Could Be Something Good

by Fiona West

  She felt her expression shutter. “No. She’s already found a lunch date.”

  “Who, Dr. Udawatte? I’m sure you could join them.”

  She patted his chest. “It’s nice that you think you’re being nice.”

  He wasn’t scowling, exactly, but he looked perplexed. “Seriously, Tharushi’s super nice.”

  “I’m sure she is. But I’m going to head home.”

  He took her hand and began to drag her across the cafeteria. “Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

  Winnie planted her feet and pulled her hand out of his grasp. “We’ve met.” And she did not have the energy right now to make small talk with her mother’s new protégée.

  “You don’t like her?” He looked astonished. “Why?”

  She noticed several other people around them now tuned into their conversation, some more subtly than others, and she certainly didn’t want to come off looking like a racist. “I like Dr. Udawatte. She’s great, I just . . . I need to get home. I haven’t slept.”

  “Okay.” Winnie knew he wanted more information, but apparently, he was reading her well enough to see that he wasn’t going to get it now. She turned on the heel of her flats and headed for the front exit.

  “You’re going to Rico’s, aren’t you? Don’t deny it.”

  She shook her head, pursing her lips to keep a smile off them. “I had thought of it,” she admitted, “but I should probably eat a salad or something.”

  “That’s what a good doctor would tell you to do,” he said, as he came level with her, matching her stride. “I, on the other hand, maintain the importance of daily pico de gallo.”

  “Winnie?”

  A familiar voice had her shoulders tensing even before she saw his face. At this point, just thinking about him could bring on a headache. He wore his usual work clothes—a white button-down with gray slacks under a blue windbreaker—and leaned against one of the cement columns of the portico like he’d been waiting for her.

  “Ethan? What are you doing here?”

  He stood up straight and began to come closer. “You didn’t return my messages . . .”

  “Yes, there’s a—” She started to remind him that there was a reason for that, a very good one. But she didn’t want to do this with Daniel standing right there, who had taken on a look of pointed curiosity. “Would you please excuse us, Dr. Durand?”

  His light scowl and the deep lines around his mouth told her this was not what Daniel was expecting, but he nodded slowly. “I’ll just be inside if you need me.”

  “Okay, thank you.”

  He stood there for another long moment, giving Ethan an unfriendly stare before heading in.

  Winnie turned back to Ethan, keeping her voice low and even. “You and I are not together anymore. I don’t want to have lunch with you.”

  “Are you dating him?” Ethan asked, jerking his head toward Daniel’s back.

  “If I am, it’s none of your business. I am none of your business. I would like you to leave.”

  “Winnie,” he said with a desperate edge to his voice, “I made a mistake, all right? I should never have broken up with you. I miss you so much.”

  She lifted her chin. “I’m sorry to hear that. I suggest that you find a qualified mental health professional with whom you can discuss your troubles.”

  “Are you going to Dr. Weaver’s wedding? We should go together.” He stepped closer, reaching out to stroke her arm, finding her fingers and intertwining them with his. “Please, Win. It’ll give us a chance to talk. We can overcome our differences, I know we can.”

  Winnie looked around, desperately hoping someone would come by who could distract from this unwanted attention. But the only presence in the parking lot was the wind, gusting hard enough to make the wind chimes in the memorial cancer garden audible, even from this distance. She wanted to pull away, but not enough to cause a scene; someone could come outside at any moment . . . If she’d just let Daniel stay, Ethan might not have been so forward. Why did I send him inside? My stupid pride? Either way, there’s no one here now, she argued with herself. It wouldn’t be a scene. Just tell him not to touch you. Make him leave you alone. But Winnie just stared down at their linked hands, fighting to breathe normally.

  “Yes, I’m going, but I already have a date.” A lie she would make true at the first opportunity.

  He withdrew his hand slowly. “I see.”

  Winnie looked up at him, and the pain in his face felt like a sucker punch, even though she thought she didn’t care.

  “You’ll save a dance for me, though, won’t you?” The wind blasted them again, and Ethan tucked a piece of her wind-tossed hair behind her ear. “I want another chance, Win. This guy can’t love you like I can.”

