There’s a knock at my door.

Wearing my gym shorts and a t-shirt, I head to the door and peer through the peephole. I’m not in the mood to talk to anyone right now.

But the face I see through the peephole changes my mind.

I open the door.

“Ryan Hudson,” I say slowly. “I can’t believe my fucking eyes. Where the fuck have you been?”

“Nice to see you, too,” says Ryan, grinning at me and shoving a six pack of beer against my chest.

“Come on in,” I say, gesturing to my living room, which is frankly a huge mess.

“Damn,” says Ryan. “You going through a divorce or something? What the hell happened here?”

“Wouldn’t you have known if I’d gotten married?” I say.

Ryan shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s been what…”

“Ten years,” I say.

“Long time,” says Ryan, appearing a little awkward for the first time.

“Yup,” I say.

Ryan and I were great friends at one point, before he got so involved with his company, and I got so involved with medical residency, working constantly.

“So what brings you around?” I say, flopping myself down on the couch.

Ryan sits down on the armchair near me, and holds out his hand for a beer. I crack one of the ones that he brought open and hand it to him. I crack myself one, and it feels good to hold something so cold. I savor the feeling of the cold glass in my hand, but I don’t take a sip. I’m not in the mood for alcohol.

Ryan takes a long sip, though, and sits back, relaxing in the chair.

“Well,” says Ryan, after a long pause. “My wife’s overseas for work. Just for a month. I thought I’d look up some old friends. You’re first on the list. I was hoping we could hit the bars, have a few laughs, but frankly, it doesn’t seem like you’re in any condition to do that.”

“Why not?”

Ryan looks me up and down and cracks a smile, the kind of smile that only Ryan Hudson has. It’s both arrogant and well-meaning at the same time.

“Look at this place, for one thing. What the hell happened? I already asked you if you lost your wife.”

“I’ve never been married.”

“So what happened?”

“I’m suspended from the hospital,” I say.

“Shit. What’d you do? Fuck one too many of the nurses? Or did you go after a patient this time?”

“A little of both.”

Ryan laughs.

“Tell me about it.”

I tell him everything, the whole history I have with Johnson and the hospital administration. And I tell him about Mia, and how she got better, how I rushed her to the hospital. I tell him she’s gorgeous, completely hot, but what I’m not able to admit to him is that I have feelings for her.

“Look,” says Ryan. “I used to be just like you, a new girl every week. Then my wife came along… You wouldn’t believe how similar they sound to each other. All I know is that you feel something for this Mia. She’s important to you. I can hear it in your voice.”

“Where’s the Ryan Hudson I used to know?” I say, joking. “I’ve never heard you talk like this before.”

“I’m changed, man. My wife did that to me. I wasn’t expecting it, but it just happened. So what bothers you more?” says Ryan, taking another long sip of his beer. “Her or the hospital?”

I pause.

“Her,” I say.

“You called her? What happened exactly?”

“She’s back home, stuck in her room.”

“Stuck in her room. You mean the allergy thing?”

“Yeah. It’s complicated. She won’t return my phone calls, my emails, or anything at all.”

“That’s a tough one,” says Ryan.

“Yeah,” I say. “So since you’ve got it all figured out apparently, what should I do?”

Ryan shrugs.

“Want to go play golf?”

“Golf?”

“Yeah, I know you still play. You were too obsessed with the game to ever leave it.”

“What good is golf going to do me?”

“Get your mind off things, and get you out of this stinking pit you’ve created for yourself. This place is a disaster.”

Ryan kicks a dinner plate that’s been lying on the floor for a week. Normally, I’d never leave something like that lying around.

“OK,” I say. “Let’s go.”

“You know a good place?”

“Yeah. Come on,” I say, standing up. “Let’s go.”

Ryan stands up, still holding his beer. He looks me up and down. “You look like shit, man, no offense.”

I laugh.

“I’ll be right back.”

“Take a shower while you’re at it,” calls Ryan to me, as I’m already bounding up the stairs.

“Fuck off,” I yell back at him.

“There’s the Liam I know!” shouts Ryan. I can barely hear him. I’m already in the bathroom.

I turn on the cold water tap, and strip off my shirt and shorts.

I step into the water and let the cold take over me. I don’t shudder and I don’t flinch.

Unlike the pain I feel from Mia’s absence, the pain from the freezing cold water is something that I can control. I can cope with physical pain. I can cope with losing my job at the hospital. I can cope with anything…

What I didn’t count on was how much she means to me.

I didn’t realize it until she was gone from my life.

I just need to talk to her. I just need to explain things to her.

I’ve pieced it together somewhat… She’s upset that the attacks came back. She must think that I conned her somehow.

That was never my intention.

Sure, I wanted to fuck her.

But more than that, I wanted to help her. I want to help all my patients. Maybe I wanted to help Mia more in particular.

