Page 41 of Alarm Fatigue

“I would love for this to be our first date, however that night here in this coffee shop was pretty unforgettable.”

“I hope you know I am sorry for my part in that.”

“I know. But thank you for saying so.” I take a bite of a chocolate chip cookie and Mark looks thoughtfully down at his coffee. “I think there is so much more I need to tell you about me.”

“I know you think you will scare me off but I am here for this, here for you. I hope you will come to believe in that.”

“Mark, it is not you I do not believe in, it is me, and my thoughts run dark sometimes. Most of the time, actually. The truth is, I have a hard time believing in us. I think I am too old, that my looks only hold up in soft lighting,” I blush at that last one, “and my mind goes on the attack—doubting this is real—nearly every time I feel happy with you. I am sorry if it is tiresome, but I need you to know, this may never go away completely.”

“I understand, and please know I am here for whatever you need to tell me. I hope you know you can tell me anything that is on your mind.”

I laugh. “Be careful what you wish for, Mark Levy.”

“I will keep that warning in mind.” He finishes his cup of coffee. “I was thinking after this, we could go for a walk down the bike trail and then I have a dinner reservation at the pasta and pizza place, if that works for you?”

“That sounds amazing.” After we polish off the cookies, we head out into the evening together. The air tonight is comfortable; not the usual humidity we have here, which can make summer nights feel ten degrees warmer than they actually are. Tonight is unusually perfect. “This weather is amazing.”

“It sure is. You like to go running, don’t you?”

“Yes, I love it to tell the truth. Do you run or mostly go to the gym?”

“I do both, but would love to go running with you, unless it is your down time.”

“It is, but I think I would like that as well.” After a moment, I add, “That does not mean I will go to the gym with you though. I cannot stand it. Sorry.”

“No worries, I would not be much company at the gym anyway. It is where I take out my frustrations.”

“Frustrations with a certain nurse practitioner?”

“More like frustration with not having her in my life the way that I wanted.” I blush at that. Following along on the bike path, Mark takes my hand and it feels natural and unsettling at the same time. Eventually, we come out to another neighborhood across the street from a bar that I have been to before.

“What do you think about stopping for a drink? Do we have time?”

“We have plenty of time and I love that idea.” We walk into The Foggy Bottom Brew and grab a table near the bar. I order a whiskey sour while Mark opts for a beer. The service is excellent and we have our drinks in short order. Mark takes a swig of his beer and is eyeing me thoughtfully.

“I seem to remember the last time you had a whiskey we did get into some kind of trouble.” Mark smiles innocently. “I was pretty drunk that night, so maybe you could remind me? Better yet we could see if they have a back patio and re-enact it. I mean, that might help my memories come back to me.”

I laugh, “Mark, you know exactly what happened at that party.” I blush furiously just thinking about it.

“Your blush is adorable but I kind of feel bad for you, since you absolutely cannot hide your embarrassment.”

“I am not embarrassed at all, just flushed.” My cheeks turn even hotter, the traitors. I put my hands over them to hide.

“Adorable, as I said.” Mark takes my hands in his and, leaning forward, kisses me lightly, once on each cheek. I slip my right hand out of his and knock back a gulp of my drink before holding my glass up to one cheek and then the other. I cannot stop smiling, and I feel my heart swell at the way he is eyeing me.

“When you look at me sometimes, I almost feel…never mind, it is so corny.”

“Now you have to tell me.”

“Ugh.” I hide my face behind my glass and then peer over it. “I almost feel like you really see me and that I am the most important thing in that moment. I told you it was—”

He interrupts me, “You are the most important person to me, in every moment. How is that for a corny line? But, Rachel,” Mark is looking at me so intently, I put my drink back down to the table, “just because something is corny does not mean it is not true.” At that I roll my eyes but my heart flutters again. I need a moment to collect myself, and I cannot do it sitting here.

“Okay, the whiskey is getting to me, so I think I would love a glass of club soda, if you do not mind ordering one. I am going to use the facilities.”

“My pleasure,” Mark smiles at me and I take my handbag with me and cross to the other side of the bar to the restroom.

After touching up my lip gloss and checking my teeth, I wash my hands and head back out the door. As is my habit, I open the door to leave the bathroom by pushing it open backwards, the way we were trained when learning about entering an OR. I mean, why touch a likely germ-infested bathroom door if one does not have to, right? Instead of making it out of the doorway and fully into the hallway, however, I spin around into a person.

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