“Why is nothing ever just all good in my life?” she asked Mendra. Anxiety seemed to be the permanent backside to her joy.
The next morning, she woke up early. Pushing up, she looked out the window. The sky was a steely gray. Mendra’s warm, compact body was curled into a ball against her right thigh. It would be terrible to disturb her. Everything was contriving to keep her in bed. She fell back into the pillow, closing her eyes. Then Ben Abel’s face appeared behind her eyes and she sprung up like a jackrabbit, shocking Mendra out of her dreams. Was it real? Yes! Ben Abel had asked her out, just as she’d hoped he would. She picked Mendra up and held her up to her face. “Dreams can come true!” she told Mendra.
On the way to work, she remembered Kira's invitation to dinner on Friday. Taking the stairs two at a time, she dashed into Kira's office. Kira was already there. She often came in at 7:30 so she could leave early for her second job. Kira was munching from a bowl of dry Cheerios as she stared at her computer. Without really looking away from the screen, she said, “You’d better have a damn good explanation for being so chipper this early in the morning.”
Meredith shifted her weight. Her right knee was hurting a little from her reckless sprint up the stairs. “I have to cancel our plans for Friday. I got a better offer.”
“Oh boy. It better be a hot date.” She turned to look at Meredith.
Meredith came inside and shut the door. She sat down, still bundled in her coat. “It’s Ben Abel!” she squealed. She felt like a fourteen-year-old. “He asked me out yesterday when I was leaving. He biked here yesterday just to ask me.” Every sentence was an affirmation.
“He’s a babe. I wondered if he liked you when we were at happy hour. You played it cool, though. I would never have guessed.”
“Kira, I knocked down a chair going after him!”
“Did you? I hadn’t noticed. You must have done it very gracefully.”
It took fifteen minutes for Meredith to tell her every detail of their two minute conversation outside Family Practice. Back at her desk, Meredith was contentedly reading through her email when Sarah called.
“Eli is having a party on Friday. He wants you to come.”
“Eli barely knows me,” Meredith protested.
“He specifically asked me to invite you. You have to come. He said he never gets to see you anymore.”
Meredith doubted that any of what Sarah said was true. “I can’t go.” Just get it over with. “I have a date.”
“You what? With whom?”
“A resident here. Ben Abel. You don’t know him.”
“He asked you out?”
“Yeah,” Meredith said.
“Just?”
“Just.” ...last night, she added silently.
“Is he still there?”
“No.”
“Oh my God!” Sarah screamed the last word into Meredith's ear. “You have a date!” Meredith started to feel guilty about not telling her sooner. “The virgin queen has a date.” The guilt vanished.
“I’m not a virgin,” Meredith whispered, peering into the hall to see if anyone was within earshot. She hoped that sticking to the facts now balanced out the lie earlier.
On Friday, the night of her big date, Meredith left the office at two. She showered and shaved and sanded her feet with pumice. She’d already picked out her dress, a tight-fitting black velvet number that she’d worn only once before, when she lived in New York. She had a garnet choker she’d bought here in Albuquerque. By 4:30 she was ready, so she added a little make-up just to kill the time. She started with her standard, lipstick, but then began brushing on mascara and blush, then a little eye shadow. When she looked in the mirror, she felt like a prostitute, but as she reached for a tissue, her doorbell rang. “Shit!” Meredith exclaimed. She’d totally lost track of time and now she’d have to answer the door with gunk on her face. Definitely not part of the fantasy.
Ben stood on the porch holding a small bouquet of irises and rose buds. “Hi,” Meredith said. Her giant grin was spreading again. “These are beautiful,” she said. “No one’s brought me flowers since high school. Thank you.”
As Ben stepped into the room she saw he was also dressed up. He wore a navy suit with a tomato red tie and a slate blue shirt. He’s got style, Meredith thought to herself, surprised. She was filling a jelly jar with water for the flowers, still wondering how she was going to get back to the bathroom to cream off the rest of her makeup.
