Stepdork

by Murphy, A. E.

  “No, as in I have a patient. I’m a chief resident at New York City State hospital.”

  “Chief resident? How is that… you left college after your second year? We heard you fell in with a rough crowd?”

  “I graduated early, I got all of my prerequisites done in my second year. I went on to NY med school, Dad. I graduated and I’m in my final year of surgical residency.” I don’t bore him with the technical jargon because that would take more time. “I have to go. I’ll call you.”

  “Do you promise?”

  I hang up the phone before he can say anything else and get back to work. I feel sick but I’ve become excellent at compartmentalizing my own feelings as I do my job. It’s a requirement in this field.

  My phone rings again but I switch it off and give myself a pep talk.

  It’s a surgery I’ve done a hundred times, but I treat every surgery as though it’s new.

  “Good luck in there, Isla,” Seamus, our new chief of plastics says, squeezing my hand as I pass.

  He’s a handsome man, but truth be told, I haven’t done much dating, if any, since California. I’ve been focused on my work, too scared to release the lock on my feelings in case I spiral again. Which I know as a medical professional is a pile of garbage. I’ve grown now, I’ve matured now, I’m not that person anymore.

  The question is now, do I call my dad back and risk bringing forward the past I put to rest?

  I nod and scrub my hands. That’s exactly what I’m going to do.

  Though when I call him back, I’m home and in the warmth of my apartment across the way from the hospital.

  My hand is shaking when I bring my phone to my ear. I can’t even remember the time difference. I should have checked. It’s almost midnight here so it shouldn’t be too late there. I think there’s a three-hour difference.

  The phone only rings once when he answers.

  “It’s me,” I reply, sinking into the corner of my seat.

  “I didn’t think you’d call me back.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner. Did you really think I was a junkie?”

  He clears his throat. “I didn’t know what to think. Nobody knew where you were or what you were doing. And the police said when they found you, you were in an apartment full of empty bottles and pizza boxes, they said it wasn’t promising.”

  “We’d had a weekend bender to celebrate the end of my first year,” I reply with a sigh. “To be honest, after I left I maybe only drank once or twice that year. As for paraphernalia, that stopped the second I woke up after the night I…” My breath catches. “I’m so sorry for what I did that night.”

  “Don’t. You’ve apologized enough. I never should have let you go. You were just a kid…”

  I blow out a heavy breath and suddenly start longing for the family I gave up so long ago.

  “Do you… are you married? Do you have any kids?”

  “No to both. I’ve been too busy to consider any of that. I’ve been saving up to buy a place but I’m still way off.”

  His breathing staggers again. “You’re not lying to me are you? You’re really a surgeon? What happened to psychiatry?”

  “That’s still in the cards, and no, I’m not lying to you. I’m in pediatrics currently. An opportunity arose that I couldn’t decline.”

  “I’m so proud of you, kid. I am so proud.”

  I close my eyes when I hear his telltale sniffling, the same as our last call. “Are you crying?”

  “I half expected to find you with a needle in your arm. So yeah, I’m crying. Happy crying.”

  “No needles in my arms, my patients’ arms however…”

  He laughs, it’s deep and soothing. “Can we come to visit? Or maybe you’d like to come here?”

  I hesitate. “One step at a time, okay?”

  “But—”

  “How is Shonda?” I ask about her first because I’m not sure I can hear about Travis yet, I think despite everything, time lapse included, he’s still got a very solid place in my heart. I’ve yet to meet a man that has ever measured up to him.

  “Shonda is great, she got a promotion at work a few months ago.”

  “Does she know you’re calling me?”

  “Of course, she’s been helping me track you down for years. She’s so happy that we’re talking. She wants to speak to you, when you’re ready.”

  “She’s not mad?”

  “No, kid. She’s not mad. Not even a little bit.”

  Deep breath. “And Travis?”

  “Travis is a chemical engineer at a pharmaceutical company over in Sacramento. He’s doing really well for himself.”

