It's the morning of the surgery. I'm showered and dressed. It's just 3:00am. I pour my freshly-brewed coffee into my favorite mug. Propped up against the pepper grinder is a card. On the envelope it reads: Katie.
I open it to find one of those cards with a black-and-white photo of two gals from the nineteen-twenties hanging out in full body swim suits at a pool party, having fun and looking fabulous. Inside the blank card is Lacy's fancy scrawl:
You'll do great today. Congratulations. I'm so proud of you. xo Lacy
My whole being is smiling. Having her here for these moments is priceless. Usually, I wake up and head out alone to face my day. But today, on this very important morning, I have back up.
Yesterday, I stayed home. I studied. Alright, actually I hid. I decided that if I went to the hospital I wouldn't get any work done anyhow, not with the gossip mill working on overdrive. The newest information leak regarding my sex life, or rather lack of sex life, was going to put me in a situation where I would be forced to explain something that should never need an explanation, especially to my co-workers. My business is my business and it's staying that way. So, I stayed in and watched some day-time television, which made me want to throw my TV from my window. So, I read the news, which was super depressing and made me want to throw my computer out the window. Running out of distractions, I opened the fridge and found my cure. I ate. I ate all the leftover take-out that Lacy has been stock piling in the fridge. I had Indian cuisine for breakfast, Italian for lunch, Thai for an afternoon snack, and for supper I had empanadas from the food truck outside my building. I'm proud to say that I ate my way through my humiliation. It's not like I drank an entire bottle of wine, popped a handful of vicodin, and passed out. I'm not Anna Nicole Smith or Marilyn Monroe, for goodness sake. I'm a neurosurgeon. My worth does not hinge on how people perceive me sexually, thank God. Thus, it was my one-time attempt at filling the enormous hole created inside of me when my biggest secret was exposed to every person I see on a daily basis. Nothing wrong with that. No one likes walking around with a gaping hole inside of them. Fill that thing up and get on with it, I say. So, that's what I did. I just happen to use food instead of positive affirmations or drugs.
All in all, it was a healing day, and today I feel like I'm back in charge of my life. Yes, it will be hard to face my co-workers, but I can't focus on the trivialities of hospital gossip when a man's life depends on my being focused. Yesterday is over. Today is now.
When I arrive at work, everyone is prepping, so there is no idle chit-chat. It's so early that the night shift is still on the clock, and they don't care about my life whatsoever. They have an entirely different gossip mill churning that I'm not a part of. Half of them don't even know I exist.
I change into my scrubs. Mr. Rodriguez has been prepped. His family has given him their love, and he has his affairs in order. He doesn't need to worry about that, but I understand. Things happen in surgery that I can't control sometimes. A sudden heart attack or stroke is possible, but it's rare. And hell if I'm going to let a neurosurgery end in a heart attack.
Mark and Sandy wheel Mr. Rodriguez into the O.R. Bodhi and I scrub in, side by side. We don't talk. We take a moment and look into one another's eyes, and in that look we find safety and complete confidence. Hands up and masks on, we head into the room. Dr. Strong, Amir, and Peter watch from the observation room. Javier is next to Mr. Rodriguez talking to him.
Grace sashays in and leans toward Mr. Rodriguez. She smiles her dazzling smile and points at the bag of propofol hanging near him.
"Mother's milk," she says to him softly. "You are going to have the sweetest dreams, and when Dr. Matthews and Dr. Wells are finished fixing you, I will bring you out of that sweet dream and you will see your beautiful wife and children waiting by your side."
"Thank you, Dr. Meadows," Mr. Rodriguez says nervously.
"I got you," she tells him. And she does. She is the best anesthesiologist on the East Coast.
She releases the propofol into his IV and begins to count down. Here we go.
Three hours later, we emerge from the O.R.
"Everything looks good," I tell Mrs. Rodriguez. "We found the lesion and it is gone. Now we wait and see how he reacts to any trauma the laser may have caused." That is, if there is any residual trauma. That's the point of this new technology. "Hang out, get some lunch, and we will bring you in when Dr. Meadows brings him out of his sedation."
They thank me and head down to the cafeteria together holding hands and talking. Whatever the outcome of Mr. Rodriguez's surgery, they'll be fine. They have each other.
I head into recovery and check Mr. Rodriguez's vitals. He is stable. Mark knocks on the door.
"I'm taking a break. Be back in five."
I nod to him and smile. He did such a great job. "Take ten. You rocked it."
