by Bri Stone
If I knew how to be more well-rounded, I would have done both. I wouldn’t be losing my shit over a date or avoiding happiness. Thom became my best friend in the past year, is it because I don’t want to lose that?
No.
I leave it in the back of my mind, but I know it’s because I don’t want to let him in. I don’t want my heart to crack and make way for anyone else. I only recently put it back together after mom. I ruined Trevor back in college. I can’t do that to Thom.
You can try and change.
I shut my conscience up by going for another thousand meters at my max split. When I stepped off the erg I nearly fell, but it felt good. I left a pool of sweat behind, and I grabbed one of the towels to clean up after myself. I moved into the corner with a foam roller, since the gym was starting to fill up. It was the closest and cheapest place to me, and it only had one erg, so I considered myself lucky. But the people there were sketchy, and I never spent more than an hour there.
Back at home I took a cold shower to seize my pulsing muscles, and I had an appetite I couldn’t ignore. I dressed in lounge clothes and started on an omelet. I sat on the kitchen counter with my phone, surfing Facebook aimlessly. I managed to laugh at a compilation of funny home videos, but it didn’t reach very far.
Thom has permeated every area of my apartment, he wasn’t even here but he was. My kitchen was sad before him; he rearranged the drawers and cabinets to make more sense. He even fixed the dishwasher that I thought would never work. Over time he had left a few jackets here, they have a permanent place in the living room. I couldn’t bring myself to wear them. Wearing a guy’s jacket is equivalent to claiming him as yours in some way, and I wasn’t ready to do that yet.
When noon rolled around I selfishly thought he would be here. He always swings by after his workout with my favorite food; honey butter on an asiago bagel. He stays for an episode or two of House of Cards, or the show we were watching at the time, and we eat together. It was mostly the only time we were together and not studying. It was an indirect date that I never acknowledged, because that would be too much for me. We talked about everything and nothing. He knew my dad was an engineer and often away, and about my sister. He knew the surface, and what I allowed him to.
He would make me laugh until my stomach hurt, just because he is so funny. I think it’s because he had such an original outlook on life. I used to think it was because he was sick, but it really isn’t. He had a strong self-assuredness, completely comfortable in his own skin and not many people have that. I surely don’t.
Thom would be Thom, even if he had healthy lungs. Sometimes I worry, because asthma is one of those things that masks a bigger problem or gets mistaken for it. Then I stop myself by saying it’s just me trying to find a reason to keep him at arm’s length.
The peppers burned in the pan, but I poured the eggs in anyway and slathered it with cheese. Once I had put it on my plate I lost my appetite. I sulked over to the couch. Even it smells like him; a hint of homemade soap and rough cinnamon.
I can’t escape him.
I blink back tears a few times. It doesn’t work. Clem reads my mind, and my phone rings out with her ringtone, Drumming Song by Florence and the Machine.
“Hey.” I clear my throat, trying to sound like I’m not on the verge of tears. I was grateful she didn’t do a video call.
“Hey, what’s going on?”
I furrowed my brow and swallowed a thick lump in my throat. “Nothing. Just a regular Saturday morning.” I lied.
“Right...I hear it in your voice, Perrier.” She deadpans. I rolled my eyes at her. I hadn’t told her about the date yet, it would have been her first sentence if I had.
“I...Thom planned our date for today...” I started.
“Oh, awesome! Are you excited? What are you going to wear?” She squealed.
A defeated sigh escaped my chapped lips. “I told him I couldn’t go because I was visiting Dad.”
There was silence. I could hear the street signs click and the pedestrians on the pavement.
“Our Dad? The one on the fucking Pacific Ocean right now?” Her voice raised, and I flinched. I feel her anger from my perch on the couch.
“Yeah.” It was so quiet I didn’t think she would hear me.
“Are you...you’ve had a psychotic break. Is that it?” There was humor in her voice, but she was more serious than not.
“No...I just—”
“You just what? You just fucking what?”