  I smile. “That’s amazing. Does he have any kids? A wife? A husband?”

  I know he’s not gay but I wanted to insert a bit of my old humor in there. That and it seems easier to joke about it than to accept the reality that even after all these years I might feel jealous that Travis has moved on.

  He was my one sweet love, and truth be told, nobody has ever made me orgasm the way he has, or perhaps I’m romanticizing long-ago memories.

  “No kids, wife, or husband.”

  “No girlfriend?” Now I’m fishing. I don’t know why I’m so interested, I live miles away.

  “No girlfriend,” he confirms, and I can’t stifle my smile. It’s stupid. I mentally admonish my behavior, yet my smile remains.

  “Does he still hate me for what I did?”

  “Travis never hated you, he’s been through a lot is all. You should reach out, reconnect.”

  I almost snort at that massive lie. He doesn’t know the half of it but that’s not his fault.

  “Come home, Raven. Come and see us for a few days at least. Or tell me where you live and we’ll come to you. It’s been a while since I went to New York.”

  “You went to New York?”

  He falls quiet again. “Once or twice, to find you, when we realized you were alone.”

  “What do you mean?” I sip the wine I poured before making the call. It’s a bottle that was gifted to me upon moving in by my neighbor. It’s sweet and warming, but it does little to calm the nerves I’m fraying for this call to continue.

  “Well, we assumed the girls had gone with you, it wasn’t until the end of the year that we discovered they’d stayed in the state, leaving you in the city alone.”

  “They didn’t tell you?”

  “Nobody did, I think they were all too ashamed to face us. They likely assumed we already knew. So I came to the city to try and find you, an impossible task.”

  I sip more wine. “I’m sorry you ran around the country looking for me.”

  “I never stopped looking for you. But I’m glad of it, because here we are now. I’d lost hope. I thought… I thought the worst. This is better than I could have imagined.”

  At that I smile and my happiness trims away the frayed edges of my anxiety. “I can’t get any time off right now, but maybe when I finish my residency in May?”

  “Then I’ll come to you.”

  “Dad…”

  “No, I’m not wasting anymore time. I need to see you, I need… I need to know you’re real. I miss you.”

  I dab at the corner of my eyes with my sleeve and breathe an emotional whisper, “I miss you too.”

  “Then it’s settled, we’re coming to you.”

  “Okay,” I mutter, looking around my sparse apartment.

  “Okay? I mean it. I’m booking a flight right now.”

  I laugh a little. “Okay.”

  “I’ll see you soon, kid.”

  “See you soon, Dad.”

  Of course I know he’s probably joking, or at least I think he is. I chew on the side of my thumb and stare at my phone screen.

  Dad: What’s your address then? Do you have space for us?

  Raven: I have space.

  I send him my address in a separate message and smile when he sends me a thumbs-up.

  When I don’t hear from him again after that, I assume he’s joki
ng. Then my phone lights up with another text. An unknown number.

  You’re alive then?

  Then another.

  It’s Travis, by the way. I’ve been trying to contact you for years, Raven. What the fuck? And now you’re some big-shot doctor? You graduated university and didn’t even think to invite us?

  Raven: It wasn’t like that. I thought I was doing you a favor.

  Travis: Right… a favor. Leaving us all without even saying goodbye? Great favor. Remind me that I owe you one.

  Raven: I apologize. Sincerely. For ever hurting you.

  Travis: Fuck your shit apology and fuck you, Raven.

  Raven: I don’t expect you to forgive me, I don’t need it either. Trust me when I say out of the two of us, I most definitely lost the most when I left. I’ve been punished enough and if rehashing what happened is what you want, I don’t have time for it.

  He doesn’t reply to that. I can’t imagine it made him happy. I don’t push him either. Instead I go to sleep and then wake up what feels like minutes later for another long shift at work.

  * * *

  “My feet are killing me,” I declare, finally on my lunch break, though whether or not it’ll be a good one is another question entirely.