"So did you," he says. "As usual." He heads down the hallway, leaving me to watch over my patient. I did rock it. So did Bodhi. It was like a ballet. We were in sync the entire time. Like he said, four hands and one mind. We were inside each other in a way I've never experienced. We flowed like two rivers coming together and emptying into an ocean. We were seamless. It felt good. If only our personal relationship could have been the same. If only we had the opportunity to have that connection on a physical level.
"Go home for awhile. I've got it," Bodhi says from the doorway.
I jump and turn to him. He is still in his scrubs, his mask hanging around his neck, leaning on the door jam. He's the most attractive man on earth right now.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."
"No, I was just zoning out."
"Go home for a while. I've got this."
"No, I'm fine," I tell him, not wanting to leave my patient, or him.
He moves toward me and stands on the other side of Mr. Rodriguez's bed.
"Please, get some rest. You've had a full week."
I was worried he might say something like that. Clearly, the revelation of my being a virgin is still a topic of discussion and thus, I must be traumatized enough to need some extra rest. If only my trusty laser could wipe that information from the earth like it does the tissue on a brain.
"Listen, about all of that," I start. "That was just me . . . "
"I'm sorry we were eavesdropping," he whispers, looking down at his feet. "We were concerned and then, well, I can't speak for anyone else, but your personal life is of some interest to me. Great interest, actually."
He looks up. His eyes take me in fully. He is looking at me in a way I've never been looked at before. I'm stunned. I'm holding in this moment with the acute realization that he just said out loud that he is interested in me. "Great interest" were his words. That means he's interested, right? It can't mean something else, can it?
I try to be coy without being cute. If that's at all possible.
"Oh is it?" I ask him, finding myself filling with a newfound excitement and trying desperately not to seem desperate.
"Yes, I'm interested in you. So, do I have a shot?"
"A shot? A shot at what?"
Hold up, is he actually asking me if he can pop my cherry? If so, I am pretty sure he has crossed some kind of professional line and I'm pretty sure I want him to. The look on my face must be rather transparent, because Bodhi's eyes just widened and he is shaking his head.
"No, I meant I'd like a shot at getting to know you outside of here, outside of this doctor thing. This is hard. It's just I feel like it's all been a bit hectic, but now with the surgery finished maybe we can try again? Go out and talk, or whatever you like?"
He didn't cross a line. I did. Maybe I've been the one crossing all the lines this entire time. As I look at him, I realize he has been a perfect gentleman and I have been nothing short of a nutcase. And he still wants to get to know me. Either there is something seriously wrong with this guy or he truly likes who I am.
"Well," I stutter, "well, I think we see how Mr. Rodriguez recovers. Right?"
"Right," he agrees, backing off a bit. "Then, I'll be right here impatiently waiting your answer once he does recover."
"OK. Sounds good. I'll head home and we will see what happens." I hand him the chart and leave the room.
As I walk down the hallway I feel a buzzing move through my body. Why I couldn't just give him an answer right then and there is beyond me. Maybe because I'm in shock that I have shown Bodhi every aspect of myself, and he still wants to spend time with me away from this place. I've never felt this before. It's different. When I met him it was this fluttery feeling of lust; this hormonal surge that filled me up. It was a high that left me very low when it wasn't surging through me. But this new feeling was different. He likes me. He knows I'm a twenty-nine-year-old who is still a virgin, and he likes me all the same. He doesn't see it as something that is wrong with me. He sees me for who I am. This is the feeling that Ophelia wanted to feel. This is the feeling that Juliet felt with Romeoâthe feeling that someone feels for you the way you feel for him. No wonder she was so hell-bent on not giving it up. This feels great! This feels alive. This must be what love feels like!
I land my butt in the back of a cab and watch the New Yorkers fight their way through the morning rush. I just performed the surgery of my lifetime, my patient is in stable condition, and I think I'm in love.
The elevator to my apartment moves faster than I remember it ever moving. The doors open and I hop out and head to my apartment door, which is open. I hear voices coming from inside. Voices I recognize, but voices that I wasn't expecting and am not interested in hearing out of the blue like this.
There are five suitcases blocking me from getting any further than three feet inside my apartment doorway.
"Mom? Dad? What are you doing here?"
"We flew in to surprise you for your thirtieth!" she yells, running toward me with her arms spread wide.
She shoves her way past their bags and hugs me. My mom is an older version of Lacy, but her hugs still pack a little more punch. She is wearing a flower-print maxi dress and platform flip-flops. Did I mention she is in her fifties and looks like she is my age? Well, she does. It's really annoying.
My dad follows behind her, his button-up shirt neatly tucked into his belted trousers.
"Happy Birthday, Kitten!"
