The Science of Loving

by Candace Vianna

  I heard my mother raising hell as soon as the doors opened. “I’m his wife dammit; I have every right to be here.”

  “I’m sorry Ma’am, but he doesn’t want to see you.”

  I turned the corner to find Mom glaring daggers at a matronly nurse while a couple of uniformed security guards looked on, ready to pounce. “Excuse me?”

  “Angelina, thank God.”

  I focused on the nurse, ignoring the disapproving look she directed at Mat. “We’re here to see my father, I’m Angelina Martin and this is Mat—Mathew James.”

  She nodded. “He’s expecting you—cubicle six, go all the way to the back and it will be on your right.” Mat grabbed my hand, leading me off without saying a word to Mom.

  “Wait, how come he gets to go? He’s not even a family member.”

  “He’s on the emergency contact list.”

  Mat changed course, spotting Daddy sitting on a half raised bed with the privacy curtains drawn back, watching the bustling activity around him with interest. He waved when he noticed our approach.

  “Hey you.” I leaned over kissing his cheek.

  “Hey you, right back.” He hugged me then shook Mat’s hand. “Thanks for coming. Sorry to ruin your plans.”

  “No worries Jack, defiling you daughter can wait.” God, he did not just say that.

  “And I’ll be sticking around to ensure you make an honest woman of her.” Please let the ground open up and swallow me.

  “Guys, can you not talk about me like I’m not here? Daddy, just how hard did you hit your head?”

  “Yeah, man, what happened?”

  “I was walking to the store and some idiot decided he’d rather ride his bicycle on the sidewalk instead of the street. It’s fortunate, my foot caught on an uneven section of concrete, otherwise I might’ve ended up under a passing car. Luckily, my head broke my fall, or there’s no telling what I might’ve broken.”

  “The sidewalk?” Mat teased. It was worrisome how well those two were getting along.

  “Yeah, that poor sidewalk never stood a chance.”

  I was so relieved hearing Daddy make corny jokes; I began tearing up. “Hey, there’s no need for that. I’m going to be fine.” He patted my hand as Mat hugged me from behind.

  “I know. I was just so worried. You know Mom’s here. She’s ranting at this poor nurse because she won’t let her come back.”

  “Yeah, the hospital started making calls before I could update my contact information. And, you need to know, when I prepared for the divorce, my lawyer insisted on having an Advance Directive in case something went wrong. It designates you, and only you, to make legal and medical decisions on my behalf. It shouldn’t be a problem now that the hospital’s aware that your mother and I are estranged.”

  “You don’t think that’s a little extreme?”

  “Perhaps, but you’ve got a good head on your shoulders, and with everything that’s going on, I know I can trust you to do what’s right.”

  “Excuse me, I’m Dr. Mahajan, I believe we spoke on the phone?” A slight dark skinned man with thinning hair approached us.

  “Yes, Hi… I’m Angelina Martin. Thank you for taking care of my dad.”

  “It’s my pleasure. As I said earlier, there’s no indication of serious trauma, but we’ll monitor him for a while and run some additional tests.” He motioned to a couple of orderlies waiting patiently. “They need to take him upstairs now. He’s going to be in room 426. You can join him once he’s settled.”

  I nodded, giving Daddy a kiss. “Okay, we’ll see you in a bit.”

  “I’ll walk you up. I have a few routine questions for you.”

  “Sure, if it’ll help.”

  He waited until we were seated in a cheerful alcove on the fourth floor. “Now I don’t want to alarm you, as I said, these are routine questions we have to ask in situations like this.” I nodded, taking Mat’s hand, the familiar tightness returning to my chest.

  “Has you father recently complained of headaches, dizziness or fallen?” I shook my head no.

  “Has he ever appeared disoriented or irrational?” Oh, God… no… Mat squeezed my hand, and I slowly inhaled. “Has he complained of muscle weakness or had slurred speech?”

  “No, why aren’t you asking him these questions?”

  “I have, but sometimes family members notice things the patient is unaware of. He does live with you correct?”

  “Yes, but he only moved in this past Monday. My parents are getting divorced.”

  “Is this a sudden development?”

