by J. P. Oliver
About an hour after I clocked in on my first day back, Rosenfeld called me to his office. When I got there, Jolene was sitting in the chair across from his desk. She looked broken. Her eyes were puffy and red, and she was fidgeting with her signature braid.
I gulped. “You wanted to see me, sir?”
“Have a seat, Jason.” He indicated a chair near the wall opposite him and behind and to the left of Jolene. “We got the lab results back from the vial of Dilaudid that was returned to the pharmacy.”
I lowered myself slowly into the chair, fear and hope warring within me. “And what did you find?”
Dr. Rosenfeld steepled his fingers beneath his chin and met my gaze head-on. “The Dilaudid had been removed with a small syringe and replaced with normal saline. The hole left by the needle was barely detectable, and, as you know, administering normal saline to a patient would not have harmed them. If Mark hadn’t figured it out, the hospital would likely have been none the wiser.”
My mouth hung ajar as I stared at him, trying to make sense of what he was telling me. Normal saline. Small needle. “So, Mark was right?” I glanced over at Jolene. “About everything?”
Jolene still hadn’t made direct eye contact with me. Her fingers trembled as she worried her braid. “I’m sorry, Jason. I never meant for things to get so crazy.”
Even though I’d known where this was going, it shocked me to hear the beginnings of a confession. This was really happening. A small sound came out of me. A pained little squeak.
“Steve. He—” Her voice cut off, and for a moment, I thought she would burst into fresh tears and be unable to speak. But she rallied, grasped the arms of the chairs until her delicate knuckles started to turn white, and pushed through the tears. “Steve is addicted to Dilaudid, and he talked me into doing it, too. At first, I was just doing it to please him. I would have done anything, I guess, to make him like me. We were doing it every night for a while, and I got hooked on it.”
“God, Jolene.” I hadn’t meant to say anything, but it just popped out. How could the woman I talked to on a near-daily basis be confessing this to me? It was surreal.
“He dumped me,” she said. “That night at the New Year’s party. He left with that blonde at the bar, and I had to go home by myself. I always seem to end up with the shittiest guys in the world, and this one was the worst yet. He got me hooked on Dilaudid and then left me high and dry. I’ve treated so many patients for withdrawals, but until you’ve experienced it yourself, you have no idea.”
“Jolene.” I was so blown away by what she was telling me, it was the only word I could force out of my mouth.
I wanted to feel relieved that I wasn’t to blame for Terwilliger’s death after all, but all I could feel was a strange mixture of pity and anger. I was floundering. This was a woman I’d trusted, and now she was confirming that she’d nearly caused me to go to prison. Part of me felt sorry for her, but another part felt so damn betrayed. And stupid. How had I not noticed the changes in her?
“I was hurting that day, Jason.” Fresh tears coursed down her cheeks. “Not only had I been rejected, but I was having some serious withdrawals. And then, thanks to you and Mark, some Dilaudid fell right into my lap. I wasn’t thinking clearly, I swear. When I got to the pharmacy, they told me that Dilaudid had been added to the order. I knew y’all weren’t going to give the patient both of them, but I knew he had to get something. If I just gave him normal saline, he would have just kept hollering, and somebody might have caught on. That was my line of thinking, anyway. So, I slipped into the bathroom, shot up the Dilaudid, and replaced it with normal saline. Then when you told me to give Mr. Terwilliger the Dilaudid, I gave him the morphine instead, never dreaming that he might be allergic to it. I’m sorry, Jason. You trusted me, and I betrayed you.”
“Even worse, you killed a man,” I said.
“Don’t you think I know that? I haven’t been able to sleep since I found out how he died. You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about killing myself. But every time I came close, all I could think about was how you said I was strong. I wanted to believe that, I really did.” Tears were coursing hard down her cheeks, and her words were so tangled up in sniffles, it was difficult to understand them. “I wasn’t going to let you go down for this, Jason. I was just waiting to see what happened, and if things got too bad, I was gonna confess. I was just trying to get my courage up, you know? You have to believe me.”