“You look incredible,” Ben told her.
“I do?”
“Yes. The dress, the hair, your face...you look pretty in jeans and no makeup, you’re beautiful in jeans and no makeup, but right now you’re stunning.”
Meredith decided the makeup could stay. She went for her coat and when she turned back around, Ben was on his knees, offering his fingers to Mendra to sniff. Meredith couldn’t remember when she’d last vacuumed. She could picture Ben's navy pant legs covered in cat hair. “This is Mendra.”
“She’s got a lot of presence,” Ben told her.
Meredith had been worried about the drive up to Santa Fe, but her fears were unwarranted. As it turned out, she and Ben had other things in common besides physical attraction. They both liked to cook, hike, camp, and watch Antique Road Show on PBS. They had graduated the same year from high school. Ben had first gone to art school for two years before switching to a pre-med program at another university.
“You’re kidding.”
“Is that so hard to believe?”
“Why?” Meredith asked. “What made you turn from art to science?”
“It’s not turning away,” Ben argued as he moved deftly between cars on the two lane road to Santa Fe. “Science is a very creative process. Medicine really feels like an extension of my training in art. What about you? What did you do after high school?” Meredith had noticed he never let the topic rest on him for more than a few minutes.
“I went to art school, too. In New York. I got my BFA.” She felt foolish revealing this.
“God. I had no idea we had so much in common. And you also continue your creative process. Computer programming is just another form of design, wouldn’t you say?”
“I have no idea. I’ve never thought of it as anything more than an abandonment of my childhood dreams to be a painter.”
“You’re too rough on yourself. What’s your medium?”
“Oils were.”
“I was a sculptor. I like the three-dimensional aspect, being able to turn pieces around and work from all sides.” He laughed. “Still do.”
Meredith laughed too. “I’m sure your patients appreciate being compared to fine art.”
“Huh? Oh, I get it.” He chuckled. “That’s funny, Meredith. Actually, I didn’t mean my patients. I was referring to the sculptures I do at home.”
“You still make art?”
“Of course. I mean, yes. Not nearly as much as I used to.” He paused. “I take it from your ‘oils were’ response that you’ve gotten away from painting?”
Meredith could see her reflection in the glass window to her right. “I haven’t picked up a paintbrush since I graduated.”
They drove in silence for awhile.
“Does your job do it for you?” Ben asked suddenly.
“Do what?”
“You know. Give you an outlet for expressing yourself?”
“No. Honestly, it’s not a very creative job.”
“How can you stand it, then?”
“It’s easier than you think. To push all of that aside. I never even think about it anymore.”
“So you kissed?” Kira was at Meredith’s, sitting in an overstuffed armchair Meredith had rescued from a trash heap. A cup of coffee was balanced on her knee and she was methodically adding multiple packs of sugar. Meredith was across from her on the floor, drinking herbal tea because she was wired enough.
Meredith smiled. “We did.”
“When, how long, how was it? I want every detail.”
“W
e were sitting in his truck, talking.”
“Parked where?”
“In my driveway. We were just talking and then he started playing with a strand of my hair. All at once I couldn’t speak. There was this horrible, gaping silence...”
“Which probably only you noticed.”
“Maybe,” Meredith conceded. “And while I was in that state he leaned in and kissed me.”
“Length?”
“A minute. No, thirty seconds. Maybe less. Then he leaned back and started staring at me again so I turned to look out the window and said, ‘I wonder if it’s going to snow tonight?’”
“Good one.”
“Thanks. So he laughed and turned my head back around to face him. And then he kissed me again.”
“Length?”
“Ten minutes.”
“Ten minutes!” Kira moved so suddenly her coffee spilled. Meredith thought of all that sugar and wondered if she’d get ants.
“Well, we were making out. Really it was closer to thirty minutes.”
“So you invited him in...”
