Page 19 of Alarm Fatigue

“And Lila and Kim live in the city and are the world travelers, and are going to Paris in the next week. Then Hannah is your youngest and is an interior designer and lives near you in Bethesda.”

“Geez, counselor, you have a large capacity for information retention.” I am about to say something self-deprecating about my own memory, but recalling our dinner date and his previous reactions, I stop myself.

Sailing back to the club with the wind behind us makes the journey back faster than the one out to West River. As we cut through the bay, I muse how many things I may have been missing in the last eight years or so in an effort to protect myself. Truly today was nearly perfect. After we navigate the boat into its slip and tie off all the lines, we eat some leftovers before we pack up and head back to our cars. Seth thoughtfully gives me an iced coffee and a bottle of water for the road.

When he walks me to my car, I turn around to say goodbye and he again asks permission before kissing me in farewell. This kiss is steamier and as he leans in closer he gently cups my jaw with one of his hands, an action which I am now realizing I love. Part of me wants to grab him and press all of him into me but I don’t. He takes a step back after a moment.

He says good night and gives the sweetest half wave as I pull my car out of its spot.

The moment I turn out of the parking lot and onto the road home, the warmth rising from my heart brings Mark to mind. Sighing to myself I realize that in addition to being unable to get my mind off of Mark for an entire day, I know deep down that I cannot misrepresent myself as the type of emotionally together woman that Seth wants. I know I am doing well but I am not the type of person who can get into a relationship with someone without discussing the years of work, struggle and therapy it took for me to become the person I am today. There just is a part of me that needs to be able to talk through my crap from the past as well as anything new that rises up. This is part of who I am now. I cannot just be this new person without acknowledging all the other parts of me as well.

“What in the hell am I doing?” I ask myself aloud.

I do not have any good answers. Instead of thinking about it any further, I play a snarky podcast about a former TV family now the subject of scandal and speculation. Let’s face it, once again I need the distraction.

Chapter 15

Tonight I am going out, and I marvel at the fact that my social life has expanded exponentially in the last few weeks. There is a going-away party for a married couple who have worked in the ICU for years. Carrie and Mike, who are both physicians, will be leaving soon, as Carrie has accepted a position as the medical director of a physician assistant school out of state. The party is sure to be packed with people, as they are both well liked. Carrie has a dry sense of humor, is able to see the absurd in almost anything, and is one of those people who becomes progressively more hilarious throughout the night. Mike is more of a warmer, convivial type of person and is incredibly popular with the staff. He is one of those people who is a savant for remembering names. He greets each member of staff by name as he walks by them, no matter their position in the hospital. As someone who often cannot remember a patient’s name just after I have left their room, I have always been impressed by this.

Over the years of working with each of them, I have really come to admire them both. Married since they were just out of college, and having served in the Navy together as well, they are an inspiration to me. They have been together through so many experiences and in so many different places in the world. Before I knew better, I expected career military physicians to be stern or harsh. In contrast, most of them have a quick sense of humor and seem to have a calming presence. Carrie and Mike, in particular, have been really wonderful to work with.

I started getting ready just after Shabbat, which will make me a bit more than fashionably late, but as an introvert I am known to arrive late and leave a bit early. Tonight I am expanding my make-up routine with eyeliner and mascara after Hannah tricked me into an appointment at the local Sephora this last week. She must have counseled them prior to my appointment, as the young person that was my instructor there did not bother trying to teach me anything about eyeshadow. I have never been one to be bothered about such things. I do love how the green eyeliner really clarifies my eye color. Maybe Hannah is right, cosmetics can be something for me that are enjoyable. Who knew?

When I arrive I appear to be the last one to do so. I have opted for a comfortable but stylish dark teal dress. This happens to be one of my favorites, as it is more comfortable than it appears it would be. It has a square neck line, three-quarter sleeves, is fitted and stops just below my knees. I had this dress tailored to accommodate my curves and I feel incredible in it. I must have walked into the room with some dress-inspired confidence, as a few of my colleagues stop me to compliment my efforts this evening.

When I walk past the outer room where cocktails are still being served and into the venue’s private hall reserved for parties such as this, it is clear that the festivities are already well underway. Literally everyone seems to have a drink in their hands. As usual, for me, I find it a bit disconcerting to see everyone out of their usual scrubs and in actual clothing. It is like walking into a dream of sorts.

