I can taste a little bit of masculine sweat lingering on his skin from our earlier workout. It is salty and pleasant, and with a bit of a spicy flavor. I can also smell the muskiness of cologne on his jacket. I am just beginning to relax and pour all of my pent-up emotion into the kiss when he pulls away.
He clears his throat, and speaks in a husky voice. “I had better take you home.”
“Yes,” I say quietly, in disappointment. I lower my chin and try to catch my breath as my heartbeat races—for the first time in forever, I have butterflies in my stomach from an emotion other than fear. “When can we do that again?” I ask him, trying to conceal my desperation. I want to see him again so badly.
“Soon,” he says with an upbeat tone. “Maybe next time we can go on a true Owen-style date.”
“I can’t wait,” I tell him with a smile.
“You’re underweight,” Dr. Howard accuses me. “Before you get your eye surgery, I’m going to recommend you gain at least ten pounds.”
“Ten pounds!” I repeat in dismay as I step off the scale. “But I feel fine. Maybe this is just a good weight for me.”
“As you currently are, you may experience slower wound healing,” Dr. Howard says. “It’s safer if you gain a little weight.”
“Well, I’ve begun working out a little,” I tell her as I return to my seat. “I’ve begun going to judo classes. So I might gain some muscle.”
“That’s great, honey. But you need to eat. A lot.”
I think about the situation at home where I need to stockpile non-perishables in my room to avoid running into Grayson. If I felt my comfortable going into the rest of the house, I could happily eat a dozen cupcakes every day and fatten myself up.
“Dr. Larson told me that you haven’t eaten real food in years,” Dr. Howard says, tapping her pen on her folder. “So I’d like to get some blood work done and determine if you have any deficiencies.”
“Okay, Leslie.”
I hear the flipping of paper as she closes my file. “So you’ve begun dating Liam?” she asks me curiously.
I suddenly feel embarrassed. I remember that Carmen had mentioned that Liam and Leslie seemed close at the wedding. Am I stepping on her toes? “Uh, yes,” I tell her nervously. “Do you think it’s a bad idea?”
“Not at all!” Leslie says with enthusiasm. “Remember, I’m the one who gave him your books in the first place and recommended he take you on as a patient. He’s always been a really sensitive guy—really interested in improving every aspect of his patients’ lives, not just their eyes. I thought you two would get along.”
“And you don’t have any... interest in him?” I ask her awkwardly.
“Good grief, Helen!” Leslie says with a laugh. “Just because my husband is dead doesn’t mean I’m going to go rob the cradle. I’m nearly twice that boy’s age.”
“I was just curious,” I tell her. “I feel like Liam’s too good to be true, and there must be something wrong here. Is there? Is really... a good guy?”
“He’s the best guy,” Dr. Howard says without hesitation. Then she pauses. “But you should still be careful, Helen. Don’t rush into things too quickly.”
“I’m not,” I assure her. “That’s why I’m asking your opinion.”
“You might be a little eager to fall for him, considering you’ve been isolated for so long. Especially with your past, Liam must seem like the best thing since sliced bread. Just try to be cautious and logical.” Leslie sighs. “I suppose that since your mom is gone, I feel the need to give you motherly advice. Even the best of men have huge flaws. They need to be... worked on.”
“What does that mean?” I ask her.
“Oh, I don’t know,” she says. “Just ignore me; I like to ramble!”
“No, Leslie. Please tell me.”
The doctor begins tapping her pen on her desk. “It’s just that you young girls seem to think that relationships are all rainbows and butterflies all the time. Back in my day, when we had a problem with our men, we just made it work. No matter what. Even your mother—she was upset for years about the way your dad didn’t take care of himself. Richard was a very heavy smoker. But Meredith didn’t leave him and go off in search of greener grass. She just made him stop.” Leslie stands up and moves to the other end of the small room. “Your mom refused to have kids with Richard unless he promised to seriously begin fixing his health so he’d be around to see you girls grow up—to be there for your graduation and weddings. It’s a good thing she made him promise that—none of us had any idea that she would be the one who wasn’t around.”
