by Hawk, Maya
“Y-yes,” I stammer, forcing a smile to my face. I click to the first slide – a picture of a middle-aged woman holdings hands with her husband as they stroll down a carnival boardwalk. “Arovag is the first and only drug on the market that targets low female libido.”
“I’m here. Sorry.” Sutton rushes in, out of breath and looking like he just came directly from the hospital, which is weird because he only ever works the weekend package. “I miss anything?”
I stare at him, gape-mouthed, until he rushes up and grabs the notes and clicker from my hand. He takes over, receiving undivided attention from each and ever white-coated doctor in the room. Something about him being a colleague garners him eons of respect and attention.
Folding my arms, I stand back and wait until he’s done giving his talk. He fields questions from other doctors, answering them like a pro, and when we’re done, he helps himself to the samples in one of my tote bags and hands them out like baseball cards.
An attractive, red-haired doctor comes up to him after the space is nearly cleared, but they’re standing on the opposite side of the room. I see them smiling. I see her place her hand on his arm. A small tingle of jealousy sears through me, and I push it away in an instant because I have no business being jealous. They finish their conversation, and she struts off, dragging her heels on the carpet and turning to offer him one last flirty smile before she disappears out the door.
She totally eye-fucked him.
By the time he turns toward me, I snap my gaze toward the mess on the conference tables. Wiping up crumbs and tossing out used water bottles, I clear up the mess and load my things back into my tote bags without saying a single word.
I catch him looking at me with his breath held and his mouth straight, and I know that look. He has something to say. Brushing past him, I run-walk toward the elevator before he has a chance to stop me, but it’s no use. He follows me, climbing onto the empty elevator right beside me.
He yanks a bag off my shoulder and grabs my roller suitcase.
Now he wants to be a gentleman?
“What’s your problem?” His brows meet in the middle, guarding his piercing golden gaze. I press the button for the main level, hoping to buy time, but I’ve only bought myself a paltry two seconds.
The elevator lowers us down, floor by floor. My stomach tickles, and I’m not sure if it’s because of the mild g-force of the elevator ride or if it’s because of the way he’s staring at my mouth like he’s five milliseconds from devouring it.
The doors ding and part with a clunky thud, and we disembark, only he grabs me by the crook of my elbow and pulls me to a little alcove behind the elevator bay. It’s a private area. No doors or people. I’m not sure who designed the space, but it’s a waste if I ever saw one.
“You going to talk to me?” He’s growing impatient, which says a lot because he’s one of the most patient people I’ve ever known. His body heat mixes with mine, filling the tight space around us and taking hold of my senses. His mouth is inches from mine, but he’s released my arm. He’s not holding me physically, but emotionally, he owns me right now.
But I’m not giddy or excited. I’m scared. I’m scared of what might happen if I give into him and give him what he wants: me.
“You didn’t call me for two days.” I hope if I pick a fight, we won’t have to talk about the real issue at hand.
“You left my apartment after you let me fuck you.” His nostrils flare. “What was I supposed to say?”
“Nothing, Sutton. There’s nothing to say. I don’t know why you’re making this a thing.”
“Are you mad because I was late?” He scratches the space above his left brow.
“No.” I say it with a laugh because I could give two shits less about him being three minutes late. He’s a fucking doctor. He’s never on time for anything.
“Then, what?”
“I don’t want to do this,” I say. “I don’t want to do this with you. I don’t want to talk about this or make this into a thing. It’s nothing, okay? Let’s go our separate ways and forget this ever happened.”
“You’re talking to me like I’m a goddamned one night stand, Lauryn. Do you hear yourself right now?” His voice is raised. A stampede of footsteps fills the area. People are getting off the elevator.
“Stop, Sut. Don’t do this. Don’t let anyone see you like this.”
“Guess what, Lauryn? I don’t give a fuck about what people think about me. It’s kind of how I do things. You should try it sometime.”
