Yours Truly: Chapter 2

I pulled into the parking lot and sat there staring through the windshield, debating whether I should just go.

Amy and Jeremiah wanted to talk to me.

There really was only one reason they would need to at this point. I knew what it was. I’d been expecting it for months now. There was almost a morbid sense of relief that we were finally getting it over with. I looked glumly at the sign on the building.

BAD AXE GRILL.

That was where they’d decided to do this, a damn ax-throwing bar. This is where they were going to drop the bomb? The location of this meeting was only slightly less awful than the news I was about to get.

It would be loud. There would be drunks. People in wedding veils and birthday hats hooting and cheering, shouting over the music. It was the kind of place that felt thick, like everyone was sitting on top of one another. Strangers would bump into me, the bathrooms would be filthy and crowded, the tables would be sticky. Like an adult version of a Chuck E. Cheese with booze and obnoxious frat boys.

I felt my heart beginning to pound at the idea of being in there.

I never went to bars unless I was being dragged. Jeremiah should know better. He was my brother, he knew about my dislike for places like this, that I got overstimulated and overwhelmed. But my guess was he was deferring to Amy—and this was very, very her. She’d take me to a place like this and be bewildered when I’d want to leave as soon as humanly possible. She’d say something like, “But they’re famous for their wings! You love wings, that’s why I brought you here!” as if the right buffalo sauce could mitigate the rest of it.

No wonder she’d left.

I was boring and withdrawn and impossible to understand. Even after two and a half years together.

I shifted in my seat. I should just go. Tell them I’d talk to them later. I was so drained I could barely think straight. I’d started a new job today. Lost every patient who walked into my ER.

I rubbed my temples. I felt like the angel of death. People dying is inevitable in my line of work. You can’t save them all, and it’s naïve to think you have any control over what comes through those sliding doors. But on my first day?

The nurses hated me. I could feel the loathing dripping off them my whole shift. And none of the other attendings even came over to say hi.

I’d second-guessed everything in the last twelve hours. Quitting Memorial West to go somewhere new, giving up my leadership position, starting over. It had sounded like a good idea in theory, but I think I’d overestimated my adaptability. I felt unmoored, like I was being tossed around on some choppy sea and all the captains of the passing boats were sneering at me instead of throwing me a lifeline.

Being in this hellhole of a restaurant would suck the last of the energy from my already-depleted soul.

Maybe I could do this meeting tomorrow instead. But if I left, Amy and Jeremiah would assume I was hurt. That I wasn’t over it. Couldn’t handle it. Even if I explained it was the place and not the news, they’d never believe me. I’d dated Amy for years and hadn’t succeeded in making her understand my anxiety, so why would she get it now?

I wished there was some sort of autopilot I could slip into, like I usually did at work. A muscle memory to move me through the motions. But it would have to be all me. I’d have to be awake for it. Fully aware.

I let out a long breath, turned off the truck, and got out to drag myself into the bar. A young woman with a nose ring was working the hostess stand and took me through to a table in the back where my ex-girlfriend and my younger brother sat side by side in a booth.

They were laughing and leaning into each other before they saw me, but the second they did they jumped apart.

My stomach twisted at seeing them together.

They’d been disinvited to the monthly family dinner at my parents’ house, so I hadn’t been forced to see this with my own eyes until now. I felt ill.

I sat down and tried my best to appear relaxed. “Hey. Sorry I’m late.”

Amy chewed on her lip in that way she did when she was nervous. “It’s okay. We figured you might go for drinks or something with your new coworkers. You know, for your first day?”

I scoffed to myself.

“Thank you for coming,” she said.

I nodded.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump thump thump.

Axes hitting walls.

I could feel the tunnel vision of an anxiety attack plucking at the edges of my sight, and I wondered how long I had until I’d have to get up and go, whether it was appropriate or not.

They sat there, looking at me like they didn’t know how to start.

I glanced at my watch. “I have an early shift tomorrow…” I lied.

Amy nodded. “Right. Sorry.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “So, I don’t really know how to say this…”

“You’re getting married,” I said.

I could see the confirmation on her apologetic face before she uttered a word.

She nodded. “We’re getting married.”

Thump. Thump thump thump.

Laughing, shouting, the clink of forks on plates. Someone dropped a glass and it shattered and everyone cheered. The press of the room closed in on me, but I managed to smile in a way that I thought looked authentic.