  “Yes… No… Only to me, apparently. I guess he’s been planning it for a while. Things haven’t been good between them for a long time.”

  “Well, as I said, everything appears normal. Just to be safe, we’ll run some tests and watch him for a while. You can see him in a few more minutes. Unfortunately, visiting hours end at 8:30, so you won’t be able to stay long.”

  The elevator opened with a ding and the doctor paled as the rest of the James descended on us. “Mammy, you shouldn’t have come all the way down here. I told you I’d call you once we knew anything.”

  “Aach… You know me better than that, of course we came.”

  “Dr. Mahajan, these are my folks, Carmen and Stewart, and my sister Danny. You might want to run while you can.”

  He looked at his watch. “Will you look at the time; I think I’m needed in surgery.” He smiled warmly. “It was a pleasure meeting you all, but I really do have to get back to the ER.”

  “Ummm… About my mom.”

  “We’ll do what we can. I’ve already noted not to disclose his location, but if she’s really determined, she’ll find him,” he said, regarding the giants surrounding him with new concern.

  “Not to worry Doc,” Mat reached out to shake his hand. “They got his location from me. I texted an update when you gave us the room number.” After his retreat, the James closed ranks around me.

  Angie seemed to be getting use to my touchy-feely family. She barely flinched when we jumped into our usual hug-fest. We broke apart when an orderly informed us that Jack was ready to hold court.

  He was a little startled at first, seeing the James invasion force, but he recovered quickly, and smiled warmly when Angie took his hand. “Hey Daddy, we can only stay for a few minutes, but I’ll come back tomorrow.”

  “Don’t you worry about me, I’m fine. They’re only keeping me overnight to cover their butts.”

  “Is there anything you need us to do?” I asked. From what he said downstairs, most of the legal stuff was covered. “Anyone you need us to call?”

  “Not right now; just look after my girl for me. I’ll ring my attorney in the morning, just as a precaution.”

  “What about the bicyclist? Is he all right?” Leave it to Angie to worry about the jerk who landed her dad in the hospital.

  “If the speed he took off with is any indication, he’s just fine.”

  “He didn’t even stop to see if you were all right?”

  “Nope, the way he was moving, you’d have thought his pants were on fire.” That was strange. My folks exchanged a glance, the look on Mom’s face not boding well for someone.

  “Don’t worry about a thing,” Mom said. “We’ll look after Angie; we already consider her family. And if you need anything, anything at all, you call.”

  After exchanging a few more pleasantries, we waited in the hall to give Angie a few minutes alone with her dad. “So Mammy, what’s with the look.”

  “What look?” Mom said, her expression, shuttered while Dad looked grim.

  “That look?”

  “It’s probably nothing, just a feeling.”

  “The last ‘probably nothing’ feeling you had, ended with a Grand Jury indictment, followed by some serious jail time.”

  “Yes, well, human trafficking is an ugly business… Hush now, here she comes.”

  Angie’s cautious approach had me smiling—three giants and my mom, she should be wary. �
��C’mere babe.” I roped her in, mauling her a bit just for fun. “It’s getting late. Let’s go home and veg.”

  While we waited for the elevator, Danny began whistling ‘Puff the Magic Dragon’ off-key. She knew it was like nails on a chalkboard to me. She’d heard me whistling one day when we were kids then nagged me into teaching her. The rest of that summer, she drove me nuts whistling ‘Puff the Magic Dragon’ continuously, and only the fear of payback kept me from throttling her five-year-old neck. Even back then, she was vicious, and too damned sneaky for my peace of mind.

  It was closing on 9:30 by the time Angie slouched out of my elevator, hugging herself. “I guess tonight didn’t turn out quite the way you’d planned. Riding to my rescue all the time must be getting old.” Aw, baby don’t do this to yourself.

  “Naw, I think it’s been pretty spectacular so far. I got to fantasize about you in a strip club,” I said, giving her my best leer. “Enjoyed some fine dining, got to work my mojo getting my dance on—although, your laughter might’ve hurt a lesser man.” I stretched out on the sofa, dragging her down onto my chest. “I even got your old man’s nod to defile you.” I added smugly.

