Page 27 of Cat's Outta the Bag

Alexis: I’m so sorry, Jason, I got called in. I know tonight is going to be amazing. I wish I could be there.

“You could be,” I whisper at the screen, using the heel of my palm to wipe away the tears that’ve managed to fall. “You’re choosing not to.”

In a daze, I reply, then head into the theater, no longer nervous about the premier. Instead, all I feel is disappointment.

***

I’m exhausted as I step off the elevator and start to head down the hall. The cast and crew afterparty lasted well into the early morning, and when I normally would have bowed out, I stayed, trying to drown my frustration in alcohol and friends. Which I mostly regret since I now smell like a college bar and still feel just as shitty.

I do my best not to look at her door as I pass by, but fail completely. And instead of finding my bed, I find myself staring at Alexis. She must have been watching for me to pass by. She looks tired and distressed, her brow pinched, shadows under her eyes, and a suspicious shine in them. Seeing these clear signs of pain is a blow to the gut, and I silently follow her inside when I meant to spend a rare night alone in my apartment.

“Alexis, I’m beat. I just want to go to bed.” I scrub my hands over my face, trying to dispel some of my anxiety. We stand an awkward distance from each other in her living room. Alexis’ arms are around her abdomen, like she’s holding herself together.

“I’m tired too, Jason,” her voice is raw, catching as she says my name. “But we need to talk about this. I don’t want to go to bed until we do.”

It’s the quiet plea in her voice that makes me cave.

“Alright, you want to do this right now? Then fine.” My voice comes out wrong, angry sounding. She flinches, but lifts her chin, as if preparing herself for battle. But that’s not what I want. That’s never what I want.

“Alexis, you left me hanging tonight.” My voice cracks as the pain I felt earlier tonight rushes back, settling heavily in my chest.

“I know, I’m sorry.” She presses her lips together, blinking rapidly. “I just… I feel so much pressure right now, with work. And with the paparazzi fiasco, I needed to prove that I’m all in, that I’m not letting you distract me.”

I feel like she just slapped me. Distract her? Is that how she sees our relationship?

“So, what, because I’m not out saving people, my work isn’t worthy of your support?” I don’t bother trying to hide how hurt I am. I may not love my job, or how it makes me a public figure, but I’m still proud of my films, and I want her to be proud of me too.

“No!” She steps forward, reaching for me, but pulls short. Like she isn’t sure of what to do or say. “That’s not what I meant.” She rubs her forehead, eyes wide and distressed.

“I just mean that, as my residency winds down, I have to be all-in, especially if I want any chance of getting hired as an attending. This is the nature of my job; this is going to happen more often than you want. There are going to be times when I have to be a doctor first, and a girlfriend second. Can you understand that?”

I want to say no, but the truth is I do understand. The pressure on medical professionals is incredibly high, especially as the pandemic continues to put a strain on the system. And as an ER doctor, she’s often making life and death decisions for her patients.

Instead of fighting more, and risking everything, I close the distance between us and pull her into my arms. Holding tight. The ugly feeling in my chest easing as her head rests on my shoulder. Exactly where it belongs.

Chapter 21

Alexis

“You’re right, I’m sorry. Let’s just go to bed.”

At first, my sleep deprived brain doesn’t really register what he’s saying, it’s just happy to be in his arms again. But once the words sink in, I pull back.

“Jason, no. Don’t do that. Don’t just give in and set your feelings aside like that.” My hands slide up to his cheeks, forcing him to look me in the eye. His blue eyes look so sad. Because of me and my choices. And that guts me inside.

He closes them and gently pulls my hands away shaking his head. “Lex, I’m just tired, so are you. There’s no point in arguing about this further when you’re right. This is going to happen, probably more often than not for the next few years. I just need to get used to it. It’s ok.”

Frustration boils up, getting caught in my throat. Because it’s not ok for him to feel like his life, his work doesn’t matter as much. Or that he just needs to take this disappointment and not feel upset about it. Instead of fighting for his own needs, he’s letting them go in favor of keeping the peace. If I’ve learned anything in therapy, it’s that keeping our emotions bottled leads nowhere.

He leaves me and heads to my bedroom. Despite my frustration, I can’t help but feel some relief that he isn’t trying to leave. I follow, ready to keep fighting. But when I find him in my bathroom, brushing his teeth, leaning against the wall with his eyes closed, all the fight leaves me. It’s clear talking more will do nothing but make things worse.

We’re silent as we prepare for bed. And when we climb in, he doesn’t pull me to him like he normally does. Instead, he lays with his back to me, seemingly asleep the moment his head hits the pillow.

I lie awake for longer than I should, tormented by what that might mean. It’s not until early morning light begins to filter in that he rolls over, pulling me into his body. I don’t hesitate to wrap my arms around him tightly, pressing our bodies so close that we might as well be fused. Tears of relief soak my cheeks and his shirt.

“Shhhh…” His big hand combs through my hair then down my back, “We’re ok, I promise. Get some sleep.” Eventually, I fall asleep to the rhythm of his heartbeat and the feel of his lips in my hair.

***

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