My mom used to tell me about this kids' show she grew up watching called Chippy the Clown. She would tell me how funny it was when another character on the show would throw a pie at Chippy the Clown's face. I remember feeling the humiliation of this sad clown as she would talk about him taking the blow, week after week. But I also remember her describing how he always took a big lick of the whipped cream off his face before wandering offstage with his tail between his legs. There is always a bit of sweetness to taste in the bitterness of life, and I'm trying to do that right now. I'm trying to find the sweet taste that should come along with the gut-wrenching feeling of humiliation I'm experiencing as I stand in the doorway of Mr. Rodriguez's recovery room and watch Grace undulate on top of Bodhi behind the empty bed. I'm searching for the whipped cream, but it's not there. All I taste is acid reflux, a little curry from my food binge yesterday, and a lot of heartbreak. I am tasting what it's like to have your heart broken into a million little pieces, while actively trying not to throw up all over the floor on which the woman I hate and the man I love are having sex.
As I back out of the room, my ears begin to ring. I think I'm going to pass out.
"Bodhi. Oh, Bodhi. Sweetie," I hear Grace saying over and over again.
Good God, she called him sweetie. How long has this been going on? Three weeks, I guess, answering my own stupid question. How could I be so stupid? How could I forget that Grace wanted him and so she, of course, got him. His interest in me is clearly the kind of interest you have in seeing the Bearded Lady at the carnival. I'm a freak of nature and he is "interested" the way a scientist is interested in an experiment gone wrong.
Suddenly, the ringing stops and I hear Grace say my name. I focus in and see her staring at me, still straddling Bodhi, who is obviously just enjoying the ride.
"Kate," Grace says, a look of disbelief on her face. "Bodhi and I were . . . and . . . I'm sorry, I didn't mean to . . . "
She didn't mean to what? Have sex with the man I've fallen in love with?
I bolt. I run down the hallway as fast as my high heels can take me without falling on my face. I see the supply closet. I duck into it and run into an orderly loading up a box with bed blankets.
"Get out!" I yell at him.
He drops the blankets and hurries out. I'd feel bad if he hadn't been the same orderly that made kissy noises at me behind my back. I shut the door behind him and slide down it. My heart hurts. Everything in my body is vibrating. No, it's shaking. I'm shaking uncontrollably and feeling like I'm going to vomit. Why does it feel like my entire being is being ripped from my body and being used as a punching bag for the universe right now? This is how love feels? I hate love. Fuck this!
"Stupid, stupid, girl," I hear my voice saying out loud to me. And I'm right. I'm an idiot to have thought he loved me back. I'm naïve and dumb. Grow up, Kate. Life doesn't work like that. Not for you anyhow. How many times do I have to humiliate myself to realize that this being vulnerable thing is nothing but a joke, and the joke is on me? I must have the word "sucker" imprinted across my forehead, because I keep getting punched.
My phone pages me. I take a deep breath and check it. It's Mr. Rodriguez. He's hemorrhaging.
I run as fast as I can to the O.R. Javier, Mark, Sandy, and Grace are already scrubbing in. I quickly strip out of my clothes and put on the scrubs Mark is holding out for me. I begin scrubbing in as I look through the window and see Mr. Rodriguez lying on the gurney. Damn it, what did I miss?
"Where's Bodhi?" I ask Grace. But she doesn't answer me. Instead she hurries into the O.R. I look at Mark. Mark shrugs. I look at Javier.
"Where the hell is Dr. Wells?" I yell.
"He's not scrubbing in," Javier tells me, looking a little grim.
"Why the hell not?"
Dr. Strong hurries into the room. He is in his scrubs.
"Let's do this," he says.
"Why are you here?" I ask him. "Where is he?"
"He's unavailable, so I'm your wing man. Let's go."
The doors open and Dr. Strong goes into the O.R., followed by Sandy.
"Kate?" Mark asks, trying to get my attention. "You ready to fix this?"
I nod and go in. The doors close behind me and Mark. As I approach my patient and the team, my life comes back into focus. Dr. Strong and I make eye contact. Sandy hits play on my IPod. Frank Sinatra's strong voice booms through the O.R. speakers and I begin. I make my incision, followed by my burr hole, and we go in to find the origin of the hemorrhage. If I find it then I can stop it. If I stop it then I can save this man's life. I know I have little time. That is the challenge with emergency surgery. You know what to do, but you may not have the time to do it in. Luckily for Mr. Rodriguez, I do.
As I remove the laser and we begin to close the tiny incision, my mind returns to Bodhi.
"Now, would someone tell me where the hell Dr. Wells is?"
Everyone stares at the ground.
"If someone doesn't speak up I'm going to freak the "eff" out!"
"Grace was trying to have sex with him," Javier says, trying not to laugh. "He slipped and fell as he was trying to run away from her. He has a pretty good concussion."
