Page 21 of Lovesick
“Perfect. What do you have in mind for dinner?”
“Actually, I was thinking gumbo.” I hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and a delicious, warm bowl of steaming seafood gumbo made my mouth water.
“Sounds good. Just tell me how to get there.”
My navigation skills brought us quickly to the restaurant. This particular place specialized in gumbo and had multiple delicious options to choose from - including a sampler for those who couldn’t quite decide. It didn’t take us long after we were seated to decide to share one that had shrimp, sausage and chicken gumbo, as well as a few in-house specials.
Every single bowl was incredible, and the sampler was just enough for two to share, so we left warm, full, cheerful and ready to drink.
In moderation,I reminded myself as the notes of Abigail’s grand piano soared over the noise of the crowd inside the French Quarter bar where she worked.
I ordered a frozen margarita, in the mood for something sweeter than beer. Of course, Marty ordered beer. We took our drinks over to a table near the band to listen to Abigail play for a while. She smiled at us around the open lid of the grand piano.
“It’s cool that they have a live band,” Marty told me, leaning close in between songs to be heard over the chatter of the busy bar.
“Isn’t it?” I agreed, then spotted someone across the room. “I’m going to run over and say hi to a friend of mine. Do you want to come?”
“Sure,” he said without hesitation, grabbing his beer and standing.
“Oh… Great!” I stood up quickly and led the way, a little surprised. I guess…maybe I had expected him to be annoyed that I wanted to go out this evening? And that I wanted him to meet so many of my friends? I didn’t know why I would think that or why he would feel that way at all.
As I watched Marty talk and mingle easily with whoever I introduced him to, I realized that maybe I had been expecting him to act like one or two of my exes. They were guys who had become exes in the first place partially because they weren’t very social and didn’t like to spend time with my friends. Finding social people could be hard sometimes.
Not this evening. I had a great time floating from table to table, sipping at my margarita and introducing Marty to people. Eventually, I gave up on saying, “This is Marty, my…friend from high school” and started saying, “This is my boyfriend, Marty.” He gave me a sideways glance that I couldn’t quite read the first time I called him that, but the margarita was buzzing around in my brain, and he didn’t correct me, so I kept saying it.
Finally, even in my usually-comfortable boots, my feet were beginning to ache. “Are you about ready to go?” I asked Marty when the guy he was talking to walked away.
“Yeah.” He finished off his beer and followed me outside. How many of those had he had? I was supposed to be keeping track, wasn’t I?
“Are you good to drive?” I asked. I certainly wasn’t. I didn’t know what was in those margaritas, but just two had hit me like a truckload of bricks.
“Of course. I wouldn’t let us get stuck here. Or leave my truck. Let’s head to the sorority house, and then I need to start back to Lafayette.”
“I mean, I kinda assumed you would,” I said. The alcohol was doing its job, and I realized I needed to watch myself or I might say something a little too blunt. Carefully chewing my words kept me out of trouble until we got back to the house, then Marty walked me to the door.
“Hey,” he said softly as I slid my key in the lock.
I turned, and his sturdy frame blocked out the harsh porch light and covered our kiss in a comfortable, cool darkness. I was already having trouble standing straight, and sudden euphoria nearly stripped me of my remaining sensibilities, so I clung to Marty for stability. I pressed myself to him as our kiss deepened. His arms wrapped around me, and mine embraced him, intertwining us into a twist of interlocking shadows.
My hands slid up his chest, lingered on his shoulders and trailed up his neck to rest on his jaw - except they never made it to his jaw. In a flash, I broke the kiss and grabbed his chin, pushing his head to the side and feeling his neck with my fingers. “What’s this?” I asked, pressing lightly against the lump on his neck and trying to determine its size.
“That?” Marty pushed my hand aside to feel it for himself. “A breakout, maybe? It’s starting to get hot out, and my skin breaks out sometimes when I work in the sun and sweat all day.”
“This doesn’t feel like a breakout,” I insisted, grabbing his hand and tracing his fingers around it. “It could be anything.”
“Maggie, if you’re back to my drinking - like I’ve told you every other time, I feel fine. I still feel fine.”
I wanted to beat my fists against his chest and shout until he understood my concerns, but I knew I was pretty tipsy right now, and it would do absolutely nothing. Instead, I took a moment to focus through the fuzz and spoke calmly. “Look, will you just go to the doctor when you get home? You know… for a normal checkup, and mention this lump?”
He stared at me for a moment, shaking his head but looking undecided. “Okay, fine. I’ll go next week. Will it make you feel better? Put your mind at ease?”
“Yes, and yes,” I said immediately, relieved enough to fall back into his arms and instantly forgive him for being stubborn - another side effect of drinking. “I’m tipsy,” I giggled, suddenly amused with myself.
He laughed and shook his head again, but the movement had an entirely different meaning now. “I think you’re a little more than that. Go on to bed, Maggie. I’ll talk to you tomorrow?” I agreed, but not before finishing where we had left off with a long, if slightly inebriated, kiss.
Tossing clothes around - quietly, because my roomies were asleep - I lay down on my bed, feeling like a new person. A weight had been lifted off my shoulders with Marty’s agreement to see a doctor. He said nothing was wrong, and he was probably right…but I wouldn’t feel right until he saw a real doctor.
He would go as early as Monday or Tuesday, probably, and I could quit worrying and focus on becoming a nurse.