I said nothing.
“If something is wrong; if it’s like it was when Mom died, tell me now because I am really about to hand it to you.”
I hear shuffling on her end. Is she prepping an argument? I nearly shudder at my sister’s wrath. She takes ‘meaning well’ to an entirely new level. I’d need to stand on a chair.
“It’s not. He texted me the address of the restaurant.”
I slipped into a post-traumatic depression when she passed. I think we all did. But mine became high-functioning, and I needed medication for a time. Therapy helped a lot. I would get headaches, and not want to do anything but row and study. I needed the achievement to feel better. I was going on the water twice a day. When I injured my back from all the strain and stress, I found a different way.
School.
Before fifteen I was an average student. Below average, even. But come sophomore year I made all A’s and turned a 2.2 GPA into a 4.0. School had to come first because without it, I didn’t know what I would do.
“In that case. Make a fucking decision. If you don’t go...you should let him go, Perrie.”
“I like him though, maybe more than like him.” I interjected.
“Yeah? Funny way of showing it. Hilarious. I’m guffawing uncontrollably.”
“It isn’t like that. I just...” my voice drops as heavy tears stain my blanket, “I’m afraid.”
“Of what, sweetie? Being happy? Doing something other than studying? You’ve been in the books since you were fifteen, if you’re afraid of slipping back you know you can see someone.” She insists.
“Everything. And I know I can.” I sniffled.
“Good. Then...you should decide. One you won’t regret. You don’t want to feel like you left something behind.”
“Okay.” I wiped my tears and nose taking a shaky breath.
“Whew. Okay. Let’s talk about something else.” Her voice pikes and I hear shuffling on the other end.
“Like what?” I put her on speaker and blew my nose. I could feel how puffy my eyes were.
I knew I had to start being more honest with myself. Clem had a way of getting me to, but I couldn’t always rely on her to pull me out of it. What I did to Thom, what I was doing—it was wrong. I had to make it right and be honest with myself.
“I don’t know. How is school?”
“Fine...that isn’t much different, you know. Thom and I are always together studying.”
“Oh, right,” she laughed.
“So, you then?”
She sighed blissfully, and I could just hear the smile in her voice.
“Nothing much. Well, there might be a guy. But it’s probably nothing.”
“Why would it be nothing?” I pried, smiling slightly. It was nice to hear about her. To take my mind off things.
“Because he’s an old patient. There are no rules against it, but I’m just not sure I want to do anything about it.”
“But you have feelings for him? Who is he?”
“He’s a Captain in the Air Force. Well, he was before he was discharged. Now he’s a pilot.”
“Oh wow...so he’s older?” I assumed.
“A little. Well, a lot. He’s thirty-seven.”
I pursed my lips, it isn’t that much older. “And he was a patient? Why, what’s his damage?” I asked.
“Classic PTSD. He was a combat pilot. Even...dishes cracking can set him off. We lost touch after his treatment and he was discharged. But he reached out to me when he was flying in a few m
onths ago. Anyway, he makes a lot of stop overs near the base, so I meet him.”
“And meet means...” I giggled.
“Shut up. Anyway, it hasn’t gone beyond that. He wants it to, I do too but...”
“Are you afraid of his condition? He could lose it and think you’re some enemy soldier one day...”
“I know. But that isn’t why. I guess we both suck at relationships, huh?” She laughed a bit.
“Yeah. But...we’re both stupid. He sounds like a nice guy. Thom is a nice guy.”
“Yeah. Declan O’Hara. He’s great...so, what are you going to do?”
“Me? I don’t know. What are you going to do?”
“Fuck. I don’t know. We were supposed to talk about something easier.” She laughed.
“I know.”
We moved the conversation on to easier things like celebrity’s psychotic breaks, but it came back full circle anyway. It was still nice to talk to her, to think about problems other than my own. But I had a lot to think about at the end of the call. A tough choice to make.
