They’d met at a dinner party that Bernie and Marjorie had hosted. Dr. Gibson made moves on him outside on the patio, in the dark, leaning into Curtis as he backed up against a wall. Curtis remembered he could see the guy that Dr. Gibson had come to the party with in the living room talking to his aunt.
“But what about your boyfriend?”
“He’s fine. He doesn’t know anything about medicine—he’s lucky if he knows where to put the thermometer.”
“Oh…”
Curtis came out of his thoughts and realized Dr. Gibson was talking to him.
“About that. We’ll have to dock your pay for this morning,” Dr. Gibson said. “I ran into Buchanan today, and he said he wasn’t giving you his patient list yet.” He lifted an iced coffee to his lips and suggestively sucked on the straw. “Are you sure you still want to leave?” Dr. Gibson nudged Curtis with his shoulder.
“I’m certain.” Curtis looked back at the monitor. “It was personal.”
“What was personal?” Dr. Gibson leaned in and stage-whispered, “You’ve had my cock in your mouth, how personal could this have been?”
Christine had a shocked look on her face and stretched her arms out and pulled them in to clasp her hands.
“It isn’t any of your business, Dr. Gibson. And any mistakes I’ve had with ingesting things in the past is no longer a part of my current life.” Curtis logged off the computer. “I’ll be fine.” He turned to Christine. “Who do you want me to see?”
She gathered a pile of folders and stood up. “Bed two, Dr. Fielding.”
Curtis took the folder, and they walked to the room.
As she pulled the curtain back, Christine spoke. “I’ll put my resignation in today. I will not work for such a man.”
“Thank you, Christine. I don’t know what I saw in him.” Chastising himself, Curtis walked through the curtain. “Big E, what’s brought you back here?”
Christine pulled the curtain shut.
Curtis dropped into the office chair beside Christine, rubbing his face with his hands. It had been the longest day of his life, and it was only noon. After seeing to Big E’s latest bender and its aftereffects, he’d gone up to HR to sign form after form confirming that yes, he was really leaving, and no, he wasn’t kidding. Then he’d tried to return Bernie and Marilyn’s calls, with no luck. An endless stream of patients had worn him out after that, and he still had to last until seven. But after that…
One more day, and I’m done.
He smiled a little at that, then jumped at Marilyn’s voice beside him.
“Looks good, Christine. Are you sure you want to leave that soon?” Marilyn asked.
“Yes. Like I said, not one more minute.” Christine turned to smile at Curtis.
“What’s going on?” Curtis sat up.
“She’s leaving, and coming with us,” Marilyn handed him a piece of paper.
Curtis read it. “Was it the cock, or the long hours?”
“Gibson’s comment clinched it, and I’m looking forward to a long vacation,” Christine smiled.
“That fast?” He looked over the letter.
“Yes. Why should I stay here one minute longer? I’m tired of getting up at four to get here by seven. I’d like a Friday off, for a change.” She took the letter back.
“But this says the end of your shift today.” Curtis wheeled over to her on the office chair beneath him. “We won’t have the business up and running for weeks, if Bernie doesn’t hand over the patient list,” Curtis said.
“Well, she can help us hire more staff and get the building set up,” Marilyn said, then turned to Christine. “You could, couldn’t you?”
Christine laughed. “Yes, I can. I’d like about a week of relaxation, but I’m sure I’ll get bored long before the week ends.”
“Well, then! Take that letter upstairs.” Curtis stood up.
“You ready for lunch?” Marilyn asked.
“I am. I signed off, and tomorrow is my official last day. It’s nearly over.” Curtis sighed.
Christine hugged both of them. “I’ll see you in a few days?”
Curtis stopped her. “But we’re not off for four hours.”
“I know, but I’m sure they’ll try to stop me. I’m going to say my goodbyes to lots of people, so if I don’t see you later today, I’ll see you next week.” Christine walked out of the ER.
“That asshole interrupted the wrong nurse,” Marilyn said, watching the tall, elegant Christine walk out the door. “Should we hit the cafeteria?”
“That’s fine. I’m good for a Greek salad.”
They made their way down the hallway to the elevator. “So, sounds like Jeffrey’s still an ass?”
“Yeah, he’s worse than when we broke up,” Curtis said, and pushed the button.
“He has a way about him. Did he grab you?” Marilyn asked.
“No, he said something about me sucking him off in front of her. Just an asshole. Did you know they made him chief of staff?”
The doors opened, and they entered an already full elevator of hungry people.
“Yes. Why do you think I wanted to get out of here?” Marilyn said.
“It’s true?” a woman from the back said.
“What?” a man asked.
“You’re leaving, Dr. McKissick?”
As the doors opened, the throng filed out. Marilyn turned. “Yes, Dr. Fielding and I are starting our own practice.”
Most of the people filed around the corner, shrugging, but a woman and a man in nurses’ scrubs stopped in front of them.
“When?” the woman asked.
“Friday’s my last day,” Curtis said.
“I’m only here for occasional patients. I’ve been officially gone for two weeks,” Marilyn answered.
“You guys hiring?” the nurses asked in stereo.
