Page 21 of Love and Other Mental Health Concerns
“From you, its gross. I don’t need my parental figures worrying themselves about my pleasure.” Gary gives Stan a gentle shake of his head. This time that head shake meant “cool it.”
“Now I know who you are talking about too! This guy has been into the shop several times. He wants my recipes!” Now Stan is beside himself with glee, doing some sort of clapping motion in front of his chest that I have only seen him do once previously. That was after winning a pie baking contest at the annual community fundraiser for Mittens for Kittens, a group that knits mittens for the cats at the local shelter. Unclear if the cats like the mittens, but damn this town loves a cause.
“He likes you, Marcy.” Annie is too excited. “He nearly broke his neck the other night while he was shadowing me and thought he saw you out of the corner of his eye. It was the PCA that people confuse you for, but he started crying when it wasn’t you.”
“Annie, he did not start crying.” I scold her.
“No, he didn’t, but he could have with how disappointed his gorgeous face looked. Don’t worry, I let him know that I was on board with you two hooking up.” There was no way to hide the heat that was rising through my body.
“I love you Annie, but that is mortifying. We don’t need your permission for anything.” She smiles wide.
“You’re right, you don’t need my permission, but I am loving how you just used ‘we’ in that sentence.” God, she can be annoying. Annoyingly perceptive.
As my family starts talking amongst themselves about what they think I need, and how they think I need it, I start to digest the gravity of what I just watched. A beautiful and capable man, lying on his back for hours to fix my vehicle. It was so chivalrous and just…too much. Sure, we had been spendingsome time together, and there was flirting, but Nick playing Mission Impossible at all hours of the night was taking things to another level. Does he even know how to fix cars? I don’t think I can handle having to fix some fumbled attempt at following a YouTube video.
I find myself pondering how a guy with such a colorful dating history ends up with such a reputation. Was this style of grand gesture just part of the package? The ride home, fixing my motor vehicle, “accidental” shirtless run-ins, and bar whispers, all aimed to get in women’s pants? I can see why It works. I feel noticed, I feel special, and then add on the praise he is giving me in the work-related endeavors, and it’s easy to see how a person is wooed.
Is It real though?
“Hello? Earth to Marcy! We are talking to you!” Annie startles me out of my thoughts.
“Sorry, what were you saying?”
“We want to know your next move. The Adonis fixes your car, now it’s you turn to engage, so what’s the plan?”
“I will first drive the car and make sure it is fixed, and that he didn’t just install a tracking device or steal some parts.” All three of them giving a simultaneous eye roll. “I will thank him accordingly, with my words, and nothing else. Then I will remind you all that this is a man of many women, who goes from port to port and who I’m starting to think is really into the ‘grand gesture’ to get into women’s pants. This is probably just part of his usual playbook. Do an amazingly nice thing, get a naked thank you.”
“Naked thank you? Now we are talking.” Annie claps to herself.
“Did you listen to any other words I said?”
“I erased them after you said naked.” She sips her coffee and does something with her eyebrows that I find mildly infuriating.
“Marcy, I hate to bring this up, but is it possible that you are letting your mom and Max dictate your response to this guy?” Gary asks. Always the more thoughtful one. “No offense, but no one is making ‘grand gestures’ to secure one-night stands, honey. That’s what bars are for. Cheaper and less effort. This means more, might be okay to try and build a little trust.”
It was a fair question and point, but I hated it. I had enough therapy over the years to put to bed much of the traumatic response that having a neglectful and sick mother created within me. I have worked through the crippling parts of my anxiety; the insomnia, hyper vigilance, and emotional dysregulation, just to name a few. The panic attacks have also been gone for years. No matter the progress however, I couldn’t get past these issues of trust and self-doubt. I couldn’t trust that my mother would care for me, put me first, or even make me dinner. That lack of trust has extended into all my relationships in my young adulthood. All relationships, romantic or otherwise, are hard in the best of circumstances, but a partner who can’t trust is just painful. I’m afraid to cause someone pain because I can’t fully accept the love they offer me, and I’m afraid of enduring the pain of having my heart broken again. I don’t know if I would recover.
“Maybe. It sucks to think that might be true, but it’s where I am.” Admitting that out loud also sucks. Having those words out in the world, however, may also give me some strength and accountability to try and view things a different way. Also, a solid reminder to bring this conversation up with my therapist.
“We love you, and we want what is best for you. We hope you take a chance, but when you are ready.” Stan pipes in.
“We?”
“The three of us, we got you. No matter what happens we are here for you. You have a safety net; you seem to forget that sometimes, but you really do. Use us!” Stan’s now trying to hug me aggressively over the booth table.
“Okay okay, thank you. I know you guys are there for me. I just have to find my own way through this dark forest of uncertainty in my head.” I pat him on the back across the table.
“Dark forest of uncertainty?” Annie asks.
“I have been reading a lot of romantasy. Lay off me.” We all snicker as our food is delivered to the table and we dig in. Family brunch proceeds as usual, but I keep coming back to the reality that a man spent a night fixing my car. A man whose intentions I am still questioning, but of whom I also feel protective enough to hide our time together from the ones I love.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Nick
My evening spent shadowing Annie and Lauren was fruitful both professionally and personally. Lauren eventually returned from her banishment to the birth center, ready to chew my ear off about getting pulled from the emergency department so often. Unlike Annie, she has entertained offers at other hospitals over the years due to the issue, but said being a single parent to her son means staying closer to home is the better option.
In addition to the staffing issues, we chatted readmission rates, supply chain concerns for certain medications, and processes that could improve around admission and discharge procedures. Dr. Roberts was covering the shift, whom I quickly learned has the nickname, “Dr. Dipshit,” so that’s a problem I had to pretend not to laugh about. He is surly, but it’s not in his job description to socialize. From what I can tell he is a solid clinician, charting always completed on time, and the patients give him excellent ratings, so I have to do some covert digging about the staff’s problems with him.
