Page 17 of Considering Us

“Yup, I thought he was going to confess something to me. I was all geared up to, I don’t know, do something. I’m not sure what, but something. Instead, we ordered drinks—these two enormous Manhattans with Woodford Reserve—and just shot the breeze. He pretended to talk about soccer, and I attempted to talk about fine literature. Both were out of our element and super awkward, but we were both trying. Then, some guy walked in with a Rockwood security officer and handed me a big envelope. The divorce papers were inside.” Kyle shook his head and threw his balled-up napkin into a nearby trash can.

How awful.My body hurt for him, sensing that ache you feel when someone you care about is in pain—orwasin pain. I couldn’t tell how much it bothered him still, but I imagined it was an incident you couldn’t easily brush off. I wanted to reach over and hug him, but it would’ve been super weird with Anniejust down the shore and tons of students nearby. Instead, I stood there awkwardly and tried to look sympathetic. “So, Ryland helped set up the whole thing?”

“Yeah, which is why I sit as far across the room from him as I can at all faculty meetings and events. Among other reasons.”

“Plus, that, um, paperwork you told me about that requires you to do that.”

“That, too. Almost forgot about that,” he said with a sly smile. He glanced over at Annie, who was in a one-sided conversation with a duck. “I like being friends with you, just so you know,” he said quietly.

My mind flashed back to 2007, to lying on that cramped twin dorm bed with Kyle, listening to Oasis, his hands in my hair, him telling me about a soccer game he wanted to see when he was in England; even that night he had told me many, many stories. Usually, these kinds of thoughts distracted me, but now, I felt myself smile. “Me, too.”

9

I felt good about things. Kyle and I were settling into a nice friendship. I had finally met Annie, and although I still felt pangs of attraction to him, for the moment, it seemed like we were doing all the right things. It was tough to tell what the future held, but considering everything that had happened to both of us over the past fifteen years, getting to know and trust each other slowly was the mature thing to do, at least as far as I could tell. I was glad I had steered us toward this course. At least, I thought so. Given my track record with men, I never really knew if I was doing the right thing.

On the night that I was supposed to meet up with Ward Connelly at The Barnacle, we were serving the students dinner on what had been an unseasonably hot October day for northern New England. The leaves were bold and bright, crunching under our every step on the quad, but instead of flannels and jeans, students were in tank tops and some of the shortest shorts I had ever seen. Andrea had sent out an all-campus message that the dress code of khakis and collared shirts was waived for the day, given the extreme heat, and some students took full advantage of the latitude. When a girl came through the line in a string bikini top, I turned to Marnie and said, “I am without words.”

She shrugged and said, “I’d wear one if I still could get away with it.” That was the most she had said to me in a week, whichseemed to be how she approached everyone. I tried not to take it personally.

The boys’ soccer team came in from practice, their faces so hot and sweaty they were almost purple. “We should get them some Gatorade,” I said to Marnie, who shuffled off to fetch the sports drinks. I got ready to help serve them dinner when I heard a thud, followed by yelling and gasping students. One of the players was lying on the floor, with his teammates surrounding him. I looked around for Kyle but didn’t see him anywhere, so I ran over to where everyone was gathered. “Is your coach here?” I asked no one in particular. The boys looked around and shrugged and mutteredno, so I yelled out to Marnie, “Call 911. He’s passed out, but I don’t know why.” I knelt next to him.

Within seconds, the boy opened his eyes and stared up at me. “You’re the one who makes me cookies,” he said slowly. His hair was soaking wet, and his uniform was stuck to him. I looked at the other players standing around us, who appeared the same. I guessed that dehydration had been an issue, but the paramedics would have to make that determination.

“Yes, I do make cookies,” I said. “What’s your name?”

“Jamie. Like the soccer player onTed Lasso.”

“Funny,” I said. This kid made me smile. “How are you feeling now?”

“I’m okay, I think,” he said. “I don’t know what happened.”

“How we doing over here?” I looked up and saw a tall paramedic standing over us. He had a booming voice and muscles bulging out of his short sleeves. “I’m Heath, with the Portsmouth Fire Department. I’m here with Bill, who’s an EMT, and Matt, who drove us. Who’s this here?” he asked, crouching down next to me.

I backed up and let Heath and his associates check out Jamie. Finally, I realized I needed to get the students away from the situation and told them to move to the tables or outside. Givenhow good Heath looked, several of the girls hung back, giggling and whispering. “Seriously,” I said to them. “You can sit over there and still look at him.” They rolled their eyes at me and plunked down in nearby chairs.

“Okay,” Heath said to me, and I felt my heart flutter. He had wavy brown hair and huge ice-blue eyes. He was tan and had a big smile, which I could feel shooting right through me.Thiswas something I hadn’t felt in a while. Pure magnetic physical attraction. I hadn’t even exchanged any real words with him, so it could be based on nothing else. “Jamie’s going to be fine, but we’re going to bring him to the hospital because he hit his head when he fell. They’re going to want to evaluate him in the ER—maybe run a CT. We’re going to start an IV of some fluids in the ambulance since, I think more than anything else, this kid’s super dehydrated.”

“I thought so,” I said, really having nothing else to contribute to the conversation.

“Tell that coach of his that they need to remind these guys to drink more electrolytes,” he said, winking at me. I wanted to collapse like Jamie had, but hopefully into the strong arms of Heath, the Hot Paramedic. “They’re teenagers. They don’t even remember their middle names half the time,” he said, smiling. I looked down at his hands for a second. They were huge. “You want to come ride in the ambulance with us? Usually, I’d bring the coach, but he doesn’t seem to be around, right?”

I hadn’t even thought to call Kyle; I just noticed he wasn’t there. There wasn’t time to do that now, and besides, I had the opportunity to ride in an ambulance with Heath. “Okay, sounds good. I’ll be right there.”

“We’ll be a few minutes getting him set up. See you outside,” he said, lightly touching my elbow before he went back to Jamie.Oh my God.

I yelled at Marnie that I was leaving and raced out the door. Ashlyn Lark was hanging around outside the ambulance, wearing a crop top and jean cutoffs, talking to Matt, the driver, as Heath and Bill got Jamie into the back of the vehicle. She raised her eyebrows when she saw me. “What are you doing here, Chef?” she asked.

“I could ask the same of you,” I said, climbing into the ambulance for the short ride to Portsmouth Regional Hospital.

I helped get Jamie checked in the best I could, but I realized I knew almost nothing about him and had no idea what the protocol was for these situations. I had simply wanted to sit next to Heath in the ambulance, but Matt told me I needed to sit next to him in the passenger seat because it had a seatbelt. The ride had been quick and uneventful, and Heath was, of course, focused on Jamie’s care. Now that I was sitting on a plastic chair in a corridor of the ER, trying to fill out a form with very little information, I realized I needed help.

“Hey! Is he okay?” Kyle came running in, disheveled and clearly stressed.

“I was going to call you next,” I said. “I don’t know how to fill out this form.”

“I got it,” he said, grabbing the clipboard. “I have access to all the information. I can get it on my phone through the coaches’ portal.”

“Great. Let me tell the nurse at the desk that you’re taking over for me,” I said, walking over to the reception area.

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