Authors: Tara Crescent
I looked at him; his tone had my attention.
“Here’s what you need to know about me. I’m only a nice guy to a point,” he said evenly. “I’m not jealous or controlling. I won’t run your life.” His hand stroked my hair absently, as he continued, looking into my eyes. “But there’s one thing I’m not going to tolerate. You don’t run from me. You don’t walk away. Not when I haven’t done anything to deserve it. You can walk away if I ever hurt you. But not before. Are we clear on that?”
I looked at him in return. I’d come home with this man when I didn’t know him at all. I’d felt comfortable sharing my fantasies with him right from the start. He was dominant in the ways that I craved, and when he spoke to me in that voice, that level, quiet voice, shocking lust ran through my body. We’d played together, and we’d eaten meals together. He made me laugh. He had been there for me when I needed him.
I was afraid of his dominance and my submissiveness; afraid of shattering into pieces the way I had after Nick. But there was no denying that I also needed him in a way that was inexplicable to me.
“Yes,” I whispered.
He smiled and turned off the light. “Get some sleep, Lisa. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”
Patrick:
I had been angry with her for ignoring me all week. But by the time I got to the hospital, I had let it go. I had to, else there would be no moving forward.
The only way I could let her come back to my house was to let the anger go. In a world where play included whips and crops and other instruments of pain, you had to make damn sure you didn't play in anger. Because that would have just been beating her, and I wasn't that much of an asshole.
The thirteen strokes were to make a point. She had run, and I hadn't liked it and I'd made my point, both with words and with the deliberate count of the belt strokes. It was done. Time to turn the page.
***
Bit by bit, we were revealing pieces of ourselves. Slow peels of the onion, till we uncovered the core of who we were. But neither of us were in the first flush of youth, and we both had our defenses in place against being hurt. We had built our walls. Now, we had to trust in each other enough to break those walls down. Brick by brick. One at a time.
Last night had been a start. But it was just that. A start. I wasn’t fooling myself into thinking we knew everything about each other. There was still stuff from my past that I hadn’t told her, and I could tell there was still things she hadn’t told me.
We needed to build a bond together that would be strong enough to survive the stress of our pasts; overcome the baggage we still carried. I’d never wanted to try before. But I wanted this woman, more than I would have believed possible.
***
The alarm went off, and I heard the sounds of Lisa waking up. I’d been awake for a few hours; I’d called the hospital to check on her mother, and then, I sat and drank my coffee, reviewing my schedule for next week. Predictably, it was hell. If I had a spare evening all week, I would be lucky.
The last few weeks had been uncharacteristically light, but evidently, the vacation was over. I made a face. This was the worst possible time for me to get busy. My unavailability would strain a fledging relationship.
A thousand scattered thoughts were on my mind when she walked through the door. She was wearing one of my t-shirts. Her hair was a wild tangle of curls; her eyes half-open. She looked impossibly sexy, but she was not a morning person, my Lisa. I grinned and got up to pour her a cup of coffee.
“Thanks,” she mumbled, taking a sip. I pulled her into my arms and kissed her, tasting toothpaste and coffee on her breath.
“Breakfast, baby?” I asked her. I knew she had to leave for the hospital soon, and from the text message that had come in right before she’d walked into the room, so did I. Emergency scheduling. I didn’t have a lot of time to linger.
“I’ll grab something at the coffee shop in the hospital,” she mumbled. Her eyes were still sleepy, but there was a worried crease between her eyebrows.
“I called the hospital; your mother is fine. She’s stable, she had a good night. Don’t worry,” I told her.
She exhaled, and looked at me. “Thanks, Patrick,” she said, and I heard the genuine gratitude in her tone. For a simple phone call.
“I have to be at the hospital soon,” I told her. “If you shower quickly, I can give you a ride.”
She took a sip of coffee and made a face. Her eyes were on her mug. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”
I crouched in front of her, tipped her face up so I could look into her eyes. “Lisa,” I said firmly. “You aren’t dragging me into things; you are letting me into your life. I want to be there for you. I want to be the person you turn to when you need something. I want to be the guy you reach for; the person you lean on. Okay?”
