Necessary Medicine

by M. K. York

  “You did! What the fuck!”

  “Look, it’s still—” Neil blew out a breath. “Still really new. I don’t want to fuck anything up.”

  “It’s serious?” Mark had gotten more than a few decibels louder. Neil flinched.

  “Keep it down!”

  “Okay, I need to know more!”

  “What is it with you and Pete? Fucking gossip yentas!”

  “That doesn’t even make sense, and furthermore you told Pete but not me? I’m hurt. I’m hurt. You know I’m in recovery, you have to be gentle with me.”

  “Oh, fuck you,” said Neil without heat. “Pete had a heart attack. You do that, I’ll open up about my feelings.”

  “You do have feelings, though.” Mark pointed at him with a forkful of salad. “You have a boyfriend.”

  “Yeah.” Neil felt himself starting to smile against his will. “Yeah.”

  “Shit! That’s awesome!” Mark looked genuinely happy, grinning at Neil across the table, and Neil was struck by how long it had been since Mark had looked like that, had smiled without shadows or hollow eyes. Mark was still skinnier than he’d been back when they were starting out, scrub top bagging on his frame, but he didn’t look so haunted.

  “You’re looking good yourself,” said Neil. “Things going good?”

  Mark nodded, going back to spear the hardboiled egg. “Shrink’s got me on citalopram, and I think the sessions are helping. I’m learning distress tolerance skills right now.”

  “Sounds like something they should teach us all before residency.”

  “Yeah, doesn’t it? But don’t change the fucking subject, who are you dating? Tell me about this guy.”

  “You, uh,” said Neil and coughed a little. “You have to keep it quiet.”

  “I’m a vault. Who the fuck is it? Oh my God. Oh my God.” Mark was staring openly at him with wide eyes. “That meeting—I heard Newcombe said something—are you dating him?”

  Neil glanced around and then risked a short nod. A random restaurant was one thing; the hospital cafeteria was another entirely.

  Mark lifted one hand, whooping, and yelled, “HIGH FIVE!”

  Neil had to laugh helplessly as he lifted his hand and returned it.

  * * *

  Neil texted Eli on his way out of the hospital. Heading to Pete’s

  Good. Don’t forget to get dinner

  I promise we will both eat

  He stopped to pick up dinner at a crunchy hippy place—all sprouts and greens—as a decent compromise between what he wanted and what would be good for Pete.

  Not that Pete cared much; when he showed up and let himself in with the spare key, Pete was dozing in front of the television.

  “Wakey, wakey.” Neil headed for the kitchen, rattling around as he went fishing for forks.

  “Ugh,” said Pete. “Don’t even start. I got up and walked today.”

  “Are you taking your meds?”

  “Yes, Junior, I am taking all my meds.”

  “How much did you walk?”

  Pete held out one ankle with a pedometer strapped to it. “Like three miles. I’m not getting a clot. It’s fine.”

  “Good. Now you’ve got to eat.”

  Pete made a face, levering himself up and trudging over to the table. “Christ. Between you and Eli, I’m getting nagged to within an inch of my life.”

  “Well, being within an inch of your life should be familiar to you by now.”

  “Oh, stop giving me shit about that.”

  “You didn’t see a doctor for how many years?”

  “I saw plenty of doctors! I’m seeing one right now!”

  “Yeah, but you have to actually go to appointments.”

  “Gimme.” Pete held out one hand, and Neil passed over the clamshell box with Pete’s salad. “Oh, Jesus, what is this rabbit food?”

  “It’s not bad.” Neil had already started on his own. “The avocado at least gives it some fat.”

  “Yeah, whatever,” muttered Pete. Then he lifted his gaze, and his piercing stare was laser focused on Neil. Neil dropped his eyes to his plate immediately. “So. How was your day?”

  “Good. I had lunch with Mark.”

  “Oh, yeah? How’s he doing?”

  “Better, I think.”

  And even though Neil was on tenterhooks, Pete kept not asking, so by the time they’d gone for a little walk after dinner (Pete complaining the whole way, shuffling grimly along the sidewalk in the warm evening air) and settled in to watch some more TV, Neil felt like a nervous wreck.

