by Emily Smith
* * *
Rowan figured she might as well return Brian’s call while she sat in the waiting area of the Surgical Intensive Care Unit. She’d walked through this waiting room three dozen times since she’d been at Boston City. Often, she was the one to come out and tell an anxious family member that their loved one had made it through surgery. Or, in some cases, not. Usually those instances were reserved for senior residents and attendings to deal with. Rowan was mostly sent to deliver good news. She’d entered this waiting room over and over again. But she’d never sat alone, waiting for someone to tell her everything would be okay. It was close to midnight, and she wasn’t sure what she was still doing there. The lighting was dim—an attempt to provide comfort to the three other people left sitting in the corner of the waiting room, staring at the ceiling, as if waiting to hear if their lives were about to be forever changed. A man in a faded baseball cap glanced at the clock on the wall and squeezed the hand of the woman next to him. Rowan felt selfish. Her loved one was not in surgery. She had nothing to lose that night. But Galen did.
Galen had clearly told her not to come with her to see her mother. Why would she? Rowan didn’t know her mother. Hell, she barely knew Galen. It would have been wildly inappropriate. Yet there she sat, going on hour two, wondering if Galen would still need her.
“Sorry. Did I wake you up?” She did her best to keep her voice low and somber to match the mood of the room.
“Not at all.” Brian had clearly been sleeping. His voice was heavy, and Rowan thought he’d underestimated how well she knew him. She smiled to herself. She’d grown up with Brian. Their fathers had been best friends, and in middle school, when Brian was the only kid at recess sitting by himself, Rowan had offered to play catch with him. It bothered her when the eighth-graders degraded her for it. But the idea of Brian being alone bothered her more. She wasn’t sure whether it was her father’s insistence or just her own deeply instilled sense of loyalty, but that recess began a pattern of Rowan acting as Brian’s shield.
Rowan was popular enough. She was good at soccer, and smart, and had the uncanny ability to transcend all teenage cliques. This made it a little easier to continue to spend time with Brian, who, in spite of himself, remained the target of Kick Me signs and pantsings, and, worst of all, physical assault by some of the older boys. Her shallow, boy-crazy friends occasionally teased her for her study sessions and movie nights with Brian. But she didn’t care. Besides, she never had to endure even a modicum of the abuse that Brian did.
Truth be told, she loved spending time with him. He was smart—a genius, actually. Brian was the only reason she survived biochemistry in high school. In fact, he was probably the reason she made it into medical school. He was funny too. Not in a laugh-out-loud, entertain-a-room kind of way. Brian had the kind of humor that was so dry and stiff, it took you at least thirty seconds to process that he’d just made a joke. And when you did, you couldn’t help but laugh at his gift for subtle and quiet, finely tuned wit that most people missed.
By high school, Rowan had more than grown into her looks. Puberty had left her with curves exactly where they should have been, and a stunning smile filled with beautiful white teeth had replaced her braces. She and Brian stayed close, and that seemed to keep the beatings at bay. No one else understood their friendship. And no one understood why Rowan went with Brian to the homecoming dance in their junior year. For Rowan, it was simple. She didn’t know anyone she’d rather spend her time with.
It was no secret that Brian was in love with Rowan. And, for the most part, she was able to comfortably ignore that fact. But the night of the homecoming dance, when Brian showed up on her doorstep with a cheesy corsage and a box of chocolates, Rowan thought she might be able to love him too. She did love him. Just maybe not in exactly the same way. But that was fine enough for her. That night, he tried to kiss her in the front seat of his beat-up ’96 Buick. It was not the first time he’d tried. But it was the first time Rowan let him. Rowan wouldn’t have described the result as sparks, or fireworks, or Breakfast Club-level chemistry, but she found comfort, and security, and friendship. And Rowan vowed in that moment to do whatever she had to in order to keep Brian Hemmings safe.
