“So…”
“Yeah?”
“Looks like you’re a pretty hot commodity.”
I shook my head and rolled my eyes.
“You’re great, so I get it.”
She thinks you’re great. Ask her out. Just do it.
I opened my mouth, but no words formed before she filled the space with some of her own.
“Her vagina actually sparkled.”
Oh. So we’re going to talk about the patient.
“I honestly didn’t think you could make the female anatomy that attractive.”
“Hey, the female anatomy doesn’t need that much help to be beautiful. Kind of like makeup. Less is sometimes more.”
She laughed, carefree and easy, and I immediately craved more of it. Had to have it. Wondered how many organs I’d have to sell on the black market to get enough money to pay someone to break in to her apartment and make a video of her doing it on a loop.
Okay, that’s creepy. Where the hell did that come from?
“We men like to feel powerful and caveman-like. It might not be right, but the power feeds us. That kind of instruction, insinuation, really, that I should become more acquainted with her takes away all the power.”
She rolled her eyes, but she was still smiling. “Is this like asking for directions? Her vajazzle is like a map, and as a man, you’re just not down with that?”
“Yes,” I laughed. “It’s exactly like that. Tremendous analogy.”
“Shut up.”
I winked, stupidly, and caught off guard, she turned her gaze away in a hurry. She gathered herself quickly and spoke again, though. “You’re going to have to work hard to salvage your reputation after this. Every day I’m here, your problems from the show seem to be a little more substantial. I don’t think I’d ever go to the trouble of faking a UTI to meet a man.”
A big metaphorical arrow started flashing above her head with the words this is your opening written in neon above it. I couldn’t put my finger on the particulars of my attraction, what it was that seemed to draw me to her so strongly, but understanding or not, it was there all the same—in a way that I knew wouldn’t dissipate without any evidence to support the reasons it should. She fucking works for you, and things could get hella awkward apparently wasn’t good enough.
“The problems are real, but maybe salvaging my reputation won’t be so bad.”
She laughed mockingly. “Yeah, you’re right. It’ll probably be a piece of cake.”
High on her renewed laughter, I went for it. “Maybe dating you would do the trick.”
All sounds of laughter cut off as though I’d physically choked her. I might have even heard a set of imaginary tires squeal as they forced themselves to a stop on the pavement. “What?”
Still, it wouldn’t do me all that much good to back out now, so I persevered. “Dating you. Maybe that would solve some of my problems. You’re well-liked. I’d be off the market for all of the crazy women. And I won’t even ask you to make an appointment or vajazzle yourself.”
Her face settled into a mixture of pity and understanding. Her big eyes turned down at the corners, and half a dimple formed a hollow in her cheek. There was a smile there, but it was veiled in the sadness of a frown. The expression wasn’t my favorite, but she still looked beautiful.
“This is a bad idea, Will. You can’t date me to rebuild your image.”
I could give two flying fucks about my image. Just say yes.
“Can I date you because I want to?”
“Will.”
“Come on,” I pleaded. “One date. What’s that going to hurt? Seriously, I can be really endearing. I know I haven’t done such a great job of showing that to you, but I swear I can.”
And now you’re begging. Oh, Will, how far you’ve fallen.
All traces of happiness fled her face, leaving only the pity to comfort the coming blow. “I’m sorry. It’s not just you. It’s me too. There’s so much unsettled. So much I don’t know about what I want and who I am. I just…”
I shrugged. Disappointment took the form of a full-body throb, but I ignored it. She was obviously right. It wasn’t a good idea at all. I’d have to get out tonight. Find someone to fuck, balance out the obviously fucked-up hormones inside me, and move on.
“You’re probably right. It might salvage my reputation, but think of the horrible things it’d do to yours.” A ghost of a grin lifted the corners of her lips. “Saaaave yourseeelf,” I cried, and her smile deepened just enough to be real.
Silence stretched between us for what felt like years but was likely no more than a few seconds before she stood up.
Hooking a thumb over her shoulder, she pointed to the exit. “Well, I should probably…”
“Right. Yeah, okay. Next patient. I’ll see you out there.”
“Okay,” she agreed before stepping through the door and shutting it gently behind her.
Which was probably good. I needed a minute to get over myself and get back to business.
I stood up and pulled my coat back on when an old tongue depressor caught my eye on top of my filing cabinet.
I wasn’t sure if the talk about not knowing things about herself was just talk, a way to take some of the focus off of me and soften the blow, or if she really felt that way, but our conversation in the supply closet of the hospital blared throughout my mind in response.
Tongue depressor affirmations.
I grabbed a Sharpie from my drawer, and without even thinking, the words flowed out of me and onto the thin piece of wood.
Open wide! Everything you’re looking for is inside yourself.
I startled when she knocked on the door, and I slammed a hand down on top of it to cover it.
“Yeah?”
It sounded like there was a frog in my throat. Her eyebrows pinched together, but she didn’t say anything. She probably just thought I was having a mental breakdown.
“Your next patient is in exam room eight.”
“Okay, thanks. I’ll be right there.”
She studied me briefly before nodding and making a retreat down the hall.
I watched her go until I was sure the coast was clear and then lifted my hand. The ink had bled a little into the wood, but all in all, the affirmation was still legible. I read it a couple of times.
God, that’s corny.
Opening the middle drawer of my desk, I picked up the tongue depressor and tossed it in.
Maybe I’d give it to her someday, but I’d already put myself out there enough for one day. Humiliation really is the sort of thing to which you have to acclimate—one painful encounter at a time.
Friday was my second favorite F word. And since my other favorite F word wasn’t appropriate to use in a work environment, I settled for repeating the one word that I could. Both of them brought me joy.