She smiled at me, with that smile that always sent desire curling through me. “Okay,” she said. I could only hope she meant it.
Lisa:
I got to the hospital early, catching a ride with Patrick. He kissed me briefly as we entered, and then he rushed off. In the car, I could sense his mind was on other things, but I didn’t probe.
It was eight in the morning. I was still wearing the clothes I had yesterday. Patrick had been preoccupied and I hadn’t wanted to make him drive all the way to my place for a change of clothes. I found my dad in the little café that was attached to the hospital emergency waiting area. I grabbed a cup of coffee and a donut, and joined him at his table.
“She’s okay?” I asked him. Patrick’s words had reassured me; I was beyond grateful that he had checked.
My dad nodded. “They let me in to see her briefly,” he said. “She was lucid for a bit. The surgery is scheduled for this afternoon. 1pm, they said.” I could see the fingers in his left hand, the one curled around the coffee cup. His fingers were crossed. Mine were as well. It was as if we couldn’t talk about my mother without that silly superstition.
“That quick? Patrick didn’t tell me.” Panic laced my voice.
“He’s your boyfriend?” my dad asked. My parents had given up hope a long time ago that I would find a nice guy, get married, do all the conventional things that most women did. They never had asked why, and I had never told them about Nick. The truth would have hurt them and I wasn’t sadistic, just masochistic. Any pain would stay mine.
“I guess,” I said. I hadn’t called someone my boyfriend in a very long time. I’d never brought a guy home to meet my parents.
“He seems nice,” my dad said carefully. He was navigating uncharted waters as well.
“He’s pretty great.” My voice was firm. Whatever doubts I had, they weren’t about Patrick; they were about my ability to be in a healthy, mature relationship.
We changed the subject. “Can I see her before they get her in surgery?” I asked. I was trying to keep my voice steady. My dad didn’t need to deal with my panic and my fears; he had his own.
“Let’s go find out,” he responded. I threw the coffee I hadn’t drunk in the trash, along with the donut I hadn’t eaten, and we went back to the nurses’ station.
***
It was the same woman who had been there last night, but today she smiled a different smile at me. I’d entered the inner circle, I realized, enclosed in Patrick’s sphere of influence.
“Lisa, right?” Her voice was warm. She looked tired; she’d probably been there all night. “You want to see your mother? The staff is just doing a shift change, you can see her in an hour.”
I smiled at her, a genuine smile of gratitude. These were the people that were taking care of my mother. “Thank you,” I said. “Do you know if Patrick’s around somewhere as well?”
“He’s probably scrubbing for surgery,” she said. “He was called in. Emergency.”
Ah. The reason for the distraction. I smiled at her again, and turned to my dad.
“Go home,” I urged. “Get a couple hours sleep at least.”
“I can’t.” He sounded anguished.
“Dad,” I started. “You look dead on your feet.”
He shook his head and started to say something. A voice interrupted. Patrick. I hadn’t seen him come up to us.
“Hello, Mr. Preston.” He smiled at my dad and shook his hand.
“Please, call me Colin,” my dad urged automatically.
“I just heard the surgery was scheduled early this afternoon,” Patrick said. His hand found mine; I gripped tight. “I can’t stay long; I need to scrub for surgery myself, but I just wanted to find you to tell you that Petra, who will be operating on your wife, is an excellent neurosurgeon. One of the best. Your wife will be in good hands.”
“Thank you, Patrick,” my dad responded. I squeezed Patrick’s hand again, trying to express my gratitude that he’d taken the time to come reassure us.
“Also, I wanted to give you guys this.” He handed my dad a key card. “It’s a key to the doctors’ break room. A lot more comfortable than the waiting room. You probably won’t want to leave the hospital this morning and I can understand that, but perhaps you can grab a couple of hours of sleep there?”
I leaned forward and kissed him; I couldn’t help myself. Warmth was spreading through me as he took us under his wings and ensconced us in the comfort of his protection. “Thanks, Patrick,” I muttered.
He just smiled at me.
***
Once he left, I excused myself and called Natalie. I winced as I looked at my calendar. Another Charles Dobson walkthrough that I was going to toss into Natalie’s lap.
“Sorry,” I apologised when I’d finished explaining.
