“I haven’t seen you in days. I just started a new job. I’m trying to talk with you about it and you aren’t even listening. I ask you about your day and you won’t discuss it with me.”
“I’m sorry. I just wanted to forget about my day and enjoy being with you. I heard everything you said about yours. It sounds great. But tell me more.”
She felt stupid now. Like a spoiled two-year-old. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
“How closely do you work with Peter and David?”
“I hardly ever see David. Peter’s the one I report to, I guess.”
“He seems competent.”
“Yeah...he just...seems really enthusiastic about me, when I haven’t really given him a reason, yet, to think so well of me.” She looked at Ben. He was falling asleep. “Just go to bed. It’s what you want to do anyway,” she accused.
Ben straightened himself up. “I’m sorry. I want to hear about work. It’s just that I’m so tired and I’ve got to be back at the hospital at five tomorrow.”
Meredith climbed out of bed. “That’s fine. Go to sleep. We’ll talk in your next rotation.” She left the room, flicking the light off as she went.
Mendra was in the living room but she ran to the front door as Meredith entered. “Fine. You go too! Go!” She opened the door. Mendra paused at the threshold. “Go! Go!” Meredith yelled and Mendra took off. For awhile, Meredith puttered around the house, expecting Ben to come out and apologize. Finally, she snuck back to the bedroom and opened the door a crack. She got down on all fours and listened. After a minute, she heard the telltale sound of Ben, snoring.
The damn jerk! she thought. Then her anger went away. She crawled back out and returned to the living room. She needed someone to talk to about Peter and the funny vibe, but Sarah would tell her she was nuts. Ben was too tired. Kira was too sad. It wasn’t the first time in her life that she’d been alone in crisis. But it was the first time she’d had real friends, and still felt alone. Suddenly she was exhausted. With a sigh, she laid down on the sofa. The difference this time, she reminded herself, is that the loneliness isn’t going to last. You just have to hold out through Ben’s rotation. And then she was asleep.
She woke up in darkness to the sound of the shower turning off. A few minutes later, she heard Ben’s tread on the living room floor. She kept her eyes closed, remembering how she used to feign sleep when they’d go running. They hadn’t run together in weeks. The realization made her ache.
“Meredith?” Ben's whispered voice floated into her ear. He was right up next to her. She kept her eyes closed. “Are you really asleep, or just pretending?” She started to laugh. He scooped her off the sofa and wrapped his arms around her. “It won’t always be like this. I promise. Just a few more months.”
Meredith opened her eyes. “Months? I thought this rotation was over in a week.”
“It is. But then I’ve got OB-GYN.”
Meredith sighed. “I hate your job!” She said into her shoulder. Ben was silent. “I’m being selfish,” she added quickly. “I know. But I still hate it.”
“It’s going to get better,” he said. “I swear.” He kissed her lightly on the lips. He tasted like mint and smelled like shaving cream. The tobacco smell was completely gone. “Gotta run,” he told her and in another second, he was out the door. She heard his car starting up. A few minutes after that, she heard Sic ‘em barking on the main road. With a sigh, she rolled off the sofa and went to pee. It was 4:30 a.m. She brushed her teeth, then picked up the phone to call Sarah.
Sarah answered on the first ring. “Hello?” There was music in the background.
“It’s 4:30 a.m. When do you sleep?”
“I always get up at 4. You know that. I’m just getting ready to do my yoga. What are you doing up?”
“Dr. Ben. God, I hate his hours!”
“Get used to it.”
“Once he’s a real doctor it won’t be so bad.”
“If you say so. How’s the job?”
“Good, I guess. Except that Peter’s the main one I deal with. I’m hoping to get to interact with more people once I get an office.”
“Why? Peter’s great. You’re better off just dealing with him.”
“It’s sort of weird to only see the place through his eyes. For instance, I started talking to someone and it turns out that everyone else works twelve-hour days.”
“So what?”
