Bad Case of Loving You

by Laney Cairo

  When I collapsed down onto the bed, hopelessly out of breath, Matthew rolled toward me, hugging me. I wrapped my arms around him and hugged him back.

  “Fuck, that was amazing,” he said.

  I nodded, kind of impressed he could speak.

  He propped himself up on one elbow and touched my face gently, brushing hair back off my forehead, tracing a finger across my morning stubble, smiling at me a little bashfully.

  “Did you mean what you said?” he asked when my breathing began to slow.

  I stroked his forehead in turn, brushing sweat-damp hair back off his face. “Hmm, the past twelve hours have been pretty big on extemporaneous verbalizing for me, so there’s any number of things I might have said to you. However, I’m willing to guarantee any and all statements made under these circumstances, especially if they are statements of adoration.

  I think the only exception to the guarantee would be manifestly wildly inaccurate claims about the size of my penis.”

  Matthew chuckled and my heart melted a little more. “So, the bit last night when you shouted, ‘I’ve got thirteen inches and they’re all for you, baby’ wasn’t true?”

  “No, that would be an exaggeration,” I said. “Though I could make a claim for the gist of the sentiment being true.”

  Matthew lifted one of my hands up and examined my wrist, where the skin was a little reddened. He kissed the sore skin carefully and rubbed at some of the adhesive that was caught in my wrist hairs. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asked.

  I shook my head, and Matthew settled his head down on my chest. I stroked his curls, letting them wrap around my fingers.

  “I’m in love with you, too,” he said.

  Chapter Thirty Seven

  The note from F on the kitchen counter had made me chuckle. ‘Bloody hell,’ was all it said, but it had been enough.

  My shirt was rumpled, but I buttoned it up and tucked it into my trousers anyway, then put my shoes on and did them up.

  Matthew appeared from the bathroom, towel wrapped around him, still damp from his shower, just as I turned my phone back on. I began to wade through the voicemail.

  “You need to call Dr. Anderson, at college, to arrange your new placement,” I said when Matthew poured himself a coffee.

  “I got that message, too,” he said, sitting beside me on the couch. “I’ll head over to uni from here. What are you up to today?”

  “I’ve got to go back to the hospital and retrieve my car. I need to take my personal stuff out of my office, though that’s only really a carton of books.” I looked at Matthew, so perfect and desirable, still not quite believing what had happened. “I need to meet up with Kendra today, too.”

  “Kendra is your ex, right?” Matthew said. “Henry’s mum?”

  I nodded. “Have you got any time this afternoon? I’d like you to meet Henry.”

  “Sure,” Matthew said. “What if he hates me?”

  “I think that, as long as you don’t denounce online gaming, Evercrack, Half-Life, Resident Evil, or WOW, he’s going to like you.”

  Matthew grinned. “I don’t think that’s going to be an issue. That’s what the long summer break is for.”

  * * *

  I sat at the back of the rehearsal hall, listening to the string section working their way through the same few pages of Stravinsky over and over again. I didn’t know the actual piece, despite years of living in an environment saturated with the violin. I doubted that Kendra had learnt much medicine in the time we were together either.

  The whole day was washed with a euphoric glow for me, and waiting for Kendra was actually quite a soothing way to pass some time. It was a complete indulgence to not be at work. I was kind of disappointed when the director called for a break, and Kendra walked toward me, wiping her hands on her jeans.

  “Hi, babe,” she said, kissing my cheek when I stood up.

  “Come on, I’m dying for a smoke, and don’t you dare say a thing.”

  I followed her out of the building into a courtyard lined with rubbish cans and stood away from the smoke from her cigarette. “We saw you on TV last night. Henry was wildly excited; he’s turning into a regular little socialist. What’s up?

  How come you’re not at work? You can’t possibly have taken a sickie.”

  “No,” I said. “I was fired yesterday, I’m unemployed.” She grimaced and took a long drag on her cigarette. “That wasn’t actually what I wanted to talk to you about. I guess Henry told you I’m seeing someone?”

