It's Complicated

by Julia Kent

  If she didn’t look up Ed’s status on the research trial, and he wasn’t receiving the medication, he could lose out on the benefits. If she did look up the information, then everyone who was benefiting could lose access to the experimental drug, and there was the tiny, insignificant little issue of violating every ethical and moral tenet of her profession.

  Alex was a man of great integrity, of tremendous moral character, and it was part of what drew her to him. Violating that, even for the sake of a higher moral principle, would destroy his sense of respect for her.

  Respect. She shook her head and laughed, so deep in her thoughts that her coffee cup went cold in her hand. Respect wasn’t exactly something that she had become accustomed to in relationships, so the thought of losing it created a kind of pain inside her that had no outlet. What words could she use to describe the loss of something that she’d never really had before? Having it now was like being handed a crown to a country that you’re supposed to rule over, just because of sheer luck, not because you were born into it, or because you were worthy, or because you earned it. Her own insecurity made her think that the respect Alex poured over her was invalid.

  Self-sabotage was a finely honed skill in Josie. It was, in fact, filed to such a sharp point that the threat of using it was enough; she never had to actually plunge it into her heart. Some rat-brainedpart of herself was steadily concocting a crazy set of ideas that would add up to her downfall. It went something like this: You don’t deserve Alex’s respect, therefore, why not do what you know is morally right and lose his respect?If he follows a higher moral order than just following rules, then you’ll keep him and have even more respect from him. If he doesn’t, you can both walk away, having averted disaster.

  On the surface, that made perfect sense. It was rational. It was analytical. It weighed and balanced, and carefully managed a variety of principles that all added up to a simple series of steps and beliefs. Deep inside, though, Josie knew that it was a bullshit justification to do something that she knew would help Ed, but that would destroy her career, her relationship with Alex, and her sense that maybe, just maybe, this one time, she really was worth the respect, and the desire, and—dare she say it—the love.

  Love. She inhaled slowly and then let out the breath through her mouth, like a meditative sigh. Alex loved his grandfather dearly. Ed’s daughters all loved him, too. There was a family culture of joyfulness, of love and compassion, and a sense that if you love someone enough, everything will be okay. Too bad Josie wasn’t part of that family.

  But she was part of this one.

  Jumping up to make more coffee, Josie looked at Mike, Laura and Dylan—of them, chatting happily, Laura leaning back against the couch, eyes closed, stroking Jillian’s little head as she nursed.

  For Josie, it was time for something more or something different. She didn’t know what to call it, but as she’d said to Laura when she first started seeing Alex, she was somethinging.

  That was a step in the right direction.

  Because somethinging was better than nothinging.

  The bags weighed her down as she walked from the Thai takeout place around the corner from their neighborhood, and the white plastic straps cut into her fingers, but Josie didn’t much care. The scent of peanut sauce wafted up and made her mouth water. Or maybe it watered with thoughts of seeing Alex in a moment. Her stomach gurgled.

  Fifty-fifty.

  Both needs would soon be satisfied.

  Cheerful and excited, she took a huge leap of faith in coming here. After walking past his building three times today, her day off, she had finally seen his car in the driveway. Dinnertime made for the perfect excuse to surprise him. What man could resist a woman bearing pad Thai and chicken satay?

  And her heart. Oh—yes. That part. Laura had encouraged her to just jump in and see where things went with Alex.

  Impulsivity wasn’t exactly her trademark when it came to her emotions.

  Alex, though, was different. Worth being different for.

  Struggling with the bags, she set one down and rang his buzzer. Waited. No answer. Was it the kind with an intercom, or would he just—

  “Josie?” Alex stood at the door, wet hair, a shirt on backwards.

  “Hi!” she said, chipper and overly friendly. Holding up the bags, she added, “You hungry?”

  Confusion clouded his features. Had he been showering? Why else would his clothes be on backwards?

  Oh.

  Oh.