  He finally broke. “You’re not going to ask?”

  “Don’t need to.” Pete didn’t look away from the home-remodeling show they’d compromised on.

  Neil let that sit for a minute before he burst out, “Why not?”

  Pete just shrugged.

  “Did you talk to Eli?”

  “Oh, look, they’re going with hardwood floors. I think it’s a good call.”

  “You’re trying to give me a heart attack, aren’t you? It’s working.”

  Pete sighed, rolling out his shoulders. “Look,” he said, slowly, “you and Eli—don’t make me get sappy about this—you’re my best friends. So. Whatever one of you said to me, it would be between us.”

  “Oh,” said Neil.

  “I just—I gotta say, I think you could both have done a lot worse.” Pete shrugged again.

  “Wait, is that a compliment? It is!”

  “Don’t get used to it.”

  They were halfway through the grand reveal at the end of the episode when Neil said, “I’m—so happy, I don’t even know what to do with it.”

  Pete glanced over at him with a half smile. “So hang on to it. Easy answer.”

  * * *

  After they’d gotten Pete sufficiently rehabilitated and fully acclimated to the reality of his new life as a man who did in fact have to go to the doctor once in a while, and disabused him of the notion that Eli was just saying that to be a wet blanket, Neil found himself at loose ends: Eli on call at the hospital, on a night when Neil didn’t have to be at work.

  “Mark!” Neil yelled into the men’s room.

  Mark’s muffled response from one of the stalls was hardly encouraging.

  “Drinks after work?”

  There was a moment of mutinous, resentful silence before Mark said, “Call Kristi. If she’s up for it I’ll go.”

  Kristi was, in fact, up for it. She was so up for it that when Neil texted her to check in, her near-instantaneous response was a string of wine and martini emojis, a smiley face blowing a kiss, and several different hearts.

  “Who does this?” Neil asked, waving his phone at Mark, who’d reappeared at the next dictation booth. Mark hit the mute button and laughed.

  “Everybody, man, you’re sadly behind the times.” To make the point, Mark texted Neil nothing but emojis for the remainder of their shift. Neil hadn’t realized his phone had quite so many options, none of them even tangentially related to any conversation at hand.

  They went to their favorite bar. Neil got their beers and settled in next to Kristi; she had her elbows propped on the table, absentmindedly pushing back her hair with one hand as she recounted a particularly harrowing run-in with a liver metastasis on a Surg Onc rotation.

  “...and this little fucker just would not stop bleeding, you know what I mean? So then the attending is blaming me for nicking a vessel, like I’ve even been near that, he hadn’t let me do shit since we got into the abdomen! All I’ve got is the damn suction, how am I supposed to be hitting a vessel with that?”

  He watched Mark watching Kristi with an unusual intensity and thought, Oh, and then, I wonder if that’s what I looked like.

  Mark happened to gla
nce at Neil right about then, and the look on his face was priceless—guilty, caught. Neil burst out laughing. After a stricken second, Mark laughed ruefully.

  “What?” Kristi was indignant, with her bottle clutched in one hand. “You assholes want to hear the rest of this?”

  “I do, I do.” Neil struggled to compose his face. “Tell me how you saved the day.”

  “Me! Like he was going to let me touch anything. No, the fellow who was stuck with him was smooth as silk. ‘Do you think we could get around it that way?’” She did a passable imitation of the Nigerian doctor’s accent. “Like he was asking the attending instead of telling him. Very diplomatic. Anyway, he was right, we finally got it to stop bleeding, and as of evening rounds today, the patient doesn’t look like she’s got a post-op hemorrhage.”

  When Kristi got up to use the bathroom a bit later, Mark said quietly and fiercely to Neil, “Don’t get on my case.”

  “I won’t. I promise.”

  “That better be the truth.”

  “I think—” Neil chose his words carefully. “If you’re feeling up for starting something, I think you should go for it.”

  “What?” The surprise and confusion on Mark’s face was endearing. “I don’t—what do you mean?”

