Anyway, xxx became my patient. I treated me through her recovery from the injuries. I treated other issues that arose along the way. I would intermittently get texts from her with medical questions. This was not unusual however, as I allowed a lot of my patients to text me in this way. If I saw her at home visiting Amy, I would inquire about how things were going medically and we would have a little ‘office visit’ in our living room, with Amy acting as the chaperone.

Of course, our marriage was going from bad to worse. Towards the end, I would sit in my office in the basement of the house, where I slept at night as well. Amy and I spoke very little to each other. xxx was polite and caught in this awkward cold war.

Amy and I were divorced in January, 2020 after failed attempts at counselling. Amy and Phoebe did not move out until May, 2020. Phoebe was visiting her other mother in Wisconsin when Amy moved their things out and found her own place.

By then COVID was ravaging our country and the world. I volunteered as a doctor to help in New York City during the ‘surge’ – the explosion of cases there. I agreed to go to NYC for a week. When I mentioned this to Amy (xxx was visiting at the time), Amy asked, “when will you be going?”

xxx came up to me. Her eyes met mine as she said in a soft, pleading voice, “Don’t go, Vijay!”

Looking back, I cannot tell if she was concerned about the risk that I would be at working in with COVID patients in an overflowing, taxed system, or if she was concerned for her friend. Amy did not say anything. When I returned a week later from New York, the house was mostly empty. Amy had moved most of her things, furniture, bed, books, kitchen stuff and lamps out of the house.

Ironically, that first week a terrible loneliness set in. I say ironically, because for the better part of 2 years, we did not share much together. We had stopped sleeping in the same bed 3 years before then and when I was at home, I was in my little office in the basement. We cooked our meals separately and barely exchanged any words. Phoebe was a teenage by then, and shut herself in her room, on her computer with friends most of the time.

I walked within what seemed like a large house, picking newspaper off the floor, moving left behind items to the corners to tidy the place up a bit. The house was quiet and dark. Amy had taken the television with her. Before, the television was almost always on in the hall. Now there was silence.

“Vijay, are you going to church on Sunday? Can I go with you?”

I read the text on my phone in between seeing patients in a busy clinic. The message was from xxx.

“Of course, xxx! Do you want to come home and we ride there together, want me to pick you up, or will you meet me there?” I texted back.

xxx had come to church with my family and I when we went, several times. She was not regular, but then, neither were Amy and Phoebe. I tended to go regularly if I was not working.

Over the next 3 weeks, xxx would meet me in the church parking lot and we would go into church together. We attended the 9 am service. xxx preferred to meet me there because she felt she might run late getting to church. She did not ‘dress up’ for church, like Amy used to do. She came in jeans and a shirt with a winter pull-over.

The first time we went, I had to leave her after the service to pick up Phoebe. I promised her that I would buy her breakfast the following week. The next week, after church, we went to the Pancake House for breakfast. It was great to talk with her, going between Spanish and English. I got to learn more about her and loved spending time with her. I remember that first breakfast. When we checked into the restaurant, we were told there would be wait. They offered to text us when our table would be ready. It was a chilly morning, but we both had our jackets. We walked onto Main Street, and strolled down towards the Ellicott Creek. It was beautiful to see the little town of Williamsville with its quaint shops. xxx had been to the Creek before, but I hadn’t. As we strayed off the road into the Island Park, we chatted and saw the little rapids in the river. We smiled and laughed. It was easy to talk to xxx. Unlike my conversations with Amy, where I felt I had to step over landmines that could change the mood in a second, xxx was soft, easy going and seemed interested in what I had to say.

Our little walk was cut short by the restaurant texting us. We went back and had a great breakfast. We had eaten there before, with Amy and Phoebe along, after church. We had great conversation. She told me that in the future she would like to maybe teach math, using questions that were more interesting to girls and minorities, than the kind of questions currently used in classes and texts. I smiled at her enthusiasm and her vision. Here was someone who was a first generation immigrant to go to college, a female and from a Latin American country who was in the process of getting a doctorate… and in math, to boot. I was excited to see the kind of leader and impact she could have on more girls, more minorities getting into science and math because of her.

I ordered an order of gluten-free pancakes for Amy and for Phoebe. xxx mentioned she would pass by there after this, since we were close to their new place. After breakfast, she drove to Amy’s house and I drove home.

After that first week, I began to notice that I was developing romantic feelings towards xxx. It felt a bit odd. I felt in love. I didn’t think I could feel that way still, at my age. To me, she was beautiful, smart, passionate and had wonderful, selfless goals I was excited about. I looked forward to Sunday morning, worshipping with her in church and breakfast after. I had daytime fantasies of a life together with her. I thought of her as my object of affection as I listened to Latin rock music, ballads or merengue driving home from work.