  “Mm-hmm,” my colleague Nicola says as we both sink into the reclining chairs. “I need to nap. Another five hours of this. I just can’t.”

  “Nap, I’ll wake you.” Truth be told I’m desperate to check my phone, anxious to see if my dad or Travis have sent me any messages.

  I grab my phone, bring my apple to my lips and bite, almost choking with excitement when I see two messages. None are from my usual group of friends. They’re all working in the hospital somewhere. I don’t really have friends outside of the hospital.

  Dad: Are we still okay to come?

  Raven: Of course. I wouldn’t have said it otherwise. I have Thursdays and Fridays off usually, but I’m constantly on call for emergencies at the moment.

  Dad: Understood. My flight is booked for next Wednesday, noon.

  Raven: I’m at work until seven my time. Late dinner?

  Dad: Sounds perfect. You’re sure you have the space? We can get a hotel?

  Raven: I have the space. Trust me.

  Now onto the other message.

  Travis: Mom and Dad are planning to visit. Now’s the time to tell them if you’re lying about what you are.

  Is he serious? What a douchebag. Why would I lie about that?

  I send him a thumbs-up and hope he sees the snark behind it.

  Travis: We won’t be mad, we’ll understand why you lied.

  Raven: Please stop texting me so I don’t have to figure out how to block your number.

  Travis: I’m just worried about them, I don’t want them getting their hopes destroyed.

  Raven: Definitely blocking your number now.

  Travis: Don’t block my number.

  Raven: Then don’t be a dick.

  Travis: Then prove it. Prove to me that you’re a doctor or whatever you are, at work, right now.

  Raven: I don’t have anything to prove to you. Play your childish games elsewhere.

  Travis: There are no records of you on the hospital website, most physicians have their pictures with their names.

  My mouth drops open. The nerve of this prick. Who does he think he is?

  Raven: My name on file is Isla Riddle. You’ll find it on the website.

  I’m done with my apple when my phone vibrates again.

  Travis: How convenient. No picture under Isla Riddle.

  Raven: I’m done playing this game with you now, Travis. Have a nice day.

  Travis: Okay, okay, I concede. You’re not lying. I believe you.

  Raven: I don’t know why you think I care either way.

  Travis: I just don’t want you hurting them. They suffered enough.

  Raven: Stop texting me. Go back to being absent like the past decade of my life.

  Travis: Fuck you, Raven.

  I try again for my typical humor, hoping it breaks the ice a little. I didn’t expect him to contact me at all so this is territory I never prepared to tread near. I don’t want to cut off from him again, but I also don’t want the stress that his distrust is bringing.

  Raven: You keep saying “fuck you, Raven.” Are you forgetting that you already did? Multiple times in fact.

  Travis: That hard to forget for you is it? How does your husband feel about that?

  I wet my lips. Is he fishing for information? Did Dad not tell him about my current relationship status?

  Raven: My imaginary husband doesn’t quite get me off like you did, Trav.

  What am I doing?

  Giddy and feeling a hammering in my chest, I shift in my seat and glance at Nicola who is napping, breathing softly.

  Travis: I still get hard when I think about you, Raven.

  Need unfurls in my limbs after a long and distant cry from my libido. I stretch languidly, put my phone down and bite my lip as I smile. I’m not going to reply. I don’t know what he wants from me and I’m terrified he’s pranking me.

  Travis: Send me a picture of yourself.

  That’s his game. He’s still trying to see where I work.

  Raven: Nice try. Goodbye, Travis.

  Travis: Why didn’t you come back when the girls quit on you? Why’d you stay away?

  Raven: It doesn’t matter anymore. I don’t like looking back.

  Travis: And because of you, I’ve never been able to stop.

  What the hell does that even mean?

  I’m washing a potato, ready to place it in the oven when my phone vibrates. This time with a call, not a text.

  I don’t answer, I let it go to voicemail.

  Then it rings again as I am painting the potato with oil and sprinkling it with salt.

