by Lund, S. E.
"Shh," I said and shut the light off. Then I pulled closer, spooning against her the way I always did when it was time to sleep. I knew she wanted to talk, and I knew she wanted more from me, but at that moment, I was far too sleepy to comply. I closed my eyes and barely even thought about the night’s events before drifting off to sleep.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I woke in the middle of the night to find I was alone in bed. I frowned, for Kate was usually a deep sleeper and almost never got up for any reason. I felt the bed and it was cold—she’d been up for a while. I quickly left the bed and went to check out the bathroom, but the light was out and it was empty. With a bad feeling building in me, I went to the living room. She wasn’t there either.
She’d left the apartment in the middle of the night.
I checked my watch. It was almost 5:30 and I’d be getting up for work soon anyway, so I sat down and sent her a text.
Why did you leave?
It took a while for her to respond.
I couldn't sleep. You were sleeping like a baby. I didn't want to wake you up so I just left.
I didn’t accept her answer, of course. There was no reason to leave in the middle of the night. She was upset about something and I was going to find out what.
You can always wake me up. I wanted you to stay with me so I could watch over you, make sure you're all right. Kate, I'm a neurosurgeon. We get concerned with any kind of head injury. You should have stayed until I said you were okay to go home. Do you have a headache? Nausea?
She responded right away.
I'm fine. My mind just won't slow down. I have a deadline and am working on my article.
That still didn’t satisfy me. There had to be something wrong. She was the woman who wanted a real relationship, and just when I think we’re on the road in that direction, she leaves in the middle of the night. It didn’t make sense.
You think too much. When you're with me, you don't have to think. That's what I'm for. But I suspect something's bothering you for you to leave without saying anything. Tell me what's the matter…
There was a pause before she responded.
Damn. If she had to think about it, it meant she wasn’t happy.
Drake, I still have to think, even when I'm with you. I still have to think when I'm not with you.
You want the truth?
I didn't respond for some time. Did I want the truth? Instead of all the texts, I had to hear her voice so I could tell what her emotions were so I called her number. In truth, I wanted her there with me so I could touch her. She didn’t answer my call, letting it go to voice mail.
Instead, she sent another text.
Drake, I don't like being shoved into a small box in the corner of your life.
I called again and again, but she continued to ignore me. Finally, I gave up and replied to her text.
You're not in a small box in the corner. In case you didn't realize it, you’re in a very big and very central box in the middle of my life.
Another long, pregnant pause, which I took as a very bad sign.
I don't know if that's enough.
Fuck. Just fuck. This was going south far too fast. I had to go and see her, speak with her in person to stop this—whatever this was—from happening.
I'm coming over.
This time, she was quick to reply.
Don't. It's too much of a risk.
I said nothing and went to the bedroom to get dressed. While I was pulling on my jeans, my cell dinged. I picked it up and checked.
I'm not at my apartment any longer so don't come by. Don't risk it. We'll talk later. I just need to be alone for a while.
There was no way I believed that. It was way too early. The deli wouldn’t be open and there was nowhere for her to go.
Being alone is the last thing you need, Kate. Meet me at 8th this morning. My surgical slate is empty the rest of the week because of the holidays.
There was a pause, during which time I kept dressing, then I went to the washroom to brush my teeth. When my cell dinged again, I checked it and there were three texts from her, two of them very long. I knew that they were bad news and my throat constricted as I read the first one.
Drake, this person knows that I was with you last night and thinks you've abused me. This person may tell my father no matter what I do. I want to warn you. I told her we broke up. We have to say goodbye for real, Drake. I can't take this any longer—this compartmentalization of my life. This pretending that we're not seeing each other, worrying that someone will find out and hurt you. I don't do compartmentalization, Drake. My life is a stew. I don't know anything different. I've tried it your way, but being just one part of your life isn't enough. The truth is that I could love you if I let myself. I can't do that because you don't do love. Lara told me that before we met and you made that abundantly clear to me.
You'll have no trouble finding another sub who wants to be a compartment in your life but that's not me. I'd only always want more and we'd have to end it, eventually. The longer we wait, the harder it will be. That first night, you said that someone would love me one day, and the truth is, despite how amazing the sex is with you, I realize I'd rather wait to find him than accept anything less. If you thought you could stop me from falling in love with you, you failed miserably. I can't accept what you can give. I deserve more.
Goodbye, Drake. I'm sorry, but this is the way it has to be for both our sakes.
I sat on my bed, my head in my hands and re-read the text over and over again.
Kate was right. She did deserve more than I planned to give her. She was an amazing woman with so much potential. Other Dominants would be ecstatic to have her as a sub and probably as a life partner. Could I give that to her?
Getting all mixed up emotionally with a woman, sub or otherwise, had been crossed off my to-do list for a long time. Kate had been filling up the cracks in my life since we started together, and I was happy—really happy—for the first time in a long time. Until I met Kate, I’d been content. Things were going well in my life. My practice, my band, the Foundation, the company… I had a few friends—Dave Mills, and a few fellow surgeons at NYP—with whom I had drinks now and then or played a game of racquetball at the club. Life was good.