Jose Jose has song that goes like this:

Mentiras son todas mentiras
Cosas que dice la gente
Decir que este amor es prohibido
Que tengo 40 y tu 20

Que yo soy otoño en tu vida
Y tu eres dulce primavera
No saben que guardo un verano
Que cuando te miro te quema

40 y 20
40 y 20
Es el amor lo que importa
Y no lo que diga la gente

I used to laugh at the song. I laughed because I thought that it was a clever way for this 40 year old guy to justify his affection toward a girl literally half his age. But now, I, a 58 year old guy was in love with a 33 year old girl. Why, when I was 40, she was 15. 15! What was I thinking? Amy and I had an age difference too. When we met, I was 50 and she was 37 – a 13 years difference.  Maybe I am attracted to younger women. But then, aren’t all men? Isn’t that more of a sexual attraction? I thought about that. I did find women most beautiful between 30 and 40. I found them mature, more beautiful than pretty, able to be good conversationalists and companions. I loved xxx because she seemed to share so many more of my values and culture than Amy and I had. She loved the Lord like I did. She had spoken of a previous long-term relationship she had and she had supported her boyfriend, took care of him and wanted to see him succeed in everything he did. In this, she spoke as someone who seemed more similar to the women of my culture. Perhaps Latin culture is more like Indian culture in this way than is American (Caucasian) culture. Perhaps all this was racist profiling.

Problem 2: xxx was Amy’s friend. I met xxx through my ex-wife. People might think she was the reason my marriage to Amy fell apart. In all truth, I did not develop romantic feelings for xxx until months after our divorce. Still, what a way to meet your future soulmate.

Problem 3: xxx was my patient! I had NEVER viewed a single patient in my past romantically. I am not blind. I have found my patients attractive, but there is a professional barrier and a clinical line I would never cross. It is unethical to date one’s patient. There is a unequal position of advantage a doctor has over his or her patient, with the intimate knowledge of their past medical history and the patient’s dependence on them for medical care. What would I do with that?

Amore Prohibido.

I remember reading that when Woody Allen was asked about his falling in love with a 27 year old girl that was an adopted daughter of Mia Farrow with whom he had a relationship before.

“The heart wants what it wants. There's no logic to those things. You meet someone and you fall in love and that's that.”

They have been married for over 20 years and still going strong. He was 62 and she 27.

After the second week of church and breakfast, I got a text one Friday.

“Vijay, I am sorry that I cannot come to church with you anymore. Amy is a little uncomfortable with this. She has not asked me not to go to church with you, but I don’t want to do anything to cause any distress to my friend.”

We exchanged a few texts in which I mentioned that I understood and would not to do anything to harm her relationship with Amy. They were friends first and I got to know her only because of that.

Shortly after that, with COVID cases rising in the area, church went ‘virtual’. By mutual agreement, I would text xxx before the services to check that she was up and attending. It was our way of mutually encouraging one another to attend services.

We continued to text each other in relation to medical questions. After one such text, xxx asked me if I would come to her home to pray over her apartment. She felt there was a presence of evil there that woke her up at night. She sounded scared. I had prayed with people in these situations before. I agreed to come over and shared a verse from Scripture with her. The night before I was to go over there, she texted me that she had a headache and would like to postpone the visit. I agreed, although wondered about the whole thing. That was that. I never did go over to her apartment.

That’s the ‘story’. Here it ends. Nothing actually happened. There was no physical contact. There was no sexting. There was not even any mushy talk. There were romantic fantasies (in my mind, anyway).

What if xxx had been older, or I younger? What if we had met in a different way? What if she was not my patient?

What if I threw all this ‘Amor Prohibido’ thing to the wind and did the ‘Woody Allen’ thing?

Well, a few things come out of this:

1.       I realize that I can still fall in love. I thought that with 2 marriages under my belt and being 58 years old, I was done. I guess not.

2.       I am lonely. What to do is not clear. What if love passes me by and I die alone? I feel alone and without a companion. Is this going to be the rest of my life? Will I be this eccentric single, old man with no life – a workaholic with nothing outside of work?

3.       What kind of love and life can a 58 year old man with diabetes and high blood pressure and cholesterol have? Would it be fair to visit this upon a woman? Do I have a right expect a companion who will love me, want to cook for and take care of me? I would give everything to her – love her, take interest in her life and career, provide all her financial needs and aim to settle her even after I am gone. Is this how this works?

4.       They say ‘You only live once!’ Am I being too cautious or over analyzing things? The Christian and Rational person in me sees this as untenable.

For now, it looks like my story with xxx is over. I am still her doctor and have not crossed any borders there.

To be honest, I do not know if she had or could develop romantic feelings for me. In one of her emails she mentioned something about seeing me like a father/brother/mentor. I suspected she was conflicted – torn between (maybe) having a relationship with me but maybe she sensed my attraction to her and was embarrassed and awkwardly trying to discourage me. I know she is lonely. I know she has no present relationship. I know she wished she was in a relationship with someone. She mentions she would love to be in a relationship with someone who has a career, versus an unsettled person.  She is in the PhD program. She is ahead of Amy, but still struggling with her thesis and does not have an end date in sight. This weighs on her.

xxx, I hope you meet someone and that it is magical. I hope he is a little older than you, well established in his career, able to provide for you and provide a house and home for you. I pray you graduate with your doctorate, get married and have children of your own. You have so much love and nurturing to give. I am proud of your plan to support women in STEM and particularly encourage people from ethnic groups not currently represented or under-represented in Science and Math. I know you can be a beacon, a teacher and a leader. I pray you meet a godly man who will support your dreams, be the rock in your life and that you both have many years of a happy, wonderful marriage with children.