“I’m sorry I missed your call. Or…calls. I’ve just been—”
“Busy. I understand. Listen, Ro. I don’t know when’s the right time to ask you this because I just can’t ever seem to find a right time, but…are you breaking up with me?”
“What?!” Rowan suddenly felt nauseous. She hadn’t really thought about that. It wasn’t even a possibility, not an option. But when Brian said the words out loud, they sounded so incredibly appealing, she wanted to vomit.
“Just be honest with me. We’ve always been honest with each other, right?”
She sucked in a deep breath and sighed. “I don’t know, Bry. Honestly, I don’t. All I have time to focus on these days is my work. I just don’t have room for anything else.”
“So…you do want to break up—”
“No! Yes? I’m not saying that. I’m just saying that, maybe we should take a little time. You know, like a break.”
“A break.” He sounded hollow and shattered.
“Just for a little bit. While I get my shit together. It’s not like this is forever, okay? If we were in the same state, things would be different. But we have to work with what we have.”
The other end of the line was silent so long Rowan wondered if he’d hung up. “Okay. You can take some time.”
“Hey. I love you.” Rowan meant that. She just didn’t know in what capacity.
“I love you too.”
Her phone beeped three times, and the screen went black. The three others in the waiting room were gone. They must have received some kind of news while Rowan had been talking. She hoped to God it was good news. That was really all she could take in that moment. A TV hanging from the wall played CNN on low, but otherwise, the room was eerily quiet. Rowan rubbed her temples and thought about going home.
“I had a feeling you’d still be here.” Galen’s voice sent a ripple of excitement and joy through her that she so badly needed.
“I just figured I’d wait. You know, in case you needed me.”
Galen sat in the raggedy chair next to her but angled her body so her knees were touching Rowan’s, sending a seeping warmth up Rowan’s legs that settled in her belly. Even in the midst of a potentially devastating loss, Galen embodied unwavering strength. Her shirt was unbuttoned down to the third button, an enticing amount of skin peeking out from her broad chest, and her hair was disheveled so perfectly it looked like she’d spent the afternoon at the beach instead of in a hospital room.
Galen smiled at her, and her hand drifted to Rowan’s thigh, squeezing it with just enough pressure to leave Rowan dizzy. She thought about their kiss. She thought about fireworks and sparks and chemistry. She found nothing comfortable about that moment—nothing easy. Rowan thought for sure Galen would kiss her again when she took her face in the stairwell. She was glad she hadn’t. It would have only further complicated things. Yes, she was glad Galen hadn’t kissed her again. But God, she also wished she had.
“Thank you. But this is too much. It’s midnight. You should be home.”
“It’s not too much. And you should really stop thanking me. It’s losing its effect.” Rowan weaved her fingers through Galen’s on the hand that still rested on her leg.
“I’m not used to people taking care of me.”
“It’s not so bad, you know.”
Galen smiled. “I mean, I guess I could get used to it once in a while.”
“How’s your mom?”
“Good. The surgery went well. They repaired the entire triple-A, and she’s been stable since she got out. She’s still intubated, but they’re going to take out the tube in the morning.”
“I’m so glad, Galen. And…your dad?”
Galen’s face fell a little. “He finished her surgery and stayed with her for about twenty minu
tes before running off to fix some kid’s spleen laceration.”
“I’m sorry. She’s lucky to have you.” Rowan could see Galen’s sadness change to anger.
“She should have him too. Thirty-eight years they’ve been married. Thirty-fucking-eight years. I can’t even fathom what it would be like to be with someone that long. You know? To brush your teeth next to the same person every night. To wake up with them every morning. And that man can’t even stay at her bedside when she needs him the most.”
“Is that really what’s bothering you?”
Galen pulled back from Rowan quickly. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, is your dad not being there for your mother really what’s bothering you? Or is it that he isn’t here for you?”
