Page 42 of The Fall

Shit. Well, if the hangover doesn’t kill me, guilt might. I should just convert to Catholicism.

“Josh, look,” I started, seeing him crawl back into bed.

“Who is he to you?” he asked, leaning back and clasping his hands behind his head.

“My past. Just some guy from my past and nothing more.”

“Hmph,” he said, rolling over with his back to me.

“Come on, babe, don’t do this to me. I’m dying,” I said, approaching the bed, willing to beg.

“You never call me babe. You’re so guilty,” he said, lifting his arm to indicate I was welcome back in bed. I quickly crawled under the covers and drifted back to sleep. I woke up with a start, seeing I had just enough time to brush my teeth and fly to work to make rounds.

“Josh!” I said, screaming through his apartment with my bag in hand. He handed me a coffee in a paper cup just as his cell phone alarm went off. “You had almost half an hour, Dallas. I wasn’t about to let you sleep in.” He chuckled as I kissed him, thanking him profusely, then walked out the door.

I sat in my car, sipping my designer coffee, feeling more determined about the man I should be concentrating on.

You love Josh.

“Good morning,” Dr. Pierce said half-heartedly as I approached him. He apparently had had a little too much to drink last night as well, and we both winced at the sun streaming through the blinds of the room of our first patient.

“Dallas,” he said, catching me off guard. I quickly read off her chart.

“Jeanie Santos, thirty-three, appendectomy scheduled this afternoon.” The words were like cotton balls in my mouth. I tried to wade my way through rounds, and when they were over, I hid in my office for the majority of the day, glaring at anyone who interrupted my inner dialogue of self-loathing. I jumped from half-sleep to awake when my phone vibrated on my desk.

ROSE: Dallas! Are you there?

DALLAS: No.

ROSE: Come on, sis, I have great news.

DALLAS: I don’t care.

ROSE: God, what now?

DALLAS: Stop screaming.

ROSE: I told you never to drink again. I can only imagine the pain of your victims today. I will pray for them. Did you sing to anyone? That’s the worst. Oh, God, please don’t tell me you played DJ.

DALLAS: Is there a reason why you are still texting me?

ROSE: I’m getting married.

I texted back quickly, sure she was joking.

DALLAS: Great, to whom?

I got a text of her now occupied ring finger, then called her immediately.

“What the hell do you mean you’re getting married!” I yelled into the phone as I grabbed my forehead and squeezed it.

“Grant asked. I said yes. Oh, my God, Dallas, I have so much to tell you,” she said happily, and I heard her shushing someone in the background.

“Is that him? Is he there? You can’t just get engaged to a man you barely know, Rose. That’s crazy. You’re smarter than this!” I pleaded. I could practically see her rolling her eyes at me. Rose wasn’t a rash person, not in the slightest. I was sure that at any second, she would tell me she was joking.

“Dallas, you will meet him very soon. Please, please, listen to me. I’m happy. So, so happy. Let me be happy.” I nodded as I closed my eyes tightly.

“Dallas?”

---