Page 16 of Love and Other Mental Health Concerns
“Like Frank? That guy needs a hug.”
“Yes! You met Frank? He would be the perfect candidate for this type of program, and there are so many others like him.” I can’t believe this guy has been so attentive and engaging with patients. That fact that he knows Frank, pulls at my heartstrings. His genuine engagement with these people is far outside the requirements of his position. I can’t help but wonder why he cares so much.
He smiles ear to ear, the hint of dimples peeking out from under his beard. Blue eyes framed by the fine lines around his eyes. “That sounds like a brilliant way to reduce re-admissions, Marcy.”
“Thanks, and I have a similar idea with our town college students. There must be education, psychology, and social service majors looking for some resume building activities. We could ask for volunteers to babysit for a couple hours each week so that we can offer more mental health or addiction support groups. Childcare is often a barrier to attendance when we have tried to run groups before. I also think it would be helpful to get some social work interns on sight. I am happy to supervise them, and they would be a huge asset for creating group opportunities and assisting with assessments and discharge plans. This would be a solid way to improve patient experience and opportunities without spending a dime.”
He is staring at me, thoughtful and calm. I still feel like I can’t read him unless he has that huge grin. So many differentsmiles on this man. “These thoughts are outside the box, and I love them. The whole town wins, not just the hospital. So creative, Marcy. I’ll talk with the board about it, but ultimately, I want you presenting these ideas to the leadership and staff, people should know these came from you.”
“Thank you, Nick. That means a lot.” I pause, appreciating the pride I am feeling from sharing my ideas without a stammer. Feeling heard. “Can I be frank with you?”
“I would prefer that.”
“There hasn’t felt like much interest in trying new things up until you came along, so I’m hoping that your reaction to my ideas is genuine.” I can’t help but seek the reassurance.
“It is genuine, and I know it is inappropriate right now, but one day when we have become friends, I’m going to hug you as a delayed display of my excitement in this moment.” He tips his drink my direction in a motion to cheers.
It was my turn to smile wide, and I mimic his motion. Our sodas tapping lightly to one another. “Well, one day then.” And we held eyes for a moment longer than is comfortable. “I think we need cookies.” I finally say, because obviously that’s sexy.
“You must have been reading my mind.”
I grab us two chocolate chip cookies from the counter. We sit and make small talk about the quirks of North River, music and movies, nothing that would have been considered consequential. It’s easy, it flows. I don’t ramble, and he keeps that earnest way about him that has me intrigued. He’s seeming so nonchalant; it is easy to see how he gets so many women to fall under his spell and so many employees to follow his lead. He emanates ‘I’ve got this’ energy.
“Where are you from originally?” I eventually ask him after hearing all about his college escapades at some small liberal arts school in Vermont. He describes having a lot of friends and a healthy balance of partying and studying, the kind of experiencethat people like me only saw in movies. No loans hanging over his head and multiple jobs just to get by.
“I am from here, Minnesota. My parents don’t live too far away from here actually, and the town I grew up in is just north of Saint Paul.”
“Must be nice to be back for a few months then, see your parents.” I wonder what that feeling is like.
“I get to check-in on them a bit usually, not that they need it or even want it. They are still quite independent and don’t appreciate interference.” I picture Nick growing up in a town like North River, two loving parents, encouraged to go to college across the country and chase dreams. Meanwhile, I was just hoping that my mom remembered I existed half the time.
“And siblings?” I ask.
“One brother, he’s out in California. We are close, talk on the phone a bunch. He has his own family so I try and get out there to visit between projects when I can. I have two nephews, who are five and three, and his wife is great. She happens to be a nurse in a hospital. What about you?” I think about the photos on his desk of the little boys. The vision of Nick as a fun uncle, swooping in to help cause chaos makes me smile.
“No siblings, it was just my mom and I.”
“Well, she must be proud of you! Does she still live in North River?” Such a normal and healthy question when getting to know someone, and now I get to dull the mood. I start remembering why I don’t do this, avoiding the pity stares and awkward silences when people don’t know how to react to my past.
“She died when I was twenty, and it’s hard to say what she would have felt regarding the ‘proud’ part. She wasn’t too available to me emotionally. She was more available to alcohol, and later she got into opiates. Hence the found family with Stan and Gary. Annie too, they are my people.” I wait for him tostumble, to stop making eye contact and figure out some excuse to leave. No one wants a fling with a sad orphan. That doesn’t happen though, he just keeps staring at me and leans across the table to cover my hand with his.
“So that’s why you have that stamina to keep helping your repeat customers?” He quickly gleans.
“Yes. I can’t help but wonder sometimes what would have happened if she had gotten that one last shot to get sober. Maybe she wouldn’t have taken it, I don’t know. It keeps me motivated though, to think that this could be that time that it all clicks for someone.” We let some silence hang between us, as his hand remains parked over mine. My nerves surprisingly calm with the gesture.
“Marcy, that sucks. I wish your mom got to know you better, because I am really enjoying it.” His blue eyes, intent on mine, while his thumb lightly strokes the back of my hand. And just like that, I feel my walls crumble just the slightest bit. I can feel my expression toward him soften, obviously blushing but less self-conscious for doing so. “And your patients are so lucky to have you in their corner. I’m sure it doesn’t always feel like that, but it’s true.” He gives a couple more gentle swipes with his thumb against my skin, and then he pulls his hand back but keeps his eyes on mine. As if he can read my heaviness on the topic, he flawlessly shifts gears, “Did you know that Keith asked me if I wanted to hang out with him tonight?”
“I didn’t. I’m sorry if my invitation for a meeting derailed your plans.”
“I’m not, I’m afraid he’s going to ask me to join a boy band. Not to mention, this has been the best night I have had in a long time.” We share a nod, his acknowledgment hanging between us.
We talk until eleven, both of us surprised by how late it gets, the hours flying by. We clear our plates and walk down the halltoward the back door. We exit and I lock up, as he stands behind me again. That warmth seeping into my back.
“Well, thank you for the dinner and conversation Marcy, I hope we can do it again.” He reaches out to shake my hand, and I reciprocate.
“Thanks for hearing my ideas, I like getting to know you too.” I respond, as we stand apart from each other, shaking hands for what seems far too long. This time, he seems stiff and flustered. Ishenervous?
“Well, see you tomorrow, sleep well.” And he turns quickly toward his truck and gets in. At the same time, I make what feels like a sprint up the stairs to my haven.