  She looked away, not knowing what to say in lieu of the truth: I’d rather run naked up and down the aisle during the whole ceremony than let you touch me again, even once. You hurt me, left me. We’re done. Why wasn’t he getting the message here? Was she somehow being unclear? Had he always been so delusional? He hadn’t talked much about his other exes when they were dating, something she’d liked about him at the time; were they avoiding him because he was badgering them? Staring into his blue eyes now, she wondered what she’d seen in him at all.

  “I’ll see you at the wedding, I guess,” she said, stepping around him, pivoting so she didn’t have to put her back to him.

  “I look forward to it,” he said, giving her one of the smiles that used to make her knees weak. Now it just made her temples pulse painfully. She turned and hurried to her car before he could say anything else, her hands shaking as she pulled out her keys. She sat behind the steering wheel, angry, watching him get into his silver Rover.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  DANIEL STOOD AT THE sliding glass doors of the hospital, watching Winnie talk with the man she’d identified as Ethan. This must be the boyfriend who wasn’t getting the message. And boy, was he not getting the message: every time Ethan touched Winnie, Daniel could see the discomfort radiating from her like he was watching her on an infrared camera, layer upon layer of heat encircling her. It was taking all his self-control not to call security and have the man escorted from the property for harassing the staff . . . But Winnie had asked him to leave them alone. He couldn’t start disregarding her wishes; he would listen to what she wanted, unlike this schmuck. So he stood, fists shoved deep into his pockets, just watching. Daniel was debating what he would do if Ethan tried to kiss her when he felt someone amble up next to him.

  “What are we doing?” Kyle asked. “Who is that?”

  “Winnie’s ex. Ethan.”

  Kyle adopted a similar posture. “I don’t like him.”

  That did make Daniel’s face crack into a small smile. “You’ve never even met him.”

  “Look at his shoes. They’re all shiny and pretentious.” Kyle was silent for a moment. “I don’t need to meet him. Look at Winnie, she’s clearly uncomfortable. That’s enough information for me.” He turned toward Daniel to see him better. “Are you going to let him treat her like that?” Kyle pushed up his sleeves. “Let me go talk to him. You’re not intimidating; you have that baby face thing happening.”

  “No,” Daniel said, putting a hand on his brother’s arm. Kyle’s lack of social graces was going to get him into real trouble someday; not everyone was willing to overlook them as a by-product of his autism. “He’s leaving, anyway.” Good. Daniel watched her long enough to make sure she got to her car all right, then turned to his brother. “We have no say in the matter, and it’s not our business. She asked me to go inside. I’m sure she can handle it.”

  “Then why were we still standing here?”

  “In case I was wrong.”

  Kyle nodded. “Yeah, you’re wrong a lot.”

  Daniel rolled his eyes. “Thank you, that’s very encouraging.” Ten bucks says the sarcasm goes right over his head . . .

  “You’re welcome.” He glanced out the window. “Also, here she comes.”


  The doors opened and Winnie blasted into the building, her hair windblown and her cheeks flushed. Everything in him wanted to hurry over to her, ask if she was okay, but he made himself stand still as she came to him, glancing at Kyle.

  “I have thought about your offer.”

  Music to my ears. “And?”

  “And I would like for you to escort me, if you’re still willing.”

  Jackpot. Also, her sprinting away from her ex in order to secure me as her date? Totally fine with that.

  He grinned. “Ready, willing, and able. Just tell me where and when.”

  “The wedding is at five at the Benson Hotel in downtown Portland, Saturday after next.”

  “Swanky,” commented Kyle. “Our uncle Buster got married there.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah. All four times,” Daniel said.

  Winnie rolled her eyes. “Give me your address, and I’ll pick you up at two.”

  “No way. This is a date—our first date. I’m a gentleman. A gentleman always picks up his lady, lest she have to pay for gas.” When she hesitated, he smiled. “Also, we’ll get there faster if I drive.”

  “Fine. But only because I hate driving in heels. Do not”—she pointed at him—“be late. In fact, let’s make it 1:45.”