“Congratulations,” I said. “Have you set a date?”

She looked at Jeremiah, and he smiled at her. “We’re thinking July,” he said.

I nodded. “Good. It’s a good month. Well, I look forward to being there.” I was amazed at how stoic I sounded.

Amy licked her lips. “We, um…we haven’t told anyone else yet. We thought you should be the first to know.”

“Thank you,” I said. “But that wasn’t necessary. I’m sure everyone will be thrilled.” I looked at my watch again. “It’s a little loud for me in here. I think I’m going to get going. Congratulations. And let me know if I can help in any way.”

They looked at me gratefully. I don’t know what they expected. Maybe they thought despite the graceful way I’d handled everything else up to this point that this might be the thing that pushed me over the edge. But I was fully committed to maintaining my position on this. Being difficult and indignant wouldn’t change it. And they didn’t mean to hurt me.

Even if they did.

I got up and tried my best to walk at a normal speed out of the bar. The thumps chased me, each one like a gunshot to my heels.

I felt myself just outpace the wave of anxiety as I burst into the cool April air and leaned forward on my knees, gasping for breath on the sidewalk.

So it was finally happening. The woman I loved had moved on. She was marrying someone else.

And the someone else was my brother.

The next day I was on the hospital floor, in between patients, when my cell phone rang. It was my older sister Jewel. I stared at the incoming call with a resigned sense of dread.

I was going to deal with the shock wave of this news in layers. My own feelings about it, and then everyone else’s, dumped on me like ice water over and over until I was drenched in it.

I slipped into a supply closet and hit the Answer button.

“Jewel.”

“It’s total bullshit,” she said. “I’m not going, just so you know. Fuck them both.”

“Fuck them both!” her wife, Gwen, parroted from the background.

I rubbed my forehead tiredly. “Gwen, it’s fine.”

“It’s okay to not be fine, Jacob.” Mom’s voice.

“I’m not going either,” a fourth called out. My other older sister, Jill.

“Me either!” The youngest, Jane.

Amy and Jeremiah must have told my family together.

“Your father’s here,” Mom said.

“Jacob, I’m here if you want to talk,” Dad said from somewhere farther away than the women.

He’d probably been roped into this phone call. Dramatic declarations weren’t really his style.

“They’ve made their bed,” Jewel said. “No one from this family is going to be there.”

“I will be there. I’m happy for them,” I lied. “And I intend to fully support them,” I said honestly. “And I hope you will too.”

They gasped indignantly in unison. “How can you possibly be okay with this?” Jewel asked. “They started dating less than three months after you two broke up. It’s disgusting.”

“It’s fucked up, man.” Walter, Jill’s husband.

The whole gang. Perfect.

I sat on a box of toilet paper. “I’m really okay,” I said, pinching the bridge of my nose.

“You are not okay,” Gwen insisted. “They’re assholes! How can they expect you to be there? How can they expect any of us to be there?”

“I don’t think they expect anything,” I said wearily. “But you not supporting it isn’t going to change it. As long as they want me there, I’m going to the wedding. Even if you’re not.”

“Jacob,” Mom said carefully, “you have always been the diplomatic one. I love that about you, but you do not need to put yourself through this. It’s fine to set boundaries.”

“Mom, I’m really okay. I’m over it. I’ve moved on.”

“Moved on how?” Jewel said. “You haven’t gone on a single date since she left.”

Jill whispered in the background, “Maybe he’s finding himself. He doesn’t need to date to move on—”

“Yes, he does!” Jewel hissed. “If he’s not having sex with someone else, then he’s still obsessed with her—”

“We don’t know that he’s not having sex,” Mom said. “Just because he hasn’t brought anyone home doesn’t mean he’s not having intercourse—Jacob? While I think rediscovering your sexuality after a split can be wonderful for your self-esteem, risky sexual behavior is more common after a traumatic breakup. If you’re having intercourse, you are using protection, right? Now you know how I feel about coconut oil as a lubricant, it’s very healing for the vagina but it does cause condoms to break—”

“What about grape-seed oil?” Dad asked from somewhere far off. “Does that do the condom thing? I like the grape-seed oil. Silky.”

“Okay, can we not?” Jewel said.

“Your father and I are sexual beings,” Mom said. “Let’s not pretend like we don’t know how you kids got here.”