“What do you want from me?” I whisper through gritted teeth, my eyes darting over his shoulder to make sure the crowd has vanished. “You want to fuck me again, Sut? You want one last go-round to get me out of your system? Is that what it’s going to take?”
“Everything okay over here?” a man appears, another doctor, out of nowhere. Didn’t even hear him coming. It’s the grumpy southern one.
Stupid, silent doctor shoes.
“Everything’s fine, Dr. Bonnano.” Sutton waves him off, flashing an innocuous smile, and the doctor disappears just as quietly as he appeared. Sut turns to me, closing the tight space between us. “I couldn’t get you out of my system if I tried.”
I’m holding my breath, waiting for his next move. I close my eyes, and when I reopen them he’s gone. I catch the back of his white coat as he vanishes through the sliding doors toward the parking lot.
***
“Hey, Connie.” I rap on my boss’ door that afternoon. My hands clutch the white resignation letter I typed up the night before. I’m doing this. I’m really doing this. I’m quitting and moving and not looking back.
“Come in,” Connie sings. She’s perched in front of her computer, typing an email with angry fingers and a frown on her red lips. She stops as soon as I walk in and shut the door, her entire demeanor shifting like she’s happy to see me.
“Bad time?” I eye the computer screen.
She rolls her eyes. “It’s never a bad time for you, dear. Have a seat. What’s going on?”
I press the white envelope against my chest, pursing my lips and closing my eyes. By the time I reopen them, Connie is pulling the letter out of my grip and tearing it open.
“No,” she says, her eyes scanning the page back and forth, back and forth. “No, no, no.” She looks up at me and then back to the letter. “Lauryn, you can’t do this. You’re my best rep.” She releases the letter and it floats to the top of her teak desk. Her eyes glass over, but her mouth curls into a bittersweet half-smile. “I knew this day would come. I just knew it. Is it too late to talk you out of it?”
I shake my head. “I’m sorry. No. My mind’s made up. Thought about it all weekend.”
She leans back in her desk chair. It doesn’t seem to be taking her long to accept the fact that in two weeks or less, I’ll be gone. She’s a resilient old mare. “You know, Odessa’s been dying to fill your shoes.”
Odessa was one of the newer reps. With legs up to her neck, fake breasts, and long, red hair always pressed in perfect beachy waves, she was a flirtatious head turner. Rumor has it she dates nothing but doctors.
“She’ll be working with Dr. McHottie,” Connie says. She lifts a single eyebrow as she waits for my reaction.
“More power to her.” I fold my arms and smirk. “He’s all hers.”
“This is about James isn’t it?” Connie’s shoulders sag. Her mouth is twisted into a disgusted grimace.
“Not exactly.” I think about elaborating, but I know none of it matters. Connie’s going to move on. I’m going to move on. None of this will matter a month from now or even a year from now.
“What’s your plan?” Connie asks.
“I’m not sure,” I say. “Just going back home to Brentwood. Will probably move back in with my mom, figure things out. Decide what I want to do next?”
Connie shakes her head. “Oh, to be young again. You think you have your whole life ahead of you, but you don’t realize the best years have already passed
you by. You were too busy thinking they were yet to come.”
I ready myself for another Connie lecture, only this time I have to admit she’s making more sense than usual.
“Do me a favor,” Connie says, squinting at me. “Don’t look so hard that you forget what you were looking for in the first place. Sometimes the things we’re looking for have been right in front of us all along.” Her desk phone rings and she picks it up immediately. “Connie Saltzman speaking.”
I stand up, giving her a quick wave and motioning toward the door. She smiles and nods, waving goodbye. I’ll see her again when I turn in my things. I plan to give her a few days to cool off before asking if I can cut out a bit early. If I’m lucky, she’ll let me finish out the week and not work the full two weeks, especially if she can fill my shoes with Odessa at the snap of her manicured fingers.
Heading home, I call my mom to tell her I’ll be coming home. I fill her in on everything, and she gives me her full support.
“Can’t wait to see you, my love,” she says with her signature dramatic flair. “It’ll be just like old times.”