"He fell," Grace chimes in, still not making eye contact with me. "I was there. End of story."
"I'm sorry, wait a second here. He was running away from you?"
"Running away from me is so dramatic. He slipped and fell. That's it," she says, giving Javier the stink eye for ratting her out.
"Grace, he told me the entire story when he woke up," Javier says, shaking his head at Grace. "Come clean."
This is unbelievable. Not only was Bodhi not having sex with her, he was trying to escape her. I'm pretty sure I love him even more now. And then I watch Grace tug her mask higher onto her nose, trying to hide her humiliation. As much as I hate her, I understand that feeling. That feeling sucks. It sucks hard.
"Why would you force a man to have sex with you?" I ask her, really wanting to know. "There are plenty of men who would willingly have sex with you. You're like the hottest, sexiest woman in this hospital."
"I would," Peter says into the microphone in the observation deck.
"So, would I," Amir adds, leaning into Peter. They wave at us. We wave back. Everyone but Grace, that is. Grace is looking at Javier, expecting some kind of unified decision that they would all like to have her in the sack. God, she's greedy. She isn't happy unless they all want her. I hate her again.
But Javier shakes his finger at the room and then directly at Grace, "You are sexy, but not sexy enough to turn me to the dark side. Hell, to the no."
"Don't worry," Grace says, giving Javier a look of boredom, "having sex with someone on your team is how I got into this predicament in the first place."
A silence followed by a collective "oh" fills the room.
"I knew it," Javier exclaims.
"Too good to be true," Mark says, checking Mr. Rodriguez's vitals. "No one is perfect."
"What? What am I missing?" I ask, looking around at a room of people who all seem to be on the same page except for me.
"Don't you get it, Kate? She's not a vampire," Mark says, smiling and shaking his head.
"No, she's a beard," Javier says, with much empathy.
I'm still completely confused.
"Who has a beard?"
Sandy claps her hands at me, like I'm a dog she's trying to train that won't listen.
"The vampire, stupid. For a neurosurgeon, you really can't keep up."
Grace adjusts Mr. Rodriguez's drip and leans on the crash cart with her arms folded across her chest.
"Fine, my husband is gay. We are best friends without benefits. Now you know my deep dark secret. My life isn't perfect, but it's my life. Talk amongst yourselves."
Javier puts his arm around her, "Can I just say that you are a very lucky woman."
Amir turns on the microphone again, "I think you're missing the point."
Javier looks up at the observation deck, "No, Amir, I think you're missing the point."
Frank Sinatra is singing I've Got You Under My Skin. As the song builds beneath our "pow-wow" I notice Mark staring off into the distance. It might have been the conversation or the music, or the combination of both, but Mark suddenly pulls down his mask and rips off his surgical bonnet.
"No, I've been missing the point," he blurts out. "I love Lacy. There, I said it out loud. That felt great. And, damn it, who knows what will happen today or tomorrow? So, I'm going to tell her as soon as we finish this surgery. And if she will have me, I will make passionate, beautiful, romantic, dirty, love to her. Then I will marry her and we will have babies and get a cat, maybe two!"
We all stare at Mark, all a little stunned and all a little enthralled with his passion.
"Nurse Friendly," Dr. Strong says, "Our patient is stable. You're free to go and profess your love."
Mark hugs Sandy and runs out of the O.R. like a kid on Christmas morning.
"Who the hell is Lacy?" Sandy asks.
"My sister," I say, feeling full again knowing that Lacy and Mark have found what I now know is the most profound feeling a human can ever feel.
And then I hear my cue - children singing.
Next time you're found with your chin on the ground,
There's a lot to be learned, so look around.
Followed by Frank chiming in.
Just what makes that little ol' ant,
Thing he'll move that rubber tree plant?
Everyone knows an ant can't move a rubber tree plant,
But he's got high hopes, he's got high hopes,
He's got high apple pie in the sky hopes.
I look at my watch, as I mutter along with Frank, "So any time you're getting low, stead of letting go, just remember that ant." I look up at my peers who are staring at me with much confusion, "Oops there goes another rubber tree, oops, there goes another rubber tree, oops there goes another rubber tree plant."
"It's 11:00pm," I shout. "I'm almost thirty years old. And Bodhi did not have sex with Grace on the floor of my patient's recovery room. What the hell am I doing standing in here thinking about Mark and Lacy? My life is emergency surgery. Would it be OK if?" I ask Dr. Strong, gesturing to the door.
"I think I can wheel our patient to recovery," he says. "I'll page you if anything changes."
I take a deep breath and step away from the operating table. I'm going to go tell Bodhi how I feel. But for some reason my feet aren't moving. Everyone is staring at me. Frank is still singing. I know I should be moving, but hell if I can't.