  “He wasn’t giving you a nod; he was letting you know his shotgun was wedding-ready.”

  “Same thing.”

  “Is not.”

  “Is to.” I grinned at her; I could do this all night. “It’s guy parlance.”

  “Guy parlance?”

  “Yep.”

  “Care to couch that in terms those of us with two fully formed chromosomes can understand?”

  “He basically informed me I could fuck you sideways, upside down, and every way in between, but I’d better plan on sticking around. And if I broke your heart, he’d fuck me six ways to Sunday.”

  “He said all that?”

  “Yep.”

  “Six ways to Sunday?”

  “Definitely.”

  “Why does my brain suddenly feel like it’s going to explode?”

  “This is the way my dad once explained it to a younger, furrier and somewhat less adorned me. He posited that crossing into an opposing gender’s communicational dimension was a lot like entering a wormhole: A plane rife with monsters, hidden shoals and dangers untold, and lingering there too long, courted madness.”

  “Were you guys high at the time?”

  “Possibly… Probably.” I stroked her back, and she relaxed into a loose heap on my chest. Oh, sweetheart, you’ve had a really rough week.

  “Mmmmm… this is nice…” Yes it is.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Hot Coffee and Cold Feet

  Strong hands and soft lips tugged rhythmically at my nipple. Mmmmm… This was how I wanted to wake up from now on. I could learn to love early morning cactus chin if he kept doing that with his tongue. My hands clasped his shorn head, feeling his emerging grin against my breast.

  “G’morning, sweetness.”

  “Mmmmm… Yes, it is,” I sighed and reached up, stretching like a cat. Ew… Flop sweat and stale sex. I yanked my arms down to stem the malodorous stench emanating from my pits—lovely. I probably had a raging case of halitosis too. Why, oh why didn’t I shower last night—oh right. He woke me up carrying me to bed after I’d fallen asleep on the couch then declared he had a solemn duty to return me to my gentle slumber, and then gave fucking me into unconsciousness his best shot.

  “Off.” I squirmed, shoving at him. I had to get away before he noticed the ‘Eau Du Slut’ emanating from my person. “Bathroom.”

  “But it’s just getting interesting,” he pouted, tweaking my nipple. “I’m not done playing with these yet.”

  “Believe me, if I don’t get some immediate me time, interesting’s going to take on new, and menacing implications. Off… Off…” My efforts were for the most part ineffectual since my elbows were stuck to my sides as a matter of HAZMAT containment.

  “Fine.” He rolled onto his back so I could scramble out from under him, his holler following my stumbling progress across the darkened bedroom. “But just so you know, I like waking up with a properly fucked woman covered in my stink.” Shit, he’d noticed. How could he smell and look so good the morning after, while I woke up smelling like a ten-dollar whore after Fleet Week. Life was so unfair; a testosterone factory that big should give your nose at least a little twitch.

  “I’ll get some coffee going,” he yelled louder to make up for the distance muting his voice. “And when I get back, I want those tasty tits for breakfast with a side of cream.” Oh, my… does that mean what I think?

  I flipped on the light, grabbed the first toothbrush I saw, and began scrubbing my teeth in a giddy rush while I peed—who said I couldn't multi-task?—shit, I lunged for the toilette paper when an exuberant tug sent it spinning out of control—damn, I really should’ve given this more thought—I was trapped on the commode. Clutched in one hand was a fistful of toilette paper still attached to the roll, while the other held the toothbrush, drool dripping off my chin. I tossed the toothbrush in the general direction of the sink, ricocheting white speckles onto the chrome facet. A single, lonely dot landed on the vanity mirror. Finally, I could liberate the wad of paper without TP’ing the entire bathroom.

  I suppressed a frenetic giggle, seeing the spit decorating my chest in the mirror. Obviously, I wasn’t immune to Mat’s Pavlovian influence—well, he'd have minty fresh breath after playtime—I took a quick whore’s bath then spied his deodorant as I mopped up my salivary mess: Natural Grooming by Herban Cowboy. I popped the top off and sniffed—nice—a couple of swipes later, I was forest fresh and ready for a morning after pep talk—okay, deep breath. Just pretend he didn’t notice you woke up covered in stench that could gag a maggot. Nope, not me—hey, are those fingerprints—my hipbones were bedecked with red blotches.