“That’s okay, I can handle it,” she said. She sounded subdued, very much unlike her usual cheerful, effervescent self.
“I’ll call him and explain,” I offered. I wanted to ask her what was going on, but I didn’t want to pry.
“Okay,” she said tonelessly. We hung up.
Charles said the same thing when I explained the situation to him. “Okay.” He sounded subdued as well. I wondered what was going on with the two of them.
***
We settled into the doctors’ break room. My dad took a nap, and I curled into a chair, waiting for the hour to pass before I could see my mother. It was hell. I couldn’t read; couldn’t focus on anything other than my worry about my mother.
Finally, the same nurse walked into the waiting room. “She’s awake now, you can see her if you wish.” I contemplated waking my dad up, but she shook her head.
“Let him sleep,” she said. “Only one visitor at a time.” I nodded and followed her. The hospital was a strange world with strange rules and I obeyed quietly. My mind was too numb to ask why or to protest.
***
Panic clouded my mind again when I saw my mom. She looked so frail lying there in that hospital bed. Her skin white and paper-thin. The needles poking into her arm. The drip by her side. “Hey mom,” I greeted her, trying to keep the fear from my voice. I didn’t succeed, not even a little bit.
“Stop worrying,” my mom’s voice was a raspy whisper. “It’s all going to be fine.”
“How do you know?” I asked her, giving her a small smile. My mom, the eternal optimist. Everything was always going to be fine.
She ignored my skepticism. “More importantly, tell me about your boyfriend,” she said.
“Mom,” I yelped. “Honestly, you are going to have brain surgery this afternoon and you want to know who I’m dating? That’s the most important thing you can think of?”
She laughed, a weak, wheezing sound. I automatically moved closer in concern, took her hand in my hand. Her skin was clammy to the touch.
“Lisa,” she said. “I’ve lived my life well. I’ve laughed and I’ve loved, I’ve cried and been comforted. If this is the end, then I can look at it without regret.”
I looked at her. I wished I could say the same thing about my life. I had been locked in a shell of fear for most of my adult years; laughing and whole on the surface, but broken inside. If it were me, lying there on the hospital bed, I knew I wouldn’t be able to face the end of the journey without regret. I’d be plagued by what-if’s, and if-only’s.
“Did dad tell you about Patrick?” I asked instead, burying those thoughts for later. For the moment, my mother wanted to gossip about my new guy.
She smiled. “He did, but also, your boyfriend stopped by this morning and introduced himself. Easy on the eye, that boy.”
“When?” Seriously. Patrick had all of maybe thirty minutes while I grabbed a cup of coffee and a donut. In that time he’d found out my mother was having surgery, introduced himself to her, found a key card for my dad and me to take shelter in the doctors’ break room, and also prep for his own surgery. It was disconcertingly efficient.
“Only for a minute,” she laughed. I was jolted out of my musings about Patrick when I heard how frail that laugh sounded.
“Mom,” I said, trying to hold the tears back. “You know I love you, right?”
Her grip on my hand tightened by the smallest of amounts. “It’ll be okay, honey,” she soothed. That was my mom. If anything, I should have been comforting her, but instead, she was once again being my rock and my anchor.
We were interrupted by a young male nurse who clattered in, read the chart hanging at the bottom of my mom’s bed, and nodded to me. “I need to change her drip,” he said, a polite smile on his face. “You’ll need to leave for a bit, miss.”
I nodded. “Lisa,” my mom said. “Send your dad in, will you sweetie?” I nodded again. That was all I could do.
***
My dad was gone for two hours. When he came back, he had tear tracks on his face that he didn’t attempt to hide. My dad was a guy’s guy; I’d never seen him cry. Again, I felt the same disquiet I had earlier, like something important was happening in my life. In confronting the reality that my parents were mortal, I felt like I was taking a final irrevocable step into adulthood.
“They are prepping her for surgery,” he said, his voice hoarse. I glanced at my watch. Eleven-thirty. Whatever mysterious preparation that was done before my mother’s head was cut open, and a shunt inserted so that the fluid would drain, it was happening at this moment. I nodded again, not trusting my voice to speak. Right at that moment, I needed Patrick more than I’d ever needed anyone.