"Kate, there's only one reason Bodhi Wells would turn me down, and that's because he's into someone else," Grace says, noticeably bothered by losing to me.
"Preach it," Javier adds. "Now, go get you some of that Bodhiness that we all wanted, but is clearly only yours for the taking."
My feet are moving and I am half way down the hallway before I realize I'm at a dead run. I can still hear Frank and his band cheering me on, as I search the hospital for the man I have finally chosen to give myself to. I don't even know where he is, but luckily the interns are waiting on him hand and foot trying to get some attention from the visiting doctor. I push through the white coats.
When he sees me he sits up straight.
"Kate, what happened in there?"
I shove the adoring interns out the door and close it.
I smile at him, "We got it. It's contained. We are back and running. He's going to be just fine."
He sits back. I watch his muscled chest breath in a deep breath of relief, "Of course you got it. You're the best." He closes his eyes for a moment, "I'm sorry I wasn't there to be your wing man."
"The chief stepped in. Turns out he's excellent at his job. Who knew?"
"You don't get to be chief by sucking," he says, smiling and opening his eyes again.
"Nope, guess not."
He turns his head and looks at me. I can tell he is hurting.
"So, you and Grace, huh?" I ask, digging for a bit more information.
He sits up again, "No, she attacked me. I know it sounds crazy, but . . . "
"Nah, it's alright. I get where she's coming from. If I had to attack you to get your attention, I would too."
"Luckily, you don't. Unless you want to," he says, smiling a mischievous grin. "I'm still a little woozy from the head thump, but I'm good otherwise. Not that I'd fight you off."
"Interesting," I tell him, as I move closer to the bed and sit down, "because it's my birthday in a little less than an hour."
"That's right! Then let me be the first to wish you a Happy Birthday. You have anything special planned?"
"Well, I had one special thing to do before I officially turned thirty, but I realize now that it's just a silly, self-imposed deadline that in the scheme of my long life is meaningless. What's a goal anyway?"
Bodhi stretches and shakes his head like he's getting out the cob webs, "Tell you what, if you wanted to do it before you turn thirty, it sounds like it might be important to you. And I believe in meeting goals. Is there any way I can help? I can rally."
And here is my chance to ask him to give himself to me for my birthday. Who am I? I'm sitting bedside of the hottest man in New York Cityâmaybe the whole friggin' worldâand he wants to make my birthday special. But he doesn't know I'm in love with him. Or maybe he does, but he doesn't know that along with my love come all these weird neuroses and hang-ups brought on by a stunted adolescence and too much control at a young age. I should give him a lay of the land before he makes a choice he may wind up regretting.
"Maybe you can help, but first do you remember when you told me you thought I was different?"
He thinks for a moment and then it comes to him, "Yes, that was at dinner. With the kid, the guy, the valet."
"Right." Glad I jogged that memory back in his head, idiot. Could have left that on the floor with the concussion. "Well, you were right, I am different, and I'd like to explain to you how I'm different in case you want to opt out of this birthday thing."
"Alright," he says, a bit hesitantly but seemingly still intrigued.
"OK, so here it goes," I continue. "I'm not sure if I want kids, even though I like kids. And I can't promise to lighten up my work load so I can go on vacations or spend more quality time with, say, someone like you. And I'm not going to be home to make dinner every night or even once a week or once a month. And if my career seems important to me, that's because it is and it will remain as such, which means that someone like you may come second to it, quite often, I don't know yet. But my point is, I've never met anyone like you before and so I'm willing to take a risk and see where this you-and-me thing could go, if you're at all interested in me."
Bodhi is looking at me. He's looking at me like a man who's looking at a car that he's interested in test driving, but who wants to know how much it's going to cost him up front if he really likes how it drives.
"You finished?" he asks me.
"Yes, I think."
"Here's a little bit about me. I like take-out. I'd much rather be an uncle than a father, I think. I'm obsessed with my career and I think vacations are for lazy people. I believe you are the most beautiful and intelligent woman I've ever laid eyes on, and I've been on every continent of this great earth, so when I say that I mean it. I love that you're different, because so am I. And I'd love to take a risk and see where this you-and-me thing could go, too. So please, tell me what we're doing for your birthday, because whatever it is I'm definitely in."
The clock is ticking and when that happens you do things you wouldn't normally consider doing.
So, Bodhi and I find the nearest supply closet and begin our mission to get me laid before midnight. But as things get pretty hot and heavy, Bodhi pulls away from me.
"What?" I ask, a little bothered by the interruption.
"I don't know," he says. "This seems like a bad place to, you know, for your first . . . "
When he's right, he's right. I grab his hand.
"OK, I have another idea."
I take him to my office and we are almost fully naked, doing all kinds of things I have thought about doing with him, when he pulls away from me again.
"Can I just say something?"
I check my watch, "Sure."
