Dark Moon

by Victoria Wakefield

  The man turned around and I could see the patient on the bed, a frail old lady with no hair.

  “Just doing my rounds,” he said, holding out his hand for me to shake. “I’m Dr. Reynolds. Michael Reynolds.”

  I forced myself to let go of the cart and step forward to shake his hand. Dr. Reynolds was quite possibly the most attractive man I had ever seen in my life. He looked like an actor who plays a doctor in a movie. He had thick, dark brown hair, a chiseled face and beautiful hazel eyes.

  “And you are?” Dr. Reynolds was looking at me with a bemused expression. Had he noticed me studying him?

  “Lana Luna,” I said, shaking his hand.

  “That’s a very pretty name,” Dr. Reynolds said with a smile. He turned to the woman in the bed. “Mrs. Watson, this lovely young lady has brought you your lunch,” he said in a loud voice.

  I walked back to the cart and took off a tray. Mrs. Watson smiled faintly. “Maybe later. If you could just leave it by the bed, dear.”

  I did as I was told. “Nice to meet you,” I said, looking at Mrs. Watson. But I didn’t mean her. I could sense Dr. Reynolds watching as I left. I hadn’t felt that strong of an attraction to anyone before, not even Damon.

  Don’t even let yourself think that way, Lana. No, I would forget about Dr. Reynolds. Because not forgetting about him could only lead to trouble.

  ###

  I had to go back to floor two to sign out when my volunteer shift ended. “How was your day?” Nurse Evie asked me.

  I shrugged. “Fine.”

  “Did you get to see Dr. Reynolds?” Before I could answer, Nurse Evie continued, “Believe me, you can’t miss him. He’s a Greek God.”

  “Oh yeah,” I said nonchalantly. “I met him.”

  Evie leaned in and lowered her voice. “Isn’t he hot? Have you ever seen a man like that in real life before?”

  I didn’t answer. She was annoying me. So I said the most obnoxious thing I could think of to say. “If you like him so much, why don’t you date him?”

  “It doesn’t work like that,” Nurse Evie snapped. “Have you never had a boyfriend before? It’s not like you can just go to the store and pick one out.”

  Now it was my turn to bristle. “Of course I’ve had a boyfriend. Lots of boyfriends.” I needed to chill. I was sounding really defensive. I laughed, hoping to break the tension. “He’s probably married anyway, right?”

  “No,” Nurse Evie said. “Can you believe it?”

  “Hmm,” was all I replied.

  “And he’s super duper nice. A lot of the doctors up here are real dicks. They’ve got a God complex and treat the nurses like garbage. But Dr. Reynolds is different. He always comes down to say hello when he’s at the hospital, unless of course he gets crazy busy. And he’ll do things like bring the nurses bagels or donuts. He’s such a great guy,” she gushed.

  “That’s very thoughtful,” I agreed. “Maybe he likes you, and that’s why he does it?” I was humoring Nurse Evie. It wasn’t my proudest moment, but I knew she’d be flattered if I thought she was in the same league as Michael Reynolds.

  There was nothing wrong with Nurse Evie, but she’s more what you’d call cute than pretty or stunning. She was petite, with a headful of ringlet curls and an upturned nose.

  “Do you really think so?” Nurse Evie squealed. I had made her day.

  I shrugged again. “You never know,” I said vaguely. “What days does he come to the hospital?” I heard myself asking. I immediately regretted the words.

  Evie’s eyes flashed triumphantly. She couldn’t understand how I didn’t have an instant crush on Dr. Reynolds, and now I’d let her know that I did.

  “Usually Tuesdays and Fridays,” she replied.

  “Oh, okay. Well I’d better get going.”

  “See you Monday!” she called.

  Chapter 4

  When I got home that evening, Maryanne was standing in front of the mirror on our wall, carefully applying mascara. “Going out?” I asked.

  “Yeah, there’s a party at Sigma Chi house. Want to come?” she said without looking at me.

  “No, thanks.” I slung my purse on the floor and sat down in the chair in front of my desk.

  “Oh come on, Lana,” Maryanne wheedled. “You never go out. There’s going to be this guy there - ”

  I held up my hand. “Woah, you can stop right there, MA,” I interrupted, using the nickname I’d given to her freshmen year.

