by Olivia Jake
She was still groggy as we were getting her settled yet again in a hospital room when Dr. Rosenberg stopped in.
“Stephanie.” He acknowledged me coolly. No matter, the flush in my cheeks was enough to warm the entire room. I hated that with him, I was unable to hide my surprise and embarrassment. I didn’t expect to see him here.
“I heard about what happened while I was doing rounds to check on some of my other patients.” Answering my question before I could ask it and then turned to my mom. “Barbara, how are you feeling?”
“It hurts. It’s so sore.” My mom whimpered, her voice sounding smaller than ever.
“I can imagine. I’m so sorry you’re going through this.” And just like that, he was so conciliatory, so sincere. “I’ve talked with your doctor and they just want to monitor you overnight. If everything’s ok, you should be going home tomorrow.”
“Ok, thank you doctor.” She said weakly and then turned to me. “Honey, would you lower my bed?” Dr. Rosenberg and I were on either side of her bed. I hated how relieved I was that I had some barrier between us. I pressed the button, thankful to be able to look somewhere other than at him, but I could feel his eyes on me the entire time.
“Do you need anything, mom?”
“No, honey, I think I’m just going to rest.” She looked and sounded more frail than ever. Her pale grey-blue eyes looked at me, but she wasn’t completely there. The meds, procedure and disease had all taken their toll. She looked vacant. We held each other’s gaze before I smiled, and I was so grateful when the corners of her mouth turned up. It wasn’t a full on Barb smile, but it was enough to let me know she was still in there.
“Okay.” I leaned down and kissed her forehead, letting my lips linger on her smooth skin. I closed my eyes and breathed in the smell of antiseptic and bleach. This wasn’t what my mom smelled like. This was the damn hospital and its threadbare sheets and crappy antiseptic solution. This wasn’t Barb. Not by a long shot. I lingered a bit longer, but her heavy breathing was my cue that she was drifting off. As I raised my head, Dr. Rosenberg’s eyes bore into me.
“Stephanie, perhaps we could talk out in the hall while your mom rests?”
This seemed to be his go-to line, or at least it was with me. I followed him out into the hallway, expecting to talk with him there, but he kept walking. After witnessing what I just had with my mom, I wasn’t in any mood for his games. I stopped and folded my arms across my chest, watching him go, wondering if he thought I’d just pad after him. When he realized I wasn’t in tow, he turned around and stared at me and then came walking back, annoyed, keeping those damn eyes on me the entire time. What the hell was it with him and his God damned eye contact? I stood my ground with my arms still crossed.
“I would prefer not to have this conversation in the hallway. Would you please come with me into the lounge?” He said through gritted teeth. He sounded so irritated, it somehow amused me.
“Sure, why not.”
We walked into the lounge and he shut the door. I wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but I wasn’t in the mood for whatever it was. He moved towards me and I held out my hand.
“I can’t do this. I can’t just be some girl you fuck when you run into me during my mom’s treatment sessions.”
Dr. Rosenberg just shook his head and stared at me as he shoved his hands in his pockets. He opened his mouth and took a breath like he was about to say something and then just shook his head again, thinking better of it.
“What?!”
“You think that’s what this is?” he asked me like I was some idiot.
“You’re kidding me, right? What the hell else could it be? We don’t know each other. We don’t talk. Tell me, doctor, what else could it possibly be?”
“Is that what it is to you?” He spat. How could he be angry?
I don’t even know why I was engaging with him. It seemed that whenever we talked it was caustic, yet I didn’t want to leave. Whatever it was, or as bad as it was, part of me liked being there with him, even if all we were doing was arguing.
“There is no ‘it’ Dr., er Brad. We’ve had a couple, I don’t even know what to call them. Hook-ups? Sessions? Moments together? So you tell me, what is ‘it’?”
He shook his head again and after looking at me for an interminably long time, he looked at the floor and then back up. “For what it’s worth, I was going to give you a hug. Ask you how you were doing. I wasn’t going to… Never mind, Stephanie.” The way he used my full name felt like an assault, like chastisement.
This time, he was the one to walk out leaving me wondering what the hell was wrong with me. I couldn’t let myself believe that whatever we had was anything more than just a couple of fucks. But after I left the hospital that night and went to Barb’s house to take care of everything, I didn’t want to go home. I wanted to find out what the good doctor was going to say. As I drove to the Bel Air hotel bar where I’d first run into him, I wondered if I was turning into my mom, chasing after a man who couldn’t ever possibly give me what I needed, though I’m not sure anyone could have if I didn’t even know what that was.
As I walked in through the lobby towards the bar, I equally hoped he would and wouldn’t be there.
He didn’t even seem surprised to see me when I walked in. Either that, or he just hid his emotions damn well. Perhaps both of the above. I stood next to him and tried to read his face, but it gave nothing away. I wasn’t ready to sit down. I didn’t even know if I’d be staying. I just had to ask the question.
“Ok, doctor, tell me what it is to you.”