I try to bring my mind back to the present. I soap up and rinse off. By the time I’m out of the bathroom, toweled off and changed, Ryan’s already out in the garage looking through my golf clubs, beer in hand.

I find him out there.

“Anything you like?” I say. “Or does Ryan Hudson now travel with his own clubs all the time?”

“I didn’t bring any,” he says. “But I should have. I thought for a brain surgeon you’d have some better clubs.”

Normally, I would laugh. But the thoughts of Mia have me down, unable to do so much as chuckle right now.

“Those are my old ones,” I say. “They’re only for lending out. But I suppose you deserve something better.”

I go to the corner of the garage and remove a tarp from what looks like just a pile of tools. Underneath the tarp, there are three sets of the best golf clubs money can buy.

Ryan grins.

“Now we’re talking,” he says, examining the clubs with awe. “Damn, I don’t even have these. They just came out, didn’t they?”

I nod.

“Should we get going?”

“All right.”

We climb into the Porsche.

“Smells nice in here,” says Ryan, inhaling deeply.

I don’t say anything. I can smell it too. It’s Mia’s scent, still hanging onto the upholstery from the last time she was in the car, when I drove her to the hospital.

The events of that night keep replaying themselves in my mind.

Should I have done something differently?

I’m convinced that Mia simply needed another drop of the methylene blue. Those blue drops would have saved her. If only I’d had some on hand.

But why didn’t she bring any with her?

Over the last week, I’ve spent hours poring over the research papers. The way the blue drops work is that they enhance mitochondrial cellular function for a period, but they don’t work indefinitely. It’s probably necessary to take it at least twice a day. I suspect Mia was taking two drops in the morning.

By the time she was over at my place, the blue drops had probably worn off. Her cells and her body had returned to her “normal” state, making her allergic to everything. Her allergic reaction could have been triggered by anything really, some cologne I was wearing, something in the house. Most likely, though, it was the latex condom, or the lubrication that it comes with.

I feel bad, guilty about exposing her to a condom that made her sick.

If I could just explain this all to her, I know she would listen.

But her dad’s probably convinced her that I was just using her.

I shudder to think what Mia thinks about me now. She probably imagines she’s just another notch on my bedpost.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

“You’re not saying much,” says Ryan from the passenger’s seat.

He’s looking out the window on our way to the golf course.

I shrug. “Just thinking,” I say, taking a turn on a red light.

“About your girl?”

“Doesn’t seem like she wants to be my girl,” I say. “I’ve got a bad reputation, you know. She probably figured she’s just like the rest of the girls.”

“That’s a tough one,” says Ryan, speaking slowly and deliberately. “You know, I went through something similar. My wife was scarred. She thought I was just using her. I mean, I can understand that. Because in a way, I’d just been using women up until that point. It wasn’t until that point that I realized I wanted something more.”

“What do you mean? What made you realize it?”

“It was her… But I had to do some deep searching to figure it all out… I had to learn to open myself up…”

Surprisingly myself, I laugh. “Opening yourself up? What the hell are you talking about?”

“I used to be just like you,” says Ryan. “But we all act in certain ways because… well, we’re damaged in some way on the inside. But most of us don’t even admit that ourselves.”

I don’t say anything.

Is Ryan right? Am I damaged somehow, and don’t realize it?

There’s something of the ring of truth to what he says, but I don’t have the slightest clue how it is that I’m damaged. If that’s even the case.

“So how do you figure all that out?” I say.

“It’s something you’ve got to figure out for yourself,” says Ryan.

“You’re not much of a therapist,” I say.

“Nope,” says Ryan. “I’m not. Come on, let’s hit some fucking golf balls, OK? It’ll get your mind off things.”

We’ve arrived at the golf course, a sprawling, beautiful collection of greens, with hills and sand traps and even a small lake.

I park the car and we both get out, grabbing our golf bags from the trunk of the Porsche.

Suddenly my phone rings.

For some reason, I don’t respond right away.

“Your phone’s ringing,” says Ryan.

“Yeah,” I say.

“Aren’t you going to get it?”

I shrug.

“I doubt it’s who I want it to be. She’s not calling me back.”

Ryan just looks at me.

He’s not going to give me that speech about getting on with my life.

Whatever.

I’ve got to do it anyway.

I’ve never been the type to sit around and mope, anyway. I’m going to get Mia back, no matter what it takes.

I don’t know where this resolve suddenly comes from, whether it’s from looking out at the beautiful golf course. Or from holding the heavy bag in my hands. Or from the phone ringing. I don’t know. I doubt it has anything to do with any of those things. That would be crazy.

I’m going to get her back.

This thought gives me strength.

I pull the phone out of my pocket and look at the screen.

Holy shit.

It’s Mia.

Mia’s calling me.