“Katie?” Mom gives me one of her worried looks. “Did you hear what I said?”
I plaster a smile on my face. “I’m too busy at the moment.”
That’s not a lie. I’ve been cramming my shifts to the brink, working around the clock. It’s been two days since our date, if I can call it a date, and I haven’t heard from Alex. We didn’t exchange numbers, but he knows where to get hold of me. Not that I want him to. Or do I? I wanted time to think, and now that I have it, I’m doing my best to avoid thinking by working myself to exhaustion. When I get home, I barely have enough energy to drag myself to bed.
“Maybe when you get back,” I say to appease her.
The feeble promise works. Mom’s face brightens, as if dating is the solution to all problems in life.
“How do I look?” she asks, fluffing out her hair in the mirror.
“Beautiful,” I say honestly, my chest warming as I study her pretty features in the reflection.
“Come on,” she says. “Martin will be here any minute. Be a dear and give me a hand with that suitcase.”
I zip up the suitcase as she rambles about how much water each plant in the apartment needs and how often.
“Don’t worry.” I pick up the suitcase and swing an arm around her shoulders. “The apartment will still be standing and the plants will be green when you get back. I grew up here, remember?”
She grabs my face between her palms, pouting my lips. “Oh, I love you so much. What would I have ever done without you?” She jerks, dropping me like a hot potato when the doorbell rings. “Oh my gosh. That’s him.” Straightening her dress, she beelines for the door and throws it wide open.
Martin stands on the step, looking handsome in a pair of dark jeans and a white linen shirt. He trails an appreciative look over my mom before pulling her closer for a kiss.
“Oh my,” she says when he releases her after a kiss that lasted a few seconds too long to be considered publicly decent. “Would you like to come in? Do we have time for a drink?”
“We’d better get moving. I prefer to get there early. The flights are always overbooked.” He glances at me from over my mom’s shoulder. “Hi, Kate. How’s work?”
“Busy but good, thanks. You?”
“Great. We should all have dinner when we get back. My treat.”
“That sounds good,” I say, handing him my mom’s suitcase.
“Don’t forget your copy of the key,” Mom says to me. “You know the alarm code. What else? Did I forget anything?”
“Go.” I kiss her cheek, grinning at her childlike excitement. “I’ll hold down the fort.”
“Bye, honey.” She waves as Martin takes her arm and escorts her from her ground floor apartment to his car. “I’ll send a postcard,” she calls back.
“That’ll be great.” I lean in the frame, watching them load her suitcase into the trunk and get settled.
Like a gentleman, Martin secures my mother’s seatbelt before getting his own. She waves again through the passenger window. I lift a hand in return as Martin pulls off and weaves into the quiet, midday traffic. When they turn the corner, I drop my hand. Silence descends on the apartment. A bird chirps somewhere, but without my mom’s lively chatter, the apartment feels cold and empty. The weird sense of loss I’d felt when I left Alex’s house assaults me anew. I suddenly feel isolated, much like I’ve felt these past couple of days at work. Even surrounded by my colleagues and patients, I’ve had a sense of being alone and out of sorts.
Loneliness.
That’s what it was. That’s what it is right now.
Shaking it off, I go through the apartment and make sure all the windows are closed and the plants aren’t thirsty before I lock up and walk to the express bus stop. It’s not until I’m on the bus to Brooklyn, seated between a teenager and an elderly man, that I finally allow myself to think.
Despite what he did, I miss Alex. I miss what could’ve been, and I mourn that I’m missing out on the man who’d booked a whole restaurant just for me. I wish I’d gotten to know better the language of his face, the way his eyes crinkled when he found something amusing and how his gaze heated when he looked at me. The way his body hardened when he leaned against me. No matter how much I try, I can’t get those visions out of my head.
We only spent one night together, but it feels like I’m grieving a lifetime of could-have-beens.
I stare at the peeling clear polish on my nails. This has to stop. I have to pull myself together. So Alex isn’t who I hoped he was. Neither was Tony. It happens all the time. I’m not the first woman disappointed by a man. There are plenty of fish in the sea. Right?
Picking at the polish, I fish my phone from my pocket and dial Joanne. I have a few hours off tomorrow, and I can’t face staying home alone. Maybe I’m running from my thoughts and feelings, but they’re still too raw to analyze them deeply.
Joanne is busy, so we quickly agree on a time and place to meet for lunch tomorrow. When I hang up and lift my gaze, my eyes collide with a pair of brown ones. A man wearing a gray suit is standing in the aisle toward the front of the bus. He has bushy eyebrows and a square jaw. He holds my gaze for a second before looking away.
I frown. Have I seen him somewhere? He looks vaguely familiar. Foreign. Eastern European, maybe. Perhaps we’ve been on the same bus before. I don’t pay him further attention as my stop in Brooklyn approaches.
Pushing past him and a few other passengers standing in the aisle, I get off the bus, rush home, and have a quick lunch. As I’m wolfing down my salad, my gaze falls on Alex’s plastic container. I washed it and, not knowing what to do with it, left it sitting on the kitchen counter. Its bright red lid stares at me like a screaming reminder. I could take it to work and leave it in Igor’s room. I’ve been walking circles around the ICU, scared of running into Alex. It’s time to stop that. What happened, happened. Pretending it didn’t won’t make it go away.
I write a quick thank-you note on a Post-it and stick it on the lid. Then I drop the container with a bottle of water and a snack into my tote bag. I have just enough time left to vacuum my apartment before heading back to the hospital, where I change into my scrubs and start my shift.
As always, it’s hectic, leaving no time to think about personal problems. A ten-year-old boy with a burst appendix and a young woman with a broken arm are admitted, and my feelings are mercifully squashed under the weight of their much more serious problems. It continues like that for the next twelve hours, and by the end of my shift, I’m so tired I can hardly stand on my feet.
I have one last task to execute. Taking the container from my bag, I walk to the room in the ICU where Igor is recovering. I knock and push open the door, only to freeze in the frame. The man lying in the bed in the private room isn’t Igor.
Mumbling an excuse, I shut the door and go to the desk to check the patient list. Apparently, Igor was discharged yesterday. Relief rushes through me, both because Igor is doing well and because there’s no longer a chance of accidentally running into Alex in the hospital corridors.
I head back toward the ER with a confusing mixture of relief and disappointment.
“Everything all right, Kate?” June asks, scurrying past me as I exit the elevator.