Page 87 of Holiday Love
Milton takes a few cautious steps away, like he fears for our sanity.
Once we’ve calmed down and wiped the tears from our eyes, I ask, “What exactly did Larry say?”
Lindsey stands, stretches her hands above her head, and does a side bend, like it’s easy to talk and move at the same time. I mimic her, readying myself for whatever nonsense Larry spouted off about me.
Turns out, it’s worse than I thought.
“He said your ‘loser,’” making air quotes, “his words not mine, boyfriend came in overdosed, and you lied about knowing him. He told some of the nurses you ordered everyone out of the room so you could treat him yourself. He even implied you gave the guy more drugs so he wouldn’t go into withdrawal.”
I flinch. “Seriously?”
“I said I was there too and that, besides putting the IV in yourself, everything else you did was by the book. I reminded them the entire code team was there so it’s not like there was a chance for any funny business.” She folds her arms, triumphant. “The rumors died down after that. Nobody trusts Larry. He gives all the female staff the heebie-jeebies.”
“Thanks for defending me.” I blow out a resigned breath. “That story was partly true. I do know the, uh, patient. His name is Teddy. He’s my friend’s brother. We, uh, um, kinda…” I put my hand over my face, thinking if I don’t look at her maybe I can say it. This is harder than I expected, airing all my dirty laundry, but Lindsey stuck up for me. I feel like she deserves the truth. “We had a one-night stand, a year ago, and then he never called me. I hadn’t seen him until he came into the hospital that night.”
“What!?” Lindsey exclaims, scowling. “What an asshole. Who doesn’t call after a hook up? I hate guys like that.”
“I know!” Months of old hurt and anger flare to life. We still haven’t talked about that, Teddy and me. So many times, it’s been on the tip of my tongue, but every time I let it go. Not wanting to hear about how that night meant nothing to him, when it meanteverythingto me. Before I can think it through, I blurt out, “Now he’s living with me! Walking around with his shirt off and being all nice and charming, like he didn’t stomp on my heart.”
Lindsey’s mouth gapes. “Are you freaking kidding me? What a jerk!”
I nod, vindicated that her outrage matches mine, that she gets it.
She grabs my wrist, eyes blazing. “Is he taking advantage of you? Because I swear to God, I will kick his ass for you. Just say the word, Dr. Chu—”
“Call me Helen.”
“Helen. I amallabout accountability. These guys, they think they can get away with anything just because they’re hot and all, but not on my watch. No sir. We are modern, resilient women. We don’t need them and their tiny dicks. That’s what God made vibrators for.”
She’s practically shouting by the end of her tirade, face red and ponytail mussed, and I’msohere for it. I haven’t felt this much feminine rage in forever, not since Nick Kettleman pushed me down in second grade and I kicked him in the stomach so hard he puked.
Natalie, on the other side of Lindsey, caught the tail end of our conversation. She raises her hand in a fist of solidarity. “Fuck, yeah.” Elenor leans in from behind her and adds, “Men! What is wrong with them? Pick up the goddamn phone. Be a decent human being. It’s not that hard.”
Sensing that his life is in danger, Milton has defected to the other side of the room, where he watches us like we’re summoning demons.
Lindsey’s still breathing hard, her eyes glittering, and it occurs to me in that moment that I’m weird, but maybe Lindsey is too, just in her own way.
Maybe we all are.
“Let’s all go to your place after class and give this Teddy a piece of our minds,” Lindsey announces.
The other women nod in unison.
Worried I might have stirred up a mob, I backtrack quickly. “He’s notallbad, Teddy.”
Lindsey sends me a doubtful look, like she’s convinced I’m a victim of Stockholm Syndrome.
I raise my hands. “No, really. He binge watches TV reruns with me, eats ice cream, teaches me to surf. Coached me on how to talk to you…”
Dang it, there I go again.
Foot meet mouth.
“Talk to me?” Lindsey quirks her head. “What do you mean?”
“Umm, I was…uh, nervous to speak to you. I’m not always the best at making new friends,” I admit, twisting my hands in front of me.
“Oh.” She shrugs like it’s no big deal. “I think you’re doing fine, Helen. I’ve been wanting to be your friend for forever.”