A small smile appeared on his face and he motioned for me to sit. I hesitated but knew the reality was I was glad he offered.
“Curiosity got the better of you?” He asked, his eyebrows raised. He was cute when he wasn’t being such a dick.
“That or I’m a glutton for punishment. Or both.”
“So spending time with me is like punishment?” He grinned, but I wasn’t going to let him win. Not yet.
“You’re not the easiest person to talk with.”
“Yet you came anyway?”
“Twice.” I grinned this time and he actually laughed. So the man could laugh. Who knew?
“Would you like a drink?”
“Sure.” What the hell. I was there. “Chopin martini. Thanks.”
“Expensive tastes.” Again his eyebrows raised as he took me in. I didn’t want to believe that he was actually interested in me. Then again, that was exactly what I wanted. Desperately.
“I learned early on that cheap alcohol hurts way too much the next day. Plus, life’s too short to drink cheap crap.”
He just nodded to that. I didn’t even realize what I was saying until it was out of my mouth. But it was too late. We both knew about shortened lives, perhaps him more than me. He was surrounded by death every day.
My drink arrived and we toasted, followed by a long silence.
“So?” I prompted.
“Why the sudden interest?”
“Are you really going to make me twist like this?”
“No, I’m just surprised you’re here, that’s all.” He took a sip and then added, “and glad. I’m glad you’re here, Stephanie.” This time, it felt like he used my full name to drive home his point. He wasn’t dangling bait, but I bit anyway.
“Why?”
He smiled, and seeing this man smile was disarming. It was so incongruous with so much of the rest of him.
“The few times we’ve been together,” he paused and I blushed. “And I’m not just talking about the times in my office.” My cheeks burned hotter. “The couple times I ran into you here and at the other bar… you made me forget.”
A long silence spread as we both took another sip. When I gained enough confidence, I found my voice. “Forget?” I asked softly. Too softly.
He smiled, melting me a bit. “For those brief moments, I forgot all the shit, all the death, all of the awful things and I simply enjoyed myself. With you.”
He took a long fortifying drink, and upon hearing those words, I did the same. I had no snappy comeback. No witty retort. We sat for a bit before he filled in the silence.
“You weren’t happy to see me in the hospital, yet you came here.” He stated. From anyone else, it would have been a question.
“I do a lot of things I don’t understand. You’re not the only one confused by my actions.”
“A minute ago, being with me was like punishment. Now it’s confusing?” This man was a lot more comfortable being insulted than the average guy. That, or he was just so cocky that it all just rolled off his back. Even as I thought that, I dismissed it. He was cocky, no doubt about it. But it was almost like he expected the insults. It was easier to take the shot when you put yourself in front of the fist and waited for the punch. I’d done that for years. I always assumed that someone was going to sucker punch me that I turned around and practically begged them to hurt me first.
“I wasn’t just talking about you, but yeah, it’s one word I’d use to describe how I feel about this.”
“Do you know why you came here?” He asked sincerely.
“I wanted an answer to my question.”
“And, are you satisfied with the answer?” The corners of his mouth raised with his eyebrows. There was something about him… I liked his blunt honesty.
I smiled and nodded.
We sat there in silence for a bit before he spoke again. And when he did, his expression changed from forlorn to mischievous.
“So, Stephanie, would you like to forget with me again?”
I bit my lip to stifle a smile and nodded again.
He signaled the bartender and told him to put it on his room.
“You have a room here?” I know I did a bad job of keeping the shock out of my voice.
“Why do you think I’m on a first name basis with the bartender?”
Before I could answer he stopped me. “Don’t answer that. Yes, I have a room here. And sometimes at the other hotel where I ran into you.”
My expression gave away my question before I could ask it.
“My wife, eh, ex, is in the house. It’s just easier this way.” He stopped walking and we just stood there for a moment.
For whatever reason, I didn’t want this man to sink back into reality. I liked that I helped take away his pain. I knew that because of my relationship with my mom I was hard-wired to be needed, so perhaps that’s what this was. Or I had fooled myself into thinking I was special with my gift of a willing body. It didn’t matter why though.
“Come on, doctor. Let me help you forget.” I held out my hand and when he took it he squeezed, validating my overture.
We walked hand in hand to the elevator, which was odd. Such a tender and familiar gesture from a man who could be so cold, and who still felt like a relative stranger. The sad truth was that I’d talked to and been with him more than any other guy in my past. Granted, the bar was pretty low, but whatever this was, it was progress for me.
I expected him to maul me once the elevator doors closed, but he didn’t. He didn’t make a move. We just stood there silently side-by-side, hand-in-hand, listening to the soft dings that announced each floor. I wished he’d have done something that would have taken me out of my mind, for standing there with him like this was making me more and more nervous. It gave me too much time to wonder what the hell I was doing. Far too much time. What had started out as a comforting feeling was starting to freak me out. I pulled away but he just held on tighter and started stroking the back of my hand with his thumb, which simply made me pull again, harder.
“You don’t like holding hands?”