I didn’t know if I believed her or not, but I told her in a hollow voice that I did.
It was a bittersweet victory. I hadn’t wanted to talk to Mark through prison glass, conjugal visits or not. But a man was still dead, and a woman I’d cared about enough to call a friend had caused his death. She was probably going to prison for sure, and I didn’t know quite how I felt about that.
When our uncomfortable meeting was over, Dr. Rosenfeld followed me out into the hall, leaving Jolene crying and sniffling in his office. We faced each other awkwardly for a moment before Rosenfeld stuffed his hands into the pockets of his lab coat and smiled.
“I know this is probably not the best time for this,” he said. “But I wanted to let you know how much I value you as a doctor. I wish Mark had called me out on my bad behavior sooner. I didn’t mean to make you feel inferior.”
I swallowed a lump. “Thank you, Dr. Rosenfeld. That means a lot.”
“Friends?” He pulled his right hand out of his pocket and offered it to me.
I shook it. “Friends.”
He let out a relieved breath. “Good. Because I’d hate for there to be any bad blood between us after your residency is over.” He grinned and leaned in with a conspiratorial wink. “When we’re both working here.”
My eyes widened, and I searched for words. Any words. Because… was he saying what I thought he was saying?
“Do you mean…”
“Yes,” Rosenfeld said. “That’s exactly what I mean. I’d be crazy to let a talented doctor like you get away.”
I floated through the rest of the day on cloud nine knowing that, despite everything that had happened, my future at Vanderbilt was secure.
A couple of days later, Mark and I were sitting in the break room eating lunch when Alex Trevayne came in. He was as haughty as ever, ignoring me and chatting with Mark.
“So, you haven’t RSVP’d to my mom’s even yet,” Alex said. “Your mom said she wants us to come by after and hang out.”
For a moment, Mark looked supremely uncomfortable. But then he straightened in his chair and slung an arm over the back of mine. “I want to RSVP, but I need to add a plus one.”
Alex narrowed his eyes. “Who are you bringing?”
Mark glanced over at me and smiled before turning back to Alex. “Jason is going to be my date. We’ve been…uh…well, we’re together now.”
I nearly choked on my sweet and sour pork.
If Alex had been eating anything, I thought he probably would have choked, too. But he blinked away the shock and confusion and finally nodded. “Can’t say I’m not disappointed.” His gaze slid over to me, and I thought I saw more animosity than usual. Or maybe resentment was a better word. “You know, Mark and I go way back,” he said.
I recognized his comment for what it was. This was him getting the last word. Somehow, I found that it didn’t bother me much. He may have gotten the last word, but I had Mark.
I shot him a smug look. “That’s nice. Maybe we can double date sometime. Are you seeing anyone?”
Jake huffed and pushed up from the table without answering. “I’ll tell my mom you’re coming.”
After he left the break room, I rounded on Mark. “That was fucking awesome. But in the future, maybe you could warn a guy.”
Mark shrugged. “Okay, consider this your warning. I’m not hiding anymore.” He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, tapped the screen, then put it to his ear. “Hi, Mother.”
I gaped at him and whispered, “What are you doing?”
�
�Yeah, listen,” he said. “I finally RSVP’d to Mrs. Trevayne’s event. Yes, I’m looking forward to it, too, but I’m afraid I won’t be joining you for the get-together afterward. I’m bringing a date. Well, I can’t help that. Ariel Trevayne is too young for me, and you know it. And besides, I’m already seeing someone.” He paused, rolling his eyes, and I could see how nervous he was. “It’s Jason Whitham. You know, the one you were rude to in my apartment the other day.”
I heard what sounded like chastising coming through the phone. Not exactly the most romantic coming out ever, but I couldn’t help the feeling of pride that surged in me. Mark had done it. He’d come out to his mother. It was a huge step.
Mark pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it. “She hung up on me.”
I put a hand on his shoulder. “She’ll come around. I’m sure of it.”
Mark nodded. “She will. She may be a bitch, but she loves me.” He offered me a sheepish grin. “Guess that was a pretty cowardly way to do it. Over the phone.”