  “But why?” she whined. “I’ve known you for two years now, and you’ve never had a boyfriend, or even a date, in all that time.”

  “I’m just really focused on academics,” I said lamely.

  “Even brainy girls go on dates. And it’s not for lack of interest! Do you know how many guys have asked me about you? Too many to count!” Maryanne’s face turned serious. “Is there something you aren’t telling me?”

  “I’m not a lesbian, if that’s what you’re asking,” I said dryly.

  Maryanne laughed. “You dork. I know that! You’re too feminine to be a lesbian.”

  “That’s not true,” I argued. “Haven’t you heard of lipstick lesbians?” I was enjoying our banter.

  “Don’t try to change the subject!” Maryanne said. “I mean, I know this is personal, but have you ever had a boyfriend before?”

  “Yes,” I answered defensively.

  “Did something bad happen? Is that why you’ve sworn off romance?”

  I hesitated for only a moment. “No.”

  But Maryanne picked up on my pause. “You’re hiding something,” she said quietly. “I’m your best friend. You can confide in me.”

  I had never told anyone about the night It happened, not even Carrie. I’d left Damon, bloodied and bruised, passed out with a concussion, and run back to my cabin. The next day he said he was out for a walk and fell down a hill, and that’s how he’d gotten so beaten up.

  Why not tell her? I thought. I had nothing to lose. I wouldn’t reveal the real ending, of course. But it would give her a reason, an explanation for why I didn’t date.

  “There was an incident,” I said slowly. “I was fifteen. To make a long story short, my boyfriend tried to rape me. We were at summer camp, and I was dumb enough to think he’d be okay with making out every night, and not try to take it any further.” I studied my nails as I was speaking. It sounded so weird to say the words out loud.

  Maryanne gasped. “What the fuck? Are you fucking serious? That’s horrible!”

  “I know!” I exclaimed. “I haven’t felt like dating much since then. Although I did have another boyfriend, Jeff, about a year later.”

  “Well no wonder you’re gun – er, guy – shy.” Maryanne had a shocked expression on her face. “How did you get away? Did you press charges?”

  “I kicked him in the balls,” I lied. “And then I ran.”

  Maryanne let out a low whistle. “I always knew you were one tough chick.”

  If only you really knew what I was, I thought sadly.

  “To answer your other question, no, I didn’t press charges. His father got a new job a few weeks into the school year and he moved out of state,” I said.

  “Did you at least talk to anyone? Like a school counselor or something?”

  “Nope, you’re the only soul in the world I’ve ever told.”

  Maryanne smiled. “Well, I’m flattered you could open up to me.” She paused. “Can I ask you something else? It’s personal and you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” Maryanne wouldn’t look me in the eye.

  “Ask away,” I said.

  “Are you, a, um virgin?”

  “Yes,” I answered.

  “I had no idea,” Maryanne said apologetically. “You must think I’m a terrible person, having guys over as often as I do.”

  I laughed. “Don’t be an idiot. You should do what makes you happy,” I said honestly. “Life is too short not to.”

  Maryanne looked relieved. “Do you want to talk about it some more?�
��

  “Nah, the past is the past. Go to your party; you don’t want to be late.”

  “You’re more important than any party,” Maryanne said. “In fact, why don’t I ditch it? I’ll get my friend Doug to buy us wine and we can eat pizza and watch movies.”

  “That does sound nice, but I don’t want you to change your plans because of me. You look great and I know how much you like those frat parties,” I said.

  “I’m sure there will be another one tomorrow.” Maryanne waved her hand dismissively. She picked up her phone to make a call.

  “Hey, Dougie,” she said in a flirty voice. Pause. “No, I can’t get together tonight, but that’s sweet of you to ask. I’m having a girls’ night in. Can you be a dear and get us a couple bottles of wine?” Pause. “You will? Oh Dougie, you really are the best. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

  Maryanne grinned and hung up the phone. “Doug will be here with wine in about half an hour. I asked for two – you know, just in case we need one more sip after the first bottle is gone.”

  “Don’t get me too drunk,” I countered. “You might bring out my inner lipstick lesbian.”

