I blinked several times, wondering how I might fulfill what she was asking of me. “Okay, are you asking me to talk to Noah about the birds and the bees?”
It’s totally inappropriate to get involved with patients on a personal level, but Noah’s mom was very compelling. “I’m asking you to talk to Noah about being a man.”
She left the room abruptly while I stood there, staring blankly ahead.
“Dr. Meyers?” Noah asked.
I turned and walked toward him.
“You never answered my question, Doc.”
“Um, I know a thing or two about sex. What would you like to know?”
“Well, I’ve seen two dogs, you know, do it, and I just thought they didn’t seem to be enjoying it much. But everyone keeps telling me that’s what you do when you’re in love and get married. If being in love is so great, why do the dogs—”
“Hold on, Noah, let me think about this. When you’re quite a bit older, you know, when you’re a man?” He nodded enthusiastically. “Well, when you’re a man and you find the right woman . . .” I could feel a bead of sweat running down the side of my face. “Then you can be with her that way. But it’s not like the dogs, exactly.”
“Does it hurt?”
I was about to say no but quickly realized there was some untruth to that answer. “It can hurt if you’re both not ready. That’s why you have to respect the girl’s wishes and let her decide if she’s ready, as long as you’re ready, too. You have to be a good man about it.”
“What do you mean by a good man?”
“A good man is willing to promise himself to his girl so he can protect her and show her how much she’s loved. You can’t have too much pride when you’re in love. If you know for sure, without a doubt, that you’re both ready, then when you come together physically it’ll feel good and right.”
“Oh.”
“But you shouldn’t worry about that part until you’re grown.”
“Like you?”
“Yeah, like me.”
“Are you a good man, Dr. Meyers? I mean, to your girl?”
My jaw tightened. “I want to be, Noah.”
“Cool.”
“Cool,” I said back and then put my fist out to give him a fist bump.
I walked casually out of Noah’s hospital room and then ran full speed down the hallway to my office and booked a flight to Spain.
CHAPTER 23
Not My Home
Avelina
My mother hadn’t changed in five years. She was as beautiful as always except her hair was a lighter hue from the strands of gray running through it. I had heard her voice often on the phone, reminding me in Spanish to pray for Jake’s salvation over and over. The fact that my mother believed Jake was in some burning hell because he took his own life didn’t make conversation with her easy.
She picked me up from the airport in Barcelona and drove me to her small apartment. It seemed that time had healed her and the grief she’d worn like a cloak was gone. Once inside, she showed me to a guest room. When I sat down on the bed she sat next to me and pulled me into her arms. In Spanish, she told me how full her heart felt because I was there. She said I was stronger than she was. I told her how she seemed better and she agreed. She credited prayer and time for the healing of her heart and soul. I asked her about her grief, which I had never done.
In Spanish I asked, “Does it ever go away?”
“No,” she replied. “I still hear your father’s laugh like he’s in the other room. There will always be something a little off, but like a three-legged dog, you’ll learn to walk again. Soon you’ll be running as if nothing is missing.”
Her sincerity felt so warm and true. I’d missed my mother. “I needed you,” I told her.
“I was always here. I just wasn’t well for a long time.”
“What’s changed?”
“Carlos.”
In my mind, I heard the screeching of a needle being jerked across a record. “Excuse me?”
“I met a man, Ava, and I’m in love. He’s handsome and kind and perfect.”
I had several conflicting thoughts in that moment. The old-fashioned part of my brain thought, How could she? But then I saw the happiness in her eyes, something I hadn’t seen in many years, and thought, How could she not? She wasn’t dead.
“I’m happy for you, Mama.”
There was a rapid knock at the front door. Like a giddy thirteen-year-old, my mother jumped up and ran out of the room. In walked a clone of Javier Bardem.
“Oh my god,” I said a little too loudly in English.
“Carlos, come meet my beautiful Avelina,” my mother announced.
He kissed my hand and practically bowed. “As beautiful as your mother,” he said, winking.
“Avelina, Carlos has a daughter your age.”
“Yes, Sabina lives in this building on the second floor. That’s how your mother and I met,” Carlos said in broken English.