  Kendra nodded. “He sure did. Some young guy, I think he said.”

  “It’s, um, looking pretty serious. I wanted you to know in advance that Matthew will probably be around on the weekends when I have Henry.”

  Kendra’ eyes were twinkling when she smiled at me. “I’m glad for you. Unless you’ve been seeing someone without Henry knowing, you’ve been single for quite a while.”

  “It’s been too long,” I agreed. “I’d like to pick Henry up this afternoon, so he can meet Matthew. That okay with you?”

  “That’s fine. And thanks for letting me know in advance.

  You look happy. I haven’t seen you look like this for years.”

  I smiled at Kendra. “I haven’t felt like this for years.”

  She ground out her cigarette. “I’ve got to go. If we don’t get this passage right by this afternoon, there will be new uses for a violin bow demonstrated, and your medical expertise will be needed.”

  “And I’ve got to update my CV,” I said.

  Kendra grinned at me over her shoulder as she disappeared into the rehearsal hall.

  * * *

  I dropped into Jackie’s rooms, and marveled yet again at how polite and efficient his receptionist was. One day, if I was lucky, I’d work somewhere with pleasant staff.

  “Dr. Maynard,” Ida said, smiling at me. “Dr. Jackson left a letter here for you, said you’d be dropping in for it.”

  “Thank you, Ida,” I said, taking the envelope she was holding out for me.

  “You’re welcome, Dr. Maynard. I saw you on the news last night, I think what you were doing was wonderful.”

  I held up the reference. “Unfortunately, it also means I’m looking for another job.”

  She smiled conspiratorially and said, “Dr. Jackson is doing what he can for you. I thought you’d like to know that.”

  “Thanks, it does help,” I said. “I’m sure I’ll see you again, Ida. Please thank Jackie from me for all his support.”

  * * *

  Henry bounced into my arms when he opened the door of Kendra’s apartment. “Dad!” he shouted. I hugged him and put him down gratefully. He was far too heavy to hold for long. “How come you’re not working?” he asked, dragging me by my hand into the apartment. “What you doing here? Wow, you never take time off work.”

  I sat down on Kendra’ couch, Henry still hugging me. “I was fired,” I said. “I’m unemployed right at this moment.”

  Henry’s face creased with worry. “That’s rank. Is this because of the strike?”

  “Yeah.” I rubbed my thumb over Henry’s forehead, smoothing out the furrows. “You don’t need to worry; I’m applying for another, better, job.”

  He nodded. “I saw you on the news, and F. It was something else.” He hugged me again, and it warmed me all the way through to know that Henry was proud of me.

  “I came around to see if you’d like to go out. I’d like you to meet Matthew, so I thought we could go for coffee, give you a chance to get to know him a bit before the weekend.”

  Henry looked a bit dubious as he said, “Okay, Dad.”

  I patted his shoulder. “He’s nothing like Tim. He eats meat, I’ve seen no evidence so far that he does any form of exercise, and any plans he has to change the world probably involve the practice of medicine, not lecturing kids on the evils of the internet.”

  This obviously cheered Henry up a little and he said, “So where are we going? There’s this great…”

  H
is voice trailed off and I raised an eyebrow at him and said, “Good, you remembered which parent you’re with. No you cannot have fries, or cream, or any combination of the two. You know the rules when you’re with me, no empty calories.”

  He bounced off the couch and said, “I’ll get out of school uniform,” and disappeared down the hall way before reappearing a moment later, and saying, “I’m not fat, just chubby.”

  I called out after him, “Do you want the childhood obesity lecture again?” and his bedroom door closed resolutely.

  I wasn’t the kind of insane health and fitness freak that Tim had been, and I didn’t try to control how Kendra was raising Henry in my absence, but I refused to feed him crap.