He joins us in the hug. We hold there for a few seconds, but it feels like hours. They like to hug and breathe together like we are all in the womb as one. It's sweet if you're not in the hug, but if you are it's very uncomfortable after about second ten.
Finally, my mom pulls back from me, releasing my father from the fold.
"We didn't know that Lacy was going to surprise you, too! Big family birthday tomorrow! I'll make waffles!"
She hugs me again, pulling my dad in and we hold on as she sways like she is rocking us to sleep. As we rock back and forth in what mom calls "our yummy hug" I see Lacy come out of the guest room. I mouth over my father's shoulder. "What the hell?"
She shrugs and says loudly, "Don't ask me."
Mom lets me go and I make a break for it before she can grab me again for round three.
"Bathroom, now," I bark at Lacy, as I make my escape.
"Mom, Dad. We need to . . . " she begins to tell them, but we have no time for idle chit-chat. I grab her hand and drag her to the bathroom.
As I turn and shut the door behind us, my dad waves at me like I'm getting on an airplane.
"You girls, even as adults you skip to the loo, two by two."
I wave back and close the door, locking it behind me. I turn to find Lacy sitting on the toilet peeing. I'm about to tell her my news, that I had a successful surgery and that I'm in love, when she usurps my happy moment with her drama.
"I can't take it anymore," she says, reaching for the toilet paper. "And they've only been here one hour."
"Did you know they were coming?"
"No, they told you. It's a surprise for your stupid birthday, and now I'm forced to pretend all weekend that I'm still in school. I was done pretending." She pulls up her jeans and washes her hands.
Now I have to pee. I pop a squat on the toilet, "Wait, you haven't told them you dropped out?"
"No! And technically, I failed out."
"You have to tell them. I can't keep a secret."
"Why not? I did for you."
"That's different," I tell her, wiping and flushing. "Not to mention, they are going to wonder why in two weeks you're still living in New York."
We stand in front of the mirror and talk to each other's reflections.
"If I tell them I'm not in school, they'll just tell me to go back to Ohio, and I can't do that."
"Then tell them you are staying here and explain to them your new plan."
She turns and looks directly at me.
"I'm scared."
"You don't think I'm scared every day?"
"Don't do that. My fears will never measure up to yours, the almighty surgeon who saves lives."
I dry my hands and decide I'm not going to participate in a conversation with her when she continues to divert all discussions about her back to me. It's time she dealt with her issues.
"I guess you're right," I say, reaching for the doorknob.
"Then again, I was never afraid of sex, so maybe I'm braver than I thought."
I let go of the knob and turn to her.
"Whoa, I told you, I'm not afraid of sex."
"You also said you'd lose your virginity by the time you turned thirty. You're thirty tomorrow and you're still making excuses. You're scared. It's cool."
"That's so different."
"How?"
"Your choice of career is important!"
"And sex isn't? Living life to the fullest isn't? It doesn't take a brain surgeon to figure out that you're going to wind up old and alone. All those people you save will be off living their lives, having great sex, and you'll be a cold, sad, old woman, wishing she could go back in time and do it all different. And that means getting laid once in awhile."
Did she just say what I thought she said? I'm so pissed off right now I can't see straight. I move toward her and get in her face.
"Take that back!"
"No!" she yells back at me.
"I'm not going to be cold and sad!"
"You already are!"
She shoves me out of her way and barges out of the bathroom. I follow her into her room. I don't know where my parents are at this moment, because all I can see is red. I watch her packing her bags. I want to ask her to stop, but I can't. She crossed a line. I want to tell her that Bodhi doesn't think I'm sad or cold, but screw her. I'm not sharing my good news. I'm going to make her feel as bad as she tried to make me feel. Cold and sad?
"How about depressed, poor, and unemployable, because that's where you're headed if you don't get your future figured out! An actor? Please!"
She stops packing and looks at me.
"And there it is. I knew you were lying when you said you supported me."
She leaves her bag on the bed and walks past me. I stand there shaken, wondering how I got pulled into her drama once again.
I hear the front door slam. Great, she left again in a huff. This time I'm not going to look for her. This time I carry on with my life and she can figure hers out without me.
I wander into the living room and see my parents standing there. Both of them look stunned.
"I know," I tell them, hoping I can just keep everyone calm. "I'm worried about her, too."
I flop onto the couch, because not only am I physically exhausted, I'm now emotionally spent.
My mom sits next to me and puts my feet on her lap.
"Katie? Is it true?"
"What part?"
"You're still a virgin?"
I sit up.
"Whoa, Mom!"
My dad begins pacing and muttering behind us, "I just, I never thought, didn't you have the talk with her?"
