Page 73 of Cherish

“You think I’d be sitting here drinking at five in the afternoon if he was—”

I don’t get to finish my sentence. The door opens, and from the sheer force of it, I know who it is. It also doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know who Mellie texted.

He comes charging through the bar, still dressed in his scrubs. He never wears scrubs outside the hospital. When he reaches me, he grabs my face in both hands and looks into my eyes. He searches my face, and when he sees I’m unharmed, he turns to Doyle, who makes no secret of watching us.

“I’m only going to say this to you once. Alex is with me. She’s engaged tome. You had your chance, and you walked away. Too bad. You don’t get a do over. Back the fuck off because next time, I won’t be this calm about it.”

“Oh!” I say a bit louder than necessary. “John Doyle ghosted me because I’m black. His family wouldn’t have approved.” I say the last sentence with an exaggerated British accent and curtsy, followed by loud giggles. The entire bar quiets down as they look at us.

“Let’s go home.” Jason reaches for me, but I shrug away from him.

“If I wanted to be at home, I would have gone there. I want to sit here and get drunk.” I look around him and yell, “Does anyone have a cigarette?”

“You must have lost your godforsaken mind, Alex. I said we’re going the fuck home.” He doesn’t give me time to respond. He throws some cash on the counter, picks me up and carries me out of the bar. Mellie and Ananda come running out holding my coat and purse.

A few minutes later, we’re inside a warm Uber. Jason doesn’t say a word the entire ride home, which takes longer than it should because of the rush hour traffic. By the time we get home, it’s only a few minutes past six, but my body feels like it should be much later.

Jason pulls things out of the fridge before he says, “Sit down, Alex. We’re going to talk right now because this shit can’t continue.”

“I don’t want to talk. There’s nothing you can say that will make the situation any better. I’m tired of talking. Talking’s not going to fix anything.”

“Getting drunk in the middle of the day won’t fix anything either. Acting like a child won’t fix this, but obviously we need to have a conversation. It appears you didn’t hear shit the last time we talked.”

“Nothing will fix this, Jason. Nothing.”

“Our love can. I love you more than anything, and I know you love me too. Let’s never forget that.”

I leave him standing in the kitchen and head for the shower. By the time the shower warms up, my clothes are strewn on the floor. The hot water feels good against my skin, and the noise of the water beating against my shower cap drowns out the voices in my head. By the time I step out, I’m exhausted. As if on autopilot, I dry, apply lotion, and put on a long T-shirt. I climb on the bed, the toll of the day sucking my energy.

I put my head on my pillow and do the only thing I can do. I weep. I don’t know how long I cry, but the tears flow until my pillow is soaked with my tears. Eventually, Jason finds me rolled up in a ball in the middle of the bed. He doesn’t say a word as he climbs in the bed with me, pulling me into his tight embrace.

It’s a combination of the sunlight and the pounding in my head that wakes me up. It’s not a hangover. I didn’t drink enough for that. The headache is from crying and dehydration.

“Shit!” It’s already past the time I should be at work. I jump out of the bed, regretting it immediately. I run into the bathroom and hop in the shower. After a quick wash, I brush my teeth, wincing at my face in the mirror. My skin is blotchy, and what little summer tan I had is long gone, leaving me pale with a few red spots around my eyes. I avert my gaze and rinse.

By the time I’m in the closet looking for my clothes, Jason comes walking in, surprising me because I thought he would have been long gone by now. I don’t look at him as I continue to rummage through our closet.

“I made you breakfast. Come and eat.” He grabs my hand and walks me to the kitchen, pointing to a chair. I find Advil and a bottle of water waiting for me. I pop a pill in my mouth and finish the water in a few huge gulps. My stomach growls at the smell of bacon and eggs.

I don’t look up as he takes the seat across from me until he says, “What the fuck got into you yesterday?”

His voice belies the serene expression on his face. I look closer, and he’s not serene at all. He’s seething. His nostrils are flared, and his jaw is clenched but tics every few seconds.

“Excuse me, Jason? You can get off your high horse, okay.”

“You’re at a bar, ordering vodka martinis like they’re water after walking out at work. And you have that asshole Doyle next to you. Did you call him there so you can punish me, Alex? Is that what yesterday was about?”

I scoff and start to eat my eggs, ignoring him until I’m ready to respond. I leave the table and grab another bottle of water. I drink half of it before I speak. “Believe it or not, Jason, yesterday wasn’t about you. I wanted a martini, so I went and had one. I’m an adult who is old enough to drink. I was sick of the pitying looks from Mellie and Ananda. They handled me like I was a bomb that could go off at any moment. I couldn’t take that anymore. No, I didn’t call Doyle, and it pisses me off that you would think that of me. He showed up there on his own.”

I grab my empty plate and wash it, giving him my back in the process.

“I can’t undo it, Alex.” I didn’t hear him approach, but he’s at my back, both of his hands placed on my shoulder.

“I’m well aware, Jason.” I try to shrug out of his touch, but he doesn’t move.

“Let’s talk, angel. Let’s get it out.” He starts to rub my shoulders, and all I want is to lean into his body and let him absorb the tension, but I can’t. I remain rigid.

“Nothing to say. It is what it is. I don’t want to talk about it.”

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