I climb the stairs to my apartment, the backs of my stilettos digging into my heels, only when I round the corner, I’m not prepared for what I see.
“Mom, I’ll call you back.”
NINETEEN – SUTTON
“What are you doing here?” She slips her phone into her pocket and pulls out keys, jamming them into her door. The door bursts open, bringing a gush of ice cold air, and I follow her in.
“I want to make sense of this.”
“Sense of what?” She’s playing dumb, and it’s really fucking pissing me off.
Lauryn kicks her heels off, which lowers her about a good four inches, and tosses her purse on a nearby chair. She rifles through her ‘fridge and pulls out a bottled water. “Fuck, it’s hot today.”
“Lauryn, look at me.”
She takes a swig and prolongs dragging her gaze my way. She’s acting like a goddamn rebellious child. I step into her space, grabbing her water and setting it down on the counter.
“Don’t do this,” I say. “Don’t shut me out like this. We were making progress. What happened? Don’t you at least have the decency to tell me what the fuck is going through that complicated little head of yours?”
“I know I’m fucked up, Sut,” she says with a breathless, desperate sigh. “I’m damaged. I’m angry and confused, and nothing going through my head makes any sense most days, but my mind is made up. I’m going home.”
“So that’s it? You’re going home. You don’t even want to entertain…us?”
“Don’t make this harder than it is,” she says.
I huff. “Yeah, it’s so hard on you, isn’t it?”
She’s already started packing. There are boxes labeled with black Sharpie marker. Perfect Lauryn has labeled everything perfectly.
“When are you moving?” I ask.
“Next weekend,” she says without pause. “Plane tickets are booked. Movers are scheduled.”
She rifles through her mail, as if that’s more important than this conversation we’re having. It pisses me the fuck off, and before I realize what I’m doing, I rush into her space, flinging her mail across the room. She freezes, her arms stiff and her eyes two wide circles.
“Stop running,” I growl. Her lips separate slightly. The thought of taking them as mine crosses my mind. It occurs to me that perhaps I’ve been going about this all wrong. I back away, and I swear I catch a hint of surrender in her beautiful eyes. “God, it must be exhausting being you.”
“It is,” she says through gritted teeth. “More than you possibly know.”
“Then fucking do something about it.” I back away. I don’t like the way I’m speaking to her. I’ve never yelled at her before. The fear in her eyes sickens me. I’m disgusted with myself. She might frustrate the fuck out of me, but she doesn’t deserve this.
“Give up on me,” she whispers. “I’m telling you. Give up now. It’s not going to get any easier.”
My fists clench at my sides. I’m racking my brain, mentally listing all the reasons why I never gave up on Lauryn Hudson even after all these years. She’s been my everything for as long as I can remember. A life without her is not any kind of life I ever want to live. Something happened that last summer we shared together. It wasn’t the sex. It wasn’t the incessant make out sessions. It wasn’t getting drunks and skinny dipping in the pool in the middle of the night. It wasn’t late night drives, cruising the boulevard and listening to music only we ‘got’. Something changed in me that summer, and then I lost it all before I had a chance to tell her how I felt.
Our past is just as much a part of us as our future, and our future is already written. I fucking know it. I refuse to believe I’m destined to live a life without the only girl I’ve ever truly loved.
I slip away before I say or do anything that might possibly hurt or scare her again. I need space. I need to figure this out.
“Where are you going?” I hear her call out as I reach for the door.
I keep going.
TWENTY – SUTTON
“Dr. Pierce, can you take a picture with us?” My fifth delivery that day stares at me from her end of the bed, a half-crying baby swaddled in her arms. Her husband smiles. I know these two – Monica and Roberto De La Rosa. I’ve delivered all of their kids, and their firstborn was one of the first babies I delivered as a resident.
“Of course.” I flank Monica’s side, and we all lean in while her mother-in-law snaps a picture with her phone.
“You’re practically a part of our family,” Monica says. “This is the fourth baby of ours you’ve delivered.”
It warms my heart, but I’m finding it hard to smile that night.