  I squeaked; slamming the door as soon as I opened it, a beautiful wall of naked maleness startling the shit out of me. The door crept inward as I backed away.

  “Hey.”

  “God, Mat, I didn’t know you were standing right there. You scared the bejeezus out of me.” I plopped down on the commode leaning forward, hugging my stomach. I wasn't use to this. I'd never stayed the whole night with a guy.

  An enigmatic smile stole across his face, the devil dancing in his hooded grey eyes. “Yeah, but we both know how much you like scary me.”

  “Not without a little warning, I don’t. Shit.”

  “I’m sorry, baby. C’mere.” Squatting down, he gathered me in his arms.

  “No, no… I’m okay. I just need a minute.” I tried pushing him away.

  “Of course you’re okay. I’m an ass. Forgive me.”

  I shook my head, feeling foolish. He stiffened. I placed a hand on his shoulder when I felt him start to pull back. “Not your fault. Even geniuses suffer occasional bouts of stupidity.”

  “None of that now,” he said, brushing tears I hadn’t noticed off my face with a wad of toilette paper. “I won’t have anyone putting you down, including you. Now let’s get out of here while I can still feel my feet.” Holding out his hands, he pulled me up with a grin. “You wearing my deodorant?”

  I nodded turning fireball red. “Me gusta.” He tossed over his shoulder as I followed his incredible bare ass all the way to the kitchen. “Enjoying the view?” Shit.

  “Si, gracias. You’re a feast for the eyes.” Hey, I’m flirting bilingually. Naked. Maybe I didn't totally suck at this after all.

  “De nada, mío gringa picante.”

  I shifted uneasily on a barstool. The leather felt weirdly uncomfortable, sticking to my bare skin. While Mat filled two cups with coffee, adding cream and extra sugar to mine, I retrieved one of the tea-towels hanging from the oven door, then after spreading it over the leather seat I hopped back on a little too energetically—whoops, no bra—my cheeks reddened noticing his amusement. “The leather felt icky.”

  He slid a cup to me as I studied the quartz shards embedded in the dark granite counter. I glanced up, startled, w
hen he didn't immediately release it. “Fair warning, I get twice as hungry when I don’t get breakfast in bed.” He smiled, seeing the shiver I couldn’t quite hide.

  “You aren’t planning on cooking like that?” I asked by way of topic change, waving at all that olive skin.

  “What, you don’t like Naked Chef?”

  “Jamie Oliver never looked like that, I’d have noticed.”

  “And you never will; he’s a midget. What is he, like 5 foot two?”

  “You’re such a liar. He’s a normal sized guy. 5’10ish maybe.”

  “Like I said, a midget.” He emerged from the refrigerator with a couple tubs of smear and a bag of bagels. “Besides, I think I can safely operate a toaster in my natural state.”

  “I don’t know… The other night, David Letterman talked about a guy caught getting amorous with his toaster or more precisely getting his member caught.”

  “Yeah, where was this?”

  “London. The London Fire Brigade has even started a safety campaign on twitter. Ummm… hash tagged fiftyshadesofred I think.”

  “No shit?” He set a plate with a bagel toasted golden-brown in front of me. “What kind of moron fucks his toaster when there’s a perfectly good vacuum cleaner?”

  “You’re disturbed.”

  “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about the power tools, sweetness.” Oh, god…

  Winding her up was so much fun; she was turning that perfect shade of pink. Mmmmm… I'd have go shopping if I wanted to make good on my threats—I crunched into my bagel watching her squirm as predawn light crept in through the windows. It was hard to believe that timid little girl I met two weeks ago was the same woman having naked breakfast in my kitchen. Had it only been two weeks? It was probably too soon to ask her to go on the pill. I hated having to deal with condoms when all I wanted was to snuggle and nap, but that kind of intimacy was reserved for exclusive relationships.

  “So…, I guess I’ll call Daddy,” she said, chasing her last bite with some coffee.