Chapter Five

 

Ireland

“Ireland, can you page Dr. Ford. He was supposed to check in on 306 when the patient woke up, but I haven’t seen him.”

I looked up from my computer and set down the file of the patient they’d just rolled into surgery. Pauline’s slanted brown cat eyes smiled at me from behind the counter. She was one of the few people in our department who was kind and accepting of my quirky needs. Unlike Stephen, she reached out when I struggled.

“He’s in surgery. We had an emergency caesarean come up ten minutes ago. I don’t imagine he’ll be too long. Once he’s out, I’ll send him your way.”

“Thanks. Is she taking a room or going straight up to maternity when she’s out?”

I glanced at the file and shook my head. “She’ll need a room for observation. High risk. She has hemophilia. Wasn’t even supposed to deliver here, but the baby had different plans.”

Pauline flinched. “Wow, hemophilia, that’s rare.”

“Extremely.”

Women were more often carriers of the rare blood disorder which greatly reduced a person’s ability to clot. Although a carrier could still have a milder version of the disorder, the woman we’d admitted was a rarer case still because she had two affected X chromosomes and therefore was fully afflicted.

“What room?” Pauline asked.

“Ah.” I flipped through my stack of paperwork with a frown. “Put her in 302. There will be no one in the bed beside her. She’ll have some privacy.”

“On it.”

Pauline took off down the hall, her mahogany hair bouncing on her shoulders as she went while I continued getting the woman’s file organized. It was nearing the lunch hour, and things had been relatively calm all day. That week, I’d done my best to take Erin’s advice by shadowing Pauline during rounds and taking responsibility for some minor patient care. It was an uphill battle.

Provided the patient wasn’t male, I’d talked myself into doing more hands-on work, including a few blood pressure readings and running IVs. Pauline never pushed, but she willingly stepped back if I wanted to try or stepped in when I couldn’t. She reminded me a lot of Sarah, a nurse who worked in the emergency department and one of my closest friends. Encouraging without being patronizing. Supportive without applying pressure. Julia had been like that once upon a time, but I guess everyone had their limits. People changed, and I was frustrating.

My phone buzzed beside me, and I drew it forward, checking the screen. I’d asked Sarah if she wanted to have lunch together later, so I assumed it might be her checking in. We often shared meals, but the emergency room made her break times a little less predictable. Luckily, I was flexible with my lunch hour and allowed her to dictate when we went.

The message wasn’t from Sarah. It was an unknown number, but when I read the text, I knew exactly who it was from. After not having heard from him all week, I assumed his offer last weekend hadn’t been serious. I was wrong.

Unknown: Any chance you’re free for drinks later tonight?

Raven.

I stared at his message until the screen went dark. It’d been almost a week since I’d gone to the bar under the pretense of following my doctor’s orders of getting out of the house. However, I’d chosen Bottoms Up because I hadn’t been able to get Raven off my mind.

When I’d mended his wound—or tried to—he’d said something that bothered me. “Am I that disgusting to you?” His assumptions hadn’t been clear at the time. I knew he’d picked up on my quirks, and I thought his statement was simply a dig at my standoffish behavior. When I learned the truth, that he’d thought I was disgusted by his sexuality, it was a kick in the balls.

All week, I’d reflected on how outside people must see me. How many other people made judgments like that?

Pauline passed by the nurse’s station, calling out as she went, “Room is ready, gonna check on 306 again.”

“Yeah,” I said, snapping out of my thoughts.

I dragged my phone onto my lap and opened the message box. I bit into my lip, directly over the spot where my hoop normally sat as I considered how to answer. I’d been upfront about dating. The last thing I was prepared for was maneuvering a new relationship through my obstacle course of a life. Plus, Raven was a guy, and although I was honestly gender-blind when it came to romantic partnerships, my irrational phobia was not. I didn’t know if I could safely develop or sustain a friendship with a man, never mind date one, no matter what positive qualities they possessed.

First, I added Raven to my contacts, then, I texted him back.

Ireland: Not sure. Where did you have in mind?

I hit send and rested my phone beside me as I kept working. He didn’t text back right away, and throughout the remainder of the morning, I suffered bouts of anxiety. Not from his lack of response, but at the thought of spending time out with a practical stranger who wasn’t among my handful of trusted friends. I became all too aware of my heart palpitating, my panic rising, and the sense of claustrophobia that surrounded me anytime someone stopped by my desk to talk.