“No! God! After making out with him for thirty minutes, he’d think I was inviting him in to have sex.”
“Did you want to have sex?”
“Gosh, yes! But I barely know him. What if he’s an IV drug user or a male slut...”
“I don’t think that Ben is either of those things.”
“It’s been a long time, Kira.”
“It’s like riding a bicycle.”
“Years.”
“Bicycle.”
First thing, Monday morning, Meredith went to Lily’s desk, ready to clean house. Lou’s door was open, but he wasn’t there. “Hey, Lily. Aren’t computer programmers included in staff activities?”
“Huh?” Lily was playing solitaire on her computer.
“Since I got this programming job, I haven’t been invited to lunch with the gang.”
“Sweetheart, no one here is your social organizer. You know when it’s lunchtime. If you want to go with us, then just come.”
“I know,” she began. “But Debbie comes through like the town crier, personally inviting people like Kira and walking right past me.”
“Well Kira is new. You’re not. Everyone just expects you to invite yourself.”
“Well, I’d like to come.” Meredith felt deflated. “Where are you going today?”
“The Olive Garden.”
“Okay. I’ll see you there.” She walked away feeling awkward and clumsy. “Screw it. You had a date with Ben Abel on Friday.” She felt better.
The lunch crowd made service slow and Meredith was late getting back to work. She slunk into the building, feeling guilty while the rest of the crowd entered boisterously. So you’re late, who cares? Think of what you’ve accomplished this week. You had a date! You kept Sarah out of that part of your life until it was too late for her to interfere. You have a new friend. This last line hit her so hard that her eyes filled with tears. She broke from the crowd and slipped into the bathroom. Washing her hands, she looked at her face in the mirror. That’s right, a new friend. Guess you needed that more than you thought you did. And, you’ve just had lunch with all the secretaries. Your feelings were hurt, you asserted yourself, and you learned that you were taking things too personally.
She felt like a new woman when she left the bathroom. The lunch crowd was still in the front lobby, checking mail and chatting with one another. Lourdes, the front desk person, singled her out as she walked in. “Doug was looking for you.” Lourdes was a nice woman, friendly and easy going. The entire office knew that she carried a very large purse and was gone for fifteen minutes each time she took a bathroom break. According to the rest of the office, she was drinking, but Meredith wasn’t very savvy to the signs.
“He was? When?”
“You just missed him. He had to leave. His son was hit by a car.” Her voice was low and she gave the news without the slightest bit of relish. Meredith felt unsteady on her feet.
Like they had tragedy radars, the other secretaries gathered around Lourdes, ready to collect the information and fan out across the department and medical center distributing it. Lourdes’ face was unreadable as she relayed the facts. “He was hit by a car on his bike.”
“Oh my god!” cried the crowd as one. “What intersection?” a stray voice added.
“I don’t know,” Lourdes told them.
“He lives just over in Ridgecrest. Those streets are quiet.”
“They can get crazy. People cut through to get to Gibson.”
“It’s not far from the war zone, either. It could have been gang members out joy riding.”
“What hospital?”
“University.” The group paused at this news. Then, “What room?”
“I don’t know.”
The news of Doug’s son being so close mobilized them. Debbie stepped forward as the lead. “I’ll call first before we head over. Poor Marcia must be beside herself.”
They scattered fast, each person ready to pick up a piece of the tragedy and stare it back down into the hole it crawled out of. Meredith remained in the lobby with dots blinking in front of her eyes. She was verging on fainting and now that everyone was gone she thought she’d be able to just fall sideways to the carpeted floor. Instead she remained standing. “Did Doug leave me a message?”
“Yes. He said to get the computer memo to Lou.”
Meredith wanted to cry at the thought of Doug remembering the memo when Kevin was in the hospital.
“And to call him,” Lourdes added, handing her a message sheet. “It’s his cell phone.”
