Page 49 of Delayed Intention
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
Ginger is curled up on her dog bed by the sofa as we sit on the floor on opposite sides of the coffee table. As we eat, we change the subject by exchanging stories of memorable encounters we have had in our careers.
I’m telling the story of an early MI that I could have missed but decided to complete the workup despite the patient’s young age and recent negative stress test.
“I’m looking at this guy, and his symptoms are vague and then gone, his risk factors are equivocal, and the initial workup was negative. But I just had that feeling, you know?”
She nods her head.
“As it turns out his repeat troponin spiked and then a repeat EKG had ST elevations. I had almost sent him home.” I shudder involuntarily at the memory. “It turns out he had triple vessel disease and needed three stents.”
“That’s crazy. I know what you mean about that feeling. Sometimes, especially when I feel overwhelmed during a shift, it's hard to fight against my decision bias, but you have to listen to that intuitive voice, right?”
“Totally. Okay, your turn.”
Lily looks thoughtful. And ravishing, which I must set aside.
“Okay, this story was not a patient of mine but a colleague and it kind of woke me up to needing changes in my own life.”
“Okay, you have my interest.”
“So it was an NP, not someone I know well, but I’ve interacted with her at the hospital over the years. She had lost consciousness at home, and it turned out she had a big MI, which was a shock to everyone. She was so young, you know. It was another case like you were talking about—everything looked unremarkable at first. It was the repeat labs and EKG that uncovered it.”
“Anyway, that was not what stood out to me. It was how her boyfriend and family rallied around her. The support they gave her in the ED and afterward in the ICU.” She looks wistful. “I just could not imagine anyone in my family showing up for me besides Roselyn, and for the first time, I began to see that maybe it wasn’t my fault but theirs.”
I take a pull on my beer, waiting for her to continue.
“Anyway, it struck me, that one day I could need that kind of support in my life. It was time to find a crew that would love me that much.” She tipped back her beer. “She did well by the way, that NP. She is living her own happily ever after back in Maryland.”
Lily deserves better, she always has. But I know I’m not the one to give that to her. Somewhere out there is the man who will give her everything I can’t. I ignore the jealousy I have no right to and change the subject. “Maybe we should watch something funny, round the evening out?”
“Sounds good, I’ll pick today, you can pick tomorrow, fair?” Lily smiled as she gathered up our dishes.
“Sure thing. I’ll work on cleaning up while you figure out what we’re watching. Do you know where the TV is by the way?” She shook her head. “Downstairs and you want your coziest socks on down there.”
“That reminds me, do you mind if I do some laundry? I didn’t pack enough for all these extra days.”
“Sure, the laundry is back behind the kitchen, and everything you need should be in there. I’m going to get Ginger to go out and do her business. Meet you downstairs in a bit—and I’ll bring the popcorn.”
“See you there.”
After a while, we go downstairs and start a dark comedy I remembered Lily was obsessed with when she was a tween. Despite the distance between us on the sofa, I can feel exactly where she is sitting the entire time. I could just reach out, hold her hand, put my arm around her, and pull her toward me. The few times we accidentally brushed our hands while eating popcorn, her skin felt electric against mine. This is only the first day. I have a feeling I don’t have enough willpower to get through this with my nobility, as she called it, intact.
I guess we will see.
To Hell With It
Lily, Estes Park, February 2025
With Josh lounging at the other end of the sofa, I can’t pay attention to anything else. The movie is a favorite of mine, but I’ve seen it before, making it easier to lose focus. I had contrived ways for him to bump into me several times today, while we were fixing lunch and eating. The novelty of another person touching me and responding as if it is a pleasant experience—I can’t help myself. I want more. It’s as if I have a compulsion to double-check that each time will still feel good. And it does not disappoint, every time. As far as taking this further, I don’t know what else I could do to convince him to take this to the next level with me.
Maybe I should show him?
I will own that I’ve been courageous recently, but I can’t begin to imagine being that brave.
Ugh. This distance between us, though. I cannot take my mind off what it would be like to lean against him. I keep reaching over to eat the popcorn, hoping that the single bowl is his way of getting us to bump into each other, accidentally or not.
I catch myself staring at his profile intermittently. Messy brown wavy hair, in need of a cut, with a little beard growth coming in, casting a bit of shadow across his face. Long and full eyelashes and, although I can’t see his eyes, I know exactly how blue they are. Bright blue, like a cloudless sky. God, I could put my arms around his neck, stare into those eyes, and lose myself there.