  I’d become sneaky about persuading him to exercise when he was with me, too. Luckily, London was full of interesting places to walk around, and he was developing a passion for horse-riding. Now all I had to do was persuade him to let me check his blood pressure…

  He was back in a couple of minutes, wearing jeans and a sweater, looking remarkably clean and tidy for him. It was just possible he’d combed his hair, too.

  “So, you’re in love with Matthew, right?” he said to me as he bounced down the stairs ahead of me.

  “Yep, certainly looks that way,” I replied, taking the stairs two at a time.

  Chapter Thirty Eight

  Dr. Anderson peered over her spectacles at me. “So, you had no problems with Dr. Maynard?” she asked. “Despite him not being able to complete your placement?”

  I shook my head. “He was an excellent teacher, really inspirational. I learnt a huge amount from him, we all did.”

  “His political involvement in the union movement didn’t detract from his teaching?”

  “No, not at all. I think that it was really important that we learned about how administration doesn’t always work toward the same goals as the medical staff, and how sometimes the medical staff has to stand up for their patients.”

  “All right,” Dr. Anderson said. “We’ve placed your group at St. Georges, with a new tutor. Unfortunately, you’re going to have to make up the two days you’ve missed after finals, so don’t make plans to go to Amsterdam the night of your last exam.”

  “Thanks, Dr. Anderson,” I said, standing up.

  She stood, too. “Thought you’d like to know that Dr.

  Maynard has submitted your assessments for the placement you did complete, and your marks are excellent. He spoke highly of your initiative and involvement with the patient care.”

  I coloured, I couldn’t help it. “Um, thanks, Dr. Anderson,” I said, and I got out of her office as fast as I could.

  Fuck, now I began to see why Andrew had been worried about anyone knowing that we were involved.

  * * *

  I did a solid four hours of work when I got home, to make up for time that I’d missed, and I dared to hope that I was making headway on my case studies. Pathohistology was still an issue; I really couldn’t reliably tell one slide of diseased tissue from another, but there was no way around that without spending a weekend locked in the lab at uni.

  Andrew had called me, pulling me away from cardiomyopathy management, and asked me to meet him and Henry later. I was nervous; this was a new and exciting variant on meeting-the-parents. More important, too, I suspected. If I was serious about Andrew, and God knows, I’d been in an ecstatically good mood all day, just from what he had said the night before, Henry was about to become part of my life, at least for a while.

  I put Kelley down, lay back on my mattress, and closed my eyes. I was tingling all over still, suffused with warm happiness, and just thinking about seeing Andrew again was making me grin. Two weeks ago, he’d been a somewhat grouchy supervisor whose attention I worked hard to avoid attracting.

  Now… he was the most wonderful man I’d ever met, amazing in bed, kind and affectionate out of bed. I was turning into every bad love song in existence.

  I sat up and picked up Kelley again. Back to cardiomyopathy.

  * * *

  I clambered into the back seat of Andrew’s Morris and made myself tear my eyes away from him and smile at the kid sitting in the front seat. “Hi, I’m Matthew.”

  “Henry,” he replied. “Good to meet you.”

  He was podgy, and looked nothing like Andrew, then he smiled back at me and there was a sudden resemblance. He looked like he was about ten or eleven years old, which was never an attractive age. Old enough to be hormonal, and too young to have worked out that you needed to be nice to people to get anywhere in life. I’d been a disgusting eleven-year-old, something that I still occasionally apologised to my mother for.

  Andrew smiled at me, and we did that whole can’t-take-our-eyes-off-each-other thing for a moment, then Andrew said, “You both hungry?”

  “Yes!” Henry said emphatically, and I joined in the chorus.

  “Starving! Where are we going?”

  We went to a café just off Euston road, and I wondered why Andrew had chosen somewhere that was so down-market and dingy, until I saw the plates of food being served to the people at the next table. This was real food, solid, substantial, and filling. Genuine home cooking. I was going to have a real meal again.

  Henry interrupted his recounting of playground politics to enter negotiations with Andrew as to what and how much he could order.