  Neil shrugged. “I’m just saying.”

  “Just saying what?”

  “I think you should go for it.”

  “Yeah, but why? I mean, I’m a mess—”

  “So if you’re not ready for it, then don’t.”

  Mark leaned over to punch Neil in the shoulder, just hard enough to sting a little. “I didn’t say I wasn’t ready for—”

  “What?” Kristi shoved Neil. “Out of my way. Ooh, are we getting cheesy fries?”

  “Yes.” Mark didn’t hesitate and shot Neil a death glare. “We’re getting fries. With cheese. Lots of cheese.”

  * * *

  “When did you know?”

  “Hmm?” Eli looked up from the pan he was stirring, the crackling noise of stir fry loud in his kitchen. “About what?”

  Neil propped his chin in his hands, staring across the bar at Eli. “That I had a thing for you.”

  “Oh.” Eli stared off into space for a moment, hand slowing on the spatula. “I suppose—I thought it was possible that you had a crush on me after, oh, that first conference.”

  Neil grinned. “Well, I mean, you weren’t wrong.”

  “But I was so sure I shouldn’t—encourage you, if you did. I wasn’t ever going to do anything about it. So I just tried to ignore it.”

  “What about you? When did you get a crush on me?”

  Eli laughed, giving the pan a toss. “I plead the Fifth.”

  “Why? What do you mean?”

  Twisting around, Eli shot him a glance that made Neil’s cheeks heat up. “I’ll tell you sometime. When did you get a crush on me?”

  “Are you kidding me? Since the beginning.” Smiling, Neil intoned in his best theatrical voice, “‘We sometimes encounter people, even perfect strangers, who begin to interest us at first sight, somehow suddenly, all at once, before a word has been spoken.’ That’s Dostoyevsky again.”

  “Oh.” Eli’s face went dreamy; the vegetables were going to burn if he didn’t watch them. “Remember when you called me sir?”

  “At the holiday party? Christ. I was hoping you’d forgotten.”

  “No, I’m afraid I thought it was hilarious.” A smile was hovering around Eli’s mouth. “You looked painfully earnest.”

  “I was trying to be appropriate!”

  “That must have been the last time, then,” said Eli tartly, smirking.

  “Hush. Finish up with the vegetables, the rice is ready.” Neil slid off the bar stool and came around into the kitchen; as Eli set the pan down, Neil wrapped his arms around Eli and pulled him back against his chest.

  “We’ve got to eat.” But Eli was already turning his head, looking for kisses. Neil had never known anyone as hungry for affection, which suited him just fine.

  They were carrying their plates to the table when Eli said, “I will tell you something, though.” He grinned lopsidedly. “It’s embarrassing.”

  “Then you should definitely tell me.”

  “The whiteboard.”

  Neil raised his eyebrows. “What about it?”

  “Didn’t you ever wonder why I never got one from Facilities?”

  Neil set his plate down and put his hands on his hips, staring at Eli. “You didn’t, did you?”

  “I was going to. Honest! I would have, except—I wanted there to be something for you to help me with.” Eli slid into his chair, not meeting Neil’s eyes. “I liked talking with you.”

  “Isn’t that something.” Neil stared at Eli, and he couldn’t help smiling. It hit him suddenly, and he had to say it, right away. “I love you.”

  Eli’s smile was like watching a sunrise. “I love you too.”

  * * *

  There was a hospital halfway across town that had been calling him, trying to sweet-talk him into joining their Gen Surg department when he finished residency. Neil called them back on a break the next afternoon.

  “Look,” he said, “I have to tell you, work-life balance is important to me. I need time to spend away from the hospital.”

  The woman on the other end of the line sounded almost breathless at finally getting him on the phone. “We completely understand! We’re hoping to build a long-term team. Our scheduling is targeted toward recruiting new surgeons who are invested in developing a sustainable personal life—”

  “Okay.” He rocked back in his chair, starting to smile despite himself. “Tell me more about that. Concrete details.”

  He scheduled a visit to their hospital for his day off the next week, and then he swung by Eli’s office.