"I did, but I guess I did it all wrong," my mom says, like I'm not right in front of them.
"OK, you two. I've been busy."
"But you're thirty years old, dear," my mom says with a slight bit of pity in her voice.
"Not you, too!"
I can't take this kind of judgment. Not from my parents and my co-workers and my sister. Only a half an hour ago I was in a bliss-filled bubble, feeling the high of being in love for the first time. And now I am back to being judged for not getting laid before I turn thirty. I can't win.
I storm out of the living room and fall onto my bed like an angry teenager. Tears well up in my eyes and begin streaming down my cheeks. I'm just tired, I tell myself. This isn't anything except exhaustion. I hear my mom come in and close the door behind her. She doesn't say anything, but I can feel her wanting to say the right thing. She just can't find the words, because what do you say to your child when you realize that she hasn't fully lived her life because you forced her to grow up before she was ready? There are no words.
"I don't need a lecture. I've had plenty from my little sister," I tell her with my face firmly pressed into my comforter.
She sits on my bed and takes a big breath.
"My first time was in the back of a car," she says quietly. "No joke. So typical-sounding, but it was kind of romantic. Nice leather seats. It smelled like tobacco. Nowadays, I don't think back seats are large enough to do much of anything, much less, you know what."
"Mom, please just . . . "
"What are you waiting for, Katie?"
"I'm not waiting," I say turning over. "Maybe, Lacy is right. I've been afraid, but not of sex. I've been afraid of falling in love and getting attached, or needing someone more than needing my career. I didn't want to have to choose between two things that I love."
"And now?"
"Now," I say sitting up, ready to spill the beans, but I stop because Lacy is standing in the doorway.
"Mom, I failed out of medical school," she blurts out.
"I know dear. They sent me a letter," she says, her arms out for Lacy to fall into.
Lacy runs to our mom and falls in the way she has always done. "Why didn't you say something?"
"Why didn't you, dear?"
"Because, I was afraid you'd be disappointed."
"Girls," my Mom says, opening her arms and wrapping them around both of us. "Don't ever make choices out of fear of disappointing someone. Lacy, you've spent your whole life falling in and out of love and never knowing what career you wanted. Kate, you always knew what career you wanted, but you were terrified of falling in love because you feared it might distract you. Your lives are what you make them, and love is what you make of it. Bottom line, do what makes you happy and you'll never fail the one person who matters: you."
"I want to be an actor," Lacy tells her.
"I know. And I hear New York has some wonderful schools for that. You can't surprise me. I know my girls."
Oh yeah, I can.
"I want to give my virginity to Bodhi Wells, because I think I'm in love with him."
Lacy squeals with delight, "You are in love with him?" She hugs me, giggling. "Finally!"
My mom pats me on the back. "I don't know him, but I'm sure he will make a magnificent lover, if in fact that truly is his real name."
We are all crying, from relief and from happiness.
Dad knocks on the door and pokes his head in the room, "We get it all figured out?"
"Yep," Mom says with utter confidence. "Lacy here is going to need an apartment in the city so she can pursue her acting career, and Kate here is going to get changed and head out to find this Bodhi Wells man so she can finally get laid and lose her virginity."
He nods and smiles. "Oh. Very good. I think I'll have a few drinks so I can forget you just said that."
He closes the door and Mom, Lacy, and I laugh hysterically for the next ten minutes.
I take an hour-long nap that feels more like a two-day nap and wake up to take-out from Dean & Deluca, compliments of my parents. Mom and I chat while I shower and get dressed to go back to work, while Dad and Lacy look for job listings. I kiss them all goodbye, as I head out the door to tell Bodhi how I feelâor at least tell him I want to go out again.
As I ride the elevator down, I feel the weight of my feelings for Bodhi. My body fills with the excitement of seeing him again finally knowing what I want. I've gone deep these past three weeks, performing a kind of surgery on my life, and I've discovered that I had my own type of lesion to destroy, an idea that I created many years ago that I couldn't have it all. That idea was blocking me from living my life to the fullest. It was cutting me off from a vital part of myself that I had left unattended my entire adult life. But today I destroyed it and I am already feeling the healing of it being gone. I feel hopeful for the first time that I might have found someone who "gets me" and could understand my obsession with work and saving lives. Someone who I'm attracted to and want to give myself to in a way I never have before.
The cab pulls up to the curb of the hospital and I get out. The surgery of my life and the surgery on my life are both a success. Mr. Rodriguez and I have both been given a second chance at living, and I'm starting mine today. I stare at the revolving door, take in a deep breath, and step through the doorway.
Look out Bodhi Wells, because I'm planning on coming for you. Literally.