  What if she’d misjudged everything and was horribly, painfully wrong? Maybe he’d just been fucking someone else in his apartment, and this was that bleak moment when she realized his interest was just a sham. A vortex of fear opened up before her, an abyss of nothingness, calling her name, beckoning.

  And then he stepped forward and smiled. “I am, actually. Come on in.” He planted a kiss on her cheek.

  It was the best kiss ever.

  Feeling stupid for doubting him, she walked into his apartment a bit dazed, haunted by the sudden horror that had enveloped her, so all-consuming at the thought of Alex with someone else.

  “I hope you like Thai,” she said, looking around the apartment. Something was off. Unlike her last visit here, the room was disheveled, as if no one had bothered to do anything for a week or two. Not filthy—just neglected. Items stood where they’d been casually thrown or abandoned. Beer bottles (good beer, she noted) dotted all the tables, along with cereal bowls, spoons adhered to the bottom by dried milk.

  Alex caught her looking. “I’ve worked a crazy set of shifts this week, and, well…”

  She waved her hand. “I wasn’t judging.”

  He laughed, removing the food from the bags. “Yes, you were.”

  “Okay, I was. This is more what I expected to see the first time I came over,” she admitted.

  “Good. Because this is more the normal me. I cleaned before you came over last time.” His sidelong glance made a part of her melt.

  How intimate were they? The kiss in the alley yesterday, his leg pressing between hers, the way his mouth stole all the air and blew a desperate need into her rose to the surface.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t call,” Josie said, stumbling over her words. “I just thought I’d pop in and—”

  “I’m glad you didn’t. I might have begged off.” The aroma of spicy peanut sauce, lemongrass, and fish sauce filled the small kitchen, making Josie’s stomach groan once more. And then her appetite faded completely as she digested his words.

  What did that mean? Should she leave? Was this a bad time? He stood next to her, two feet away, and yet he might as well be on Mars. The red cotton t-shirt was on backwards, blue jeans shorts showing off powerful thighs, and his bare feet were planted firmly on the floor, his body casual and there. Yet a tension ran through every muscle, the lines of his veins straining against his skin, jaw tight and face immutable. A mask.

  So much for coming here in a spirit of openness and renewal.

  “Is this a bad time?” she asked, taking a step toward the door. Panic rushed into her, like a wave crashing over her on a beach, unexpected and choking, making it hard to breathe.

  He seemed to sense her shift and immediately responded, closing the gap between them, arms around her like a rescuer. “No, no, not at all. In fact, I’m really glad you’re here.” A deep inhale from him against her neck made her feel welcome as his chest expanded, filling with her.

  “I am so glad you’re here,” he repeated.

  Josie at his door. Bearing Thai food. If she was wearing crotchless panties then she was the one, no doubt.

  Why, then, was he being such an ass? If he didn’t pull it together he’d ruin everything before they could get in a bite of Pad Thai. The second meeting at work today had been far, far worse than the initial one. The parents weren’t suing, the baby was out of the NICU, and everything was fine, but Alex’s judgment was being called into question and it was chipping away at his soul, sliver by chunk. Holding the line on un
necessary interventions and preserving the mother’s wishes for a birth that made sense—within medically responsible boundaries—had never been easy.

  Now it was downright grueling, and he didn’t know how to explain to Josie that he was fighting for his soul right now at work.

  So he didn’t explain. Why burden her with any of this? None of the other women he’d dated had cared about his stressors. From pre-med undergrad days through med school, he’d kept his professional life separate from his personal experiences, finding most women completely uninterested in what he did. Shining eyes loved the fact that he was a doctor-in-training or, now, a true physician. But they were more enamored with the idea of dating (and, perhaps, marrying) a doctor than with the reality of being with a doctor.

  Keeping that line intact would probably be the only way to save his relationship with Josie, already tenuous. He had no inclination to put any of his shit on her right now.