  Maryanne snickered. “Whatever.”

  “You’ve really got them wrapped around your finger,” I commented, thinking about how confident she sounded talking to Doug. I had never paid much attention to the boys who earned an envelope on the door – who the fuck was I to judge? If Maryanne wanted to have fun, then she should have fun. Sex was just sex. I’d never had it, but I still had no problem with the concept – as long as it involved two consenting people.

  “You could too,” she shot back. “If you wanted.”

  “Well, I don’t want.” Before she could say anything else I grabbed my iPad off my desk. “What pizza do you want, MA?”

  She wrinkled her nose and pushed her long blond hair behind her shoulders. “Low carb?” We both laughed.

  “Thin crust, pepperoni and olive?” I suggested. It was really just a routine. Maryanne and I always got the same pizza. “You can just eat the toppings, if you’re worried about carbs,” I offered, knowing full well that we’d both chow down on the delicious slices and bemoan our stupid decision the next day.

  Maryanne nodded vigorously. “That sounds like a plan.”

  I put the order through, then grabbed a quick shower. I must have been getting used to the hospital, because I didn’t picture all of the imaginary germs that were permeating my skin. Soon after I had gotten out of the shower and thrown on a pair of shorts and a tank top, Doug turned up with the wine.

  “Hey, baby,” he said when Maryanne opened the door, leaning in to kiss her. She turned her face so that he was forced to kiss her cheek instead. I stifled a laugh.

  “You really are the best,” she gushed, ushering Doug into the room. “Let me go get some glasses. You should stay and have a drink with us.” Maryanne walked into the small kitchen area and started searching for wine glasses.

  “Hi, Lana,” Doug said awkwardly.

  “Hey,” I replied. We stood there in uncomfortable silence. It’s not that I had anything against Doug, I just didn’t know him. He was good-looking, with strawberry blond hair and an athletic build. But Doug wasn’t the type Maryanne usually favored. Like me, MA preferred men who were tall with dark hair.

  Doug was one of the guys Maryanne had ‘dated’ off and on for as long as I could remember. I wondered if he thought he was her boyfriend. He did try to kiss her at the door.

  Thankfully, Maryanne returned and set down three wine glasses on the table in the middle of the room. Our dorm room was tiny; each of our beds was on opposite sides of the room. Apart from that, the only other furniture was my desk, the table in the middle and Maryanne’s oversized swivel chair.

  “Have a seat,” Maryanne said to Doug, who was still standing with his hands stuffed in his pockets. He sat down on the edge of her bed and, after pouring the wine, Maryanne sat down next to him, so close that their legs were touching. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

  It was another reason I didn’t go to social events. I couldn’t stand watching other people flirt. I didn’t like it, even back when I was with Damon. At first I thought it was because I was no good at flirting, but I later realized it was because it was all so fake. Why the pretense? How come people couldn’t just say what they thought?

  I downed my red wine in one big gulp and reached for the bottle to pour another. Maryanne flashed a concerned look in my direction.

  “Cheers,” I said, raising my glass towards them.

  “Lana just started an exciting new volunteer shift at the hospital,” Maryanne said, trying to drag me into the conversation. I shot her a dirty look.

  “Oh yeah? How’s that going?” Doug asked.

  Like he cares. He just wants me to leave and Maryanne to put the envelope up on the door.

  “Fine.” I took another big sip of my wine. It was starting to make me feel light-headed. I liked the sensation. I hadn’t eaten since the morning and I wasn’t much of a drinker to begin with.

  I found myself thinking about Dr. Reynolds, wondering what his body looked like under that white doctor’s coat. Snap out of it! I told myself sternly. I tried to focus on the conversation between Maryanne and Doug.

  “You should really come watch me play,” Doug was saying. That’s right. Doug is on the baseball team.

  “Definitely! Just tell me when your next game is!” Maryanne said enthusiastically. Then she stood up abruptly. Doug looked confused. Apparently he had forgotten he was bringing us wine for a girls’ night.

  Finally getting the hint, Doug also stood. “I’d better get going,” he said reluctantly.

  Maryanne walked him to the door. “Thanks again.” This time, she leaned forward to kiss him, on the mouth. The last thing I saw as she shut the door was Doug’s big dopey grin.