Being a quieter person who has, by necessity, had to become accustomed to being present at gatherings such as this, I have a plan of attack to be seen and yet protect myself from complete exhaustion. I will order a drink that will stay in my hand all night as it will be the only one I need. Usually there are at least one or two obviously pregnant people who will not be intoxicated that I can go talk to. I then will head to the people of the hour and have a chat with them. Afterwards I will have a dessert or two and then make my escape back home. This strategy usually works well and keeps me out of awkward, or worse, triggering situations.

Heading towards the bar to order a drink, I glance around and see if Mark is here tonight. No sign of him as far as I can see. When it is my turn I order an Old Fashioned and the bartender, who looks barely old enough to serve, gives me a look about my choice. Thankfully he thinks better of it and just makes my drink. Knowing myself as I do, I cannot tolerate any of those cocktails that hide the taste of alcohol because that will put me at risk of having three too many. A lesson I learned in college. While it is true that I could skip drinking alcohol altogether, I do enjoy the edge it takes off my social anxiety.

It is not that I do not enjoy being with my friends from work but I will never love socializing. Since I knew in advance that the food would not be kosher, I had already eaten before arriving, which spared me from having to sit down for a meal with people who may have had too much to drink. The desserts, however, I do not mind partaking in. I head to the dessert bar where I spy a mini chocolate mousse that looks amazing. I decide to find Mike and Carrie and say my hellos first, and as I am canvassing the room for them, I lock eyes with none other than Mark, of course, on the other side of the dance floor.

What is it about him that is drawing me over there? Finding myself veering off course, I head directly to Mark, as if there is a magnetic force between us. He is just standing there, maintaining eye contact, and I internally blame the two sips I took of Jack Daniel’s for making the decision that I might not have made if I was clear-headed. I am a total light-weight. So much for the strategy for this evening. Of course I did not plan out what I would do when I saw him, as I knew I might, because entertaining just being around him was bringing up all of the out-of-control feelings I had been hoping to avoid. My mistake was avoiding thinking about it because now, faced with him, I have no game plan. Suddenly I am standing right in front of him.

“Rachel.”

There it is, that voice I have been avoiding hearing spoken aloud, yet has been ruminating in my mind. All at once, it is as if no time has passed at all since the morning I ran away from the hospital. Apparently I have drunk enough whiskey to make more questionable decisions, because I hear myself responding and saying way more than I mean to.

“I do not understand. What is this thing between us? Do you also feel this?” I am gesticulating my left hand between us, trying to make him see the pull I can sense. “If you do not, that is fine. Just tell me. If you do feel this, maybe you can disclose what the hell it is to me, because I do not understand what has happened. We literally had the worst date ever and have hardly spoken ten words that were not directly related to patient care since then. Do you even know what this is,” again I gesture between us, “that I am trying to explain to you?”

I stop talking to notice that Mark is standing there looking expressionlessly at me. Great. He has no idea what I am talking about and thinks I am insane. Maybe my new plan should be to act drunker than I am. For now, however, I just wish the dance floor had developed a Rachel-sized sink hole about ten minutes ago. New resolution: I should not drink any liquor. With that thought I take a fortifying swig of the remnants of my drink that is still in my right hand. Suddenly he grants me a half smile and my knees feel like they will buckle.

“Rachel. Would you follow me, please?”

Before I can answer, he turns and walks and I follow. It is not lost on me that this is similar to what Jacob Gold did on our date, except he did not ask, he just expected me to follow. Maybe that makes it different? Maybe I should have had more to eat to absorb a bit more of the whiskey. We turn a corner, and he gestures for me to walk down a hallway ahead of him (okay, not like Jacob at all) where I can see through a glass door that there is a patio with string lights up ahead. For the first time in weeks my head falls completely silent as he holds the door for me and I walk out into a private courtyard and step aside to let him through. Just outside the door is a small table where I leave the last of my drink. He walks toward me and I step back into the wall by the doorway.

Mark then comes over to stand right in front of me. He looks at me as if he has not taken a breath in an hour and I have all the air. Just a half a step and my back is against the wall as he steps incredibly close to me without touching me. That scent that is him comes right back into my memory and into the present at the same time. He cocks his head to the side searching my face—for what?—before he speaks.

“Yes. The answer to the question is yes, I do know what you are talking about. That there is something between us.”

My new pastime seems to be asking men questions before I am sure I really want the answers.

“I do not understand how this is happening, do you?”

“You should know that I had a few drinks when I arrived, before you walked into the party.” His confession. He takes a few breaths, studying me. “I thought you would be bringing your new boyfriend.”

Wait, what? “That does not explain what is happening here with you and me, but what the hell are you talking about, my boyfriend?”

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