  All of a sudden, mid-discussion of the relative merits of spaghetti Bolognese, I realised why Andrew was so patient with the med students. Henry sounded just like Nevins.

  I was just eating my first mouthful of carbonara when Henry addressed me directly for the first time.

  “So, Matthew, aren’t you like far too young for my dad?” he said.

  “Henry!” Andrew said, and I smiled disarmingly at the brat.

  “Well over the age of consent, I promise you,” I said to Henry. “Aren’t you far too young to be harassing an adult?”

  “Nope,” Henry said cheerfully. “I live to aggravate. It’s a lifestyle choice.”

  “Back in your box, Henry,” Andrew said. “You expose Matthew to the worst aspects of your personality, and make him run away, and I’ll persuade your mother that you need to go on a thousand calories a day diet. Understand?”

  Henry looked horrified, then Andrew said, “And there’s always the issue of you being at home unsupervised every afternoon. Perhaps you should come straight from school to whichever hospital I’m working at and wait for me in my office.”

  “Sorry, Matthew,” Henry said contritely. “I’m not really a monster; it’s all an act I put on to make people like me.”

  “’I hope you have not been leading a double life, pretending to be wicked and being really good all the time.

  That would be hypocrisy,’” I quoted at Henry, and Andrew leaned back in his chair and laughed loudly while Henry looked at me, his poor little brain obviously confused.

  “Random Oscar Wilde,” Andrew explained to Henry. “You, too, can come out of the British educational system with a ready supply of witticisms.”

  Henry nodded. “They’re making me learn Shakespeare.

  Can you believe that? And algebra and geography and all sorts of stuff.”

  “What will they think of next?” Andrew said. “A solid education? You wait, the joys of trigonometry are before you, followed closely by calculus.”

  “Tell me about the Reformation,” I said around a mouthful of pasta.

  “The what?” Henry said.

  “Henry the Eighth,” Andrew said. “Yet another Henry with an attitude problem. I believe Matthew is winding you up.”

  “We’re learning about the American War of Independence.

  Apparently it was all about tax bases and stuff like that.

  Nobody ever told me that before,” Henry said. “People kept expecting me to know stuff about this, even the teacher.

  What do I know about the basis for constitutional authority to raise Federal taxes in America?”

  “What else were you expected to kno
w?” Andrew asked, and I found myself losing track of the conversation briefly as Andrew’s foot slid along my calf.

  “Did you know that America could never have fought the War of Independence without the French? And that England and France have been at war for, like, forever?”

  All right, this was something I knew about. “We stopped fighting the French a few years ago,” I pointed out. “The last time France thought long and hard about invading Britain was in 1900.”

  Henry stared at me. “You know this stuff?” he said.

  I nodded.

  Andrew said, “Go on, tell us some more.”

  Andrew’s foot was pressed against my ankle now, an invisible reminder of why we were doing this. I was getting to know his son.

  “However,” I added, “The relative diplomatic détente between Britain and France is not indicative of either countries’ relationship with the rest of the world. Twenty years ago, French secret service agents committed an act of terrorism in New Zealand and bombed a Greenpeace ship.

  France seems to have learnt to stop invading other countries, and hasn’t staged any significant military intrusions since it pulled out of the whole mess in Vietnam in 1954, unless you include nuking some islands it owns in the Pacific.”

  Andrew’s eyes were on me. He smiled approvingly, and Henry groaned. “Now I know why Dad likes you,” he said.

  “You’re just like him.”

  Chapter Thirty Nine

  Henry had bounced back from being squashed by Matthew before I’d dropped him off at Kendra’s, and I’d left him concocting plans to network Matthew’s laptop with my PC so they could play Counter Strike together at the weekend.

  Matthew was going to call me when he’d studied his brain to a pulp, so I had some time to do domestic stuff like laundry, and unpack the boxes from my office. F had called, and I needed to take my CV into London the next day, so I had to update the damn thing and add Jackie’s reference to it.

  But first, before any of that stuff got done…