At ten after twelve, my phone buzzed again, and I almost came out of my seat. It was Sarah.

Sarah: Okay, save me, I’m free. Lunch?

I smiled and breathed a sigh of relief.

Me: Meet you in the cafeteria in five.

After informing my nurses I was taking a break, I popped into the lounge and grabbed my lunch, ritualistically checking my sugar and giving myself insulin as required. The cafeteria was in the basement, so I rode the elevator and found Sarah in a cozy corner area that was set up with couches and cushy chairs. It was our spot.

Sarah’s natural blonde hair—a shade darker than my dye job—framed her face, flipping in a curve under her chin. Her long bangs swooped over her eye on one side which required her to constantly tuck it behind an ear. She was short and carried a little extra weight which she was extremely self-conscious about. For that reason, I always reminded her of how beautiful she was.

Because she was; inside and out.

She smiled as I approached and patted the spot beside her on the couch. Before I’d gone to visit my mother, I was at a point where contact—provided it was on my terms—had been acceptable, and I would have happily joined her. I’d been at a point where I could almost touch people freely, without excess anxiety eating me alive. With warning, I’d also been in a spot where other people’s touch didn’t send me running. The further outside my circle of trust, the more restrained I was, but I’d made incredible improvements. However, since I’d gone and set myself back again, even sitting beside Sarah, one of my best friends, took effort.

Ignoring her invitation—knowing she wouldn’t be offended—I plopped onto a separate chair with a sigh. “Give me a few,” I explained. “I’m working my way up. Slowly.”

She understood my needs and didn’t question them as she opened her lunch bag and dug through for her sandwich. “So, single life again, huh? How are you doing?”

“Day by day. I wish I could say I was shocked, but I’m not. I knew I was pushing her to the edge. I swear I didn’t intentionally ruin it, though.”

“I can’t believe she’d even accuse you of that.”

Sarah had been close friends with Julia at one time, but as Julia had become less tolerant of my limitations, Sarah became more defensive. It was nice to have someone sticking up for me, but in all honesty, I knew I wasn’t easy to live with, never mind have a relationship with. How many people could handle long periods of time with no sex and limited touching and still call it dating? I didn’t blame Julia. If the tables were turned, I’d probably feel the same way. The fact that we’d made it two years at all was a miracle.

“I think it was coming to an end on its own. It’s okay, really. I’m okay. I could do with a better apartment, but I’ll get there.”

We ate in companionable silence for a while. The cafeteria was bustling and noisy, but our little corner was secluded enough it didn’t bother me. After I finished, I packed away my empty containers and bit the bullet, shifting to the couch beside Sarah, leaving a generous gap. She acknowledged the effort and moved her body closer to the armrest on her side to ensure there was plenty of distance. When her lunch was done, and she’d re-packed her bag, she shimmied sideways to face me. Not once did she show irritation or question my limits.

“So, things aren’t good right now, are they?”

“Not really. But I’m fighting it.” Poorly. “Erin is encouraging me to push myself. I always feel like I’m back at square one when this stuff happens, but she reminds me I’m not because square one was me before I had any coping tools.”

On that note, I dug in my pocket and pulled out the long piece of looped string I used to carry around with me regularly. Erin had mentioned it at our appointment, and I knew the value of using the silly game as a tool to move forward, so I’d started carrying it around with me again.

I dangled it in front of Sarah before hooking it around my hands and working through the intricate finger motions to create the opening form of Cat’s Cradle.

“Play with me?” I asked.

Sarah had been in my life long enough, we’d had many games as we chatted friendly nonsense.

“Always.”

Moving carefully and predictably, Sarah advanced, pinched the exposed triangles, and looped them under and toward the middle before pulling them taut and making the second form on her hands. Not once did we come in contact, nor would we. I knew it and trusted it. My nerves started off jittery, but I quickly became lost in the motions, and my heart calmed. I made the next move, creating the next pattern as Sarah opened conversation. She knew the drill. The game was for proximity; the conversation was for distraction.

“Tell me what you’ve been up to this week.”

I chuckled and watched the methodical motions of our hands working the string. Always close, never connecting. “Well, Erin encouraged me to go out and be social, so I went to the bar on Saturday.”