“I…” The anger in Galen’s eyes dissipated. “You’re right. Of course I’m angry he’s not with her. But he should be here with me too. And what about my sisters? They aren’t as tough as I am. They don’t understand what he’s like the way I do. Ginger and Grace are in there with my mom, and they don’t know what to do with themselves either. They need someone to tell them everything’s going to be okay. We all do.”
Rowan smoothed the back of Galen’s wild hair. “They have someone to tell them that. They have you.”
“What about me? Who do I have?”
Rowan’s heart pounded at the building electricity between them. It amazed her that she could be surrounded by such heartache and still want to touch Galen so much. “You have me. How about that?”
“I could be okay with that…”
Chapter Eleven
The hospital room was cold, and the recliner Galen slept in must have been cushioned with crumpled newspaper. Her mother was still sedated, the soft hum of the ventilator doing nothing to soothe Galen’s nerves. Her sisters, Grace and Ginger, had gone home to be with their own kids, and Galen was alone. She wished for a moment that her father would show up. But what she really wanted quickly replaced that wish—Rowan. The comfort she had felt knowing that Rowan was nearby seemed foreign and addictive. She’d spent her entire life learning how to shut people out. Yet somehow it had quickly become so easy to let Rowan close.
She cursed herself for sending Rowan away.
* * *
Rowan couldn’t sleep, not that she should have been surprised. She lay in her bed and traced the swirling patterns on her ceiling with her gaze, thinking about the sharp turn her life had just taken. She and Brian were done. Or, at least, it felt that way. Rowan thought about how much she would miss him if it really were the end. Brian had been her best friend since they were ten. More than that, he needed her. The world chewed up people like Brian and spit them out so everyone who’d made his life miserable for the last thirty-something years could stomp on the pieces. She couldn’t let that happen to him. So what if that meant she might miss out on real, romantic love?
Her mind shifted to Galen and the intensity in her eyes as she had stared at her in the stairwell. Rowan was tired of pretending she wasn’t attracted to Galen. Never in her life had she been attracted to a woman. But, actually, the more she thought about it, the more she realized that never in her life had she really been attracted to anyone. Brian was nice-looking, of course. And she didn’t mind having sex with him or kissing him. In fact, she enjoyed cuddling with him in front of a movie or before falling asleep. But she was beginning to see that these were not exactly the same things as attraction. Attraction entailed looking at someone and feeling an undeniable urge to have your hands on them. It was thinking how amazing it would feel to lie naked next to them or have their lips on the bare skin of your neck. It was Galen.
Was she a lesbian now? Jesus Christ! Rowan sighed aloud. Somehow, that seemed like the least important and least frightening question she had to ask herself.
* * *
The alarm on Rowan’s cell phone jingled at five thirty am, like it did every morning. She hadn’t slept for more than a couple of hours, but she happily jumped out of bed without hitting the snooze button and got into the shower. Her mood directly contradicted the events of the prior evening. Rowan was almost…giddy? What would normally be a fifteen-minute commute to the hospital took twenty-five. She’d stopped at a local doughnut shop and picked up a half-dozen doughnuts and four large coffees.
“Morning!” Makayla had spotted her walking in just ahead of her and chased her down. “Ooo, doughnuts? What’s the occasion? Save me a Boston cream, okay?”
“Sorry. They’re not for you guys.” They stepped onto the elevator together, and Makayla hit the button for the fifth floor.
“Who are they for then?”
Rowan took an awkward step past her and pushed the button numbered eight.
“No one. Really.”
“No one? And where are you headed to so early?”
“You’re awful nosy, you know that?” The doors opened, and Rowan stepped out and smiled, waving to Makayla. “I’ll see you at rounds.”
She took the long hallway to the Surgical ICU and stopped at the front desk.
“Can you tell me what room Margaret Burgess is in?”
The young secretary with a strip of pink hair could hardly be bothered to look up from her online shopping. “812. But you can’t go in there.”
“Look. I know the rule is immediate family, only—”
“And are you immediate family?”