  Suck it up, dude, he told himself. A deep breath, inhaling the scent of lavender and coffee that clung to Josie like a second skin, rejuvenated him. He pulled back from the embrace and kissed her softly.

  “You read my mind.”

  “You were thinking about Thai?”

  “I was thinking about you.”

  “Clearly you weren’t thinking about your shirt.” She snickered, breaking the embrace and dishing up some noodles. He looked down. Damn it. He’d been in the shower when she’d buzzed and his clothes were thrown on hastily.

  Maybe they’d be yanked off just as hastily in the next few minutes. The thought should have excited him, but it only made him feel stunted. Inadequate. As if he’d failed her somehow by not being the centered man she expected him to be, by having his judgment questioned at work. Could it bleed into his personal life? Lately, the stress had.

  What else should he question? You had to have at least a touch—even the tiniest taste—of a God complex to become a physician. Especially a surgeon. Alex’s entire life had been built one one major premise: education and hard work will set you free. His compass was that simple, from watching his mother make her way through teen motherhood and poverty to a clinical psychologist’s license and building her own practice through his own educational journey as the child of a poor teen mother.

  For the first time in his life he wasn’t being interrogated about his knowledge, or his skills, but rather how he assessed a situation and then acted.

  And it sucked.

  Sinking himself into Josie was what he needed most. Skin to skin, rolling in bed, making love until his last gasp was her name and all the stress and horror of his internal self-flagellation was gone. Drained. Depleted.

  That was what he needed.

  Thank God she’d appeared.

  Josie reached out to touch Alex’s elbow. Saying this was important—she wanted to get it out of the way so it wouldn’t weigh on her this evening A fun evening of food, movies and sex—lots of sex—shouldn’t be marred by her worry. He turned his shining eyes on her, focused completely on whatever she was about to say.

  “I did the paperwork on your grandfather’s most recent eval, and he’s…he’s definitely deteriorating,” she said quietly.

  Alex closed his eyes and nodded slowly, letting out a long exhale. “I’m not surprised,” he said. “That matches what my mom and aunts have been telling me.”

  “Alex, I…I want to be careful here, because I don’t want to cross any ethical lines…”

  His face went hard, suddenly, like granite, a look she’d never seen on his face. “Then don’t.” The two words hung in the air, suspended by a tone of judgment.

  “Then don’t—what?” she countered, her voice taking on the same hard edge. Perhaps she shouldn’t have brought it up. Their plates sat in front of them, ignored, and her stomach clenched.

  “Don’t do anything that would violate your professional ethics, or anyone else’s.”

  “What would make you think I would do that?” she hissed back. This was not the conversation she had expected. What the hell had just happened?

  “If you’re going to try to tell me,” he said, standing and leaning forward, eyes angry, “that you are at all tempted to find out whether my grandfather is in the control group or is receiving the medication, then we need to stop this conversation, right here, right now.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” she protested, hands up, palms facing him, standing up herself. She nearly took a step backwards, simply to give herself distance from the near vitriol in his voice, his disdainful face, the puffed-out chest and the balled-up hands. “I wasn’t implying that I would do anything like that,” she said, her body mimicking his. If she could have stepped up on a stool and been face to face, eye to eye with him, she would have. As it was, she had to look up, craning her neck, and stand up, stand tall, as straight as possible to get her point across. A forcefield of fury buzzed between the two of them, seeming to come out of nowhere.

  “You just said that you’re worried that my grandfather’s failing, and that he might…”

  “He might what?”

  “You were the one who was about to say it,” he answered after a long pause.

  “I was about to say that you might want to get a second opinion, or a third opinion, or a whatever opinion,” she said, snarkily, “because Ed is falling apart, and I can’t imagine that he’s going to be safe living independently for much longer. Whether he’s in the control group or not is not something that I’m privy to know, I’m just trying to tell you, as a friend—”

  “Friend?”