Except it wasn’t tough and it shouldn’t be. I wanted Thom. I knew that I did. I just had to see that it wasn’t about me anymore, it wasn’t about what I had been through. I wanted to tell him everything about that, too.
HOURS LATER I WAS SHOWERED and curling my hair for the first time in years. Maybe.
I was ready to see Thom. Ready for our first date. It almost sounded ridiculous, that it was our first date after a year.
We even spent our birthdays together, mine was in October and his was in December. Of course, we spent it studying. It was the first time I spent my birthday with anyone other than family. Even still I couldn’t let him in.
But now...now I’m curling my hair, wearing makeup. Putting on the nicest dress I own; a cute peach number with thin straps and a frayed bottom. I didn’t know how nice the place was, so I tried to be casual but also classy. I wore white ballet flats because they were comfortable, and if I wore heels I would be as tall as Thom, if not an inch taller. Melinda offered input on what I should wear.
I reread the message over and over. I knew where to go. At six-thirty I called a cab, but it took much longer than I expected to arrive. I tapped my foot nervously in the back, time was passing by. He would think I wasn’t coming...I thought I would be too late.
I walked inside of Boulevard four minutes past seven, and the place was beautiful. My eyes swelled with tears at the thought of how special he wanted this to be. I had nearly ruined it. There was no host at the stand, so I went straight to the bar and looked around. He didn’t drink, but I thought he would be waiting there. The bar, in fact—the entire place was very high class, five stars for sure.
The bar was a dark wood, with hanging lights above it. The stools a heavy wood with plush leather tops. The tables were covered with white table cloths, the wait staff wore dress shirts and slacks.
I went around the far side and found Thom. My breath caught in my throat and the floor wobbled like rubber. Time seemed to freeze, he looked so handsome. So perfect. His dark khakis wrapping around his solid legs, he only wears Lee. It was odd seeing him without a Henley, but in a crisp white dress shirt instead. He even did something with his usually messy hair. I wanted to call out to him, but he was standing up with a woman and another man.
I knew the woman just worked there, and just as she started to lead them away Thom turned like he was looking for me. He saw me. He smiled kindly, and I smiled back timidly. I clutched my clutch purse in my hand until my knuckles were white hot. I wished he would move or say something. the man with him whispered in his ear and then walked away. Thom shook his head with a smirk.
Finally, he came towards me, his long legs carrying him forward in stride. His gait drew my eyes to his frame. I bit my lip nervously, my cheeks flushing. His presence still makes my belly fill with butterflies and my hands tingle like I’m back in the ninth grade, crushing on the quarterback of the varsity football team.
“You’re here.” His voice washed over me. Deep and easy. He was a breath away, his scent surrounding me. I blinked up at him, smiling softly.
“Yeah...I’m so sorry, Thom. For lying, for—” he shook his head and cut me off, his fingers grazing across my wrist.
“No, don’t apologize. It’s fine.”
I searched his eyes, trying to get an angle on him.
We were awkwardly standing in the walkway next to the bar, the hostess tittering on her feet behind Thom.
“I should though. I don’t deserve you.”
“You’re here now. That’s all I care about.” He winked, flashing his dashing smile.
I could barely breathe and with all the nerves of the day gone, I was starving. I was suddenly aware of the smell of fine cuisine.
“We should sit down.” I giggled nervously.
“Oh, yeah. Let’s go.” He took my hand, and we followed the hostess to our table, who had been teetering behind us. His hand encompassed mine, so warm; I felt it ring throughout my entire body.
He had reserved a comfortable booth seat, right next to a window overlooking the city. We were given our menus and such, but all I could focus on was Thom. Even in the dim light, every feature of him stood out. His crystal gray eyes, his chiseled broad nose and heart-chiseled jaw leading right to his soft lips. I was a fool for waiting so long. As I sat there all I wanted to do was kiss him.
He smiled at me, his hands clasped on the table. I took them in mine as I gazed into his eyes intently.