“Yeah,” I say softly. “Why are you telling me this?”
“I’m just thinking about Carmen, the poor girl,” says Leslie with a sigh. “She’s been coming in for checkups since she got pregnant, and really flying off the handle. Do you want to know what she said a few months ago? ‘Please tell me there’s something wrong with the baby so I can get an abortion and don’t have to marry that bastard.’ I couldn’t believe my ears. Why would she say something like that? Grayson seems like a perfectly nice guy. Even Richard loves him. They seemed really happy at their wedding.”
I groan and lower my face into my hands. “She said that?”
“Yes. Right when she found out she was pregnant. I think it was shock or something. I better not ever hear you speaking about Liam that way, young lady. If something goes wrong—and it will—just stick it out and fix it, okay? He’s a gem. Don’t toss him into the trash heap if you find one tiny flaw in the jewel.”
I press my fingers into my aching temples. This is about as much motherly advice as I can handle. It does make me wonder what our actual mother would have said about the situation with Grayson. She was pretty close to Dr. Howard, and she might have had a similar opinion. Somehow, I feel that we never would have gotten into this situation at all if we hadn’t lost Mom. We all just seemed to fall apart without her. “Thanks for the checkup, Leslie,” I tell her, “and thanks for the chat. I’d better get going now.”
Dr. Howard snaps her fingers. “I nearly forgot. You should get a pap smear.”
“No way!” I shout. “I don’t need one.”
“Helen. Your mother had pre-cancerous cells on her cervix. You’re getting a pap smear.”
“Yes, but it’s not what killed her. She just got a hysterectomy and she was fine.”
“Thanks to my early detection,” Dr. Howard argues. “Look, it’s just a basic screening test. I know it’s uncomfortable, but you haven’t had one in years. We need to do a complete physical.”
“Can we do it later?” I grumble. “Liam is going to be poking giant needles into my eyes, along with a huge tube for a camera, and possibly other things. I’m going to have enough strange objects being shoved into my body soon enough—can we just skip the pap?”
“No,” Leslie says, growing impatient. “This is important. Helen, you’re dating a doctor. How about I call Liam and tell him you’re refusing to have a pap done?”
“No, no, no!” I say, lifting both of my hands anxiously. “Don’t tell him about that. This is super personal and intimate...”
“Poking needles into your eyes is as intimate as it gets,” Dr. Howard says teasingly. “It’s a level of trust that most couples will never need to reach; an activity most will never share!”
“Leslie!”
“Fine, I won’t call Liam since you don’t seem to enjoy the idea of having your cervix discussed with him. I’ll call your father.”
I drop both of my hands to my sides in defeat. “Fine,” I say weakly. “Do the damn test.”
A few days later...
“I have something planned that will blow your mind,” Liam says while giving me a hug in greeting.
I no longer doubt his ability to blow my mind. I gingerly return his hug and rest my cheek on the lapel of his coat for a second. “Thank you for trying to make every day so special for me,” I tell him softly.
“Hey, it’s my pleasure! I love surprising you,
” he says in an upbeat tone. He takes my arm to guide me to his car, and opens the door for me. “And here’s the first surprise of the day! I promised you a true Owen-style date, but I bet you didn’t expect it to actually include Owen.”
“Yo,” says the cheerful doctor from the backseat of the vehicle. “What’s up, Winter?”
“Hi Owen,” I say pleasantly as I climb into the passenger seat. When Liam closes the door and begins walking around the vehicle, I turn back to Owen with a smile. “What are you doing here? Should I be worried?”
“Naw,” Owen says with a drawl. “Liam was afraid that he had used up all his best topics of conversation. He has maybe three subjects tops that he can speak about without boring everyone to sleep and sounding like an idiot. So he got me to come along to be his wingman—it’s my job to act really dumb so he will seem way smarter in comparison.”