“When are you going to settle down and have kids?” Monica asks. She pulls her gown aside, and her baby latches on to her swollen breasts. She’s a natural. She probably doesn’t even feel it anymore. “I bet you’d be a great dad.”
“I don’t know,” I say with a polite smile. “Maybe it’ll be on the horizon for me someday. Have to meet the right woman first.”
“Family is everything, doc,” her husband says. He reaches for the baby, who wraps her tiny hand around his pinky. “Being a dad is the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”
“That’s what I hear.” I smile and nod, trying not to think about all the ways in which my life might have turned out differently had my father stuck around. My mom always said it just got to be too hard for him, so he took refuge with a showgirl in Vegas and drank himself to death. I’ve always wondered what kind of father I’d be, never having a good example. “Hopefully someday.”
Even if I won’t be the world’s greatest father, I at least want the chance to try.
I pat Monica on the shoulder and head out to finish charting. When I have a moment, I slip into the on call room and make a phone call.
The number has been in my phone for years, transferred from phone to phone every two years. Never deleted.
My thumb hovers over her name until I take a deep breath and press down.
“Hello?” She answers on the third ring.
“Diane? It’s Sutton.”
TWENTY-ONE – LAURYN
“I’m so glad I socked away all that money I made when I still had my looks.” My mother nibbles on the center of a piece of unbuttered whole-wheat toast. Her free hand is looped through the handle of a white porcelain coffee mug. She takes her coffee black, no sugar or cream.
Some things never change.
“You’re still beautiful, Mom.” I cut into the fried egg her housekeeper-slash-chef made me that morning. It’s funny going home and not seeing a team of five people running the household. She’s had to condense over the years.
“Then why can’t I land a single role that doesn’t require I wear gray wigs and go by Mimi or Nana?” She takes an angry sip of her coffee and places it carefully on top of the glass table in the
breakfast nook that hosts us. Her gaze is fixed on the tranquil infinity edge pool outside. The water is still without so much as a ripple from the wind. She cocks her head at an angle, still staring ahead. “It’s fine, Lauryn. I’m going to be fine. I saved my money like a good girl. I just miss working. Irrelevance is hard, is all.”
“You’re not irrelevant. Besides, all you ever did was work,” I say. “You should be thankful you could retire at fifty.”
She coughs. I know she’s not fifty. She’s much older than that. She could probably pass for it though. She’s still beautiful and it’s not because of the Botox and mini-face lift.
“I probably worked too much.” She nibbles her toast once again, eating only the crunchy middle and leaving the crust. It reminds me of the way she used to eat pizza, dabbing the grease from the cheese and leaving the crust behind. She’s way too skinny, then again, she’s always been. “I should’ve spent more time with you when I had the chance.”
It feels good to hear her say that. I know it isn’t easy for her to admit. “It’s okay, Mom.”
“I missed out on your childhood, and by the time my career had begun to unwind, you were a teenager. I hardly recognized you. And I’d neglected your father. I abandoned our marriage long before he did.” She pulls her shoulders back, blinking rapidly as if she’s uncomfortable airing the regrets of her past. Good to see years in therapy with Dr. Richmond is finally paying off. Her blonde hair is cut shorter than she used to wear it, with big wide curls surrounding her face. If Marilyn Monroe would’ve made it to my mother’s age, I bet they’d look like sisters. Her fingers twitch, like she’d give anything for a cigarette. It’s been a long time since she kicked her nicotine addiction, but some habits never fully go away. “I made a lot of mistakes, Lauryn. I’m not proud of them.”
“No one’s perfect.” I take a sip of my orange juice, feeling like a kid. I should be drinking coffee like a grown up, but it feels good to slip into our mother-daughter roles. They’re comfy, like an old pair of jeans. At least for me. Sure, Diane Hudson has rows upon rows of Oscars, Tonys, and Emmys, but her biggest achievement was raising me. Her love for me was fierce and unwavering, even if she spent most of my childhood hard at work. “Don’t beat yourself up about it.”