Julie … she shifts her gaze to the floor as soon as I look at her. She makes me feel guilty, which is insane. Julie has no right to make me feel guilty for anything. But this voice in my head (Dorothy’s voice) keeps scolding me for pining after another woman when I have the opportunity to put my family back together.
For Roman. Anything for him.
Mom and my sisters have smirks on their faces, like I got away with something, and they’re dying to know the details. The details? Ha! That’s easy.
I poured my heart out to Dorothy and she rejected me.
The apple pie was good.
And from the way it sounded, her orgasm was too.
That pretty much sums up the previous evening.
“I’m starving,” I say, instead of explaining my absence.
“Yes! Let’s eat.” Mom herds the gang into the kitchen until I’m left alone in the living room with Julie.
“How was the park?” I ask.
“He had fun. Wet the bed, probably from too much water. I already have it cleaned up.”
“Thanks.”
She nods.
“Are you going to avoid looking at me all day?”
She lifts her gaze, wearing a forced smile, a mask that does little to hide her anger or disappointment. I can’t tell which one. “Good morning, Elijah.”
Hurt. She’s hurt.
Julie has no right to be angry. I know this, and I can tell by the somber expression on her face that she knows it too. But heartache is immune to reason. That, I know all too well.
“Good morning.”
She clears her throat. “How is Dorothy?”
An instant smile comes to my face, in spite of the immediate pain. “She’s good.”
Julie presses her lips together and nods. “That’s good.” Her words carry no bitterness.
The women in my life have a knack for being their most amazing selves when I really need them to show me their dark side. Their anger. Their jealousy and selfishness.
“She thinks I should try to put my family back together—for Roman.”
Julie’s gaze snaps up to meet mine as her lips part. “Wh …” She shakes her head like she can’t believe what I said. “Well, what do you think?”
I glance over Julie’s shoulder to my family gathered around the kitchen island, filling their plates with food, filling the room with laughter, and filling my heart with memories and reminders of the life I’ve wanted for so long.
“I think life is pretty fucking complicated.”
She blinks several times and slides her hands into the front pockets of her faded jeans before tipping her chin toward her chest. “It is,” she murmurs.
“It’s painful to have everything you ever thought you wanted, yet feel like it’s not quite right. Like something’s missing.” I ease onto the sofa, leaning the crutches against the arm of it.
Julie grunts a laugh, keeping her gaze pointed at her feet.
“Of course you know exactly how I feel. Except you haven’t experienced it from the other side of the equation—the lonely side.”
She glances up, eyes wide. “The lonely side? Oh, Elijah, you are so very wrong. There is no feeling of loneliness that’s greater than feeling like nobody understands you. The desolate hell of needing something that makes no sense to the rest of the world. Of realizing that, if you find the courage to choose yourself, you will be alone. Free … but so very alone.”
“Am I supposed to feel sorry for you? Because I—”
“No,” she interrupts with complete conviction in her voice. “I want you, Eli. Not your pity. Not your sympathy. I just don’t want you to think that the confusion, the depression, the feeling like I wanted to crawl out of my skin … out of my life … was some fantastic walk in the park for me. And I’m not blaming anyone but myself, but it wasn’t easy. Do you know how many times I contemplated taking my own life? Do you?”
I flinch, choking on the lump in my throat that grows a little more with every word of her revelation.
Julie blinks back her tears. “Be…” emotion trips up her words “…because I couldn’t figure out what was wrong with me. Why was I so unhappy with my life? Why did this perfect life feel like a goddamn burden? I felt so inadequate as a mother, a doctor, a wife, a person … Do you know what it feels like to feel like a failure as a human being?”
My jaw clenches as my eyes burn with unshed tears.
“It’s so … fucking … lonely,” she whispers before sucking in a shaky breath and looking at the ceiling like her tears can defy gravity if she just keeps looking upward.
“You two going to eat with us—” Mom stops as her gaze ping-pongs between me and Julie. “You know, your dad turned the porch heaters on. We’re all going to sit out there and eat. You both take your time.” She rests her hand on Julie’s shoulder for a breath before disappearing into the kitchen.
“You should see someone,” I say with resignation. “My mom. Julie, you could talk to my mom. If you’re depressed—”
“Don’t.” She brushes off my efforts to show concern. “I’ve already seen someone. I’m already taking medications—mood stabilizers, antidepressants. And I hate it. I hate them and what they mean. I hate that something is wrong with me. But I’m taking them for Roman because he deserves to have a mom who is present and reliable. And I’ve been going to therapy. Granted, it’s only been a month, but I’m doing the work.”
I rub my forehead. Bipolar. She’s bipolar, and I didn’t see it. How did that happen? How the hell did I miss that? “Why didn’t you tell me before now?”
“I didn’t want you to feel responsible. Until I realized I did in fact want you. But I don’t want you to come back to me out of some feeling of responsibility. It’s not your problem. Not your responsibility.”
“Jules, asking me to come back into your life makes it my problem, which makes it my responsibility too.”
“If you come back.”