“Well, no, but…here.” Rowan slid her hospital ID across the desk.
The girl shrugged and went back to browsing shoes. “Whatever. It’s too early for me to care. Go ahead.”
Rowan’s pulse quickened as she neared room 812. She hadn’t exactly been invited to see Galen’s family, or Galen for that matter. And she wasn’t altogether sure how her visit would go over. Galen’s laughter reached her ears before she’d made it to the doorway, and she picked up her pace. When she reached the room, she stood outside, absorbing the happiness that seeped out of it. The breathing tube had been removed from Mrs. Burgess’s mouth, and she was sitting up in bed, telling what appeared to be a very animated story to Galen and two other women with her same intense eyes.
“Knock, knock. Can I come in?” She smiled nervously, unsure if she would be welcomed.
Galen looked up, her clear surprise quickly turning to pleasure. “Ro. What are you doing here?”
“I thought y’all could use some coffee.”
“I don’t know who you are, but clearly you’re some kind of angel,” one of the other women said. “Come in. Please. I’m Ginger.”
“Rowan. I’m a…friend of your sister.”
The woman who introduced herself as Ginger glanced at Galen with a raised eyebrow. A friend of Galen? “Nice to meet you.” She extended her hand to Rowan.
“I’m Grace, the middle Burgess sister.” Grace, who appeared to be the subtler of the two, shook her hand.
“Nice to meet you both. I hope you like hazelnut. This place has fantastic coffee. And their doughnuts are basically worth dying for.”
“You really are an angel,” Ginger said.
“Ro, I want you to meet the matriarch of the Burgess clan. This is my mama.” Galen gestured to the woman in the hospital bed, who had been quietly awaiting her introduction. Rowan leaned toward her and touched her shoulder gently.
“It’s so nice to meet you, ma’am.”
“Ma’am? Oh God, you’re making me feel old. Or maybe that’s this enormous scar across my chest?” Margaret’s tone was filled with good nature.
“I’m sorry. I’m from Texas. Everyone there is a ma’am.”
“It’s very nice of you to come by. I haven’t met many of Galen’s friends.”
Rowan glanced at Galen, who looked as red as the skin of an apple. “Well, I’m happy to meet you. And I’m so glad you’re feeling better. I hope y’all enjoy the coffee.” Goddamn it, her drawl was strong today. “I should get going so I don’t miss rounds.”
“Rounds?” Ginger said, sounding curious. “So you’re a—”
“Surgical resident, yes,” Galen answered, curtly. “I’ll walk you out, Ro.”
Rowan’s insides churned with the anticipation of being alone with Galen, even for just a second. “Nice to meet y’all.”
Galen followed her out the door. “That was really nice of you.”
“I hope I didn’t overstep. I just thought your family could use some respectable coffee. We all know that stuff in the cafeteria is garbage.”
“You didn’t overstep at all.” Galen placed her hand on the small of Rowan’s back, and Rowan wanted to lean into her until she was resting against Galen’s strong chest. “It was really amazing.”
“Well, you know, Southern hospitality.” She smiled.
“You just keep showing up for me, Duncan.” Galen moved nearer, closing the space between them. The thunder pulsated in what little air was left around them, and Rowan’s vision tunneled. If Galen didn’t kiss her right now, she might actually die.
“It’s nothing.” She laughed in order to keep herself breathing.
“It’s a lot.” Galen now gently held her waist with one hand, creating just enough contact to leave Rowan weak and disoriented.
“You’re welcome. I should go…Rounds and all.”
“I’ll meet up with you guys later. Teddy’s volunteered to substitute for me this morning so I can stay with Mom. But I’ll be back in the afternoon. I have a lap chole at noon.”
“Brian and I broke up.” Rowan wasn’t sure where the words came from or why she’d picked that moment to say them.
“What? Really?” The excitement in Galen’s voice was hard to miss. “I mean, that’s too bad. I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Don’t be. Distance is hard, you know?”