“I’m really sorry, Thom. You didn’t—don’t deserve me lying to you. I was just...being dumb. Really dumb.” I had no idea how to say I was afraid of a serious relationship because of my past.
“It’s a wonder you got into med school.” He joked. I couldn’t help but giggle, but I was still worried he could be mad at me. He may have given me the option to show up, but who knows what he was thinking?
“I’m serious Thom, I’m worried you’re still mad at me.” I smiled shyly.
His expression softened as he leaned closer. He turned his hands over to squeeze mine.
“I was never mad at you. I could never be mad at you. I’m just glad you’re here, I want to forget about all that. It’s our first date, Sparks. I just want you to be honest, from now on.”
“I will. I promise.” I smiled, feeling the shackles lift from my chest. He lifted my hands to his mouth and kissed my knuckles. I giggled, and he freed my hands.
The waiter brought over a wine list, but I knew Thom didn’t like to drink, and I wasn’t big on it either. We both had sweet tea, our favorite drink.
“This place is so swank.” I said as I looked over the menu. Nothing was under twenty dollars, not even the appetizers.
“Yeah, Stan got me the reservations.” He nodded over to the bar, signaling he was talking about the man he was with before.
“That man you were with?”
He nodded.
“Is he your dad?” I gulped, eyes widening, I didn’t think I was ready to be meeting his dad yet.
“No, my uncle. Well, we aren’t related but he’s a family friend. He was my mother’s doctor and then mine. But he doesn’t like kids very much, so it was a favor to her.” He shrugged.
“Really? I had no idea.” I remembered him mentioning Stan, but that day was full of many other things it slipped my mind.
“Yeah. I guess he’s always been like my dad, since I never knew mine.”
“Aww...what kind of doctor is he?” I asked him. I realized I didn’t know much about him, nothing but the surface.
I wanted to know everything.
Chapter Twelve: Perrie
“HE USED TO BE A GENERAL surgeon, but he stopped operating a year ago. Um, just around when my mom died. But now he does consults, and family medicine.”
“No kids though.”
“Nope.” He laughed. “Stan has some community ties, I guess.”
“You guess?”
The waiter bringing our sea scallops appetizer
interrupted the conversation. I think Thom just picked the first thing he saw when he looked down, or he had been here before.
“Well I’m sure you’ve heard of Stan Edwards.” He cocked his brow as he sipped his tea. My eyes lingered on his lips curling under the glass.
I screwed up my face as I thought.
It dawned on me. I heard of him back in college. He did a lot of charity work, ran his own charity and was beneficiary to a bunch more. Any pre-med society in school knew about him, the one I was in desperately tried to get him to speak at one of our events. But he was also very rich, good looking, and a subsequent womanizer.
“Oh, yeah I do. Whoa, he’s your uncle?” I leaned.
“In hindsight.” He laughed.
We went on talking about his uncle until he swore he was tired of him. The appetizer was good, and it made sense why this food was so expensive. The main courses were even more.
“Thom, this place is so expensive. How can you afford this?” I whispered in shock, smirking as he shook his head.
He cocked a brow. “You’re asking me about my finances on the first date?” He bantered.
“Come on, you don’t have a job. It’s natural for me to wonder...” I played.
“If you must know...I saved in college. Mom left me a lot of cash, and I don’t have to pay rent, so.” He shrugged.
I noticed he always twitches when he mentions his mom, but I wasn’t sure if I could ask him more about it yet. Especially not over a nice dinner.
“Uh huh. Makes sense. Your mom, what did she do?” I asked cautiously. He swallowed, and then sighed as he met my eyes before answering.
“She was a scrub nurse.” He smiled with pride. “She really loved her job, too. A lot of people say they’re fallbacks for not making it in nursing school or shit like that, but that isn’t true. She loved it.”
I nodded. “People say that about medical examiners. That they couldn’t make it through the surgical internship.” I said.
“Dumb asses.” He laughed. But I could tell he didn’t want to talk about his mom much longer.
