Page 29 of Cherish

JASON

“I don’t have clothes here.” That’s the first thing she’s said in about half an hour. She pushes herself out of my arms and jumps off the bed. She grabs my scrubs and pulls on the pants. Before she can put the top on, I’m off the bed, and I grab it from her hand.

“It’s late and you don’t have to drive me home. I’ll get an Uber.” She reaches for the top again, but I put it out of her reach.

“You’re a frustrating woman, do you know that? It’s like you didn’t hear a thing I said. I want you. I want to be with you. I want you here.” I grab her hand, pull down the scrubs, and swoop her into my arms.

We lie in the dark, and despite our closeness, I know she’s a million miles away.

“Stop overthinking things.”

“I’m not, but I told you I don’t want to do casual hookups or be a booty call.”

“And I told you, I don’t want casual. I want you and me. I like you.”

I can feel her body relax into mine. I lean down and kiss her forehead, and I’m rewarded with a soft sigh.

“I like you, too,” she says.

CHAPTER 17

ALEX

Despite the relatively early hour, I’m exhausted. I lean closer to him and close my eyes, comforted by the strong beating of his heart.

“I work long hours, some of them overnight.” The words startle me out of my doze. His fingers grab my chin again, and I look up at his face, confused. “Sometimes I’ll have to cancel plans. If I’m on call, and I get called in, I have to go. And on my days off, I prefer to stay close to home. I have a very small circle. You’ve met my best friend and his fiancée. His family is like my extended family. I have a few colleagues I see outside of work sometimes. I’m past the age of clubbing and getting drunk just for getting drunk’s sake. This is my life.”

“Like spending the night at the hospital last night? Does that happen a lot?” I ask.

“Not spontaneously like that, but I am scheduled for overnight shifts sometimes. I want you to know what you’re getting into.”

“Sounds more like a warning. Don’t tell me a surgeon has a hard time getting a woman,” I tease.

“Getting one? No, but most aren’t prepared for the reality of it. They get upset when I have to cancel plans or if all I want to do is hang out at home after a grueling shift.”

I lay my head back on his chest and think of his words. As confident and domineering as he can be, I sense some vulnerability. I think of the last boyfriend I had. It was three years ago, and we were only together for three months. I told him who I was, too. I told him what to expect. He was all in, but things unraveled quickly. The first sign was his reaction to my fear of thunderstorms. I flashback to Jason holding me, pressing his soft lips to my forehead while he offered me soothing words. Chad did the opposite. He told me I was acting like a child.

The final nail in our relationship happened on the second anniversary of my mother’s death.

“My mother died almost six years ago. She collapsed during a thunderstorm. I was in my room and didn’t hear her fall. She died of a brain aneurysm. She was here one day and gone the next. I never know how I’m going to react on the anniversary of her death. Last year, I swore to everyone I was fine the weeks leading up to the anniversary. I lied to myself, Jason. I didn’t get out of bed for a week. I couldn’t even be bothered to bring flowers to her grave until a week later. Some years, I’m fine on that day. Like two years ago, I got up, took her flowers and spent hours with her. When I got home, I cried for the rest of the day. I stayed in bed for three days. Ananda finally came over and got into bed with me. She held me as I cried. I look for signs from her everywhere. I dream of her. I dream of her often, but one dream was different because she spoke to me. She told me to let love in and not be alone like she was. The next day, I met John Doyle and convinced myself she was talking about him.”

“When is the anniversary?” he asks.

“August twenty-ninth.”

“I’ll take the day off. If you want to go to the gravesite, I’ll take you. If you want to stay in bed and cry, I’ll hold you while you do. Whatever you want to do. If I could, I’d never let you be alone during a thunderstorm again, but I can’t promise to always be there when it happens.”

I can’t help the tears that fill my eyes. It was always me and my mom, and when she died, I was left alone. Her one sister lives outside of Pittsburgh, a religious zealot who makes it a point to remind me of the dangers of succumbing to the pleasures of the flesh and limits our interactions only to texts of biblical quotes. Her daughter, my only cousin, is not allowed to communicate with me, for fear I might infect her with my secular ways.

The few boyfriends I’ve had either didn’t care or didn’t understand. Maybe it was both.

“I don’t expect you to always be there, but the fact that you want to be is enough. So, you’re not put off by my annual bout of craziness?” Doubt lingers. He’s saying all the right things, but he’s not met with the reality of it.

“Not crazy. It’s called grief and there’s no formula.”

“In that case, I never got into clubbing. I understand your hours, and I promise your work won’t be a problem. And as far as you being a boring old man who likes to stay at home and watch golf on his days off, just keep the fridge stocked with that expensive beer, and we’ll be okay. I’ll even make you dinner some nights.”

“I knew it the moment I saw you,” he says.

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