My memories of my marriage were not so good—the times I’d spent lying in bed with my back turned to Maureen, the two of us distant for some reason, but me too busy to find out why or do anything about it. I didn’t do emotional entanglements well. I was like my bastard of a father in that way.
I guess he taught me well.
My chest felt heavy as I looked at Kate’s texts. A real man would “man up” and admit he wasn’t up to the challenge and let her go and find someone who could give her what she needed. I couldn’t give Maureen what she needed. I wouldn’t let her go and that almost got me thrown in jail and nearly cost me my career. I couldn’t do that to Kate, although every fiber of my being screamed that I had to go to her, prevent her from doing this—from breaking it off with me. I knew if I could get Kate alone, I could convince her to stay, but then I’d be doing exactly what I did to Maureen.
Blinking back tears, I texted her back.
You do deserve more.
Then I threw my phone on the floor and cradled my head in my hands. I’d fucked up another relationship. Allie had been disappointed with our relationship. She pushed things and I wouldn’t give. Couldn’t give. I couldn’t make Kate happy, either. I couldn’t give her what she needed and deserved. As much as I wanted her, some part of me held back from rushing over there to beg her to stay.
I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling like a teenage boy who just lost his first girlfriend. I considered the two weeks I had off and what I would do without Kate in my life. The only thing I knew was that I couldn’t bear to be at 8th Avenue for very much longer. I’d pack up my things and go back to my apartment in Chelsea. There were too many memories of Kate at 8th Avenue.
It was going to be a very long holiday
.
CHAPTER NINE
The days leading up to Christmas were perhaps the loneliest I had ever been.
I tried to keep busy with the Foundation, sitting at the desk in my office there and going over paperwork I’d been neglecting since I met Kate and started our affair. I tried catch up on work at the company, reading minutes of the recent Board meetings, looking at financial reports, looking at product development, but honestly, my heart just wasn’t in it and I ended up reading the same paragraphs over and over again.
When I felt like eating, which wasn’t often, I ate cereal and toast or grabbed something from the cooler at the coffee shop. I went through the motions of my life, not really engaged. I felt as if I had a personal storm cloud over my head, raining on my day and blocking out the sun.
On the day before Christmas, Ken called me and invited me to his family’s house for Christmas dinner, knowing I was always alone on the holidays.
“If you’re not spending the day with that new girl of yours, why not come to Mom’s place? Everyone will be there—Chris and his family, and mine of course. Better yet, bring her with you, or is that too personal for you?”
“Thanks,” I said. “I may drop by. Depends on whether I’m busy or not.”
“How are things going with your girl anyway? You never speak about your love life.”
I hesitated. I didn’t want to tell him Kate and I had broken up because then I’d be subject to a round of questions and sympathy. But I didn’t want to lie either.
“We broke up.”
There was a pause on the other end. “Sorry to hear that, Drake. It sounded like she was a good thing.”
I didn’t say anything in response, my throat constricted.
“Look, come over to the house and eat some turkey,” Ken said. “Then we can go to the pub and get drunk. I’ll open the bar just for us two.”
I thought about dinner with his family and couldn’t imagine facing it.
“I don’t know about dinner but the getting drunk part sounds good.”
“You are in love, Drake, if you pass up Christmas dinner at my place. You always enjoy spending the holidays with us.”
“I’ll meet you at the pub at nine Christmas night.”
“Okay, bro, but seriously. Mom will be hurt if you don’t show. I’ll tell her you have a broken heart and that’ll excuse you—maybe. See you.”
“See you. And thanks for calling.”
I went to Ken’s on Christmas Day anyway, unable to face being alone all day. As usual, the whole clan was at their place and it was almost standing-room only at the old brownstone in the Upper East Side. I kissed a lot of cheeks, ogled the new babies and toddlers, and sat with Ken and watched the kids playing with their toys around the Christmas tree—a real one with a top that reached the ceiling. Their home was always warm and inviting, with appetizers and a bar, plus punch for the adults and another for the kids. The table was huge, decorated with pinecones and fir branches, and the food was amazing. Mrs. O’Riley knew how to cook and put on a spread.
I never had Christmas like that when I was growing up and it was too appealing to pass up. I smiled so much my cheeks hurt, but I didn’t feel it inside. Quite the opposite.
I helped carry dishes out of the dining room and into the kitchen after our meal was over and of course, Mrs. O’Riley cornered me and wouldn’t let me leave without an interrogation about Kate.
“So, what’s this I hear about you and your girl breaking up, Drake? Ken says you’re in love and don’t know it.”
I forced a smile. “I’m fine, Mom.”
“Your eyes aren’t smiling. You don’t fool me. You really liked this girl.”
“I did. I do,” I admitted. “We’re just at two different places. She wants more and I can’t give it. That’s all.”
“Listen to me,” she said and wiped her hands on her apron. “You will regret it for the rest of your life if you don’t try with her. Believe me. You always regret the ones who got away without giving them your best shot.”
