Page 70 of Delayed Intention
Restless but still weak, I grab some computer paper and a pen and pull a side table next to my seat in the living room. I leave it there and start a Bond marathon, trying to distract myself from how shitty I still feel. Physically, I’m wiped out, and emotionally, I’m destroyed that my sister and nieces lost nearly a whole day with Alan.
After a few scenes, I mute the sound and pull the side table to me. I drink more fluids before I begin, and I’m grateful it’s staying down. I want so much to make this up to Lily and get another chance to speak with my friend. I don’t know if that’s in the cards, but I can write a letter. Rubbing the back of my neck, I decide that I can write it and not send it. The truth is I need to write it, to get the noise out of my head. But she doesn’t need to hear from me again. What she wants is space, and I can respect that, even if I don’t like it.
Dear Lily Anna,
I’m never sending this, so I am going to put it all down here.
I’d write the date, but I’m not entirely sure I know what it is. I’m here in my living room, recovering from the worst hangover I’ve ever had. My brother-in-law, Alan, actually had to help me up and start an IV. I can’t believe how much I’ve fucked up my life.
I’m suspended from work. My sister lost a day of her husband’s leave so he could attend to my hangover and I’m more afraid to call my mother than I was the time I wrecked her car (prom night, 2008).
And then there’s you.
Lily, I hope—even if you never speak to me again—that you know that night at the bar—none of that shit I said to you was trueat all. I didn’t believe it—even when I was drunk, and it was coming out of my mouth. I felt frustrated at the world, and you came up here to show me that you care about me. I was feeling abandoned by my colleagues and guilty about this situation with Lara. More than anything, I was furious with myself for taking advantage of you and for making you feel like you weren’t one of the most important people in my life. So, I took all my anger and hurt feelings out on you. I’m so sorry.
The truth is, it’s been wonderful getting to know you all over again. I didn’t know I had a Lily-sized hole in my life. You’re one of a kind: beautiful, sexy, funny—even if it’s by accident some of the time—smart, loving, and such a caring friend.
The people I thought were my friends found it easier to push me out of their lives with this mess I’ve gotten myself into. And you came all the way up here—through the mountain passes—and showed up for me.
Ever since my dad left and started his new family, I’ve fallen into thinking that love and commitment are bullshit, except for rare cases like my sister’s.
Her husband told me today that I’m wrong to think a relationship is easy even when two people love each other. All relationships are work, he said.
I’m not sure how open I am to that, in general, if I’m being honest. But I want you to know that you are worth it. You deserve everything.
If I could try to be that person with anyone, it would be you. It’s always been you. You, my friend, have always been easy to love.
Please know, I’d do anything to take my words back. I wish I’d never lashed out at the one person who’s been nothing but honest, kind and loving toward me.
If I ever get another chance, I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you know your real worth to me. Honestly, I think you mean more to me than I ever imagined.
I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I tried to push you away. I’m sorry I keep fucking this up.
The truth is, if you can’t be in my life, I’ll understand but IknowI will regret it. Always.
Love,
Josh
The Rebuild
Josh, Denver, CO, Early April 2025
Ginger hops into my SUV and is more buoyant than she has been in a month. The poor dog’s mood has been a reflection of my own—Miche says she is empathic—so she has been moping alongside me for almost a month. Now, after having filed the last of the reinstatement documentation with the medical board, I’m officially licensed to practice medicine in Colorado again. I’m also reinstated in Nebraska and Wyoming, but I don’t plan on returning to practice in either of those states. Finally, I can get back to work and feel more like myself. At least, that’s the plan.
Joyce, my attorney, pulls out of the lot ahead of me in her custom cherry-red BMW 8 series. She can probably buy another, with the fees I ended up shelling out. Both she and Michelle want me to counter-sue the practice for dropping me, as well as sue Lara and the other women to recoup the cost of the attorney fees. The thing is, I have no interest in pursuing any of that. I just want all this behind me. Lara and the other women are already being prosecuted in Wyoming for filing a false report to the medical board, among other things. I don’t know what Nebraska and Colorado will decide, but I don’t care anymore.
Some reporters have gotten wind of the charges being dropped and asked for my statement. I tell them all the same thing—the truth. I’m just grateful my name is cleared, and I can get back to doing what I love—practicing medicine. Beyond that, I have no comment.
The clinic reached out a few times as soon as the case appeared to move in my favor, but I didn’t return their calls. I sent a personal email to each member of the support staff, thanking them for the years we worked together. To the board and my colleagues, I only sent my letter of resignation, and left it at that. On the one hand, the practice had to put up with more than one instance of drama on my behalf, and I’m sure they are happy to see the back of me. That said, I can’t possibly return to work there after their decision not to stand by me through this last event. I might be a pain in the ass, but I deserved some loyalty after my dedication to the practice.
Dr. Hendricks was more than happy to hire me into her practice in Estes Park as she is hoping to retire soon. So now I’m at the clinic in Estes full-time. It’s mostly locals now but as the summer hikers start to come in, the practice will get busier, and I look forward to it. I’m almost home when my phone rings, interrupting my thoughts, and on the dash I see my sister is calling.
“Hey Miche.” I feel like I can relax for the first time in a month and she probably hears it in my voice.
“It’s all done! Congratulations Joshy!”
I grin. Michelle hasn’t called me by my baby-brother nickname in more than twenty years. I hear Ella and Erin launching into congratulatory squeaks in the background. My smile widens as I turn down the volume for Ginger’s sake. She looks like she wishes she could put her paws over her ears.