“So I don’t. I haven’t been. I’ve been turning in my billing sheets with eight hours and Peter hasn’t said ‘boo.’”
“No doubt you’ll know when you need to work more. If you’ve gotten all your work done, don’t sweat it. They probably aren’t used to having you. You’ll be buried soon enough. Enjoy it while you’ve got it.”
“Maybe. I just don’t want to get special treatment from Peter.”
“Stop stressing. Come over for breakfast. I’m going to start my yoga. Victor will be up in a bit to cook. Come by in an hour.”
She was at Sarah’s door at 5:30. Victor opened it. He wore flannel pjs and a soft, gray, t-shirt. His hair was popping up in the back and his eyes were still swollen from sleep. He looked adorable. Meredith felt like a poor spinster who had come to share in their relationship bliss.
“Meredith!” Victor gave her a quick hug. “Good to see you!”
She handed him a paper bag. “Orange juice.”
“Great! Come on in!”
The living room was neater than before. “I keep straightening up,” Victor confided. “I’m a little bit of a neat freak. Sarah just hopped into the shower. She’ll be out in five.”
The kitchen was welcoming. Coffee was brewing. The chairs were comfortable. Meredith eased into one as Victor set out glasses and poured the juice into a Mexican ceramic pitcher. He put a mug of steaming coffee in front of her.
“I hope you like French toast?” he asked.
“My goodness. Yes. I love it.”
Victor was dipping thick slices of a rustic loaf into batter.
“Did you bake that?”
“Oh no. That’s freshly made this morning from Fred’s bakery.”
Meredith looked at her watch. “What time do they open?”
“Six-thirty. But one of my private students is their baker.”
“Private?”
“Karate. In addition to yoga, I teach karate and kickboxing on the side to a few serious students.”
“He’s had his black belt since he was eighteen.” Sarah had entered the kitchen. Her hair was wrapped up in a towel.
“Since eighteen? Wow.”
Victor shrugged and began serving French toast. He also had fresh fruit.
“Victor, leave those dishes. Come eat while it’s hot.”
“It’ll just be a second,” Victor assured her as he squeezed liquid soap under a stream of hot water. Sarah rolled her eyes at Meredith.
“Anal-retentive.”
“I just want to clean up now so I can relax while I eat.”
“If you leave them and eat, I’ll clean them after breakfast.”
“I’m almost done.”
Sarah looked at Meredith. “This happens at every meal. He can’t sit down and eat until all the dishes are done.”
“I’m neat.”
“It’s a disease. There’s medication that could help you.”
Meredith was starting to feel uncomfortable. Victor glanced her way. “How’s the job going, Meredith?”
“Good, I guess. I get this funny vibe from Peter. My boss,” she told Victor, in case he didn’t know.
“What sort of vibe?” Victor asked.
“Well, for instance, I need to meet with him today. He wants to give me input on how I’m doing with my various projects. But we’re going to do it tonight, over dinner at that new fancy restaurant that just opened on San Mateo.”
“Sounds like a great job so far,” Victor commented while he washed at the sink.
“Peter’s just a flirt. Don’t take him seriously. Vi
ctor, please come sit. It’s rude.” Sarah said.
Meredith sighed and gave up trying to talk about her Peter concerns. “How long have you been doing yoga?” she asked Sarah.
“Oh, about a year,” Sarah started eating. “I’m going to enjoy my meal while it’s hot,” she told Victor.
“It’s delicious,” Meredith added.
“Thanks.” Victor wiped his hands on a dry dish cloth, refolded it, and sat down. “Still hot,” he told Sarah. Their eyes locked over the table.
“Do you do yoga too?” Meredith asked Victor.
“Not often. I used to. I do Tai Chi now.”
“I’m thinking of trying that,” Sarah told him. “It’s just that yoga works for me. I don’t want to switch off and screw up my routine.”
Victor shrugged. “If it ain’t broke...”