I nod slowly. “If …”
Julie studies me for a few seconds. “Do you love her?”
“Yes,” I whisper, because I do … I unapologetically love Dorothy Mayhem.
I wait for Julie’s next question, readying myself for what will be my difficult answer.
Julie will ask me if I still love her.
And I will say yes.
In spite of everything—the blindsided abandonment, losing my marriage, losing time with Roman, the jagged words—I love Julie Hathaway. For over twenty years, I honestly felt I was put on Earth to love her. It’s just that simple.
Or so I thought …
But Julie says nothing. And that’s fine.
I don’t need her to know at this point that I love her. Just like I don’t need her to know that I spent the year after our divorce hating her to the bone, but somehow still loving her right down to my soul.
It’s complicated.
“Can I bring you a plate of food?” She smiles. Not a great smile, more like her dog died, but he’d had a good life so all will be fine eventually.
I know that smile too well. It’s the one I wore on my face for months after she left me. “Thank you. That would be great.”
Chapter Thirty
Be With Me
Dorothy
“Did I do something wrong?” Warren follows me to the elevator from the cafeteria after my break. He grins as if he can do no wrong.
It’s been six weeks since the fondue date from Hell.
Six weeks since Eli’s accident.
And three weeks since I’ve seen Eli. Not that he hasn’t made ample attempts at calling and texting me. He has. I’ve just been busy.
Busy with school.
Busy with work.
Busy biding my time until he heals. Then I will, once again, tell him to go back to Dr. Hathaway, and that messy lust and love chapter (and by chapter, I mean a dozen or more journals) can be stamped complete.
The End.
“Um, yeah,” I answer, staring at the elevator doors while rolli
ng my lips between my teeth and drumming my fingers on my arms hugged to my chest.
Go away. Go away. Go away.
“Well, are you going to tell me exactly what I did that has earned me the cold shoulder?”
What I did sounds singular. I have an entire journal of all the things I find “wrong” with Warren. Where am I supposed to begin?
“You took me on a fondue date.”
He steps close, hovering just behind me. It makes me itchy. I have to be allergic to him. A hookup in the on-call room could put me into anaphylactic shock.
“You didn’t like the fondue? Or you had other things in mind that didn’t include dinner?” He lowers his voice with everything that comes after the word other.
I push open the door to the stairs, unable to wait another second for the elevator. Warren follows me.
Idiot.
“Dorothy, come on. Just tell me.”
I hold my coffee in one hand and ball my other hand into a fist as my feet stomp up the stairs. “A fondue date is equivalent to unprotected sex with a stranger on a first date. It’s gross and just asking for trouble. Yet, that’s where you took me. And I only went out with you because the person I was having sex with at the time didn’t want me to tell you, so I kept our date to keep from having to explain why I couldn’t go on a date with you. And I have more … just so much more I could say about your deep character flaws and questionable taste in everything from cologne to your brand of shoes. But this year I vowed to be more reticent with my negative opinions.”
“Christ, Mayhem, you are one hell of a ballbuster. And who are you fucking that knows me?”
“No one. I’m not sexually active at the moment.” I glance at my watch as it pops up with an activity notification, asking me if I’m doing a stair climbing workout.
“But who were you with when we went on our date?”
“Not saying.”
Please shut up before I blurt it out because I can’t keep secrets!
I pull open the door to the fifth floor. Warren stays on my ass, and I know he doesn’t need anything on the fifth floor.
“But clearly you’re no longer together. Right?”
“Yes. No. Ugh … he was in an accident, so things are complicated.”
“An accident?”
“Go away, Warren.” I double my speed down the hallway, but his legs are so much longer, it’s useless.
“The only person I know who has been in an accident is Dr. Hawkins. But that’s ridiculous so—”
“Why would that be ridiculous?” I whip around, glaring up at Warren as he holds his coffee out to the side instead of ramming it into my chest.
The cocky grin falls right off his genetically gifted face as his eyes widen, jaw unhinged. “No way. There’s no way you and Hawkins were …” He shakes his head.
“Well …” I clear my throat and take a step backward, diverting my gaze to the nurse passing us on my left. “I didn’t say it was him. I just asked why it would be so ridiculous.”
Warren cocks his head to the side. My skin turns red as he studies me. I refuse to look at him, but I know he’s visually interrogating me.
“Holy … shit … it’s true. You and Hawkins.”
“Nope.” I shake my head. “At least … not anymore.” And that is my biggest fault. I absolutely cannot lie to save my life, or Eli’s life, or a small village of starving children halfway around the world. And while I hate lies because I can never see past them, I envy those who can do it so well.
I turn and keep walking. Warren doesn’t follow me. I think he can’t move his legs after my unintended confession leaves him paralyzed with disbelief. Knowing he knows will drive me insane, so I have to confess to Eli that I let it slip.
Me: Dr. Warren knows we had sex. I told him we are not having sex now. Hope you’re not mad.
It takes him less than ten seconds to respond, probably because he has nothing better to do than sit on his butt all day.