“What? Seriously? The bar? By yourself?”

“Yup. I went really early. There weren’t many people there, so it was kinda cheating, and I left before it got crazy.”

Her fingers slipped on her turn, and rather than chasing the yarn and risking touching me, she allowed the string to fall in a mess between us. I remade the first form and held it out without comment, and we kept going.

“Where did you go?”

“Bottoms Up. This guy who worked for the moving company I hired plays in a band, and I overheard him saying he was playing there Saturday night. At first, I didn’t think anything of it, but then the same guy ended up delivering my furniture last Friday. He got hurt, and I tried to help him out the best I could, but… I don’t know…” I shook my head.

I wasn’t sure I could explain why I was compelled to see him again. It was something I was still working out. Sure, I’d felt bad about our interactions, but it wasn’t any different than how I interacted with everyone.

“Was he cute? Bottoms Up is a gay bar. I assume he’s gay.”

“Everyone and their labels.” I chuckled when Sarah sneered. She knew I couldn’t stand them. “I assume he’s gay. And yeah, very attractive, but I think it was something else that kinda drew me to seek him out again. I was really rude to him.”

“Distant isn’t rude,” Sarah corrected as she picked up the next form, leaving me with the crossover pinky one she usually hated. “You are never rude, Ireland. You don’t have a rude bone in your body. You have quirks, and they keep you distant and cautious. Not the same.”

And that was why I loved Sarah. She wouldn’t allow me to put myself down, even when my behavior would have been portrayed as rude to any number of people.

“Okay, distant, whatever. Even though I acted strange and distant, he never stopped being friendly toward me. When he cut himself and needed my help, I told him he couldn’t touch me. He needed to remain perfectly still. And he did. Sadly, he thought I was being a homophobic twat, but there was something else in his eyes. He knew how important my request was and never moved a muscle. He respected that request even though he thought I hated him.”

When our rhythmic passing of the string failed a second time, Sarah groaned and held out her hand at a distance.

“Let me start this time.” I dropped it in her hands, and she kept talking as she weaved the string around her fingers. “So, you went to see his band play because the man made you curious.”

“I guess. We talked a bit while I was there, and he asked me out for drinks again.”

Sarah’s eyebrows rose, and her fingers paused over the strings. “Really?”

“Not a date. I told him that was impossible. Just as friends.”

“Not impossible. Just harder. Are you going?”

“I don’t know. I asked him where he had in mind, but he hasn’t answered yet. Maybe.”

The strings were on Sarah’s hands, but before I could take my turn, she dropped them to her lap, collapsing the game. “I think you should go. This is good for you, Ireland. You have no male friends to rely on. Us women are gonna make you crazy.”

“But you women are easier to handle and be near.”

She laughed out loud and shook her head, making her bangs fall into her eyes. “Good grief, no we aren’t. Tell the guy your issues. You don’t have to tell him the whole story right away, but if he’s truly interested in making a friendship, be honest, so he understands and doesn’t draw the wrong conclusions again.”

“Maybe.” I checked my phone to see if he’d responded. Nothing. But it was getting late, and our lunch was over. “Gotta get back upstairs.”

She transferred the string into my hand and grinned. “Keep smiling. You aren’t a freak.”

We grabbed our belongings and walked toward the elevators together.

“So, a band, huh? That’s sexy. What does he play?” Sarah asked.

“He sings.”

“Dayum! Nice.”

“It was nice. His voice is raspy and sultry and sexy all at the same time. Deep and kinda gives you shivers, you know?”

Sarah smiled that knowing smile before getting in the elevator when it arrived. I knew what she was thinking, and maybe there was an attraction toward Raven in there somewhere, but it didn’t mean I could erase my problems and proceed like a normal human being. Because, as life liked to constantly remind me, I wasn’t normal. And the truth was, I didn’t just up and date someone on a whim. Romance for me only happened after I got to know someone really well. It probably had more to do with my touching issues than anything, and I often wondered if that would be different if I were different. But there was no answer to that question, so I’d stopped pondering it years ago.

Raven didn’t respond until the end of the day. I was just grabbing my backpack from my locker when my phone buzzed.

Raven: Sorry, work was busy. I was thinking Scott’s by the marina. They have their patio open already, and it would be quiet sitting outside since I doubt many people want to tolerate the cool May evening.

