Total pages in book: 17
Estimated words: 15942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 80(@200wpm)___ 64(@250wpm)___ 53(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 15942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 80(@200wpm)___ 64(@250wpm)___ 53(@300wpm)
“I… the assistant director. He’s got everything under control. He came by today and gave me an update. My boss came by too. I think he was concerned that I’d be worried, so he dropped by to make me feel better.”
“So let me understand: they will get along just fine without you.”
“For a short amount of time, yes.”
“I see.” His voice dropped low as he looked at me. “So technically, you could be off from now until what––after New Year’s?”
“Well, yeah, but––”
“Okay.”
“Okay what?”
“Okay, then you should come and stay with me for a little while. Just a few weeks or so and see how it goes.”
“See how what goes?”
“Don’t play dumb.”
I just stared at him.
“What?”
“Are you drunk?”
He scowled at me.
“Dixon, have you lost your mind? Do you even remember why we broke up?”
“Yeah, I remember. I was twenty-three, you were twenty-two, I had to go back to New York to take my place in the family business, and you wanted to be a fuckin’ social worker here in Chicago. That’s why we broke up.”
“No, no,” I corrected him, “don’t even try to blame the end on me. We broke up because you couldn’t tell your rich conservative family that you loved a man.”
He squinted at me.
“It’s true,” I spat angrily, annoyed that even after so long it still hurt. “You told me what your dad said when you heard him talking to your grandfather that time.”
He was silent.
“And in a way it was easier for you to use your dad’s words instead of having to come up with your own.”
“I used to be a coward.”
“And you’re not anymore?”
“No.”
“Well, good for you.”
“You don’t believe me,” he stated flatly.
“What does it matter?”
“Listen, Evan, I need to talk to you.”
“Nothing that comes out of your mouth will fix something that happened ten years ago, Dix. Just forget it.”
“I tried. It didn’t take.”
I had no idea what that meant, but I was too tired to hear about his epiphany or to debate with him, so tired, and I needed water and I needed to rest. “Okay.”
“That’s it?”
“Can I have some water?”
“No, you can’t have any fuckin’ water. I wanna know what the hell you’re––”
“Nurse!” I yelled instead of pushing the call button just to make a point.
“Shut up,” he growled, and I smiled as he moved around the bed. I didn’t even realize I had closed my eyes until the straw pressing against my bottom lip made me open my mouth. I drank as much as I could and then let my body sink back down into the bed.
“Ev.”
“Go back to New York, Dix,” I mumbled, my eyes fluttering, trying to open but unable to. “It’s okay. I know you couldn’t keep me. I know your father hated me.”
“That’s not true.”
But I was way too tired to keep talking to him. When I felt his lips on my forehead, I sighed deeply. I couldn’t help it.
“I missed you, you stubborn prick.”
I smiled before I fell asleep.
TWO
Iwoke up and I was alone. Half of me was thrilled that he was gone, but the other half, the sentimental half, was hoping that he would have stayed to at least eat dinner with me and take a stroll down memory lane.
“Hey, you’re awake,” he said as he walked into the room.
Dixon Bain, the man I had not seen in ten years, sailed back into my hospital room looking better in black jeans and a gray crewneck sweater under a leather jacket than he had in the suit earlier.
“You’re still here.” I was floored.
He held up a bag and jiggled it for me. I saw the name of my favorite Chinese restaurant in the city on the outside.
The fact that he remembered, after a decade, made it suddenly hard to breathe.
“I asked,” he told me, pulling the sliding hospital table around and setting down the bag. All his movements were always decisive and fast and abrupt. He startled a lot of people but, for some reason, never me. “And they said that kung pao and sweet and sour soup wouldn’t kill you.”
“Thank you,” I replied, trying not to sigh as he continued to arrange the utensils and the take-out containers in front of me. There was a Pepsi for me too, and that looked like heaven.
He got me situated, moved the pillows around, raised the bed, and when I was comfortable and he was confident of my angle, I was allowed to eat. He sat beside me, but there was nothing for him.
“Dix” I said softly, reverently, “you want some?”
“No, baby, that’s all yours. I ate on my way over.”
The baby had come right back. He was only one year older than me, but always it had been his word for me. I never let any other man use it. “Thanks for thinking of me. This is really nice of you.”