Dr. Hawkins: Hi. Do I know you? I feel like you’re someone I used to know and call and TEXT a lot with no reply. Hmm … let me think.
I roll my eyes just as he sends a second text.
Dr. Hawkins: Actually, I’m livid that we’re not having sex now. Why is that?
Squinting my eyes, I dissect his response to sort fact from fiction. He’s joking. Right?
Me: You’re in a cast. You had surgery for internal bleeding. You’re back with Dr. Hathaway.
* * *
Dr. Hawkins: I fucking miss you so much I can’t breathe.
I frown.
Me: Okay. I have to work. Take care.
Elijah
“Why the long face?” Julie asks, glancing up from her spot on the floor next to Roman.
They’re putting an elephant puzzle together on the coffee table next to the sofa. It’s been a lazy Sunday afternoon of books and puzzles with football, hot chocolate, and cookies. Julie looks comfortable and completely at home. Her easy smile gives me a glimpse of what our life might have been had we not divorced.
“Sorry.” I recover with an easy smile that mirrors hers. “I didn’t mean to have a long face. I’m just a little tired.”
“Then take a nap.”
I shake my head. “Tired of living on the sofa. It’s not fun. I miss running and working. I miss driving and chasing Roman.”
“I’m sure, babe. But tomorrow is your day.”
Babe.
Yes. Tomorrow I get my cast off. No more crutches. And then what?
“Look, Daddy!” Roman jumps up and down after fitting the last piece into the puzzle.
“That’s amazing, buddy. Good job.”
He jumps up on the sofa. Julie no longer stops him. She knows I’ve healed enough to handle his full body excitement. As Julie climbs up next to us, I give Roman a big kiss.
“Mommy help too! Give Mommy a kiss too!”
My smile fades a bit, but Julie’s expression beams with hope. Why? Where was this hope when I wanted it? When I felt like I needed it more than anything?
“Kiss Mommy!” Roman slaps my cheeks, pushing them into fish lips.
“How about I give Mommy a high five.”
I hold up my hand.
Julie laughs.
“No. Kiss her!”
“Okay, buddy. One kiss.” Julie pulls him away from me.
What? No. Fuck no. Not one kiss.
She leans, grinning. “For Roman,” she whispers before pressing her mouth to mine.
I don’t move, and she doesn’t really move her mouth much either, but she also doesn’t pull away. It’s more than a peck. It’s as if she’s waiting to see if I take the bait.
My head jerks to the side as Roman claps. “Yay! Kisses for Mommy!” He jumps off the sofa.
Julie looks at me, keeping her face right next to mine. “Eli …” she whispers.
“Put him down for a nap.”
“Eli—”
“Jesus, Jules … Just do it.”
She nods slowly, rejection ghosting across her face.
As soon as they reach the top of the stairs, I grab my crutches, tie my right shoe onto one of them, and make my way outside, ordering a cab to pick me up down the street. If it doesn’t show up by the time Roman goes to sleep, I don’t want Julie seeing me waiting in the driveway.
Forty minutes later, I’m dropped off at the hospital, my hospital.
“Dr. Hawkins! Good to see you!” one of the ER nurses greets me.
“Thanks,” I mumble, making my way to the elevator. When the doors close, I message Dr. Andrews, the pediatric oncologist.
Me: You working?
* * *
Dr. Andrews: Hey! Leaving soon. You coming back to work soon?
* * *
Me: I’m on my way up. I need a favor.
Dr. Andrews went to school with Dr. Warren. He’s single and works a ton of hours. And he’ll do what I tell him, so I don’t have to deal with colleagues of equal rank refusing to do me this little favor.
“Dang … still in the cast, huh?” Dr. Andrews greets me at the elevator.
I work my crutches toward the nearest vacant room. “Yeah, but not for long. I’m scheduled to have it removed tomorrow.”
“That’s great. So what’s the favor?”
I ease onto the table. “I want you to remove it now.”
He laughs. “But you just said it’s coming off tomorrow. I’m not your doctor, and what’s one more day?”
“One more day is my sanity. So either you can remove it, or I will remove it, but it’s coming off now.”
With little resistance, he grabs his tools and removes my cast. “You might still need crutches.” I untie my right shoe from the crutch, slip it on, and loosely tie it. “Yup. Thanks. Bye.” I hobble toward the elevator and take it down to my office.
Me: Come to my office.
Dorothy responds quickly.
Dorothy: Can’t. Busy.
Me: It’s not a request. It’s an order.
* * *
Dorothy: You’re not my boss.
* * *
Me: Actually, I do have authority over you. So get your ass to my office!
She returns the middle finger emoji.
So … I wait. And while I wait, Julie messages me.
Just tell me you’re okay.
I feel bad. In spite of everything she did to me, I still feel bad. Julie is bipolar. She’s trying to put her life back together. And the fact that she wants me in it … well, the timing is just terrible.
Me: I’m okay.
And that’s it. That’s all she says to me. Once again, she’s making it hard to find myself in this life. She’s making it hard to hate her and easy to come back to our life. I’m just not sure if that’s still my life.
Keep This Promise Page 192