“True,” Sarah agreed. She looked at Meredith. “I just met a great guy. Do you like beards?”
“What? I’m dating Ben.”
Sarah shrugged. “You’ve got other options besides him. This guy is a lawyer and in his free time, he makes stained glass windows.”
“Sarah, I’m not looking for a new boyfriend. I just want to see more of the one I have.”
Sarah shrugged. “If wishes were horses then beggars would ride.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just that you can want Ben to have more time, but it’s not a very realistic wish, considering his profession.”
“I’ve already told you, that won’t last.”
“And then what? Eight to five? Is that what your bosses at Family Practice worked?”
Meredith thought of Corky, who absolutely never left before seven p.m. And then there was inpatient attending, where the doctors were on call for the residents. Unlike the residents, they slept at home, but received calls at all hours of the night. When cases were complicated, they drove in to the hospital.
“I see your point,” Meredith conceded. “Maybe it’s something I’ll have to learn to live with.”
“If you can learn to live with it,” Sarah added.
Meredith sighed.
Sarah laughed. “Look at me.” She rumpled Victor’s hair. “I’ll never get to start a meal with Victor. I’m still debating whether or not it’s a trait I can live with.”
“And I have to live in sloth because Sarah has a fantasy about destroying people’s finances with messiness.”
“It’s ironic that you fight over this,” Meredith told him, “because Sarah is the queen of neatness. You just can’t tell right now.”
Victor looked at Sarah with an appealing face.
“I want my window,” she said, stubbornly.
He shrugged. “And there you have it.”
“We’ll start with a bottle of your Chardonnay. I’ll have the duck. The lady will have the pasta special.” Peter handed the menus back to the waitress. As she walked away, Peter said, “I wish you’d order something more expensive than pasta.” He was quite good-looking, Meredith thought. His eyes were a startling blue. Not Ben's blue. Peter's eyes were very light. Icy.
“I like pasta.”
Peter smiled across the table at Meredith. He had a disarming smile. “This is so much nicer than meeting in the conference room, isn’t it?”
“There’s not going to be much room to lay the papers out.” She was clutching her valise in her lap, which contained the bulk of her current projects.
“We can talk about it. If we need to lay papers out, we’ll do it after the dessert.” He looked at the valise. “Relax. Put the briefcase down. This is just a casual dinner.”
Meredith put everything under the table. Her fingers were cramped from holding the handle too tightly.
“Now,” Peter told her, lifting his water glass to his lips, “are we overworking you or do you still have time to paint?”
“Not at all. I’m only working about nine hours a day. Yesterday I did ten. So there’s plenty of time for other things.”
“And Ben? Is he okay with your long hours?”
Meredith laughed. “Well, since his average day lately is eighteen hours, I don’t think he’s noticed.”
“I’m sorry. It must be hard to come second.”
“Oh no. It’s not like that at all.” Meredith could feel her cheeks getting hot. “He’s amazing, actually. Despite his killer schedule, he still makes time for me. And besides, it’s not usually like this. He’s just had two really bad rotations in a row.”
Peter shook his head. “You’re amazing, Meredith. Very understanding.”
“No,” Meredith told him. “Ben's amazing. So have you been able to meet with any of the people who are using the new database? I thought they’d be at dinner tonight, so I could hear their feedback.”
“They all love it.”
“Really? Because usually there’s little glitches that I can’t see until the program gets put into practical use.”
“I know it’s very isolating for you to be working at home. That’s part of why I wanted to have dinner with you. To let you know that we haven’t forgotten about you. The other reason is because,” he shrugged, “I really enjoy talking to you. You’re unique. It’s refreshing.”
“Do you think I could get a meeting set up with the people using my database? There’s eight of them, right? That would be very helpful.”
“Absolutely. Consider it done.”