The four of them walked to the cafeteria. Curtis nodded. “We will be. Christine Milliman is going to be our head nurse. You can contact…” Curtis looked at Marilyn. “Oh, shit.”
Marilyn pulled out two business cards. “Contact the office Thursday next week. She’ll probably be ready to start taking interviews.”
They pocketed the cards and waved goodbye.
“You’ve got business cards already?” Curtis grabbed the salad and dressing. “I’m still getting hit on by my creepy ex, and you’ve got cards.”
“I did it the other night after the class. They’d just sent me the phone number, and it popped into my mind.”
“I thought Dennis had,” he chided.
“No, he was on my mind. The business cards were just an out-of-the-blue thing.”
As she’d said, Christine was nowhere to be found. Curtis saw a few more patients, but his heart wasn’t in it. A couple times he’d sent text messages to Lawrence.
Loved that house, can’t wait to be inside it and you again.
I don’t think I’ve blushed this much in more than twenty years.
No, you blushed plenty this morning during the scrub down.
You making me think dirty thoughts.
Good, then we’re on the same page.
I’m pretty sure you think those all the time.
Ok, but you’ve been on my mind lately.
When his relief finally showed up, he walked Dr. Prichard through the patients who were still waiting for rooms.
“Big E is back again,” Curtis said.
“Ah, shit, I thought he’d gotten his act together,” Dr. Prichard said. She was a short, tough woman with a patient streak that only the old-timers knew about.
“Yeah, he’s just sobering up. Very close now—you’ll probably be able to release him around midnight.”
She nodded and made notes on her pink iPhone as she clutched her trenta black tea. “You know this place isn’t going to be the same without you.”
“I should also let you know, though it probably won’t affect you, Nurse Milliman put in her notice and quit today,” Curtis said.
“Dammit, this ER is
going to be the shits without her filing skills.”
“It’s partly my fault, partly Dr. Gibson’s fault.”
“Wait, I thought you guys broke up years ago.”
He looked at her. “We did, but he just became chief of staff and…”
“Shit, you and Dr. McKissick looking for a third partner?” She looked half-serious.
Curtis looked at her. “You’d leave here?”
“No.” She tilted her head as though she were figuring things out. “No, I won’t let him get to me. Nurse Milliman’s worked with worse chiefs. What really made her quit?”
“He said something that offended her.”
“But don’t you offend her on a daily basis?” They both laughed.
“I do, but she said she’s gotten used to me. Anyway, I’m out.”
“I know, that’s what we always loved about you.” Dr. Prichard pocketed her phone and placed the tea on the counter. “I’m going to miss you.” She wrapped her arms around him in a giant bear hug.
He hugged her back. “I’m here tomorrow night.”
“I’m not. This is my third. Don’t be a stranger.” She turned to hide the possibility of tears. “Get out of here.” She pushed him.
“I’ll send an invitation to the opening party.” He gathered his things and left.
8
Lawrence
The next day, Lawrence puttered around the house after his morning run, like he’d never been with a guy before. Sure, it’d been a long time. And the thing he’d had with Abe a few years ago was different. It was coming home to someone who had given up on everything.
Abe had been a spark in Lawrence’s life when he was in his twenties. They were on-again, off-again friends-with-benefits. Harvey and Lawrence had shared a studio apartment in the seventies, and whenever Abe came over, Harvey had to sleep in the bathtub so he couldn’t hear them.
Over the years, they’d kept in touch, and as time got the better of Abe, he gave up on things. Lawrence let him move into the house he’d inherited from his mother, and Abe had finally succumbed to cancer.
Toward the end, Abe had lived in the spare room. He couldn’t even think of being touched. Maybe those feelings took root deep in Lawrence’s life, and he couldn’t imagine being held by another person either. They were two old men living together, their time only broken up by “good morning,” “have a good day at work,” and “hi, I’m home.”
The only positive person throughout his life had been Harvey. When he thought back on all his other failed relationships with doctors, lawyers, and executives, he couldn’t imagine Curtis would want him for long either. He’d be like Jeffrey, when he discovered where Lawrence worked. But at least Harvey would be there, like all the other times, picking up the pieces and helping him find happiness.
He made a point of walking around the house, stacking the mechanic magazines and the parts scattered about - which led him to the garage, a place he knew Curtis would never need to enter.
Once inside, he stared at the shiny black Roadster, an exact duplicate to the one that Curtis had dropped him off in. Lawrence rooted around for the silver cover and slipped it around the body. He found himself cleaning the dirt and dust around the place. Lawrence scrubbed down the work table, scraping away years of grease and oil from when he’d refurbished the Metropolitan. He stacked the boxes of old parts he’d never need – parts from cars that he hadn’t worked on in years and the parts he’d been working on in the kitchen.
He remembered to do the load of laundry with the basket full of his coveralls, the ones he wore home after a long day at work when he couldn’t be bothered to do anything but drive home.
It was at this point that he saw how little his life had changed since the breakup with Jeffrey, when he made the decision to never let another date know what he did for a living. If they needed their oil changed or a tune-up, he’d literally suggest his competition. He’d say the best place in town was usually a place in San Pedro, nothing near where his shop was.