  “That’s hurtful, Fred. Your friendly neighborhood escort would not do that to you. I’m a very prompt individual. Everyone knows if you’re not five minutes early, you’re late. Just in case, I’ll need your phone number.”

  “971-235-”

  “You know, on second thought, can you just text it to me? Here’s mine.” He turned his phone so she could see it. Because missing our date due to my dyslexic brain putting your number in wrong would be a true tragedy. Pushing the thought aside, he bounced his eyebrows. “Are we staying the night?”

  “Yes—in separate rooms. We’re invited to brunch on Sunday, then we’ll drive back.”

  He couldn’t keep the smile off his face; he wasn’t surprised he was getting his own room, and frankly, he didn’t care. I’m going on a fancy date with Winnie Baker.

  “This is going to be fun. I’m excited. Are you excited? I like wearing my tux. I hardly ever get the chance.”

  “You could always chaperone for prom.”

  He scowled at her disdainfully. “That’s one night, Fred. That doesn’t serve my needs at all . . . I’m glad you decided to take me up on my offer. It’s a favor to me, really.”

  She was smiling as she exited the building again, hopefully to actually go home this time.

  What a great day.

  WHAT A CRAPPY DAY.

  “This makes no sense,” Daniel mumbled to himself a few hours later, paging through Norm Horowitz’s chart. He’d been on an IV since noon, but based on his sunken eyes and lack of trips to the bathroom, it wasn’t working. Daniel got the sphygmomanometer off the wall and took his blood pressure. His wife, Sarai, sat on his other side, rubbing his arm, holding his hand, pulling the bleached covers up at intervals.

  “Our son Ryan’s an EMT, and he recommended we come in,” she explained unnecessarily. “Norm’s been vomiting.”

  “I’m glad you did, the flu’s been going around,” Daniel said, trying to focus on taking the reading—90/56. Too low still. He sighed as he turned to the computer to update the stats. It was the same as it had been when he checked it at two . . . What was going on? Daniel pulled out his phone to page Dr. Baker, but bobbled it and dropped it with a clatter against the white tile. Norm stirred, and Sarai glared at Daniel in annoyance for bothering him.

  “Sorry,” he muttered as he bent to retrieve it . . . which is when he noticed the front right wheel of the hospital bed, sitting on Mr. Horowitz’s IV wide-open tube. He wanted to sigh; a small hospital meant older technology and no alarm to notify them that the line was occluded. Regardless of whose fault it was, he didn’t want to expose them; it could’ve easily been his mistake on another day. He knocked his shoulder hard against the bed, and the pinched tube popped free as the wheels rocked. He touched the plastic, making sure it hadn’t cracked or broken, but it seemed fine. Daniel straightened and smiled down at a bewildered Mr. Horowitz. “Okay, sir, I think I’ve isolated the problem. I’d like to give this IV a little more time to work. I’ll be back to check on you in a bit.”

  He ran into Kyle in the hallway.

  “How’s my patient?”

  “Not recovering.”

  “Really?” Kyle frowned. “Why?”

  “Someone rolled the bed onto the IV tube. I just fixed it.”

  Kyle glanced at the clock and cursed low under his breath. “He should’ve had two or three liters of fluids by now, and instead he’s had none? I should go check on him.”

  Daniel laid a hand on his shoulder. “I told him I’d be back soon. Give it a little time. I had to wake him to move the bed. He should sleep.”

  Kyle paused, looking between Daniel and the closed door, then sighed. “Okay. You’re probably right.” As he walked away, Daniel paged Dr. Baker out of caution, and she showed up a few minutes later.

  “Let’s go ahead and prescribe him an anti-diarrheal and an anti-emetic. Dr. Durand, you may do the honors.” Daniel moved to sit in front of the computer, but her next words stopped him.

  “Oh, the network is down. You’ll have to just write it out.” He felt the sweat beading on his forehead. He’d mostly been able to avoid this issue: text messages and online health management systems were very handy when your handwriting looked like a four-year-old’s due to your learning disability. But there was no getting out of it . . .

  Dr. Baker’s gaze narrowed. “Is there a problem, Dr. Durand?”

