Page 7 of The Love Dose
“Um, it’s me, Calvin.”
Caroline rolls her eyes and keeping a wide berth, glides past me. “On my way out. Sorry I missed you.”
Confused, I say, “You didn’t miss me. I’m right here.”
She turns, meets my eye. “You need a shave,” she says and walks out into the dark, cold city.
If I’m not mistaken, Caroline Page is fuming mad.
Chapter Five
Caroline
I’m doing all I can to regain my equilibrium.
Calvin has some nerve showing up on my doorstep. I almost didn’t recognize him. The beard, thick parka, beanie.
He looked like a hobo time traveler from the ‘60s.
But his eyes were the same. Deep, soulful. So is that throaty, calming voice. The voice of a dedicated physician. Or serious player.
I turn the corner, trying for the most direct way to the bar. I honestly don’t see how it can get any colder. While I was hanging around my building lobby, the world turned darker. Night falls early and quickly in New York in December. I pick up my pace. I'm practically stomping.
Why am I so angry? Calvin owes me nothing. If anything, I owehim, big time.
After I took a serious fall last year, I landed in the hospital, preventing me from joining Evie on her birthday trip to Yosemite. Calvin was the sole silver lining. The on-callER physician, he was gentle, explaining everything that would happen from the surgery to rehab.
He always seemed to be there. After-hours visits to my hospital room became commonplace. It never felt strange or unprofessional, only fun and distracting from my obvious predicament so I never bothered analyzing why.
Since his going AWOL, I’ve come to terms with the reality that after reading my chart, Calvin felt sorry for me. Childless widow all alone in the hospital. He was being kind, nothing more.
I finally reach the bar and am quickly enveloped by the warmth of The Time Capsule Tavern. The lighting, soothing décor, soft chatter, sweet smell of whiskey. It’s like being transported into an Irish pub on the banks of the River Shannon.
I take a seat at the bar next to a balding middle-aged guy, nursing a glass of clear liquid on the rocks. Makes me think of Billy Joel, my all-time favorite performer.
Makin’ love to his tonic and gin
The bartender moseys over. “Hey Caroline, haven’t seen you here in ages. Mojito?”
“Let’s mix it up. How about your strongest Kentucky bourbon?”
The bartender lifts a brow. “That bad, huh?”
“Make it two.”
I hear the familiar deep voice, low and deliberate. Against my will, my heart lurches.
Of all the gin joints . . .
Images of Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman fill my mind. I'm expecting to hearAs Time Goes Bybegin to play on the overhead speakers.
I turn to see Calvin, taking the only open seat. Seems Dr. Handsome can’t take a hint. The bald guy seated between usis oblivious to the tension surrounding him. He's too busy muttering something unintelligible into his tumbler.
My drink arrives and I take a long swallow, the liquid burning a trail down my throat as I try to focus on anything but Calvin. Out of the corner of my eye, I see he’s taking off his coat and beanie. He’s planning to stay a while. Just great.
Something catches my attention and I venture a closer look. Beneath his coat, Calvin is wearing a faded t-shirt and what looks like a necklace made of. . . teeth??
Clearly, I don’t know this guy as well as I thought. Clearly, weeks of house calls didn’t provide enough data.