He was sympathizing with what he believed was social anxiety. It was sweet, and I respected him for being aware and making an effort to help me feel comfortable. With a sigh, hearing Sarah and Erin’s words in my head, knowing I had to take responsibility for my own improvement, I answered him.

Ireland: Sure. I think that sounds okay. What time?

Raven: How about around eight? Can I pick you up?

The hairs on my arms rose under my long-sleeved shirt. It was a kind gesture but not possible. I couldn’t be boxed in with him until he had a firm understanding of my problems. Even then, I was tentative about traveling in close quarters with someone I didn’t know or trust.

Ireland: I’ll meet you there.

I was more than a little nervous preparing for a night out. Not only was Raven practically a stranger, but it was the second time in a week I was venturing somewhere public. Even when I knew a patio in May would be relatively secluded, there was always the too-friendly waiter or random customer who didn’t pay attention to where they were going to worry about. Yes, I worked at a hospital, but I’d succeeded in finding a quiet niche where things were less threatening.

I dressed in a charcoal-colored hoodie and jeans, fixed my hair with a bit of gel, and re-inserted all the jewelry I couldn’t wear at work: both gauges, and my lip ring and eyebrow bar. The only one I kept in regularly was my tongue ring. I knew enough to not play with it or make it visible to anyone who would give me shit.

I ate dinner as usual and ensured my sugars were level before leaving the house. Knowing I’d be drinking, I packed the small black pouch with my glucometer and insulin to take along, just in case I needed it. Alcohol contained a lot of sugar, and if I wasn’t careful, I could cause myself a problem.

At twenty to eight, I drove to Scott’s by the marina, hoping to arrive first so I could choose a table in a safe corner. Luckily, when I got there, Raven had yet to arrive, and the patio was scarcely populated, so I had my choice of tables. The sun was low in the sky, and the water in the bay glistened. The steady slosh of waves as they hit the shore was soothing, and I watched the boats for a while as I waited for him to arrive. An underlying fishiness hung in the air, sneaking in among the greasy kitchen smells coming from inside the restaurant. Dewhurst was on the river, so as a native to the city, I was used to the perpetual stink that never went away. I supposed some people didn’t mind. Personally, I found it a little nauseating.

A waitress came by a few minutes later, and I ordered Raven a Jack and Coke like he’d had the other night and asked for a Jack and Diet for myself. I didn’t need any extra sugar. Just as the drinks were delivered, Raven appeared on the patio and approached with a warm grin splitting his unshaven face. His dark hair was damp like he’d recently showered, and it hung in tighter curls than when it was dry.

“And he knows what I drink.” Raven nodded at the glass closer to him on the table as he dropped into the seat across from me.

“I pay attention.”

“Thank you. It’s good to see you.”

“Same.” A spicy, manly smell encompassed him when he sat, eliminating the lingering musk from the river. It was nice. My conversation earlier with Sarah came back to me, reminding me to be myself. “So, how was your day? You said in your text it was busy.”

“It was. I spent the better part of the day moving a five-person family from one huge home on the east end to an even bigger home on the river. The owner was meticulous—and by meticulous, I mean stuck-up, snooty and opinionated—and she’d labeled all the boxes with color-coordinated symbols that matched the rooms in their new place. That always takes extra time, and they didn’t leash their kids or find sitters, so we had toddlers underfoot the entire day.”

“Yikes.”

“Yeah. Not fun.” Raven chuckled and held his drink up in a cheers motion. “This is long overdue. Thanks for agreeing to come.”

“So, you work two jobs, right? Moving company and furniture store?”

“So far. I’m thinking of applying for a road construction position for the summer.” He shrugged and drank deep, his ice clinking against the glass. “Better money.”

“So, you’d do all three?”

Another shrug. “Maybe. It will depend on the hours.” He weaved fingers through his hair, pushing it back as he scanned the empty patio.

“You’re just a jack of all trades, aren’t you?”

“Pretty much.”

His smile was warming. He leaned back, kicked a foot out at the side of the table and turned to watch the water. Keeping an eye on his extended foot, I shimmied around in my seat and tucked my legs under my chair as I hugged my glass. He was a lot more relaxed than me. I reminded myself there was no danger, and Raven was simply a guy I was getting to know. I’d made it clear it was a friendly drink, and he’d showed no signs of pressing that issue.