  The acid in his tone made her throat well up with salty tears. Her anger, still there, but now replaced with an ever-increasing layer of hurt.

  “Is that what we are, Josie? Friends? ’Cause”—he leaned in, hot breath against her ear—“cause I don’t fuck my friends by the side of the river. I don’t invite my friends over, and make them dinner, and sleep with them. I don’t let them fall asleep in my lap, and cuddle with them, and stroke their hair, and marvel at them. I don’t know what kind of friendsyou have, but I don’t do that with my friends.” He pulled back.

  There was a look of such hurt, and confusion, and anger, and frustration, and about 217 other emotions that she couldn’t identify as her own brain raced, trying to process the implications of this conversation. “Fine, then.” She lowered her shoulders, straightened up her neck, and looked him in the eye again. “I’m telling you, as someone who has just interacted with Ed on a professional andpersonal level, that for whatever reason you and your mother and her sisters may want to consider getting more opinions on how you can slow down the deterioration that he’s experiencing.”

  “And that’s your professional opinion, doctor?” he said, a nasty sneer twisting his face. Who the hell had he become?

  Oh, no, he didn’t.

  “You went there? Really? You…went there?” she seethed. This was going to be about pulling rank? She was always going to be the cute little nurse, and he was always going to be the big, bad doctor? It was her turn to stick her finger in his face. “I may not be a doctor, and I may not have prescription powers, or have suffered through all the years of med school, internship, residency, and all the other shit that you guys go through, but I can tell you one thing. I can tell with reasonable accuracy, based solely on symptoms, which people are in the control group and which are not. Now, I’m never going to cross a line that would jeopardize a multimillion-dollar National Institutes of Health-funded research project. This isn’t Grey’s Anatomy, and I’m not that Meredith chick.”

  He opened his mouth to say something, and she put her fingers over his lips. “You get one chance to pull that shit, Alex. Your chance is over, and you know what else? You had one chance with me”—her voice cracked as the tears that had formed in her throat struggled to take over—“and you just showed me who you really are and what you really think of me.” She marched out the door of his apartment, eyes blinded by tears, and struggled to find her way down the street, to get as far away from hi
m as possible.

  From the moment that Josie had talked about the medication group versus the control group, Alex’s brain had been on fire. He’d been so careful his entire life, following every rule, never straying, being better than the best, having to over-prove himself, because he was, after all, a reject, right? A bastard.

  His professional ethics dictated everything. His sense of honor, his sense of decency, drove everything in him. Violate that, and he might as well lay down and wait for death. As the words had come out of Josie’s mouth, he knew what was coming next, he knew that she thought that she could override the research study’s rules and help his grandfather, and that was when some circuit in his head just blew.

  The conversation had gone very wrong, and as he watched her ass get smaller and smaller, as she marched out the back door, her legs pumping her forward as swiftly as possible to get the hell away from him, he deflated. The anger that had made him so righteously indignant, and had triggered all of those words that came out of his mouth, that had seemed to make sense at the time that he said them, was a flashpoint. Incredibly stupid and presumptive fury that made the gesture she had just tried to extend seem more reasonable, and Alex was the freak. She was right, he had assumed, and when he made that crack about her being a doctor, it just…ugh. It was as if he were channeling “The Claw” or one of the other countless pompous asses at the hospital. It was like no matter how hard he tried to keep that kind of viewpoint out of his head, it somehow had seeped in by osmosis, through the process of so many years of med school, and internship, and residency.

  Calling her on her professional opinion, and making that crack, had cut her deeply. He knew it. You didn’t do that to a nurse; just because she hadn’t gone through med school didn’t mean she wasn’t a valuable medical professional. He knew he could now go back to her and apologize a thousand times, but it was out there, it was said, and “good guy” Alex was now tarnished.

  Self-aware enough to know that the mess at work had just spilled over into his personal life like a goddamned pot boiling over, he sat at the table, the abandoned food still smelling heavenly.