Keep This Promise

by Willow Winters

  “Cholesterol meds for all the cheese you eat?”

  “Not yet.” She smirks as I hand her a bottle of water.

  “Anxiety pill. Sleeping pill. Multi-vitamin. Magnesium. Turmeric. What do you take?”

  I grin, carrying our plates to the table. “I’m going to self-medicate with this bottle of pinot.”

  “Yuck. I hate wine.” She dives into her pizza.

  “Noted. In fact, I’d like to take more notes, if you don’t mind.”

  Dorothy glances up at me with half a slice of pizza hanging from her mouth. “About what?” she mumbles.

  For the next hour, I interview her, preparing to pass any and all Dorothy Mayhem tests should the occasion arise again.

  Favorite color: Red

  Place of birth: Portland, Oregon

  Date of birth: May 6th, 1989

  High school: Riverdale

  Mother’s Maiden Name: Crowley

  Childhood pets: Two dogs, both Cavalier Spaniels—Jax and Bailey

  Cavities: None

  Medical conditions: Protected by HIPAA

  Favorite pastime: Tie between Xbox and bingeing on Netflix

  Favorite Series: Game of Thrones

  Favorite musical artist: Taylor Swift

  And then there are so many things that she can’t answer about herself. I’m okay with that because I want to discover her, not study her.

  “Come to bed.” I hold out my hand as she yawns just before midnight.

  We trudge our way up the stairs.

  “Shower with me?”

  “Sounds crowded and messy.”

  “You haven’t seen my shower. It’s large and clean. And if we find something that’s dirty, I have lots of soap to use on it.”

  “Is this your way of suggesting sex again?”

  At the top of the stairs, I pull her to me. “Would that be so bad?”

  “No foreplay.”

  “Said no woman ever.” I laugh.

  “Welp, I’m a woman, and I’m saying it.”

  “I feel like you’re just using me for quick orgasms.”

  She walks toward my bathroom, pulling me behind her by nothing more than her index finger clasped to mine. “Would that be so bad?” She shoots me a flirty grin over her shoulder.

  Dorothy … Dorothy … Dorothy …

  ChapterTwenty-One

  Missed Goodbyes

  Dorothy

  Worst night ever.

  Plot twist—great sex ends in restless sleep. At least for me.

  The firm bed.

  The itchy sheets.

  The nightlight from the hallway.

  The extra body heat.

  It doesn’t work for me.

  By four in the morning, I give up. Why torture myself any longer?

  “Eli?” I say.

  No answer.

  “Eli!”

  “Jesus!” He jumps once from my slightly elevated volume and a second time when he opens his eyes and sees my face an inch from his face. “Whoa …” He jerks his head to the side and sits up in bed. “What’s going on? Why did you yell at me? What time is it?” He looks at his watch on its charger by the bed.

  “I’m going to go exercise.”

  “What? It’s 4:00 a.m. on a Sunday.”

  “Yes, but I have to work.”

  “Not until eight,” he replies in a raspy voice as he rubs his eyes.

  “I can’t sleep. So I might as well go exercise.”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  “No. I’m going to the gym. You’re not a member at my gym, are you?”

  “No …” he murmurs on a yawn.

  “Okay. See ya.”

  He grabs my arm.

  “We’re not going to kiss.”

  “Morning breath?” He laughs.

  “Yes.” I wrinkle my nose.

  “How about an awkward hug?”

  “Why does it have to be awkward?”

  “It doesn’t. It’s just a high probability.” He pulls me into his body and hugs me. I try to mold my body to his without falling on top of him. But with him leaning against the headboard, I don’t know where to put my arms. So I just stick my butt out and let him hug my torso while my cheek smashes uncomfortably into his shoulder.

  He releases me.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Nothing.” He grins. “Drive safely, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Dorothy?”

  I turn at the doorway. “Yeah?”

  “I’m flying to San Francisco tomorrow morning for a two-day conference. I’ll be back Wednesday.”

  “Okay. Um … should I tell Warren about us? Because right now he’s expecting me to go to dinner with him Tuesday night.”

  “Probably not quite yet. I have to work with him, and he asked you out just days ago. I’m not sure how well he’ll take the news. Maybe give it time.”

  “Act normal?”

  Eli chuckles. “Sure.”

  “You’re laughing because I’m not normal.”

  “Dorothy, I lost all sense of normalcy before you came along. No judgment here.”

  “Okay. Bye.”

  I stop by the gym and burn a quick six hundred calories. Eli will get the notification as soon as he checks his watch. This makes me very happy.

  The happiness doesn’t quite balance the disappointment that I feel over hating his bed. I know he will ask me to stay over again. And I also know I will say no. Unfortunately, I have bigger problems.

  Warren.

  “Good morning.” He slithers up beside me as I pay for my coffee in the cafeteria.

  “Dr. Warren.” I smile. Okay, it’s a grimace I try to sell as a smile.

  Thankfully, Dr. Warren is so full of himself, he buys it. “I have reservations at a very popular restaurant. I think you’re going to be quite pleased.”

  Act normal. Don’t tell him.

  Easier said than done.

  “Only if you tell me the name of it.”