He sits up and lovingly tucks my hair behind my ear.
"My first time was on a golf cart. I don't need to go into details, but as a teenager it was what it was. She chose me and I was willing, that's how these things go. My point is, you're a woman. A twenty-nine-year-old womanâ"
"Almost thirty-year-old woman," I interject.
"Yes, and you have chosen me."
"That I have," I say, diving back down toward his crotch.
He pulls me up to his face again.
"So, can we do this right? Can I help make your first time something you look back on with enjoyment rather than indifference?"
"And how would that go?" I ask him, a little bummed that not only am I seriously ready to bone this guy like it's the end of the world and he keeps stopping me, but also because I'm about to turn thirty and I lied, goals mean a shit-ton to me and I like to win!
Bodhi stands up and pulls me up off the couch, "Come with me."
I'm trying to come with you, I half joke to myself as I follow him out of my office and to the elevator. As we take the elevator down, the sexual desire is building. If I don't have sex now I think I might just implode.
We jump into a taxi and ride through the glittering lights of Manhattan.
"Where the hell are you taking me?"
"You'll see."
We continue to kiss and touch as the cab driver tries to stay focused on the road. Everything about this is sexy. Everything about Bodhi is a dream come true. I'd say I've waited to lose my virginity to the right guy, but I'm not entirely sure we are going to go "all the way" at this point, nor am I sure we are going to meet my goal.
Finally, the cab stops and we are in Brooklyn.
"What's this?" I ask, like I've never been to Park Slope before. He helps me out of the cab and stands in front of a beautiful brownstone townhouse.
"This is my new place. This is where I plan to stay for quite some time."
"You bought real estate?"
"I did."
"So, what? You're settling down, are you?"
"I don't call it settling down. I call it settling up. You're the up."
He takes me in his arms and picks me up. He carries me up the steps to his front door.
"Whoa," I say, a little thrill in my voice, "isn't the threshold carry sort of a marriage thing?"
"One thing at a time, doctor, one thing at a time," he tells me, pushing open the front door with his foot.
He carries me up the long flight of stairs to his bedroom and he lays me down on his king-sized bed. He turns down the lights and turns up the stereo. Barry White's voice drips from his speakers, as Bodhi carefully undresses me, gently kissing my face and entire body as each piece of clothing drops from my torso and limbs.
Damn it, I've waited a long time for this. I'm not waiting any longer. I rip off his pants and climb on top of him.
"Slow down," he whispers in my ear.
"No," I tell him, grabbing his wrists. "I want this. I want you."
He reaches up and takes my head in his hand. He pulls my face to his and we kiss. We kiss for what feels like an eternity.
We have sex.
It isn't long and dramatic, because let's face it we did go from supply closet, to my office, to a cab ride, to his place before having actual intercourse. The foreplay was extended in a way not many can claim they've had before. But it is sweet and loving and on top of clean sheets, in a private place, where I feel safe and cared for like no other time in my life, with a man whose side I never want to leave.
Suddenly, I hear a chime go off. It's my phone alarm.
"Shit, Mr. Rodriguez!"
We both look around for it. It's coming from my jacket. I frantically pull my phone from my jacket pocket.
"That's not a page," Bodhi says. "That's Happy Birthday."
He's right. The ring is playing the Happy Birthday song. I look at the time on my phone: it reads 12:00am. It's midnight. There is a message attached to the alarm:
Happy Birthday, sis. I hope you're with Bodhi and one of you is flat on your back with your legs in the air. Love, Lacy.
"It's my birthday," I say, feeling the glory of accomplishment.
"You realize what this means, don't you? I did it! I met my goal!"
I can't help it. I jump up and down and shake my booty.
"Because you're a goal girl, that's why," he chimes in, enjoying the show.
"Is that obnoxious and weird," I ask, sitting on the bed trying to cover my embarrassment.
"No. I love that about you," he chuckles.
We both freeze. First sex, then he drops the L word casually into our conversation? He quickly looks away from me and I realize he didn't mean to say that word. It was a mis-step and now he is trying to figure out how to back track without hurting me too badly. I've seen this in movies and it doesn't end well.
I begin to scan the room for my clothes. One slip of the tongue and a sexy situation turns awkward. My worst nightmare is coming true. Where the hell are my shoes?
"I love a lot of things about you," he says, this time without a hint of humor and looking right at me. I make eye contact with him. He is serious.
He pulls back the sheets inviting me back in and that's when I realize that when it comes to love and sex we are all virgins, each and every time we fall for someone new. As nervous as I was to have sex for the first time, Bodhi was nervous to have sex with me.
Butterflies fill me again, as I crawl into the bed next to him, "I love a lot about you, too."
He takes me in his arms and we entwine our fingers.
"One mind, four hands," I say, kissing him gently on his mouth.
He kisses me and we "do it" again.