by Nikki Chase
Damn it.
I forget how dusty the handrail is. Most of the time, I try not to touch it, but I’m just a bundle of nerves tonight. I rub my palms together to remove the dirt particles.
I’ve tried to persuade my mom to sell the house. It’s way too big for the three of us to maintain. If we move to a smaller place, we’d save money and have fewer house chores. But she never listens.
“Oh, you look wonderful, darling,” Mom says when she sees me descending down the stairs. “Did you dress up for Sam’s birthday?”
My mom is wearing a pair of jeans and a plain white shirt. She used to dress up all the time, but not these days.
“No, Mom.”
“That’s a shame.” Mom sticks out her bottom lip. “I got a cake and everything.”
“I had cake last week, Mom. And the week before that.” My words are punctuated by the staccato sounds my shoes make as they hit the hard marble tiles.
“Sit down and have a slice, Jackie,” Mom insists.
“I have somewhere else to go to, and I’m running late.” I shoot an apologetic look at the perplexed guy wearing the UPS uniform and standing awkwardly in our dining room. “In fact, I’m going with—” I read the guy’s name tag “—Bill.”
The UPS guys’s eyes widen with surprise, but he quickly catches on. “Uh, yeah. That’s right, Ma’am, I have to leave, too.”
“Oh, that’s too bad.” Mom uses a knife to cut through the cake and puts a slice on a small tea plate. “At least Ray is home,” she says before she yells out my brother’s name.
I glare at my brother as he emerges from his bedroom, his hair a mess.
“What?” he asks when he sees my expression.
“You were here the whole time? Couldn’t you have put a stop to this?” I speak softly through gritted teeth so Mom won’t hear.
“Hey, cake is cake.” Ray shrugs.
Jerk.
I have to do everything around here. I hate being the fun police, but without me everything would crumble. It seems unless the house is literally burning down, nothing matters to Ray.
Last year, when Mom bought a huge, 55-gallon aquarium because “Sam likes fish,” I knew it was going to be trouble. And not just because we couldn’t afford it.
I was in the middle of important exams so I decided to let things go for a while. I thought Ray was bound to do something at some point.
But as the water went from cloudy to murky, it became clear that neither Mom nor Ray was going to do anything. By the time I found someone to take the massive tank off our hands, it had become a festering pool of algae.
So even though I don’t like spending my days off fending off crises, someone has to do it.
“Come on, Bill.” I look over my shoulder at the UPS guy.
“Yeah.” As Bill follows me out of the dining room, his eyes are glued to the doll sitting at the dinner table, staring blankly at the birthday cake through its beady eyes.
I open the door and step outside, where the air is nice and fresh. I take a deep breath and apologize to Bill the UPS guy with a simple “sorry.”
“Yeah, no, it’s not a problem.” He looks like he has questions, but he’s too stunned to string together the right sentences to sensitively broach the subject of what the hell has just happened.
I don’t blame him, but I don’t have time to give him an explanation either.
It would take too long to tell him a list of things that are wrong with my family. It would take an entire novel.
And my ride is here.
It’s time for me to see Gabe.
Jacqueline
Oh my God.
Gabe’s even more of a babe now.
I mean, he’s always had good looks. He’s tall, dark, and he’s quiet in a way that makes him seem intriguing—like he’s got a lot of mysterious things buried inside, just waiting to be released.
I’ve always wanted to be the person he shares his hidden thoughts with. That would be such a privilege.
I still yearn for that privilege now.
He’s older now, obviously. He was twenty-four last time I saw him, not long after It happened, so he must be thirty-two now.
I can’t pinpoint exactly which parts of his face have changed because he looks exactly the way he always has, and yet he appears different somehow. More mature. More dignified.
His voice has grown deeper, I realize, as I listen to the list of accomplished doctors Gabe is thanking.
He definitely looks like he belongs under the spotlight, with his solid figure, his strong jaw, and his high cheekbones.
But there’s an unease about him, almost like he doesn’t feel like he belongs. His outer demeanor, gruff and unfriendly, makes him seem far away.
But I can see the old Gabe inside that beautiful man. The kind, sensitive Gabe.
My heart jumps in my chest as he finishes his speech and makes his way down the stage.
Without the spotlight getting in his eyes, is he going to notice me?
Does he remember me? Does he remember how the three of us used to get in trouble together?
Am I old enough for him now?
And most importantly, is he here with someone?
My gaze follows his perfect figure as he threads his way between the tables. When he stops and pulls out a chair, I breathe a sigh of relief.
Just old people on either side of him. He doesn’t have a date.
He doesn’t have a date.
Every cell in my body thrums with excitement. And anxiety, too.
I told myself I’d talk to him if he’s here on his own, and now I know he is.
I raise my glass of champagne and take a gulp. I don’t usually drink, but if I’m going to talk to Gabe tonight, I need all the courage I can get, liquid or otherwise.
“He’s hot.”
“Huh?” I tear my gaze away from Gabe.
“Gabriel Kent. He’s hot.”
“Oh, he is?”
Karen chuckles. “Jacqueline, you stared at him for so long that I was starting to worry you’d start drooling.”
