The Origins of Heartbreak: A Lesbian Medical Romance (Lakeside Hospital Book 1)

by Cara Malone

  “Oh yeah?”

  “It didn’t go well.”

  Alex waited a minute, expecting her mom to volunteer more information, and when she didn’t, she pulled out of the hug and asked gently, “What happened?”

  “I forgot that the park is on the way to the store,” she said. “It was like my brain and my hands were no longer communicating, and as much as I wanted to just drive past it and buy some damned bread and milk, I went into the park instead.”

  Tears brimmed in her eyes as she spoke.

  “I parked where we always used to, at the end of the lot under that big, shady oak tree,” she said. “And I went to the gazebo where your dad proposed to me. There were people sitting nearby, drinking coffee and holding each other to keep away the cold, and I just stood there for I don’t even know how long, letting it chill me to the bone. Finally, someone came up and asked me if I was okay—I think they thought I was a vagrant or something, and I guess I can’t blame them.”

  She gestured to her pants, the same ratty sweats that she’d been rotating through all year and which were now so threadbare that the seams were fraying.

  “I got back in the car and came home, and I could feel this great well of sadness threatening to rise up and choke me,” she said. “So I sat down and turned on the television, and it all just kind of receded, like floodwater after the rain stops.”

  Alex leaned over and kissed her mom on the cheek, then sat back up and said, “You tried. It’s great that you tried.”

  “I don’t know how you do it, baby girl,” she said.

  “Not very well,” Alex admitted.

  She took a deep breath and told her mom about what happened tonight.

  “You know that girl I’ve been hanging out with?” Alex asked. Love and butterflies and girl troubles seemed like such frivolous things when her mom couldn’t even get off the couch because of her grieving, and Alex had been telling her mother that she and Megan were just friends. She wondered if this conversation would have been easier if she’d been honest about her feelings all along, to everyone involved.

  “Megan,” her mom supplied.

  “Yeah,” Alex said. “Well, we went on a date today and it was so perfect.”

  She blushed, wondering how much of the details she could tell her mother—they were close, but not ‘sharing the details of her sex life’ close. In the end she settled on telling her mom only that they’d slept together, and that she’d walked in on Megan kissing her roommate no more than fifteen minutes later.

  “She was like a different person,” Alex said, looking at the coffee table because she didn’t want to start crying again. “She just stood there and waited for me to get my keys, like I was inconveniencing her. It was so humiliating.”

  “Oh baby,” her mother said, pulling Alex into another hug. “People are assholes.”

  “Yeah,” Alex said, then shut her mouth because she could feel the tears threatening the back of her throat.

  “You can’t let them get to you,” she continued. “Everyone’s got their own struggles, and sometimes they hurt you without even thinking about it.”

  “It’s just so frustrating,” Alex said, not sure if she wanted to punch the Juneau pillow or burst into tears. “She’s been keeping me at arm’s length ever since we met and I know we would have been good for each other if she had just let me in.”

  “You know better than most how painful that can be,” her mom said.

  “Too painful,” Alex said, sitting up again. “I don’t know why I thought I was ready to get off my medication.”

  “Because you’re strong, baby,” her mom said. “Lord knows you’re stronger than me.”

  “I don’t know if I can do this,” Alex said, swiping at an errant tear that was making its way down her cheek. She wanted to be numb, because if she’d been numb, none of this would have happened in the first place.

  “You have to do it at your own pace,” her mom said sympathetically. “If you’re not ready, then maybe you should call the doctor in the morning to talk about restarting the medication.”

  Alex nodded. The idea of sacrificing her libido for the comfort of numbness didn’t sound so bad right now. It wouldn’t be much of a sacrifice, because she doubted that she’d ever have another night like this one, anyway.

  “You want to order a pizza?” she asked. “I haven’t eaten dinner, and I’m willing to bet you haven’t, either.”

  “You’re right,” her mom admitted.

  Alex pulled her phone out of her pocket, momentarily tensing for a message or a missed call from Megan, but there was nothing. Rather than admitting her disappointment, she just dialed the number for their favorite pizza place and pushed the thought away.

  When the pizza came, Alex tipped the delivery boy generously for coming so late at night and then set the box down on the coffee table, grabbing a few plates and napkins from the kitchen. When she came back, she saw that the television had been switched off.

  “Let’s talk,” her mom said as she noticed Alex looking at the black screen.

  “About what?”

  “I don’t know,” she said, reaching for her first slice of pizza. “Whatever you want.”

  They were silent for a moment while Alex pulled a couple of slices onto her plate and tried to think of conversation topics that didn’t involve Megan. She couldn’t think any more about her tonight. EMT school was the only other thing in Alex’s life right now, but she didn’t think her mom would want to hear about performing CPR on a medical dummy.

  Finally, though, her mother filled the void.

  “We couldn’t have ordered this pizza if your dad was still around,” she said, surprising Alex. She hadn’t voluntarily mentioned him since the funeral, and now she was smiling, a small laugh escaping her lips. “I don’t know why he thought green peppers were the devil, but he would never even let me order them on half. He thought they ruined the whole pizza just by being in the same box.”