  I couldn’t help but laugh.

  “What?” she asked, plopping down into the swivel chair.

  “Nothing. I can tell he’s really into you. It’s sweet. You should make him your boyfriend.” I wasn’t really being serious. After two glasses of wine, picking on MA was kind of fun.

  “Please. I’m young, I’m not making anyone my boyfriend.” Maryanne topped up both of our wine glasses.

  When the pizza finally arrived, we were half drunk. “I’ll go get it,” I said. “You might be compelled to flirt with the delivery boy, if he’s cute enough.” Maryanne threw a pillow at me as I walked out of the dorm room.

  Our room was on the third floor of the dormitory. You needed a key card to get into the building, so we always had to meet the delivery people outside. I wonder how Doug had an access card. The dorm was all girls. Knowing Maryanne, she probably bribed someone to get it for him. Maybe she really is serious about Doug.

  I missed a step and grabbed the railing to steady myself. Yikes. I’m so tipsy.

  The pizza man did not look amused when I finally got to the door and painfully counted out my money to pay him. I should have let Maryanne do this. He was old, bald and short.

  I had just turned to go back inside when I thought I heard someone say my name. I hesitated.

  “Lana?” This time the voice was questioning. If I’d been sober, I would have just kept walking. But curiosity and too much wine got the better of me.

  I spun around, grabbing the doorframe to steady myself.

  “Dr. Reynolds?” I asked. I squinted into the night, even though I have 20/20 vision.

  “I thought that was you.” Dr. Reynolds smiled.

  Some girls were trying to come inside the dorm, so I stepped outside to get out of their way. “What the hell are you doing here?” I knew I sounded drunk, but there was no way to mask it.

  If Dr. Reynolds noticed, he didn’t let on. “I’m looking for my niece, Becky Dunn. She lives in this dorm. Do you know her?”

  “No, the name isn’t familiar,” I said. “You have a niece that’s in college?” I blurted out, immediately regretting the question. I could f
eel my face go red and hoped he wouldn’t notice in the darkness.

  He laughed. “Yes, my older sister had a daughter when she was sixteen.”

  “Oh,” I said dumbly. “So how old are you?” What the fuck are you doing, Lana?

  “Ha, you don’t beat around the bush, do you?” Dr. Reynolds looked amused.

  “I - I’m sorry,” I stuttered. “I’ve had a couple of drinks and forgotten my manners. Just ignore me.” I turned to go back into the building.

  “Wait. I’m just teasing you. I’m twenty-nine.”

  I swung back around. “Really?” I asked in surprise.

  “How old did you think I was? Fifty? Seventy-five? It’s always nice to have a pretty girl tell you that you look much older than your age.” Dr. Reynolds was still smiling.

  So this is flirting. Dr. Reynolds is flirting with me. It was the first time that I could see why women liked this attention, and I wanted to embrace the moment, but I didn’t know how.

  “You don’t look fifty,” I said lamely.

  He laughed. “That’s good to know.”

  I held the pizza box in front of my chest, acutely aware that I hadn’t put on a bra after my shower. We stood there in silence, not quite making eye contact.

  “So now it’s your turn for a confession,” he finally said. “You already told me you’ve been drinking. So how old are you?”

  “Legal drinking age,” I said, jutting my chin out defiantly.

  “Okay, Lana, whatever you say,” Dr. Reynolds replied, laughing. “You do realize I could check your file at work?”

  I felt a moment of panic. Was he serious? Was I about to get busted for having wine on a Friday night, in the safety of my dorm room?

  Seeing my expression, Dr. Reynolds quickly said, “I’m kidding. It’s a joke. It’s not my business anyway. And your pizza is getting cold.” He pointed to the box in my hand, the box that I was still using to try to mask my braless boobs.

  “I can reheat it.” Why was I doing this? Why not just leave? “Is there something wrong with your niece?” I heard myself asking.

  Dr. Reynolds sighed. “I doubt it. My sister, Rose, is a bit overprotective. Hasn’t been able to get in touch with Becky for three days, and she doesn’t live near here, so I said I’d stop by and see if I could check on her.”