I laugh.
I’ve known Karen for one month, since we started working at the hospital. I only started to hang out with her because she had the invitations to this event, but it turns out she’s pretty cool.
“It wasn’t that bad, was it?” I ask.
“Don’t worry about it.” Karen grins. “Like, half the women in this room had their eyes on him.”
“Really?” I scan the banquet hall and assess my competition.
I know women wouldn’t leave a man like Gabe alone. He’s young, successful, good looking, wealthy, and his family has great connections. Marrying him would be a one-way ticket to a life of leisure and luxuries.
That’s not why I want him, though. I couldn’t care less about all those things. I just miss him.
I know it’s stupid. Every girl has been infatuated by her brother’s friend, but which idiot holds on to that crush for decades?
Me. I’m the idiot.
“Ooh, Brendan Wells is next. He’s really hot, too.” Karen squeals excitedly, running her fingers through her golden brown hair and smoothing out her black sheath dress as if he’s coming to personally see her.
I give Karen a smile.
I’m really only interested in Gabe. I don’t even find this Brendan guy attractive, even though the other women in the room seem to disagree with me.
I can’t tell Karen about my weird obsession with Gabe. She’s the only person I have lunch with. At one month, it’s too early to be letting her know how much of a weirdo I am. I don’t want to have to find someone else to sit with me at the cafeteria.
“Do you think that suit is Armani?” Karen squints at Brendan Wells as he makes his way to the stage.
“You don’t have to make any excuses to stare at his butt.” I grin, hiding my disinterest.
Karen giggles. “Yeah, I don’t actually care what brand that suit is.”
I take another gulp of my champagne jus
t as the waiter comes by and hold up the empty glass. He comes over to top up my booze supply.
I cast my gaze around me. “Hey, did you see where Gabe...riel went?”
“No. Maybe he went home?” Karen asks.
“Oh, no.”
“You're really going to talk to him? That's so awesome of you. I wouldn't have the guts to just go up to some hot guy I don't know.”
“Yeah. That's just how I roll.” I can feel my confidence growing as my alcohol intake goes up.
I would've told Karen he's a childhood friend, but I figured it would be weird to say, “Oh, you have invites to the award show? Gabriel Kent is my childhood friend. Can I go with you?” Because that would lead her to ask me why I’m not getting my tickets from Gabe instead.
So I acted like I was a groupie instead. And I got an invite so, you know, the main thing is I’m getting the result I want.
“Oh, that's him, right?” Karen points to the balcony beyond the row of doors along one wall of the room.
Through the glass, I see him leaning casually against the balustrade with a thin stick between his fingers. He holds it up to his lips and, a few seconds later, a cloud of white smoke floats out of his month.
“Ugh,” Karen exclaims, “I hate men who smoke, especially if they're doctors. What kind of an example is he setting for his patients?”
“Maybe he's not trying to be a role model,” I say before I can stop myself.
Karen laughs. “Okay. Remind me never to talk shit about Gabriel Kent in front of you.”
“Sorry, I’m a little distracted.” My gaze flicks between Karen and Gabe.
I don't want to lose him again. If I let Gabe out of my sight tonight, I don't know how else to find him. What if it takes me another eight years to see him again?
“Yeah, no kidding.” Karen hands me my champagne glass. “Drink up and go outside already.”
With a few big gulps, I finish my drink. Normally, I’m terrified to drink even just a tiny drop because I’ve seen what alcohol can do to people. But I’m making an exception tonight.
“Hope you get laid tonight.” Karen winks.
Oh God.
I'm such an idiot I haven't even considered that possibility.
I mean, of course I’ve thought about Gabe like that. He's the only man in my dirty fantasies.
But that's also the reason why I’m still a virgin. To me, sex is not something that happens in the real world.
But now that Gabe is really back in my life again… I don't know.
Shit. Maybe I shouldn't have drunk so much champagne.
This situation would be hard enough to navigate sober. What hope does drunk-me have?
“Karen.” I pause as I turn to face her on my chair. In despair, I say, “I’m a virgin.”
Karen’s bursts out laughing. “You could’ve fooled me. The way you were acting, I thought you were some experienced, kick-ass seductress.”
Sure, I can fool anyone as long as I don’t have to get into bed with them. But what if…
I mean, if Gabe wants to take me home, I’m not saying no. But then what happens after that, if he wants to…
Well, I do want him to take my virginity—that has been a recurring fantasy—but what if he finds my lack of experience annoying? What if it’s a turn-off?
“Oh boy, you’re really worried, aren’t you?” Karen asks when I remain serious.
I nod.
“Listen, I’m sure you’ll be just fine,” Karen says. “Just… follow your instincts and everything will be okay.
“But…” My sentence just hangs in the air as no more words come out. I just stare at Karen, panicked and unable to choose just one question to ask first.
Shit. My brain doesn’t work.
This is the worst timing in the history of everything.
“There’s nothing to worry about. It’s just talking to a cute guy. It’s not life and death,” Karen says.
She doesn’t get it. She doesn’t understand why this could be a life-destroying disaster.