I squeezed my eyes shut. I am in hell.

“Jacob, are you having sex with anyone?” Jill asked. “I feel like we should just clear this up.”

I threw up a hand. “You know what? Yes. I am.”

The lie was so out of nowhere it almost felt like someone else said it. And why had I said it? But then I knew why.

It was one of those falsehoods you told to make someone else feel better. Telling a dying man that everything was going to be okay when you knew it wasn’t. It was a sort of mercy. For all of them.

I think deep down my family wanted to be okay with this wedding. They loved Amy, and they loved Jeremiah. They were upset on principle and for my benefit, not because they hated either of them. They just hated how they thought it made me feel. It was obvious that as long as I was unattached, I was the jilted ex in need of their protection and indignation. Amy and I would never get back together, so what was the point? Why make this stand in my honor? I didn’t want it.

Amy and Jeremiah would get married with or without my family’s support. And they’d have kids, and those kids would be blameless. Even if the whole family shunned my brother and my ex for the rest of their lives, it wouldn’t change a thing. So if I had to tell a white lie to redirect the focus, that’s what I was going to do.

“You’re seeing someone?” Jill asked. “Who is she?”

“It’s just someone I work with,” I said, hoping they’d drop it.

“At Royaume?” Jewel asked. “Is that why you quit Memorial West?”

“Uh…”

“Because we all thought you quit so you wouldn’t have to work with Amy because you were so heartbroken and sad!” Jill sounded excited. “But you quit because you’re in love and you want to be close to her?”

I blinked. “Yes?”

Everyone made an awwwwwww noise.

“When can we meet her?” Jane asked excitedly.

“I…I don’t know,” I stuttered. “I’m not ready to introduce her to anyone yet. It’s still new.”

I could feel them bubbling on the other end of the line. Damn. They’d never let this go now.

“Listen,” I said, putting the phone to my other ear. “I am okay with this wedding. I have moved on, and I am happy for them.”

“Will you bring your girlfriend to the wedding?” Gwen asked, a smile in her voice.

“Uh…I guess. If we’re still together, yes.”

More squealing.

I heard Jewel sigh dramatically. “Okay,” she said. “Fine. I guess, since you’re okay with it, I hate it less. But I’m still not excited.”

“I do like weddings, though,” Jill said. “But you’re right, I’m still mad at them,” she added quickly.

I shook my head. “Don’t be mad at them. Look, I gotta go. I’m on shift.”

“Will we see you on the nineteenth for dinner?” Mom asked. “I want lasagna, but your father might smoke a pork roast.”

“Yes, I will be there for dinner,” I said.

“Can you bring a bottle of wine?”

“Yes, I will bring wine.”

“Okay. Love you!”

They all said good-bye in unison and hung up. I set my phone on my thigh and put my palms to my eyes.

I’d have to say I broke up with my imaginary girlfriend when it came around to it. But hopefully it would take the pressure off in the meantime. Maybe everyone would finally stop looking at me like I was going to crumble into dust.

Granted, it had been a bad breakup. But at least I got the dog.

I dragged myself up and let myself out of the supply closet—and someone crashed into me. I let out an oomph, and my phone flew from my hand and went skittering across the hard floor.

The doctor who hit me didn’t stop. She launched off me and continued running down the hallway toward the patient rooms.

“What the hell?” I muttered, picking up my phone. The screen was cracked.

“Watch where you’re going!” I shouted after her, annoyed.

She didn’t even glance back. A nurse gave me a dirty look like I was the asshole.

Was everyone rude like this here? What the hell was wrong with this place?

I peered forlornly at my cell. It still worked, but the corner was shattered. The perfect ending to the worst week ever. I gritted my teeth.

I stalked down the hallway in the direction the woman ran. I didn’t know exactly what my plan was. Give her my thoughts on running in the halls? Demand she cover the screen repair?

I poked my head into the rooms one at a time until I spotted her. She was bedside, her back to me, talking to a young man.

The patient was gray. He had a dialysis catheter in his chest. The skin around it looked red and swollen.

“Why didn’t you call me?” she asked the man in the bed. “This is totally infected.” She fluttered around him, looking at his vitals. “You could have gone septic. This is so dangerous.” She took a thermometer out of his mouth and shook her head. “You can’t let things get this bad, Benny. You need to tell me when stuff isn’t right.”

