My Dream Man (7 page)

Later that night I thought about Greg. His skin had been so pale and clammy. His forehead was on fire. Granted, it was just the flu. Probably something he’d picked up on the plane, but it hurt my heart to see him miserable. It was the first time I’d felt something other than intense sexual desire for him. This time what I felt was compassion. But not just the kind of compassion I feel for patients – this was different. I wanted to do whatever I could to make him feel better.

When I had put the washcloth on his forehead he looked so grateful. But his eyes, usually so bright and filled with life, were dim. When he reached for my hand I was pleasantly surprised. I could’ve held his all night. But he’d fallen asleep, and I thought it would be inappropriate to stay for too long, so I reluctantly let it go after ten minutes and went home.

I wondered what he meant when he said, “I’m so glad you’re here.” Was it because he was sick and I’m a nurse? Or did he like me the way I liked him?

I laughed out loud at myself. Over-analyzing relationships can be exhausting!

The next day I had a couple cancellations and was able to swing by my parents’ house in between appointments. Mom had the week off work. No trip this time, just relaxing at home.

“Hey honey,” she said after opening the door. “What a nice surprise.”

She acted happy, but it looked like she’d been crying. “Hey Mom. I had some cancellations so I figured I’d come by and see how the ‘taking it easy’ thing was going.” I gave her a concerned look. She knew I could tell something was up.

“You want some lunch? I just made a sandwich.”

“Sure.”

She poured a glass of lemonade and gave me half a ham and cheese sandwich and some chips. I kept staring at her, waiting.

She pulled out a chair and sat down. “Your dad and I had a fight,” she said, almost too casually.

“What about?” My parents rarely argued.

“It’s nothing, really.” She paused, looking like she was trying to convince herself of what she’d just stated. “There’s a woman at work he’s always talking about. I took their friendship the wrong way and began asking questions.” She shook her head like she could rid herself of the memory. “He exploded. Told me I was wrong and that he was hurt I’d even consider such a thing.” She looked down. “Now he’s so upset our whole week is ruined. Well, maybe not ruined, but we’re not doing the things we’d planned.”

I reached for her hand and squeezed it. “I’m sorry Mom.” I wasn’t sure what else to say. I hoped nothing was really going on between Dad and that other woman. I mean, I’d heard plenty of stories about people their age, but it was hard to know with my dad because he was so quiet. I brushed it off as nonsense. My parents always got along great. Obviously it was just a misunderstanding. “Maybe try to talk to him again,” I suggested. “Salvage the rest of your time off so you can relax.”

“I’ll try.” She forced a smile, no doubt for my benefit. “So how have you been? Anything new since we talked last?”

I tried to remember when was the last time we spoke. “Got some new patients,” I said. “And I went with Val and Gen to see a psychic last weekend. Did I tell you that?”

“No. You didn’t.” She seemed to come to life again. “What’d she say?”

“She was surprisingly accurate. Not one hundred percent, but still good. I don’t know what to make of it, really. I suppose I could be reading into what she said – you know, playing right into her suggestions in a way that made it seem she’s figured it all out. But it was spooky how close she got to the truth. Oddly enough, she said you, me, and Tabby were going to take a trip together. She said it would be a life changing journey.”

My mom looked puzzled. “Huh,” she replied. The wheels seemed to be turning in her head. “Well, you never know. I’d love to take a vacation with my girls, but I hadn’t been planning anything. Life changing, huh?”

“I know. I’m not sure what she meant by that.” I paused, imagining what it would be like to go on a vacation with my mom and sister. Then the daydream morphed into a vacation fantasy with Greg. “Oh, I almost forgot. I saw the guy I like yesterday. It wasn’t a date. I just went to his house for his dad’s visit and he was home sick with the flu.”

“Awww,” my mom cooed.

“That was my reaction, at least on the inside.” I smiled. “I got to play nurse for a while though. He had a temperature so I got a cool washcloth for his forehead. Then, as I sat on the edge of his bed, he took hold of my hand.”

My mom’s face lit up. “Ooh, that’s another good sign. I’m positive he likes you. When do you see him again?”

“Not until next week. But maybe I could give his dad a call on the way home to see how he’s feeling. You know, out of professional concern.”

“That’s a good idea. Follow up.”

I got up to check the time, then turned back to my mom. “You gonna be okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said. “Don’t worry about me.”

I hugged her. “Thanks for lunch. I’ll call you tomorrow to see how you’re doing.”

She nodded. “What’s the boy’s name again? The one you like?”

“Greg.”

“I have a good feeling about him,” she said.