“The longer we’d stay together, the more it would hurt to end it, though,” I replied, thinking of how much Maureen's leaving hurt.
“The more it hurts, the more you loved. Loving that much is a good thing, Drake. Don’t give it up because you’re afraid of hurting in the future. The future is a lie. Life is all about how you feel right now.”
I shook my head. “I feel like I have a hole here,” I said and pushed my fist in my gut, just below my sternum. For some reason, she brought out the truth in me in a way that other people couldn’t.
“Don’t let her get away then. Trust that,” she said and poked me in the chest. “Not that.” She pointed to my head. “Don’t let her spend New Year’s Eve alone.”
I nodded. “I’ll consider it, but she broke off with me and I don’t think she’ll want me back.”
“Don’t think. Feel. Listen to me,” she said. “I know.” She nodded and turned back to her sink full of dishes. I stood beside her and dried, and she didn’t say another thing about Kate, leaving me to consider her words of wisdom.
Once the place was clean and all the dishes were done, I kissed Mrs. O’Riley on the cheek and left with Ken for the pub. He opened the back door and turned off the alarm. We had the place to ourselves. While he went behind the bar to get us a bottle of vodka, I went to the sound system and put on a mix CD of our musical influences.
We sat at the bar, him behind it and me on a stool.
“Pretend you’re a customer and I’m your bartender. Tell me your troubles, man. I’m here to listen and get you drunk.”
I exhaled heavily. “What do you want to know?”
“Tell me what happened with your girl. Like I said, I thought she was a good thing. You smiled when you spoke about her. You never did that before with your other girlfriends.”
He poured us both a shot of vodka. We clinked shot glasses and then threw them back.
I sighed. “She was a very good thing. I wasn’t good enough for her, I guess.”
“What?” he said and frowned as he poured us another shot. “My mother would smack you for saying that. How could a single, attractive brain surgeon worth a cool billion dollars, who plays guitar no less, not be good enough?”
“She wanted more than I could give.” It hurt to even admit it, but it was true, and if I couldn’t tell Ken, who could I tell? It made me realize once more how truly empty my personal life was.
“You weren’t in love with her?” Ken asked, his voice light.
I didn’t say anything for a moment. “I think I was.”
He shook his head and pointed to the shots. “If you were in love, you’d know it, Drake. There’s no mistaking it. If you were in love with her, you’d feel gutted at the thought of not seeing her again. Gutted. Like you couldn’t eat. Like the sun went under a cloud. That’s what it feels like to lose someone you love.”
I didn’t let his words register. We did another shot and smacked the shot glasses on the bar top. He poured another.
“You sound like your mother.”
“She’s a wise lady. Now, drink up.”
We did another shot and I felt warmth in my stomach, the alcohol lightening the mood. It was a good thing I had a full stomach from dinner or I’d start to feel it even more. After the fourth shot, though, even the turkey and stuffing and gravy couldn’t keep the alcohol out of my bloodstream. I felt a little loose.
“I did love her,” I said, nodding. “I do.”
“There’s my man.”
That pretty much was the last thing I remember coherently. The rest of the night was spent singing songs from our repertoire. “Heart of Stone.” “Paint it Black.” I was relentless in finding every sad song on the Karaoke machine, Ken and I taking turns to sing our hearts out.
We took a taxi home at 3:00 a.m., and I didn’t even care that I’d left my car at the pub. I’d get it in the morning. Ken helped me up into my bed and left me, taking the taxi to his own home.
&nbs
p; I don’t even remember my head hitting the pillow.
I slept late the next day and did nothing, turning down an invite from Mrs. O’Riley to join the family for brunch at the pub. My head ached from the vodka and late night so I pretty much spent the day and evening in my pajamas watching action movies on pay TV channels.
I was on call on the days leading up to New Year’s and had to go in to deal with a trauma, a brain injury resulting from a fall, and I was glad of it because it kept my mind off Kate. Then I got an email from Michael in Nairobi, asking me once again if I’d considered his offer to come to Kenya for six months, to teach a class and take on part of his caseload. I called him and we had a great talk, about his plans for the medical college and how he could really use me there.
I had promised him I’d come one day and help out, and now that Kate and I were over, I had nothing keeping me in Manhattan. I could handle the most pressing cases during the course of January and then head off to Kenya in February to start at the college in March. It seemed like a good idea, and would keep me moving forward. I needed something to make me feel less morose. I was making myself sick with how dispirited I’d been.
Going to Kenya might be enough of a distraction to keep me from drowning in self-pity. Kate hadn’t contacted me and was obviously moving on.
The day before New Year’s Eve, I was at NYP checking on a patient I’d worked on the night before. Lara called me while I was sitting in my office, reading the man’s file.
“What’s up?” she said. “I haven’t heard from you for a while.”
I took in a breath. “Not much. I’m probably going to Kenya in February. A colleague—a mentor—has invited me to teach at the medical college and take on a caseload.”
“What?” she said, her voice shocked. “And you were planning on telling me when? The day before you left? Jesus, Drake…”
“I’m telling you now.”
“What about Kate? You given up on her?”