The wine arrived. Peter nodded his approval at the label with apparent ease. The waitress cut off the seal and deftly uncorked the bottle. She handed him the cork, which he examined visually and squeezed with his index finger and thumb. The waitress poured a small quantity of wine into Peter’s glass. He studied the color leisurely before tasting the wine. Then he nodded. She filled Meredith's glass first. Then Peter’s. Then backed away and disappeared. Meredith reminded herself that Doug was a Dairy Queen manager three years ago.
“Does anyone ever send it back?”
“Of course.” Peter told her. “I have. Once the cork was moldy. You can tell right away when it’s bad.”
“Why didn’t you sniff the cork?”
“You’re not really supposed to sniff it,” he explained. “You just want to make sure the cork is wet. If the cork is dry, air gets in and the wine goes bad.”
“Wow. I never knew that. I guess I’m not very worldly.”
Peter shrugged, suddenly self-conscious. “I picked that up from a wine distributor in Madison, Wisconsin. Before that, I didn’t know jack about any of this stuff.” He shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Here I was, trying to impress you and instead I’ve managed to intimidate you and display the vast limitations of my knowledge.”
“Hmmm.” Meredith was wondering how she was going to be able to navigate her way through this dinner.
“So what are you painting lately?” Peter changed the subject.
“People,” she told him. “Now, is Terry Schmidt the best person for me to contact in marketing?”
Peter laughed. “Sorry. I can see you want to stick to work. So let’s stick to work. I’ll stop asking you about your paintings.”
The dinner was productive. Peter was full of ideas on the direction her job was moving in. He listened to her comments and suggestions and didn’t get defensive when they disagreed. He asked her a lot of questions about programming languages. She got the idea that he really wanted to learn about the technical part of her job.
“God, it’s a lot of work,” he told her. “I’m beginning to wonder if you can handle all of this work on your own. We’re expanding so quickly that I can barely catch my breath.”
Meredith gave him her feedback on different directions a team of programmers could go. “Interesting.” He’d nod. “It’s not really the way I was thinking, but I like it. Let me think it over and chat with Dave about it before I give you a definite answer.”
Meredith refused dessert. Peter ordered the crème brulee. “I have an incurable sweet tooth,” he apologized.
“Thanks for dinner,�
�� she told him sincerely.
Peter shook his head. “Thanks for your insightful ideas. And your company. Ben’s a lucky guy. If he wasn’t in your life...”
“...I’m the lucky one.” She interrupted him before he could finish his sentence. “Really,” she added, without looking him in the eye. The waitress appeared and discreetly laid the check on the table next to Peter’s elbow. “I’m the lucky one.”
Work was going steadily the next day when Meredith decided to take a break. She was in her rocker with the laptop. Mendra was in the bookcase, watching her from across the room. “I have to take advantage of this freedom while I’ve got it,” she told her.
After marking her hours, (she’d stopped bothering with the kitchen timer weeks ago) she pulled on her sneakers and headed out.
Sic’em escorted her to the corner, terrorizing a black Toyota pickup while Meredith waited her turn to pull out.
She went to Double Rainbow, picking up the weekly freebie on the way in. She managed a table by the window and sat enjoying the natural light and the idea of the buzz the coffee was going to bring her. “This is good,” she said to herself.
“Meredith? Oh, it is you. How’s it going?”
Ann. Great. “Hi Ann. Nice to see you.”
“May I join you?” Even better, Meredith thought.
“Of course.” Meredith pushed out a chair. “Are you playing hooky?”
Ann laughed. “Do I look guilty? I just got off a rough call night. We have a grand rounds that I’m sneaking home on.”
“Won’t coffee keep you up?”
“Oh no. It’s like water to me now. How about you? I heard you got a fab new job with some Internet company.”
“Yeah. I’m working at home until the new offices are built.”
“And how’s Ben?”
“You probably know better than me--I haven’t seen much of him since his surgical rotations began.” She regretted the complaint the second it came out.
“He's been on some rough ones. I haven’t seen much of him either.”
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