  “Yeah,” Alex said with a grin, “I remember that. And yet he loved anchovies.”

  “Your father was a strange man,” her mom said with another laugh. It had a strained quality to it, but at least they were talking about him again, and it made the last of Alex’s sour stomach fade away. She devoured her pizza, suddenly very hungry.

  Twenty-Five

  Megan didn’t manage to get any work done that night. Instead, she crawled into bed and tried to figure out why the hell she’d allowed that kiss to go on so long, and what had tied her tongue when Alex came back and caught them. She watched as the halogen street lamp burned outside her window and cast her room in a yellow glow, the occasional pedestrian walking by on the sidewalk and sending shadows across her walls, and she didn’t have any answers.

  Eventually, she heard Chloe getting ready for bed. She heard water running as she brushed her teeth, and finally the click of the door jamb as she went into her room. Megan tried to close her eyes and go to sleep, but she knew there would be no sleep tonight. She didn’t really deserve it after how she’d treated both Alex and Chloe. If she could prevent that kiss, she’d do it in a heartbeat. But now that it was done, it seemed like the kinder thing to just let Alex walk away knowing what a monster Megan really was.

  If she had chased after her, or if she called her to explain, then Alex might forgive her and open up the possibility for it to happen again. Megan had no idea how she’d lost control of herself so completely—she just knew that fear had bubbled up in her chest when she thought about being there for Alex the way she knew that Alex wanted, and she’d acted out. She couldn’t promise that it wouldn’t happen again, or that she wouldn’t hurt her in an even worse way.

  With a groan, Megan gave up on sleep around three a.m. She was exhausted but her mind wouldn’t let her get any rest, so she got up and went into the living room—the only thing left to do was inundate herself with late night television. All the news shows were off the air by then, so all she had left to keep her company were infomercials. She t
urned one on at random, not even caring what the product was, and laid down on the couch. She let her eyes gloss over as she watched. The over-enthusiastic salesman on screen said, “But wait, there’s more!” at least once every ten minutes as the night—along with Megan’s thoughts—marched on.

  The apartment was bright the next time Megan opened her eyes. She had no memory of closing them, or of dozing off, but the remote control was no longer in her hand and the television had been switched off.

  “—class?”

  “Huh?” Megan asked, looking over the arm of the couch.

  Chloe was standing there with her hair neatly curled and her jacket already on. She said, “I asked if you’re coming to class.”

  “Shit,” Megan muttered, sitting up with a feeling of alarm. “What time is it?”

  “Quarter til,” Chloe said. “You can still make it if you hurry. I’m leaving as soon as the coffee finishes brewing.”

  “Okay,” Megan said, still feeling pretty disoriented. “It’s a lecture day, right?”

  She could leave with Chloe if she just threw on a pair of jeans and stuffed her laptop into her backpack, but she hated the idea of showing up with greasy hair and no makeup. She could only imagine what Little Miss Perfect—Ivy—would have to say about that. Megan was weighing the consequences of skipping the first hour of class so she could shower.

  “Yeah,” Chloe said. “But Dr. Morrow mentioned a pop quiz to make sure we’re ready for the exam on Friday.”

  “Damn it,” Megan said with a long, frustrated groan, bidding farewell to her hopes of a shower.

  She went into her room, yanking down her pajama pants and grabbing the nearest pair of jeans she could find—yesterday’s—laying on the floor. As she was buttoning them and hopping toward the closet for a scarf that could cover up her untamed hair, Chloe came and stood in her doorway.

  “You’re kind of a mess,” she said.

  “Thanks,” Megan answered, ignoring her as she grabbed a sweater off its hanger and pulled it on.

  “I didn’t say it to be mean,” Chloe said as Megan went over to her desk and packed up her laptop and notebooks. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” Megan lied, glancing up at Chloe. She looked genuinely concerned, and Megan sighed. “Look, I’m sorry about that kiss—”

  “I kissed you,” Chloe said, shrugging off the apology. She held out a second travel mug and Megan took it. As they walked back through the living room, Chloe asked, “Was that your girlfriend last night? Did I mess things up between you?”

  “God, no,” Megan said. “I messed things up. You did nothing wrong.”

  “Okay,” Chloe said, and then after a moment of hesitation, she added, “Why did you kiss me back, then?”

  “Because I’m a fucking idiot,” Megan said, grabbing her coat off the hook by the door. “Can we please stop talking about this?”

  “Sure,” Chloe said, and they headed out of the apartment.

  It was cold out, the late autumn breeze sending a chill through Megan’s body, and they walked in silence for a little while as she tried not to think about Alex. It was impossible, but she had to try or else she might as well just skip the class.

  As they approached the academic building, Chloe couldn’t hold her tongue any more. Megan was surprised that she’d made it as long as she did, but then she asked, “Are you going to apologize to her, too?”

  “No,” Megan said, trying to make her voice stern enough to shut down any further questions. Of course, she was dealing with Chloe so that would never work.

  “Why not?” she demanded.

  “It’s not worth it,” Megan said, trying to convince herself as much as Chloe. “She was just a fling.”

  “She didn’t act like it was a fling,” Chloe pointed out.