“Two jobs must keep you busy,” I pointed out. “How do you manage a band on top of all that?”

With his head still turned to the bay, his eyes trailed to my face before returning to where a boat passed by in the distance. His grin was steady and free. “The band is my extracurricular. My stress relief, if you will. My down time fun. Me and the guys practice when we can and snag gigs here and there. None of us do it seriously.”

“You sounded really good, from what I heard.”

He chuckled. “Thank you. I wish you’d stuck around for at least a set. Warm-ups don’t really do us justice.”

“Another time maybe.” When I can regain control again. When the idea of a crowded bar doesn’t make my heart want to give out. Tell him!

“So, what about you? What do you do for fun?” Raven asked, his focus fully on me, the boats and water forgotten. He had such radiant blue eyes it was almost mesmerizing when they focused on me directly. They were light like glass or arctic ice, popping out more with his contrasting darker features. If I concentrated enough, they almost seemed like little windows I could look through. Transparent.

I sipped my drink when I realized I’d been staring and thought about his question. “I run. Lift weights. Game some online. Otherwise, I work a lot. Hospital shifts are long.”

“A runner, huh?” He openly scanned my body making no attempt to hide his perusal. “Where do you run? I try to get out and do that sometimes, but time is not my friend.”

“I run the riverside trail, but I do it at five in the morning because time is not my friend either.”

“Ouch. Five a.m? Not sure I could manage early mornings like that.”

I chuckled. “You get used to it. That way it doesn’t interfere with your day.”

“No, just my precious sleep.”

We chatted through various light conversations, genuinely getting to know one another while we drank through a few rounds of whiskey. Night fell as we visited. Raven talked about his sister and her two kids, the farmhouse she’d inherited from his parents who were both living in a retirement community, and the fancy barn loft where he stayed on her property since his last relationship had gone belly-up. I learned he was forty, didn’t go to college, grew up on the family farm in the country, and wasn’t a fan of city living.

He was a talker, but I didn’t mind since my life wasn’t nearly as glamorous or share-worthy.

Raven was easy going and charming. He had that country boy appeal now that I knew his background. He smiled a lot and never once pried or questioned my strange behaviors even though I knew they probably weighed heavily on his mind. When the waitress came to offer a fourth round of drinks, I held up my hand, stopping her.

“I think I need to be done.” I hadn’t anticipated having more than two, and I needed to make it out to my car and check my sugars because I could feel them mounting and knew I needed insulin before I was hyperglycemic.

A flash of disappointment crossed Raven’s face, but he hid it just as quickly with another smile. It was the first one he’d given that lacked honesty and didn’t reach his eyes. “Just the bill,” he told the waitress. “You can put it on one.”

When the woman walked away, I scowled. “I can pay for my drinks.”

“I invited you. My treat. You grab it another day.”

Another day. Implying we’d meet up again. A small thread of anxiety crept around under my skin, but I tempered it with as much logic as I could. There was nothing threatening about a friendship. Sarah was right, I really should have explained things. It was one thing for a person to believe you had quirks and a whole other for them to hear confirmation that you weren’t normal.

Once the bill was taken care of, I followed Raven out to the parking lot. It was still early for a Friday night, so I bit the bullet and called out as he made his way to his car.

“Do you want to walk some by the water?”

Raven’s pace slowed, and he made a wide, exaggerated turn, tilting his head to the side when he faced me, his smile radiant. “Yes, I do. Lead the way.”

I thumbed over my shoulder toward my car. “I just need a minute.”

He followed at a distance as I went to my car and found my little black pouch. Illuminated by the overhead light that came on when the door opened, I fed a testing strip into my glucometer and pricked my finger.

Raven’s eyes were on me. I felt them.

“Diabetic,” I explained as I waited for the reading. “Type one. Insulin dependent.”

I caught his acknowledging nod from the corner of my eye just as the machine beeped, confirming my levels had increased. I drew some insulin into a syringe and hiked up my sleeve before giving myself an injection.

“You have to do that all the time?”

I eyed Raven as I capped the used needle and put it safely in my pack to dispose of later. “Multiple times a day.”

He shook his head as his brows rose. “Wow, good thing you’re a nurse. I don’t think I could do that.”