  “Nope. It’s a surprise.”

  “I don’t like surprises.” I take quick strides toward the elevator.

  He stays hot on my heels. “You’re going to like this one.”

  Nope. I won’t like it. I’ll just make sure to eat dinner before going out.

  “By the way …” I turn after stepping into the elevator.

  He follows me, bringing his overpowering scent with him. “Yes?” He flashes me his expensive smile.

  “We won’t be having sex on our date.”

  “No?” He cocks his head to the side. “You sure about that?”

  I stare at the digital floor numbers as the elevator ascends. “Positive.”

  He takes a step back and slowly inspects me over the lid of his coffee cup. After a few seconds, his face morphs into something like recognition. “Oh … I get it.”

  He does?

  How can he so quickly tell that I had hot, pounding, multiple-orgasm sex with Dr. Hawkins? Am I glowing?

  “I’ll wait.” He winks, stepping off the elevator a floor before mine. “Message me your address, Dorothy. See you Tuesday.”

  Elijah

  Monday morning I fly to San Francisco for the two-day conference. When I messaged Dorothy Sunday night to tell her goodbye, she gave her usual “Okay, goodbye” reply. She needs her space. I respect that, but it doesn’t make me crave time with her any less.

  I tell myself I’ll be cool and not text or call her while I’m traveling, but I can’t lie … I’m a little disappointed she makes no effort to communicate with me. Again, I have to remember Dorothy is not Julie or any other woman I have ever known. So while this is ninety percent a really great thing, I have to deal with the ten percent that sucks. And her lack of need for regular contact with me is that sucky ten percent. It makes me feel needy, and I’m really not a needy person.

  “Welcome back. How was the conference?” Warren asks Wednesday morning before rounds as he sips his coffee in the lounge.

  “Fine.” I glance at my ta
blet. “Brandon’s last day of chemo. God … I need this to work.”

  “He breezes through everything. I see him getting back on the field next year.” Warren stands and pulls on his lab coat.

  “Mmm …” I nod, opening a bottle of water. “I hope so.”

  “So … any suggestions for a second date?”

  “What are you talking about?” I ask without glancing up from my tablet.

  “I took Dorothy to dinner last night. I’m thinking a play or something like that for our next date.”

  I lift my gaze slowly to meet his smirk. There is no way I heard him correctly.

  “Say that again.”

  “Which part?”

  “All of it.”

  “I took Dorothy to dinner last night—”

  “Dorothy Mayhem?”

  He laughs. “Uh … yeah. Dude, you were here last week when I sent her the cookie bouquet that you suggested. Remember?”

  I nod slowly, clenching my tablet with an iron grip while gnashing my teeth.

  “Where you going?” he asks as I pivot and exit the lounge.

  Dorothy has school, but I have to text her even if she doesn’t respond. It’s either a text to her phone or a fist in Warren’s face.

  Me: We need to talk about your date with Warren.

  It takes her an hour to respond. While in the middle of rounds, I glance at my phone screen.

  Dorothy: Ugh! He took me on a FONDUE DATE! (five vomit emojis)

  “Dr. Hawkins?”

  I return my attention to the patient’s mom. “Yes?”

  Warren has the nerve to frown at me, the way I used to frown at him before I banned him from being on his phone during rounds.

  “School. Will she be able to stay in school while receiving radiation?”

  I can’t stop thinking about Warren and Dorothy. Even as I spew off my answer to the mom, a woman who deserves my full attention, I can’t shake the anger.

  Dorothy

  After class, I respond to Eli’s last text which was:

  Dr. Hawkins: I’m either coming to your house or you’re coming to mine, but we are talking tonight.

  * * *

  Me: I’m taking Gemma to car wash dog wash night. (water emoji, dog emoji, car emoji)

  * * *

  Dr. Hawkins: Gemma and your dirty car can wait. I can’t.

  * * *

  Dorothy: The free dog wash is only on Wednesdays. (shrug emoji)

  * * *

  Me: I don’t give a shit.

  Someone is in a bad mood. I’ll pass on that. I shake my head.

  Me: Call me tomorrow after the market. See … I’m letting you call me. (smiley emoji, high-five emoji)

  * * *

  Dr. Hawkins: I’m going for a run. After I shower, I’m coming to your house. Deal with it.

  He really needs to add some emojis. In my head I imagine angry emojis, but he has no reason to be angry … at least, not with me. Maybe he has issues at work or with Dr. Hathaway and needs someone to talk to.

  Me: Okay. (smiley emoji, high-five emoji)

  After a car wash and dog wash, I take my routine walk, eat dinner, shower, and play Xbox, waiting for Eli. At 10:20 p.m., my phone chimes. Stomach-flu Hailey from the ICU messages me—well, it’s actually a group message. I hate group messages.

  Hailey: OMG – Dr. Hawkins is seriously injured!

  I stare at my screen, not fully believing what’s popping up—the long string of responses from everyone else in the group text. I have nothing to say because my brain is stuck in denial.

  WTF? What happened?

  * * *

  Is he going to live?

  * * *

  When? What happened?

  * * *

  OMFG are you serious?

  * * *

  Deets … we need ALL the deets.