  “Hey.” He stuck his head in. “Got a minute?”

  Eli choked on his croissant. “Yeah, of course.” He jerked his head meaningfully at the door. Neil closed it behind him as he stepped in.

  “Okay,” said Neil, getting ready to talk, but Eli grabbed his tie and pulled him down across the desk for a kiss. “Uh,” he said when Eli let him go. “I. Uh.”

  Eli laughed. “Go on, Dr. Carmona.”

  “That’s what—uh, what I’m here about,” he said, getting his mind back on track with some effort.

  “Really?” Smirking, Eli raised his eyebrows and reached for his tie again. He swatted Eli’s hand away.

  “Not that! Uh, my—damn it, you’re distracting me—my career.”

  Eli let his hand drop and leaned back in his chair. “What’s the news?”

  “I’m going to interview at Herald East. They keep calling me.”

  “Hmm.” Eli drummed his fingertips on his desk. “They’re newer, but they’ve got a pretty good reputation.”

  “I told them I care about scheduling,” he said, putting heavy emphasis on the word. “Work-life balance.”

  “Oh, really?”

  Neil nodded, putting his hands on the desk and leaning forward. “Really.” Eli was craning up to kiss him again when he pulled back. “I’m not taking on a job with hours like this. And you have to tell me something.”

  “What?” Eli asked, staring openly at his mouth.

  “Tell me how you’re going to fix it so you can spend time with me, too.”

  Eli shook his head slightly. “I, uh. I actually already asked the department if I could take fewer hours.”

  “Really?” Neil could feel a smile starting to spread over his face.

  “Yes. This morning.”

  “What’d they say?”

  He laughed. “They were kind enough not to tell me I already work too much, but they said, and I quote, ‘it shouldn’t be a problem,’ for me to g
et down to more like fifty hours a week.”

  “Good.” Neil laughed out loud. “Good.”

  “After all,” murmured Eli, who was reaching up to lay one cool hand along his cheek, “what’s the point in having a trophy boyfriend if I never get to see him?”

  “Exactly.” Neil grinned into Eli’s mouth as Eli pulled him down for another kiss.

  Epilogue

  “Hurry up!” Eli shouted over the traffic noise.

  “I’m going as fast as I can!” yelled Pete. “Do you want to give me another heart attack?”

  “Shut up and drive, old man. We’re going to be late!”

  “We’re not going to be late.”

  In the end, Pete was right, despite his perhaps overly optimistic assessment of the traffic situation; they made it to the chapel with almost a minute and a half to spare. Eli tore in through the side door and found Neil, white as a sheet, wringing his hands.

  “I’m here, I’m here,” said Eli. Neil let out an explosive breath.

  “Cutting it pretty fine,” Neil grumbled. Even like this, he was so handsome, the fall of dark hair over his forehead, piercing green eyes.

  “Blame Pete.” He jerked his thumb back over his shoulder. Pete gave Eli the finger, shoving a crumpled-up sheet of paper at him—his vows.

  “I can’t believe you’re late,” whispered Neil as the music started up.

  “I’m not late. I’m just barely on time.”

  Neil paused, taking a quick critical look at him. Neil made a minute adjustment of Eli’s bow tie and nodded, satisfied.

  “Love you,” said Neil, almost absentmindedly.

  “Love you too,” Eli said back, and got a quick kiss.

  Then the doors opened, and it was their turn to walk down the aisle, hand in hand.

  * * *

  At the reception, Mark and Kristi were sitting together; she kept showing off the new diamond on her finger to anyone who asked, and Mark kept grinning, looking simultaneously embarrassed and pleased.

  They’d managed to avoid including any animals in the ceremony, although Devon had insisted on being the ring bearer, despite the difficulty of finding a suit to fit him, now that he was shooting up like a weed. Neil’s mother cornered Eli after a few glasses of champagne to cry on him a little about taking good care of her boy, a variation on the same speech he’d heard repeatedly by now—every holiday he’d spent with them, and when Neil had moved in with him, and when they’d announced the engagement—but he just nodded and said solemnly, “I will. I promise.”