Karen puts a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “Look. If there’s anything you really don’t know how to handle, just excuse yourself, say you’re going to the restroom, and find me. I’ll be here.”
It takes a few seconds for my brain to process Karen’s plan through my alcoholic fog, but once I understand what she means, it sounds like a brilliant idea.
Yes. I can do this.
I don’t have to plan for the entire night. I’ll just take it step by step.
I can get through this, with Karen’s help.
Besides, given our history, what are the chances that Gabe would even consider sleeping with me?
I was getting ahead of myself.
I’m only here to say hi because it’s been such a long time since we last saw each other.
I twist in my seat to take another look at Gabe. He’s alone and he’s not doing anything. It’s the perfect time to make an approach.
“Go get him.” Karen pats my shoulder in encouragement.
And I’m off.
Gabriel
I shouldn’t be here.
I knew it was going to take some time for me to adjust to being here, but this fucking sucks.
The spotlight feels hot on my skin, and I have to squint to even see anything. I thank a bunch of names from a list Dad gave me, then grab my shiny award and walk down the stage as strangers clap their hands.
A few doctors and their partners at my table hold out their hands as I take my seat, offering their congratulations.
What do they care, though?
They don’t even know me. All they know is I’m my father’s son, and they want to kiss his ass.
I’d say I don’t deserve this award if I thought it meant anything. These events are just gimmicks made up by people who want to stroke each other’s egos and inflate their own credentials.
I used to like going to these events, but that was back when I was younger. A lot younger. Before The Incident happened and changed everything.
Back then, I treated this annual event like a hunting ground.
I was just a med school student back then, but my dad was already one of the most important people in the business, so that made me look good to the social-climbing types. Some girls had families that would’ve killed to be connected to a name like mine.
As I scan the hall tonight, I couldn’t care less about the women. Sure, some of them are pretty. But they’re also either heartless, high-powered medical professionals or brainless, money-grubbing gold diggers.
I’ve had enough of these people.
I excuse myself from the table and push open the door leading onto the big balcony. As I walk toward the edge, I wonder if I could just keep walking and never come back. But I’ve already told my dad I’m staying, at least for a short while.
I reach the concrete balustrade and turn around. I can see the banquet hall just fine from here, through the glass inserts in the row of French doors lining the wall. I’ll just slip back inside when it’s over.
Some of Dad’s friends probably want to shake hands with me or something. And even though Dad was the one who chose to sit with his important friends at one of the tables at the front, he’ll be annoyed if he couldn’t find me at the end of the event.
I pull out a cigarette and hold it between my lips.
I don’t smoke as much as I used to. But now that I’m back home, I need a little help coping.
I flick open my Zippo and strike down on the wheel.
Let there be light.
I inhale deeply, inviting poison into my lungs and throughout my body.
It tastes strange, this Marlboro Red. It’s the same brand I’ve always smoked, but there’s a subtle difference between this and the ones in Africa.
Have I made the wrong decision?
I’ve gotten used to my life over there. I’ve lived there for eight years. Almost a decade. That’s about a quarter of my life.
Sure, life is easier here, so it’s
not like I’m going through torture. And like Dad said, things are only going to get better.
I have a bright future and I’m on track to earn more money than 99% of the American population. Nobody’s going to play a sad tune and cry for me.
But I wonder if it’s going to be enough.
Maybe that sounds ridiculous, considering how much I have. But it’s not about money.
I had enough, back in Africa, even if there was less money. I was helping people, which admittedly is an inherent part of being a physician, but I was helping those who couldn’t get help from anybody else. It meant something.
But maybe I’m too quick to dismiss the rewards of being an American doctor.
I’ve already promised Dad I’d at least try on this life for size, in exchange for his sizeable donation to my preferred charity.
Besides, I’ve been working hard to keep up with the American standards in medicine, going through countless certification examinations, all so I’d be able to come back and work here.
So I might as well give this a good shot.
But as I glance at the sorry faces that have joined me on the balcony… I’m not hopeful.
They look depressing, these pasty, overweight, middle-aged men who are starting to light up their cigarettes and make small talk with one another. I feel like Ebenezer Scrooge, being visited by The Ghost of Christmas Future. If staying here is going to turn into one of these people, I’d rather take off again.
I start to turn around to avoid being pulled into some inane conversation, but the sight of a stunning woman stops me in my tracks.
How did I not see her before?
She’s got hair so fair it’s almost white. It’s glowing under the pale moonlight. She’s like an angel… except an angel wouldn’t look so sinfully tempting.
In her red dress, she stands out like a flower against the backdrop of the white balcony and the black suits of the men who have come out to smoke.
They have noticed her, too. In my peripheral vision, I can see heads turning and eyes staring at that absolute knock-out.
She’s sexy as hell, in a classy, red-carpet way. Her dress shows just enough of her curves to keep me wondering what else is under there.
The fabric wraps beautifully around her narrow waist and lets a hint of her smooth, creamy cleavage peek out. I can almost see the flare of her hips, but the dress also widens at that point, letting my imagination fill in the rest of the picture.