  * * *

  He fell off a ledge on a trail.

  * * *

  Had to be airlifted.

  * * *

  Took two hours to get him out.

  * * *

  Really fucking steep cliff.

  * * *

  They’re taking him to surgery now at General.

  * * *

  I’m off in ten. I’m going straight there to find out more. I’ll update soon.

  After reading all the texts from the group, I run straight to my parents’ bedroom and throw open the door.

  They look up from their adjustable bed, illuminated by the TV screen. Grey’s Anatomy. Always Grey’s Anatomy.

  “What’s wrong?” Mom asks.

  “Dr. Hawkins is going into surgery. He was jogging. Fell off the steep ledge of the trail. Hailey sent out a group text. He was supposed to come see me tonight. I’ve been waiting for him. I don’t know what to do. Stay? Go? I’m not family. I know they won’t tell me anything. Hailey will give better updates to the group text. But his parents will be there. Oh my god … poor Roman. He’s with Julie, but still … she’ll take him to the hospital, right? Or maybe not. I mean, if it’s bad, it could scare him. He’s three. Oh god …” I blink and feel a lot of tears fall down my face all at once. “What if he doesn’t live?”

  It’s like they’re in bed one minute, and in that single blink, they’re hugging me.

  “Go,” my mom says. “You definitely should go. I’ll drive you and stay with you until we know how he’s doing.”

  I nod, batting away the tears. “Okay.”

  We drive to General, and we’re met with an over-capacity waiting room of family, coworkers, and friends. I’m completely out of place—more so than usual. There’s no place to sit, so Mom and I huddle in a corner next to a window.

  “I can get us coffees?” she suggests.

  “Okay.”

  After she leaves to grab us coffees, a tiny peephole forms in the throng of people, and on the other side of the room, I make what feels like accidental eye contact with Lori Hawkins. She looks oddly calm. No real decipherable expression on her face. Not that I’m an expert at that.

  She slowly stands, releasing Kent’s hand, and worms her way toward me. “Dorothy, dear … come sit with us.” Her arms embrace me. I stiffen. After a few seconds, I flatten my hands and give her a few comforting pats.

  “They’re trying to stop the internal bleeding. He was unresponsive when they arrived with him. God … we’re just so lucky someone happened to see him go over the edge, otherwise …” Her voice cracks.

  Otherwise, he would have died and it would have taken days if not longer to find his body. Those lines I can read between.

  “Where’s Roman?”

  “He’s at home with Julie’s mom, Peggy. Come on.” She takes my hand and pulls me to the other side of the waiting room.

  Kent gives me a sad smile as Lori introduces me to Eli’s sisters, Kendra and Molly, and their husbands and children. Julie is on the other side of Kent with red eyes and a tissue wadded in her hand. I smile at her. She glances in the other direction and wipes her eyes. Kent rests his hand on her back and rubs circles on it while she leans into him.

  “Sit, Dorothy. I’ve sat far too long. I think I need to take a walk. Kent, message me if you hear anything.” Lori releases my hand and points to the seat on the other side of Kent.

  “My mom’s here. She drove me. She went to get coffee. I’m good. I don’t need to sit right now.”

  Lori nods. “Okay. I’ll be back in a little bit.”

  Here I stand … in front of Eli’s family and Dr. Hathaway, who is either really sad about the accident—too sad to even smile at me—or she’s still upset about the farmer’s market incident. I can’t blame her either way.

  “Hey, here you go.” Mom hands me a cup of coffee. I turn toward her and take a few steps back to distance us from Eli’s family.

  “I guess you’re not going to introduce me, huh?” Mom gives me a look. The you-have-poor-manners look.

  “Lori took a walk. Dr. Hathaway is on his dad’s right, crying. I know Kent’s name, but I already forgot Eli’s
sisters’ names and the names of their spouses and kids. I would epically fail the introduction.”

  “Fair enough.” Mom nods.

  “I should have just gone to the cafeteria with you. We’re just going to wait here now for who knows how long, and eventually a doctor will come out and either say he’s dead or alive. Either way, I won’t be allowed to see him very soon, so …” I shrug.

  “He’ll be fine. We have to believe that.”

  I nod.

  During the three remaining hours of surgery, I take the opportunity to introduce my mom to his family. After Lori comes back, we grab an early morning breakfast sandwich and a Dr. Pepper, and take a long walk around the block. Then two doctors come out to let his family know that they stopped all the bleeding. He has two fractured ribs, a broken fibula, a multitude of cuts and puncture wounds, and cerebral edema.

  It’s a miracle he survived the fall. At least that’s the chatter going around the waiting room. And as bad as the list of injuries sounds … in the larger scope of things, they are minor injuries. He doesn’t need surgery for the fractures. And as long as the swelling in his brain goes down without any complications, he should make a full recovery.

  The doctor said it will be another hour before family can see him, and even then, he probably won’t be conscious.

  “I’m going home. I have school. I’m here if you need me. Just let me know. I can help with Roman or … whatever.” I nail my exit speech after practicing it during the last hour of surgery because I knew I wasn’t staying. In fact, I’m dying to get out of this waiting room.