Meredith fingered the pink piece of paper on which Doug had scribbled his cell phone number after hearing that his eight-year-old son had been hit by a car. The writing was tight. The ball point had pushed hard into the paper. She waited to see if any of the terror would come through the paper to her fingertips, but there was nothing.
“He wants me to call?”
“Yes.”
Like a flock of birds, panic broke loose and got tangled up inside her. “Thanks, Lourdes.”
Before calling Doug, she planned out some sentences that voiced concern and sympathy, mixed with fortitude. Then she dialed.
“Hello?” Meredith tried to gauge the tone. Anxiety? It was hard to tell.
“Doug, it’s Meredith. How’s Kevin?”
“It’s hard to say.” Doug’s voice choked up and Meredith suddenly realized that it must be bad.
“Is he in surgery?”
“No, not now. They’re talking about it. They put a tube in his brain to relieve the pressure. They’re watching the swelling.” She heard him swallow. “There are pros and cons to surgery right now.”
“Who’s his doctor?”
“Some guy named Bergen.”
“Oh, he’s very good. I’ve heard of him and he’s well respected.”
“Meredith, can you finish up the statistics report for Lou's grant? It's finished except for the last two plots.”
“Consider it done. What else can I do?”
“I don’t know. Gosh, there’s so much to be done but it’s all just flown out of my head.” He paused. “I, ah, may not be in tomorrow.”
“Of course not,” Meredith told him. “Just stay close to your family. Anything you need here, I’ll do it.”
“Thanks. I really appreciate this, Meredith.”
“Please. I’m happy to help. If there’s anything else I could do, please ask. Anything. If you want dinner brought over, or breakfast. Or if you want me to get Kevin his toys.”
“No. We’re okay. Marcia’s got family here. They’re helping us a lot.”
“Doug...some of the people here wanted to come over to the hospital. Would you and Marcia, would you be up for it?”
“Uh. I don’t know. No. Tell them, ask them not to. Maybe tomorrow. Not today. It’s too hard now, not knowing.” He fell silent and Meredith struggled to find something to say. Something encouraging or soothing. She
resorted to repetition.
“Will you please call if there’s anything any of us can do? I know that everyone here would be happy to help. They want to...if you think of anything you need.” She felt like an idiot.
“Thanks, Meredith.” Doug’s voice was suddenly brisk. “If you have any questions about that memo, call and ask.”
“Okay.” She tried to think of a good closer, but before she could come up with something, Doug disconnected.
She went straight to Debbie’s desk and conveyed Doug’s words about visitors.
“Really? Well, of course. He’s in too much pain.” She lowered her voice. “I just spoke to Betty Montoya over in Burn and Trauma. It doesn’t look good. The brain is swelling. They might have to remove the front of his skull to let it expand. Or even cut out pieces of his brain.”
“What?” Meredith couldn’t imagine removing part of a boy’s brain.
“Otherwise it could expand enough to crush the brainstem. Either way, he’ll likely end up a vegetable.”
Meredith understood that Debbie was just being frank about the facts, but she hated her for a moment for giving in to reality so quickly. She pictured Kevin, hooked up to machines, and Marcia, parting his hair on the side like she always did. She sat down right on the floor next to Debbie’s desk. “Oh God. I can’t believe this is happening. Kevin’s only eight years old.”
“He’s eight. Sylvia Duran is Marcia’s cousin. She said he went straight through a stop sign on some street off Kathryn. It wasn’t the driver’s fault.
“Oh, the poor driver.” From her ground view, Meredith could see an amazing stash of office supplies; file folders, Post its, and ball point pens stacked neatly under Debbie’s desk.
“Yes. The driver was a mother of two who had just picked up one of her own daughters from school.”
Meredith marveled at the extensive knowledge that Debbie had managed to obtain in the few short minutes since they received the news. She pulled her eyes away from Debbie’s secret stash and looked up. “Why wasn’t Kevin in school himself?”
“Parent teacher conference day.”
Searching For Meredith Love Page 8