Shrugging, I zipped the black pouch and tossed it on the passenger seat. “You could if it meant living. Trust me. I’ve been giving myself injections since I was diagnosed at six.”

“Seriously?!”

“Yup. And I wasn’t a nurse then. Believe me, you get used to it.” Before he could question why a six-year-old needed to inject their own insulin, I nodded to the water. “Shall we?”

We crossed the parking lot and the road beyond to where a large, artistic rock garden followed beside the boardwalk by the water. Since there was no path through, we skillfully balanced on the rocks to make it to the other side and strolled together toward the pier in the distance. The entire time, I consciously measured our distance apart, acutely aware of each step Raven took in case I needed to move away.

At the pier, we walked to the end and leaned against the rail, a good three feet separating us. Dewhurst was a spectacle of lights at night. The streetlights, storefronts, and traffic all showed the busy night-life on the other side of the harbor. It was a clear night, and stars twinkled above against the black canvas sky. The only other time of year it was more lit up was Christmas.

“I have a phobia disorder. The technical term is haphephobia. Fear of touch. But I hate labels so let’s just go with I’m not normal. I don’t like being touched or touching other people. It’s all psychological, and I know that, but changing it isn’t as easy as it sounds. It’s… It’s an ongoing problem I’ve had for many years, and I’m in therapy. You kinda met me at a low point. I’m not always this bad, but I’m working through a setback right now.”

I stopped talking, and the city noise in the distance mixed in with the movement of the water below us to fill the void. Raven didn’t speak, but I felt his eyes on me. Probably full of judgment or doubt, probing me to say more. When he remained quiet, I faced him. There was only sympathy on his face. His eyes, whose color was now washed away by the darkness, were filled with wonder and question.

“That must be… really hard to live with,” he said, his words unsteady as though he wasn’t sure what to say but knew the silence couldn’t go on.

“It is what it is. I just don’t want you thinking I’m a dick or that I’m disgusted with you. I’m not. Meeting new people is hard. Making friends even harder.”

Taking on a relationship is next to impossible. I left the final statement unsaid. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that one out.

“I’m sorry I judged you before,” Raven said.

“You didn’t know.”

“It’s still unfair, and I’m sorry.”

I inhaled a deep breath and turned back to the water. Raven stood downwind, so his spicy scent no longer reached my nose, and all I could smell was fish again. The night air was chilly, so I buried my hands in the pockets of my hoodie. Inside, my fingers brushed against the long string of yarn Sarah and I had used earlier in the day. I’d transferred it into my hoodie after I’d dressed, wondering if maybe I could take that step with a near stranger and invite Raven into my personal space.

The answer was a hard no. Even the thought caused a jitter in my core, and I increased our distance by another step. The echoes of my past weren’t as strong as I expected. My mother’s reminders lingered, but I worked hard to push them away with logic. It didn’t make being around Raven any easier, and I felt bad.

He must have sensed the tension hanging in the air. Raven shifted to face me but wisely remained at a distance. “So, question. Do you run every day?”

“Um… yeah. Why?”

Was he avoiding my issue because he was uncomfortable, or did it really not bother him? His warm smile was back, and he rapped his knuckles on the rail. “Then what do you say to company?”

“Company? As in your company?”

“Yeah, I need a better regimen for working out. I won’t lie, five a.m. is terrifyingly early, but if I can swing it, do you mind some company?”

“Um…” I couldn’t think of an honest reason why not—besides the typical, reflexive reaction to decline because it would upset my inner balance. I’d probably spend my entire run worrying if he was too close or if he would trip and fall into me. Those were reasons enough, but they made me sound like an idiot. “Sure. I guess.”

He beamed and scanned the night again. “Perfect.”

We discussed where we’d meet up the following day, and our conversation shifted again to random nonsense new people who knew nothing about each other discussed. Movies, food, music, and more. Not once did Raven shine a light on what I’d shared. He respected our distance and acted as though nothing was abnormal.

It was… unexpected.

Closer to eleven, we decided to wander back toward our vehicles, otherwise a five-a.m. run was never going to happen. The entire time, I thumbed the string in my pocket and wondered how many more evenings like the one we’d shared would be required for me to feel comfortable enough with Raven to introduce the game. And if I did, would he think it was stupid? Juvenile? How honest was his request for friendship? How far could we go?