  I let it ring off again and my chest deflates.

  When the potato is in the oven and my hands are washed and dry, it rings again.

  This time I answer it but not easily. My hands are shaking.

  “What do you want?” I ask immediately, playing it cool as a cucumber.

  There’s a moment of silence and I hold my breath until I realize he’s not going to talk.

  “Travis?”

  “It’s really you,” he replies and God his voice sounds so much deeper than I remember it, so much gravellier, yet still the same. “I didn’t think I’d ever hear your voice again, Raven.”

  I close my eyes, savoring the feel of his deep voice as it caresses my senses in a way it never did before. “Keep talking, Trav.”

  “You didn’t call. You didn’t text. You didn’t email.”

  “Stop talking, Trav,” I mumble, feeling the shame I’ve been suppressing for so long bubble to the surface.

  “I looked for you. I didn’t stop.” He sounds mad, emotional, confused. Still? After all these years. “What did I ever do to you to deserve everything you did?”

  “Travis—”

  “No, you’re going to listen while I talk.”

  I contemplate hanging up the phone but then he might never call again.

  “Is this because of what I said to you? I was mad. You didn’t give me the chance to calm down.”

  I laugh at that, though it’s not a laugh of joy. “Are you kidding? I was still there for weeks afterwards, waiting for you to reach out, to respond to my messages! And instead you were sucking face with that science geek.”

  “She wasn’t a science geek and so what? At least I was single when I started playing around! What about you and Lake?”

  I blow out a breath. “You’re talking about prom night? I didn’t even go near Lake.”

  “Right.”

  “I didn’t.”

  He snorts. “And I should believe you?”

  “Does it even matter? It was a decade ago, Travis. Whether you believe me or not I don’t care.”

  I hear him shift and wonder if he’s as tense as I am. “Still got that stick up your ass I see…”
/>   “Me? You’re the one calling me to shout at me about things that never even happened.”

  “Such a beacon of honesty.” His sarcasm isn’t lost on me. “I believe you, truly I do.”

  “You know, for somebody who hasn’t spoken to me in ten years, you sure think you know an awful lot about me.”

  He growls, “And whose fault is that?”

  “Mine. Okay? It’s mine. I messed up, I hurt everybody, and I ran away like a coward so I wouldn’t have to face this that you’re doing.”

  “You’re a selfish bitch, Raven.”

  I’m ashamed to admit that tears fill my eyes. “That’s not fair, I didn’t mean to be. It wasn’t a selfish choice to begin with.”

  “What was it then?”

  “I didn’t want to hurt you. I thought you deserved better than me.” The last part comes out as a whispered confession.

  “Turns out I did deserve better than you. A better friend, a better sister, whatever the fuck you were supposed to be I did deserve better.”

  I shake my head. “I was never your sister.”

  “You were never my anything, apparently.”

  “Why are we going over this?”

  He laughs cruelly, the sound grates on my remaining strength. “Going over the shit we should have gone over a decade ago when you broke my fucking heart?”

  My breath catches in my throat and my thumb inches closer to the disconnect button. “I wanted what was best for you.”

  “You were what was best for me! I fucking adored you. I would have done anything for you. I worshipped the ground you walked on. I planned the rest of my life around you! And you fucking cheated on me and left me the first chance you got. We thought you were dead!” He inhales sharply. “And now Mom and Dad want me to draw a line under it. They want to move on, terrified that you’re going to run again because they fucking love you nearly as much as I did but I can’t. Because even now… ten years later… It hurts. Hearing your voice after all of these fucking years of you hiding from me.” He inhales again and I don’t interrupt. I don’t say anything. I wipe away my tears and listen like he wanted. Maybe when he gets it all out he’ll calm down enough to listen to my side of things. “Now we find out you’re not fucking dead, you’re not a fucking junkie, you’re actually doing really well for yourself and the only God damn reason you stayed away and let us think that about you is because you were too scared to say you’re sorry!”