Page 31 of Alarm Fatigue

I think about it for a moment. “I am better than okay,”

“Where do you want to go?”

Without pausing to consider other options, I say the first place that pops into my mind. “Can we go to your place? And talk?”

“Of course. If that is what you want.”

“It is. Although I am going to need to sleep soon.” Just so we are on the same page I add what may not be obvious. “Do you have a guest room? Or a couch?”

He side-eyes me. “Actually, I have both. You can pick your poison.”

A few moments later, having driven in companionable silence, we pull up outside his house.

He turns to me in his seat.

“Here we are.”

I pause and look at my hands.

“I’m not sure what to do here, Mark. My brain is telling me to get some distance and keep myself safe from possibly being hurt. I think a bigger part of me, however, needs to talk this through with you.”

This is insane. If I go in there anything could happen. Before I can second guess myself and before he has a chance to respond to that I hear myself say what I feel the most. “Okay. I am ready.” With that I grab my bag and follow him inside.

Chapter 22

“So, this is your home?”

My first impression is that his place is rather Spartan. I had anticipated a bachelor pad, but this seems to be merely functional and without much personality. Maybe he is between places? I look around and feel as though I cannot get a sense of who he is. The furniture looks expensive, it just looks more like a showroom than a person’s actual living room. There was, surprising me, a mezuzah in the doorway, which he walked right past, as if he did not give it a thought. I touch it as I pass, kissing my fingertips afterwards, which escapes his notice.

“Yes, this is where I live.” With that, he is looking around as if noticing the townhouse for the first time himself.

“Well, I actually spend most of my time in the sitting room off the kitchen, if you want to follow me?”

With that, he leads me up one flight of stairs to the second level where there is a kitchen, eating area and a den off the side of it. Here is a well-worn sofa and set of arm chairs surrounded by a bookshelf that contains mostly photos. This is more like it. Unlike my set-up, there is no television in either common area. I want to go over and examine all the photos but I am starting to feel the effects of the emotional rollercoaster I have been on since last night hit me about the same time as the busy work of the shift we just finished. Basically, my energy is fading. Currently, all I seem capable of is sitting down somewhere. He then proceeds to read my mind.

“Please, Rachel, have a seat and make yourself at home. May I fix you something to eat? Or offer you anything to drink?”

“I would love a glass of water and tea with milk, if you have it.”

“I have both, give me a moment.”

He heads into the kitchen which is open to the sitting room, and as I start to feel myself sink into the sofa, I realize something.

“Do you have some sweats or something I could wear? I do not really want to have this conversation in the scrubs I’ve been in for the last 16 hours.” Sometimes I bring myself a change of clothing to work but as luck would have it, today was not one of those times.

“I think I have something that will fit. I will check.”

He runs upstairs and comes back with a pair of joggers and a sweatshirt. “This okay?”

I thank him and excuse myself to the bathroom downstairs. Thank God I did bring my backup toiletry bag with me to work. I brush my teeth, wash my face and apply tinted moisturizer and the lip stain I had bought recently on a whim. His clothing is huge on me even though he is not much taller than I am. Hoping I at least pass for cute, I re-emerge to find he is making eggs.

“I know you did not say anything about food, but I am starving and you must be too. Do you want some eggs?” After a moment he glances at me. “I did not add any cheese or anything, just water—and the pan is new—I did not use it to cook bacon or anything.”

I smile at his thoughtfulness about what I may eat. “Yes please, thank you” and I sit and watch him cook. Feeling myself getting more and more tired, I decide to launch into the topic at hand.

“So, am I to understand that you assumed I would only want to kiss you if you agree to make a commitment to me? Is that the essence of it?” He chokes on the water he just swallowed.

“So we are getting right to it then.”

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