“That’s not the reason at all,” Liam protests as he climbs into the driver’s seat. “I just wanted to demonstrate my smooth social skills to impress Winter. Have you introduced her to Caroline yet?”
I have noticed the additional person sitting in the backseat, even though her breathing is very quiet and she hasn’t spoken. I am curious, but I didn’t want to ask.
“This is my lady-love,” Owen says proudly. “The gorgeous, enchanting, and very flexible Caroline.”
“For god’s sake, Owen,” Caroline mutters angrily. “Why do you have to introduce me like that? What if I introduced you to people as ‘the dorky man-child who only thinks with his penis and barely survived med school’? How would you like that?”
“It would be accurate,” Owen says in confusion. “But I’d appreciate if you added something about my stamina in there. Maybe a little compliment on my girth? You have to highlight my positive attributes.”
Caroline releases a stream of furiously-spoken words in a foreign language.
“Is that German?” I ask nervously.
“She just insulted my manhood,” Owen explains, “and called me a bunch of names I’d rather not translate. I bet she just wants me to kiss her to keep her filthy mouth shut.”
“You pig,” Caroline says, but in the next moment she unbuckles her seat belt and moves over to sit on Owen’s lap. Soon, the two are lip-locked and there are sounds of a passionate make-out session coming from the back seat.
“Um. Did I miss something?” I ask Liam, screwing up my face in confusion.
“Don’t look at me,” he says as he starts the car, “I don’t understand those two in the least. Owen! Do whatever you want back there, just don’t get my seats dirty!”
“Aye, aye, Cap’n!” Owen responds.
“It’s nice to meet you, Winter,” Caroline says elegantly, as though she had not just been shoving her tongue down Owen’s throat.
“Uh, it’s great to meet you, Caroline,” I say, trying to hide my shock at their behavior.
“You’ll get used to it,” Liam assures me as he drives away from my house. “And if you don’t, at least I’ll seem like a much more civilized and cultured human being than those two animals in the backseat.”
“I resent that!” Owen says between bouts of loud, amorous lip-smacking.
I listen to them for a few minutes before a grin breaks out on my face. I shake my head in amusement.
Liam reaches over and pats my leg. “If it really bothers you, we can make Owen drive on the way home and we can torture them with our own gross tonsil-tango.”
“That sounds lovely,” I tell him. My shoulders shake in a small giggle. “Disgusting, but lovely.”
Liam drives for a few minutes before he starts to slow down. “This is interesting, Winter. The GPS just made me turn down a street I don’t know. I don’t come to your neighborhood often—I didn’t know you had all these adorable little art shops!”
“Yes,” I say with a smile. “Many of the locals are obsessed with decorating their homes with the perfect paintings and potteries and...”
“Antiques!” Liam exclaims, slamming on the brakes.
My body is propelled forward slightly before being rammed back into his cushiony leather seats. I hear Caroline giggle as her body is thrust against Owen’s. “Antiques?” I repeat in confusion. “Is this where we’re going?”
“No,” Liam says cryptically. “Just a quick pit stop. Wait here!”
The car swerves sharply as he pulls into the parking lot and swiftly exits the vehicle. He even leaves the car running.
“Okay,” I say slowly. “What’s happening here? What did I miss?”
“Liam likes old things,” Owen explains when he can manage to pull his mouth away from Caroline for a moment.
“Old things?” I ask again.
“He collects antiques,” Caroline explains. “You should see his apartment. Very small, but very stylish. Everything artsy, everything vintage.”
“To be honest, I thought he was gay for a little while,” Owen admits. “It seems unnatural for any straight man to like funky furniture as much as he does.”
I smile at this. I like the fact that Liam has an artistic side. Still, I am a bit confused. “You thought he was gay?” I ask Owen. “Hasn’t he dated many women?”
“Very rarely. Too rarely. It takes a lot for him to find a woman interesting. He’s too picky,” Owen explains.
“It’s the story,” Caroline says softly. “The man likes old furniture because it has a history. He can touch the wood, and it tells him a beautiful tale of love and loss. He likes his women the same way; vastly complex with endless layers and depth. He wants to look into her eyes and see a touch of tragedy and the promise of victory.”