“I, I don’t know that I can do this.”
“Hold hands? We’ve already done a lot more than that.” He smiled as he looked down at me. He was trying to be cute and sexy, but I could barely process any of it. He was being nice. This was what I thought I wanted.
“Any of it.”
He let go and turned to me. I know he could see the panic, the fear. I didn’t know why I was freaking out, but I started hyperventilating and backed away from him.
“Stephanie?” It became clear that something was seriously wrong as he came towards me, real concern in his face. My breaths were so shallow, the harder I tried to get air, the more it felt like I was suffocating. I gulped and panted, just making it worse. The more I tried to suck in air, the less I got.
Brad grabbed my arms. “Steph!”
I looked up at him, gasping.
“STEPH!” He yelled this time as he squeezed my upper arms and shook me slightly, jarring me, in a good way. When he saw that I was somewhat present, his face softened.
“Steph, calm down, try to steady your breathing. Think about each breath slowly going in and out, in and out. Visualize it, that’s it, in through your nose, out through your mouth, good, good.”
I forced myself to focus on his words and it actually worked, my breathing started calming down just as our floor dinged, panicking me again and I froze as the metal doors opened, the bright lights jarring my fragile state.
“Let’s just get you a seat and some water.” He gently led me out of the elevator but I froze again once we got into the hallway.
“I’ll just stay here.” I barely whispered, my breathing still somewhat ragged.
“Here? In the hallway?” He asked incredulously, pulling his brow together as he looked at me and then up and down the hall.
I nodded.
He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “I might be a cold jerk, but I’m not going to take advantage of you if you come to my room, if that’s what you’re worried about. So don’t be an idiot. Let me help you.”
I chuckled, his infamous bedside manner helped snap me out of whatever I was in. “You sure know how to make a girl feel special.”
He rolled his eyes again, but he couldn’t hide the hint of a smile, no matter how hard he tried to bite it back. In the span of a minute, this man went from sweet to worried to brusque. No wonder I panicked.
“Are you coming or not?” he asked as he held out his hand. I looked down at it but decided following him was better, safer.
When we got inside his room, I felt more naked than when I’d actually been so. This man had now witnessed two brief emotional breakdowns of mine.
While he retrieved some water, I sat on the couch staring into space, trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with me. He handed me the water, but made sure to sit across from me, giving me room. Still, the way he sat, leaning forward, his elbows on his thighs, staring at me, I felt so exposed.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened.”
“Has that ever happened to you before?” He asked, sounding like the doctor that he was.
I shook my head.
“So it’s just me?” He smirked.
I smiled and shrugged. “If I told you that you make me feel things I’ve never felt before with a man, would it make you feel better?”
He chuckled, “Not when those things are fear and panic.” He finally relaxed and leaned back into the couch.
“Sorry. Look, we can still, you know…”
He furrowed his brows.
“I mean, I don’t want you to think I’m a tease. So if you still, ya know…”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I don’t know. Part of me is I guess. I… I feel guilty. All you wanted to do was forget all the shit and then I go and have some panic attack.”
“So you think you owe me somehow?” He shifted back to resting his arms on his knees, no longer relaxed but seeming ready to pounce, and not in a good way.
His words made me feel even worse than I already did.
“Look, you’re a prick and I’m a mess. I guess I’m not very good with these types of things. We’ve both got our crosses to bear.”
“You know, you’ve called me a prick almost every time we’ve been together.”
“Could you think of it as a term of endearment?”
He laughed.
Each time he laughed he looked so light, he reminded me there was a soft side to him. He steepled his hands as he considered it. “Tell you what. Sit out on the balcony with me until you finish your water and I’m sure you’re ok. The fresh air will do you some good. And the view is breathtaking. Once I’m sure you’re ok to drive, you can go.”
“Yes, doctor.”
“And if you call me Dr. Rosenberg or a prick then I’ll take you back into that elevator, press the stop button and make you stay in there.” His tone was harsh but his smile belied it.
“Shock therapy?”
“Something like that. Now come on.”
His brusqueness was somehow endearing and I followed him out to the balcony. He wasn’t kidding, the view was spectacular. We were high enough up in the hills of Bel Air that we overlooked most of the Westside. At night, the twinkling lights of LA masked all the smog and crap that was really there. We sat in comfortable silence for a bit, but after a while, I felt the need to fill it.
“So how do you choose which hotel to stay at?”
He chuckled. “It depends on where I end my day. If my last appointment is at my office, then I come here. If it’s at the hospital, then I go to the Bungalow.”
“They’re not that far from each other. You don’t want one place to call home?”
“I have a home.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
I wasn’t sure what else to say. Home life was off limits. I didn’t want to talk about his work because that would lead to talk about my mom. The longer we sat there, I realized, I didn’t really want to talk at all. I wanted to lose myself in him, in something where my brain would turn off.
“Brad?”
“Hmmm?”
I stood and held out my hand. It was dark on the patio, which made it easier to say what I was about to. I could make out his features, but not seeing all of him helped.