  “Nope. No. Let me just . . .” He found a prescription pad in the drawer and got out a pen. Painstakingly, he copied the patient’s name and his onto the paper, then cross-referenced his other medications before choosing a generic for both. When he looked up, Dr. Baker was standing next to him, her hand out, palm up.

  “I’ll take it for you.” Her voice was casual, almost friendly, but he knew he was about to get yelled at. It was the same feeling he’d had in school when the teacher passed back tests.

  “Has anyone told you that your handwriting is uncommonly bad? Even for a doctor, it’s nearly illegible.”

  “Yeah, it’s not uncommon for people with dysgraphia, it’s got a high comorbidity with dyslexia. Not usually a problem when the computers are working,” he mumbled. “Would you excuse me?”

  “Dr. Durand? Wait a moment, please.”

  Daniel pretended he hadn’t heard her. He didn’t trust himself to be respectful right now, and besides, she could be calling Kyle or their dad. Completely plausible in these busy hallways. And anyway, he couldn’t risk making things worse with Dr. Baker on the very day her daughter had finally agreed to a date. That tender shoot of a relationship could so easily be crushed, and Dr. Baker’s high heels were poised to do just that.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  TWO WEEKS LATER, WINNIE stared at herself in the mirror. It was trendy, the contouring, the smoky eye, the shiny lipstick. She tugged at the strapless bra she wore under the off-the-shoulder black evening gown she’d borrowed from her mother. She didn’t want to seem ungrateful; it was so nice of Martina and Ainsley to help her. It just . . . wasn’t her. Her own reflection reminded her of a china doll her grandmother had given her years ago. She felt about as real. The doorbell rang.

  “Shoot.” There was no time to do anything about it now. She quickly put in her earrings.

  “Winnie!”

  “Coming!” she called from the bathroom, as she strapped on the shoes, wobbling a little on the carpet. She got the reaction she expected from her roommates when she stepped out into the living room.

  “Ooh,” they cooed and catcalled her, then babbled over each other about how glamorous and fantastic and incredible her transformation was.

  Daniel smiled at her. “Ready to go?”

  Ainsley smacked him with the back of her hand. “Ob
viously she’s ready! Look how great she looks! Don’t you think she looks great?”

  Daniel paused, then shrugged. “Sure, yeah.” That pause. That pause was telling.

  Ainsley crossed her arms. “Don’t mind him, Winnie. You look amazing.”

  Daniel reddened. “I mean . . . you look a little uncomfortable. You don’t look like you feel great. That’s all.”

  Winnie’s mouth dropped open, and humiliation washed over her. Without a word, she turned and grabbed her purse and coat from the chair by the front door and went outside. He was smart enough to grab her suitcase on his way out.

  “Fred?” Daniel’s voice drifted down the stairway as he followed her. “Are you . . . okay? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

  “It’s fine,” she said, cutting him off. “Let’s go.” She was used to criticism, after all. She’d lived with the Criticism Queen herself all those years.

  He opened the passenger side door for her, and she slid into the seat. The Volvo no longer smelled of stale french fries and spilled coffee; he’d even vacuumed it. They drove in silence for about twenty minutes, Daniel shooting her nervous looks, until finally it all came tumbling out of him in a rush.

  “Look, I wasn’t trying to hurt your feelings, Win. I was just surprised, that’s all. You don’t usually go in for all that high-maintenance stuff, so I’ve never seen you like this before.”

  “Well, it’s not like I did it for you.”

  His voice was quiet. “Okay. Well.” He cleared his throat. “You can plug in your phone if you want music, but the radio’s busted.”

  “I’d prefer silence.”

  He pulled onto the shoulder, gravel making the tires skid a little as they came to a stop. “Winnie, look at me.”

  She kept her eyes on her hands in her lap, and he sighed.

  “I just like your normal look, that’s all I was saying. I like your haphazard ponytail and your teddy bear scrubs and your white tennis shoes and your light makeup, because you look . . . you look . . .” He swallowed. “You look like a baby-catching superhero, which is exactly what you are. I’m sorry I didn’t make you feel beautiful when you came out, okay? Even though you look incredibly sexy right now, I guess I just prefer you in your natural state. You put all other women to shame on any given day.”