Bringing them home to his house wasn’t a problem once he inherited his Belmont Park home, but before then, the men he was attracted to would look down their noses at his studio apartment in downtown Long Beach.
In the late seventies, early eighties, he was fond of being the rough trade: leather jackets, dirty jeans, and smudged white T-shirts. He loved getting a car to pull over on the street and ask if he wanted a lift somewhere. He wasn’t a prostitute—he never charged—but he gave the occasional blow job for just the right Mercedes or BMW.
He’d lean back, his booted foot against the wall, and thrust out his hips, his hard-on evident in his jeans. It was what Jeffrey wanted, and he told him as much. He’d drive up in his yellow convertible and waggle his finger at Lawrence.
Lawrence would walk to the car and lean on the passenger side and ask what was up. Jeffrey would say, “Why don’t you get inside and tell me?”
Lawrence would get in the car, and they’d drive off.
Jeffrey would unzip his pants and shove Lawrence’s head in his crotch as he drove down the street, parading the blow job for anyone to see. He really got off on truckers and bus drivers who could see into the small convertible from their perch.
As he stood looking down at the box of parts, he flashed back to a time when a bus driver and three passengers applauded him. After a night of rough sex in a dirty motel room, Jeffrey would drop Lawrence back off at the place he picked him up from, and it went like that every other Thursday night. Right until he went to Larry’s High End Auto. Right until he saw what Lawrence did for a living. Lawrence spent years wondering why fucking rough trade was decent, but having a real job wasn’t.
Enough of that shit, he thought, as he closed and locked the garage door. And for the first time in a decade, he turned the heat on in the Jacuzzi. He remembered getting it installed when he broke up with Jeffrey, and he took what he learned from the dirty dates to gatherings at his house, where men of all walks of life would have play parties in his backyard and spare room – when he chose a life of sex over the possibility of ever spending the rest of his life with someone.
Abe had moved on in the eighties, and Harvey had begun his very successful accounting business. He’d show up at a party occasionally, until he met someone that fell in love with the numbers, like him.
The parties ended when his friends began to die, and they’d discovered the reason was AIDS. The gatherings stopped, and he invested all his time in the shop, expanding it to what it had become. He had the shower installed, on the off-chance he needed to clean up for another Jeffrey date.
“I’m better than that stuck-up prick ever was,” Lawrence muttered as he ran his good hand through the Jacuzzi. But something inside him was broken by the thought that he didn’t deserve anyone as great, or talented, or skilled as Jeffrey was.
He removed his clothes and slipped into the rapidly warming water. Battered about by the fierce jets of water, Lawrence patted the side. “You’ve still got it, girl.” He lay there for a solid half hour, just resting in the hot water, thinking of all the guys he’d been with.
Once the house was cleared of anything that exposed his real job, he called Harvey and asked him over, for a talk about the future. He’d started the coffee and printed out a few things he’d been investigating on the computer.
Lawrence piled the papers on the patio table and placed a tray on top to keep them from blowing away. He’d placed two cups on the table and was waiting on the coffee when he heard the knock at the door.
“Come in!” Lawrence shouted as he brought out a carafe.
“Hey there,” Harvey said as he strolled in. “You still seeing that guy?”
“I am.” Lawrence pulled Harvey into a full embrace and winced as his hand brushed against his back. “Come out to the back. We’re taking a couples’ course together. I don’t think we’re dating, though.”
“Couples’ course? That sounds like dating.” Harvey hugged him with as much force. “That hand getting an
y better?”
“We didn’t realize it was a couples’ course till the meeting started.” Lawrence stopped to get the coffee, as Harvey continued on to the patio.
“So, how many times have you guys fucked?” Harvey shouted.
“Careful. Mrs. Biddy will hear you.” Lawrence laughed and held up three fingers. “Well, as of last night.” Lawrence winked. “Did you want cream and sugar?”
“Speaking of cream…”
“Harvey, maybe it’s just sex.” Lawrence poured cream in Harvey’s cup and dropped four spoons of sugar in his.
“Yes, you’ve got that part down.” Harvey sipped the coffee. “You know there’s more to a relationship than sex. That’s what happened to the nerd I used to shack up with.” Harvey shook his head.
“You two just hooked up because he understood what you were talking about,” Lawrence added a little more sugar and took a long drink of the coffee.
“It was great sex, until that’s all he wanted. He didn’t care about anything else. Sex, number jokes, sex. It was exhausting.” Harvey laughed. “Damn, I kind of miss that exhaustion.”
“I realize that. I don’t think we’re headed toward a relationship. I’m not jumping that gun again. He’s a doctor. Experience with Jeffrey points to the fact that mechanics and doctors don’t mingle.” Lawrence poured more coffee in the cup to heat it up.
“Jeffrey was a classist asshole. This guy… well, I don’t know him, but the way you talk about him, he’s got everything you’re looking for.”
“But am I looking for something?” Lawrence set the cup down and looked at Harvey. “I think I want to put my place on the market. What do you think I can get for it?”
“This place? You’ve loved this place forever.” Harvey looked around. “I’m not a real estate agent, but homes in this neighborhood can go for as high as a million.”
Hearts Repaired Page 8