I smiled. If my mom thought he was worthy, then he was. End of discussion.

After finishing with the rest of the day’s patients, I called Mr. Varo. “Hi there,” I said. “This is Sam. I just wanted to call and see if Greg is feeling any better today?”

“Well hello, Sam. I think he’s still sick, but he went to work. That’s all the boy does. He’d never missed a day in his life until this week.”

Hmm. So it was meant to be that I was there that day. “Well I figured I’d call on my way home to follow up.”

“Thanks Sam. I appreciate it. I’ll let Greg know you called. I think he’d like to know that.”

I pressed the end button and drove home. Part of me was sad Greg didn’t need my help, but part of me was happy he was well enough to leave the house. Another part of me felt disquiet over what my mom and I had discussed earlier. I didn’t like the feeling lingering in my gut.

That evening, while I napped on the sofa, I thought I heard the doorbell. I shook my head a little, disoriented. I hadn’t been getting enough rest and was in a deep sleep. I heard it ring again and I got up and went to the door.

“Hey,” Tabby said. “Hope you don’t mind I stopped by. I just want to see as much of you as possible before going to college.”

I yawned. “That’s cool. Come on in.”

Tabby came in and took off her jacket.

“So what’s new?” I asked.

“You won’t believe it, well, maybe you will. I found out Jack got arrested for shoplifting. He spent the night in jail before his mom bailed him out.”

“Yeah, not all that surprised, Tabby. Sorry.” I thought about making a joke about prison being the perfect place to enjoy anal sex. But I could tell my sister wasn’t in a joking mood. “Still, that’s gotta suck.”

She sat down. “I know. What an idiot. And to think I’d been feeling sad over our break up.” She looked up at me. I raised an eyebrow. “Of course I don’t want to get back together with him, but I stopped by his house before coming here, just to see if he was okay.”

“That doesn’t surprise me either. I know you still care for the idiot.” She opened her mouth to argue. “Sorry again. Geez, I should just shut up and let you talk.” I slid down onto the couch next to her.

“He looked pretty shaken. I think whatever stunt he thought he was going to pull backfired and now he knows that shit’s not cool.”

“Let’s hope so. I’d hate to see him waste his life.” Admittedly, I didn’t hold out a lot of hope for Jack, but maybe he could change. Maybe.

Tabby sighed. She looked pretty worried. I was thankful she was going a couple hours away to school, that way there was little chance she could do something stupid like get back together with him.

“Jack said something I thought was strange. He was out to breakfast with his parents and saw Dad there sitting across from some lady who wasn’t Mom. He must have been mistaken. Could have been a work breakfast, I suppose. Or maybe Jack was stoned and just thought the guy looked like Dad.”

The next day my thoughts were focused on what Tabby had said. I walked around the block a few times after work, trying to burn off the fatty meal I’d just consumed, and tried to clear my mind. It was usually filled with daydreams of Greg. Today it brimmed with worry.

I pulled out my cell phone and dialed my mom. “Hey Mom. How’s it going?”

“Hey honey. It’s going good. How are things with you?”

“Fine. I’m just wondering if you talked to Dad?”

There was a long silence. Was he around? Was it a bad time?

“Yeah, we talked,” she finally said. I heard a door close. “He says she’s just a friend.” She paused. “I have to take his word for it Sam. He is my husband after all. And unless I can prove something happened I can’t crucify the guy.”

I felt uncomfortable having this conversation with her. I didn’t know how to respond.

“I do have one good piece of news though. Your father’s boss took him to breakfast the other day. She was really pleased with his performance last year, and she gave him a raise.”

His boss. The breakfast. All at once I felt my muscles relax. I’d forgotten my dad’s boss was a woman.

“That’s great news. You guys should go out and celebrate.”

“We are. Tomorrow night,” she said.

She sounded happy. That was what I liked to hear. After chatting for a little while longer, I hung up, satisfied that all was right with the world again. At least in my parents’ world. Mine was still a big fat question mark. Luckily I’d be seeing Mr. Varo again tomorrow.

Or maybe not so lucky, because when I showed up, Greg wasn’t there. Nor was he the week after that. When I inquired about how he was doing, Mr. Varo would just repeat he was working late, that he was obsessed with some big project.

So much for my being “destined” to be there the day he was home sick.

I met Val and Genevieve at a dance club on Saturday night. Val’s plan for pulling me out of my apparently obvious depression. The place was classy, she said, so I wore something new that Tabby helped me find. A form-fitting dress with heels, something I’d probably only wear once or twice. I just didn’t care for the club scene much.