“Not at all. I thought it was very brave, especially for a guy who was firmly in the closet a few days ago. Mothers are scary as hell. Which reminds me.” I pulled my own phone out of my pocket. “I have my own call to make.” At Mark’s bewildered expression, I said, “I can’t let you show me up.”
When my mother answered the phone, I nearly chickened out. But then I thought of how fearless Mark had just been and said, “Hi, Mom. How are you?”
“We’re fine,” she said in her usual flat tone. The one she reserved for me. I would have felt better if she’d yelled at me like Mark’s mom had done to him. At least it would have proven that she had some sort of feeling when it came to me. The apathy was much worse, but it served to make me angry and strengthen my resolve.
“Look, Mom. I have something to tell you.”
“Is this about the money?” she asked. “You’re a few days late sending it this month, and it caused me to bounce some checks at the bank. I’m not complaining, but I may need a little bit extra to make up for it.”
I swallowed. “Yes, it’s about the money. I’m going to send it to you this month, and I’ll throw in a couple hundred extra to make up for the bounced checks. But Mom… This will be the last time I send you money.”
“What?” she asked, shock apparent in her voice. Finally some emotion, I thought, even if it wasn’t the one I wanted.
“Yeah, I’ve helped you and Dad long enough. It’s time for me to quit living like a pauper and keep my own money. I can’t afford to support myself when I’m sending you nearly every penny I make.”
“But what will we do?” she asked. “Your father is sick.”
“I know that, but I’ve been looking into some programs that could help you. It won’t be as much as I’ve been sending, but it will help, especially if you guys sell the house and get something cheaper.”
“I can’t believe it,” she said, her voice edged with anger now. “After we raised you, this is what we get? We didn’t even turn our backs on you when you humiliated the entire family. Do you know how hard it is having a gay for a son? You should see the looks we get at church.”
“Maybe you should change churches,” I said. “After you sell the house, maybe you can find a more tolerant church in your new neighborhood. Or just keep me a secret. You haven’t considered me part of the family for a long time, anyway.”
Mark took my hand in his, wrapping his warm fingers around mine and squeezing. His show of support helped me push back the rising panic I was feeling. Because this was it. My family had all but disowned me when I’d come out, and now I was disowning them back. It hurt, but at the same time, it felt like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders.
I was just about to tell my mom that I’d still be around if she ever just wanted to talk, but the phone line went dead.
“Well,” I told Mark, shoving my phone back into my pocket. “We’re two for two. She hung up on me.”
“Fuck ‘em,” Mark said, surprising me with a grin. “We’re together, and that’s all that matters. And for the record, I’m proud of you for standing up to your mom. You work damn hard for that money, Jason. You shouldn’t have to hand it all over and get nothing but derision in return. Maybe they’ll come around, and maybe they won’t, but at least you’ve stood up for yourself.”
I threw my arms around his neck, not caring now if anyone walked in and found us there. We were really doing this. We were a couple, and even the lingering guilt about my family and the horror of the Terwilliger incident couldn’t put a damper on my euphoria. Mark was finally mine, and dammit, I was happy. So happy that I literally giggled when he wound his strong fingers in my hair and pressed a gentle kiss to my lips.
Jason
Two months almost to the day after Mark and I had shared our first kiss, I found myself standing in the banquet room of the country club surrounded by men and women in their finest outfits. It was my first big social event, and I was nervous as hell.
Lyla Johnson grabbed my black tie and dragged me to her. “This thing is a mess,” she said. “Who in the world taught you how to tie a Windsor knot?”
“YouTube,” I admitted with a wince. “I thought I did a pretty good job.”
“Well, you didn’t.” She proceeded to re-tie it for me with nimble fingers that had obviously done this a lot over the years. “There,” she said when she was done. She patted the tie and straightened my lapels. Then she did that annoying thing she always did, picking invisible specs of lint from my perfectly clean black jacket.
I stood back and let her inspect me, feeling stiff and uncomfortable in the suit even though it cost more than a good used car. “How do I look? I asked, not sure if I wanted to hear her answer.