  “I’ll kiss you again right now if you stop talking about this,” Megan begged, and Chloe was silent again until they reached their seats in the lecture hall.

  She sat down beside Megan and they both waved to Ivy when she turned from the front row to look at them—Megan’s wave was a bit more sardonic than Chloe’s. Then just before Dr. Morrow approached the podium to begin class, she said, “I just hope you’re not sabotaging whatever’s between you and the paramedic because of that stupid belief you have about damaging people.”

  “Thanks for the unsolicited advice,” Megan said. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

  Twenty-Six

  Alex tried to forget about Megan over the next few weeks. It was painfully clear by the complete lack of communication on her part that Megan had no further interest in Alex, but it didn’t stop Alex from wishing she could have changed the outcome. She knew Megan had the capacity to love her, and that she was acting out of fear that she would somehow hurt Alex, but the irony of what happened seemed completely lost on her.

  Alex decided not to call her therapist like her mother suggested. For one thing, she knew the holidays were approaching and there were other patients who needed to see the doctor more than Alex did—people whose problems extended beyond matters of the heart. Besides, in the days after that terrible night, Alex was able to acknowledge that she didn’t want to go through the numbness of medication again. She may have stopped taking her anti-depressants because of Megan, but that wasn’t the only reason, and Alex’s mother was right—she was strong enough to get through this. So she decided to push away her feelings for Megan the old fashioned way—with distractions.

  She dove into her schoolwork, and discovered a few new bands to fill up the silences. Alex got to be better friends with Sarah, and they spent a lot of time studying together in the evenings, getting ready to take their EMT certification test in January. She also poured a lot of energy into making sure that her mother wasn’t falling back into old habits, either. One morning when Alex found her asleep on the couch, a thick fleece blanket wrapped around her and the remote control clenched in her fist, she decided that enough was enough.

  “Ma,” Alex said as she peeled the remote out of her hand. “Wake up, ma.”

  “Hmm?”

  “Did you fall asleep out here?” Alex asked.

  She couldn’t remember the last time her mom had done that, not even bothering to get up and brush her teeth before bed. It made Alex’s chest feel heavy to see her sleeping there. The truth was that they would both be backsliding if they didn’t keep their guard up.

  “I guess I did,” her mom said. Then she added with a shrug, “Oh well, I just would have ended up here again anyway.”

  She reached for the remote, but Alex held it away from her.

  “No, ma,” she said. “We can’t keep doing this.”

  She put the remote into the back pocket of her pajamas, then went over to the front door and stepped into a pair of sneakers that she’d left there the previous night. When she came back into the living room and bent over behind the television, unplugging things, her mom’s eyes went wide.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “What we both should have done a long time ago,” Alex said. She picked up the television, slinging the power cord over the top of the screen as she hoisted the whole thing under her arm and added, “And what dad would want us to do.”

  Her mom didn’t object. She just watched from the couch as Alex carried the television outside. She set it down on the curb at the end of the driveway, laying the remote beside it. It might make a good Christmas gift for someone, and she knew it wouldn’t last more than an hour out there. When she came back into the house, her mother didn’t argue or try to stop her, but she was trembling slightly.

  “It’s going to be okay, ma,” Alex said, and then she went into the kitchen to fix them breakfast.

  It was easy to tell herself that she wasn’t backsliding during the hours in the day when Alex successfully kept herself busy. It was in the quiet moments that her mind always drifted back to Megan. Her anger faded as the days turned into weeks, and she was left with a profound sense of frustration. Why did Megan have to throw aw
ay what they’d been building like that? The more she thought about it, the more Alex was certain it had been a calculated move meant to push her away.

  She picked up her phone and opened her old string of text messages with Megan often in those quiet moments, sometimes just to mourn what she’d lost, and other times to wonder what would happen if she reached out to her. It was clear by then that Megan had no intention of contacting Alex, but maybe she could get through to her if they just talked. Inevitably, Alex always put the phone back down again—she had hurt enough, and texting Megan would do nothing but reopen those wounds.

  Then one night, Alex was scrolling through those old messages and her mother popped her head into the doorway.

  “Hey, baby,” she said. “I’m going to make us something for dinner. Spaghetti okay with you?”

  “Yeah,” Alex said, jumping a little bit and holding the phone down by her side as a guilty streak shot through her. She knew she shouldn’t be reading those old messages, torturing herself. She probably should have just deleted the texts and Megan’s number along with them, but she didn’t want her mother to know what she was doing.

  Her mom disappeared down the hall, about to cook her first meal in over a year, and Alex thought she ought to go help her. Before she got that far, though, she heard a faint ringing sound. Looking down at her phone, she realized with horror that she’d accidentally bumped the screen, and she was currently dialing Megan.

  Before she could end the call, Megan picked up, and Alex heard her voice coming faintly through the speaker. “Hello?”

  “Shit,” Alex muttered to herself, her heart rising into her throat as she brought the phone to her ear and said, “Megan?”

  “Hey,” Megan answered, and she sounded surprised, but not displeased. “What’s up?”

  “I kind of pocket dialed you,” Alex said. “Sorry.”