“Wow, Caroline,” Owen says in amazement. “That’s astute. Hey, I have refined tastes too. I like my women to be... female.”
Caroline curses again in German before slapping Owen in the face.
“I’m kidding!” Owen whines. “Relax, baby. You know I love how fierce and fiery you are. Come here. Bring it home for Papa.”
“Whoa,” I say in discomfort, feeling like I am intruding on a very private moment. The sound of incessant lip-smacking is less tolerable now that Liam has stepped out of the car. “Does anyone know where we’re going?”
“He said that he needs to fatten you up before your eye surgery,” Owen says, groaning as Caroline makes noises that indicate she might be nibbling his neck. “So we’re going to some fancy-schmancy food thing.”
“Food thing?” I ask, pressuring the pair for details.
“It’s a wine and cheese party,” Caroline explains. “I could not refuse free booze—it will help me forget that I’ve wasted five years of my life dating a boy who will never grow into a man.”
“Hey!” Owen says in a wounded tone. “It will also help me forget that I’m dating a B-cup who won’t get implants or let me try her back door.”
“Too much information,” I tell the couple, “too much information!”
“I think he mentioned a competition too,” Caroline says. “Something about a blind tasting?”
“A blind wine tasting competition?” I say very loudly. “Are you kidding me? Really!” Just as I say this, struggling very hard not to squeal in excitement, Liam opens his car door.
“Darn,” he says in disappointment. “You two ruined my surprise.”
“Liam!” I exclaim, grabbing his sleeve. “Really? A wine tasting competition?!”
“Yes,” he says with a laugh. “When I first met you, you were hugging a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon from the Napa Valley pretty tightly. Remember how I asked for a sip? That was some good stuff. I was impressed. I thought we could test your mettle and see whether you have a good palate for identifying wines from all over the world.”
“Of course I do!” I tell him with excitement. “My mom and dad used to take me to wine tasting parties all the time when I was a teenager. They used to show off my skill. It was totally illegal for me to be drinking, so I just swirled it around on my tongue and spit it out—I felt so grown up and sophisticated. I can
tell you what anything is. Anything!”
“I was hoping you’d get excited about this,” he says with pleasure. “I just didn’t think you’d get this excited! If you’re half as good as you say you are, I’m going to have to bet money on you.”
“I wish Owen would do something nice like that for me,” Caroline says with disappointment and envy.
Owen ignores her, leaning forward. I can tell because his voice gets closer, and his breath tickles my ear. “Hey, Liam,” he says curiously. “What’s in the bag, bro?”
“Dammit. Why do you keep ruining my surprises?” Liam snaps at his friend.
“Oh no,” Owen groans. “Don’t tell me you brought more fruity antiques.”
“Fruity?” Liam says in dismay. “Is that what he’s been saying about me? None of my antiques are fruity in any way!”
“What’s in the bag?” Caroline echoes. “Show it to us, Liam.”
“Alright,” Liam mutters. “You bunch of spoilsports. It’s a gift for Winter.” He reaches into the cloth bag and begins unwrapping an item that has been tightly wound in wrapping paper. He then places the item in my hands.
I am surprised by the heft of the object. There seems to be an ornate and slender handle which leads up to an oval frame. I run my hands over the center of the object and discover a smooth surface. “Is it a... mirror?” I ask him.
“Yes,” he tells me, reaching over to brush a few wisps of hair behind my ear. He leans over and places a kiss on my shoulder. “And soon, you’ll be able to see your reflection in it. Then, you can finally discover every aspect of how amazing you are.”
I stare down at the object in my hands, and squint as though I might already be able to see a tiny beam or flicker of light reflecting off its surface. Of course, there is nothing. Is it possible that I might actually be able to see into this mirror soon? “Stop getting my hopes up,” I tell Liam softly. “Thank you for the gift, but you’re being way too optimistic.”
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