She smiled. It wasn’t a big smile, but it was more than I ever thought I’d get from her when we’d first met. “You look very handsome.” And then she pinched my cheek.
Arthur Johnson approached, looking dapper in his own black suit. I was always amazed at how much his son favored him, and I thought maybe I could see what Mark would look like a few years down the road when his hair had started to gray. I had to say I was almost looking forward to it. Arthur was a very handsome man.
“Where’s Mark?” I asked.
“He’s in the back having a drink with the some of the men. Lionel Trevayne brought cognac, of course.”
I felt a pang of rejection at not having been invited to join them, but the truth was, I would rather have been out here with Lyla. And that was saying a lot.
Lionel must have seen the disappointment in my expression. He patted my shoulder and said, “He’ll be out in just a minute. They cornered him on his way out of the restroom, and he didn’t want to be impolite.”
A few minutes later, Mark came into the room, and I knew I’d never seen a more gorgeous man. Mark in a black suit was a walking spank bank. I couldn’t help the smile that overtook my face.
He approached with a smile that matched mine in intensity. His parents politely took their leave after taking turns hugging their son, and Mark took my hand in his. “So…” he said with a mischievous grin. “Do you think I’ve earned it now?”
“Earned what?” I asked, playing dumb.
He leaned in and whispered in my ear. “That ass, Dr. Whitham. I think I’ve waited long enough.”
I laughed. “Hey, I’ve tried to give it to you every night since we got back from the lake. You’re the one who insisted you hadn’t earned it yet.”
His smile turned tender. “I wanted you to know I was serious. If you’d had a single moment of doubt about my intentions, I wouldn’t have been able to forgive myself.”
“Or maybe you just like getting fucked too much,” I teased.
His face turned bright red, and he looked around to make sure there was no one to overhear. Then he leaned in and said, “I do love being your bottom boy.”
“Mmmm…” I wound my arms around his neck and leaned in close, nipping his earlobe with my teeth. “What time i
s it?” I said where only he could hear. “Maybe we have time to slip off to the locker room. I could lock the door and bend you over one of the benches. Remind you who owns that ass.”
“Mark,” Reverend Calvert called from across the room.
Both Mark and I jumped, and we split apart like two halves of the Red Sea.
“Be right there, Reverend Calvert.” Mark pulled me along behind him, toward the elderly preacher who waited with a smile on his lined face.
“So nice to see you boys again,” he said. “There’s quite a crowd here. Are you ready to begin?”
Mark gave a terse nod, his stiffness giving away his nerves. “Let’s do this.”
I rolled my eyes and faced him. “Could you possibly be any more romantic?”
“I’ll show you how romantic I can be later, babe. Right now, let’s just get married.”
I looked out over the crowd of finely-dressed guests, including all of our friends and acquaintances from the country club and the hospital. Dr. Rosenfeld stood beside the Johnsons, looking for all the world like a proud father, and Roberta Collins stood on the other side of him, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. Alex was there, of course. He and I still weren’t bosom buddies or anything, but we’d forged a truce of sorts, and it wasn’t too bad.
As Reverend Calvert started reciting his piece, I barely heard him. Even when I was repeating my own vows, I was somewhere else. Lost in Mark’s dark eyes as he stood proudly in front of me, claiming me in front of God and everybody, and being claimed by me in return.
“Could I have the rings, please?” Reverend Calvert asked.
I’d expected Mark to pull them from his jacket pocket like we’d rehearsed. Instead, he squatted low to the floor and whistled. “Who wants a treat?” he called, and everyone laughed at that. Especially Joe the baker, whose eyes shone with pride from the front of the crowd. His daughter stood at his side, grinning maniacally.
To my surprise and amazement, Bill came trotting from the back of the room with a ring pillow tied around his neck. The bells on the corners of the pillow jingled with every step. He came right up to Mark, who traded him a fish treat for the ring pillow, and more laughter rang out. Bill ran off to maul his treat in a corner of the room while Mark handed the ring pillow to Reverend Calvert and removed one of the matching white gold bands. I took the other and faced him.