I realized then that I was intruding on something and was about to make my exit, but a nurse came up behind me with a huge dialysis machine, forcing me fully into the room. I stepped aside and stood next to the wall as she wheeled it to the bed.

“It hurts…” Benny said quietly.

“I know,” the woman said, a little softer now. “I’m getting you on some antibiotics and pain meds.” She put a hand on his head. “In a few minutes you’ll be sixteen again, passed out on Jäger in a cornfield.”

I snorted from my corner, and she twisted and noticed me standing there. “Uh, can I help you?”

My God, she was beautiful. She was so beautiful it disarmed me. For a second I forgot what I was even doing there.

Long brown hair tied into a messy bun. Wide brown eyes, full lashes.

Then my anxiety lurched—some violent combination of a throwback to tenth grade, me nervous talking to a pretty girl, coupled with the stress of meeting a new coworker in a hostile work environment while I was in a room I shouldn’t be in. I froze.

This didn’t normally happen while I was on the job. My anxiety was well managed at work. I was assured and confident in my interactions with my peers and subordinates. I was an excellent physician. But she had me flustered just by looking at me—the way she was looking at me, annoyed and impatient. I felt my social skills drop off like a heart-attack victim flatlining.

I cleared my throat. “Uh, you bumped into me back there,” I said awkwardly.

She blinked at me like I was telling her the most unimportant thing in the world. “Okay. Sorry?”

“You, uh, shouldn’t run in the hallways.”

She stared at me.

My mouth started to get dry. “It’s just, I used to be head of emergency medicine at Memorial West and I know how easy it is for accidents to—”

Her eyes flashed. “Yeah, I’m aware of your résumé, Dr. Maddox. Thanks for the hot tip. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to be alone with my patient?”

She cut daggers through me. Benny was staring. Even the nurse was glaring at me.

I stood there for another second. Then I backed out of the room. Hot embarrassment seared up my neck. What had I been thinking going in there like that? Jesus Christ, Jacob.

I went back to my side of the ER, running the whole awkward encounter through my head over and over, obsessing about what I should have said or should have done.

So stupid.

I shouldn’t have broached it when she was with a patient. That was the first thing. Maybe I should have led with the fact that she actually broke my phone, so she knew I wasn’t just there to give her a hard time about the running.

Maybe I should have just let it go.

Letting it go would have been better. Because then there would have been no encounter at all. I should have just said “Wrong room” and left.

God, I was a jerk. I was effortlessly succeeding in making myself the most hated person at Royaume Northwestern.

I knew from years of therapy that I was ruminating. That the encounter had probably been nothing to her, but to me it felt like the most embarrassing thing that had ever happened. A decade from now I’d be lying in bed and my eyes would fly open and I’d remember the incredulous way she’d looked at me—me, the guy who had the audacity to walk into her ER room and talk to her about running toward a critical patient, one she obviously knew and cared about.

I cringed through the second half of the day. My anxiety felt like electricity. A low, humming current under my skin, a survival instinct triggered and gnawing at me, telling me to flee. I couldn’t escape it, and I couldn’t calm it down.

Usually my anxiety meds leveled me out. But there was only so much meds could do. I had to manage stress, use the coping skills I’d learned in therapy. Most importantly, I had to live a lifestyle conducive to wellness. That’s what I thought I was doing coming here, getting myself out of the unhealthy situation at Memorial West with Amy and Jeremiah, making a choice that was best for my mental health.

But now this.

I knew I was being quiet and taciturn and this wasn’t helping to endear me to the already-cold nurses on my shift, but I was so in my head I couldn’t stop myself. I’d managed to trade seeing Amy and Jeremiah every single day for a whole team of people who hated my guts instead.

I’d always had a hard time making new friends. I got nervous in unfamiliar social settings, so I would say the wrong thing or become withdrawn, so it took time for people to warm up to me. Maybe I just needed time here too. But something told me this place was different. They were too cliqued up. It felt like high school all over again. I was the outsider and I’d keep being the outsider, especially if I kept messing things up the way I’d been doing. And I didn’t even know how to stop.

I had another hour of my shift, but I needed a break. My mental battery was empty again. I didn’t want to run into that woman in the doctors’ lounge, so I headed back to the supply closet.

Only when I got there, it wasn’t empty…