After a few cocktails, Val convinced me to hit the dance floor. I really didn’t have a choice since she and Gen practically dragged me out there. I liked to dance, but not in front of crowds. I’d always been the type to jam out at home.

As my hips swayed to the pulsing beat, I felt someone brush against me. I spun on my heel, thinking it was Gen goofing around. It was Brian.

Seeing him immediately killed my buzz. I stopped dancing. “Hey. How’ve you been?” I asked, trying to keep it casual. I hadn’t seen him since graduation. It’s not like our break up was bad, it’s just I saw no reason to keep in touch.

“Pretty good,” he said. “You look beautiful Sam. Life must be treating you well.”

“Thanks,” I replied. “I’ve been doing all right.” He looked the same – same model-good looks, same confidence, same generic charm.

“So are you dating anyone?” he asked. Just came right out with it. Best not to waste time, I guessed.

“Yes,” I lied. “And you?”

“No. Not right now. There was this girl who broke my heart and I never got over her,” he teased.

I laughed. That was a load of BS. I knew he’d dated several hot girls after we broke up. And he knew that I knew.

“You still have the same number?” he asked me.

“Yes,” I said.

He leaned in and gave me a kiss on the cheek. “Let’s keep in touch. We’re adults, right?”

“Sure,” I said, smiling. I had no intention of calling him.

Brian moved along and Valerie and Genevieve suggested we go to the ladies room.

“What are the chances Sam?” said Val as she reapplied her lipstick. “I haven’t seen him in ages.”

“Me neither.”

“He looked good!” She said it like he was a pastry she wanted to devour.

I smiled. “Looks aren’t everything.”

“True.” Val agreed. Then she sighed. “Why don’t you just call Greg, Sam? Ask him out?”

I shrugged. “I figure if he likes me and he’s interested he’ll call me, or make a point of being there when I come to visit.”

Genevieve had drank too much and started vomiting in her stall, turning our attention from love life woes to real life drama. After we helped her get cleaned up, we left.

“Don’t call him,” Mrs. Myszkowski warned after we discussed the matter. I had a banging hangover and her words echoed in my skull.

I slipped the pulse oximeter off her finger and logged her number. “Why? What’s the big deal? My friends thought it might be a good idea…”

She looked at me like I was an idiot. “Because you’ll ruin everything. That’s why.” She shook her head in disgust. “Look,” she said. “He likes you. That’s obvious.”

“But he hasn’t called. He could’ve gotten my number from his dad. It’s not like we’re strangers. And he hasn’t been around when I’ve visited.”

“You kids today,” she groaned. “You’re so impatient.”

I frowned. Mostly because I knew she was right. “Well what do you suggest?”

She took hold of my hand and squeezed it. Then she looked me in the eye. “You wait. If he likes you, which I think he does, he’ll start missing you. Then he’ll find a way to see you again. Trust me.”

Mrs. Myszkowski exuded confidence. She had a surprising air of authority for a little old lady in a wheelchair. I suppose at her age she had wisdom on her side. All my friends and I had were trails of broken relationships.

The next weekend Tabby and I went shopping for some things she needed for school, and I treated her to lunch afterward. As she sipped her Coke she said, “I kind of wish I hadn’t chosen a school a few hours away. I could’ve gone to the community college nearby.”

“At least it’s not out of state. Then I’d miss you dropping by unannounced, filling me in on the latest gossip. Now that would have been sad.”

She smiled. “We’ll see each other plenty. I’ll be back for long weekends and holidays.”

I smiled, but I still felt sad. “Have you heard any more from Jack?”

Tabby shrugged. “Nope. Just that one time when I stopped by. I’m over him.”

She didn’t look like she was over him, but I didn’t press the conversation. Some things were best left alone.

“Did you ever hear from that guy you liked? What was his name, Craig?”

“Greg,” I corrected. “And no, I haven’t heard from him. He hasn’t been around. His dad says he’s working on a big project. I guess he’s some kind of workaholic.”

“Why don’t you give him a call?” she asked.

“Can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Mrs. Myszkowski told me not to. She said I’d ruin things by being impatient.”

Tabby rolled her eyes. “She’s one of your patients, right? The crazy smoker lady?”

“That’s the one.”

“And you’re going to listen to her over your wise younger sister?”

I hated to say it, but yes. I trusted Mrs. Myszkowski’s advice over anyone else’s. She’d snagged the guy she wanted back in the day. All my little sis had done was hook up with a jackass. “I’m just gonna play it by ear,” I told her. “If it’s meant to be it will be.”

I wanted to believe my own words, but doubt kept getting in the way. If only I could stop hoping and wishing and let it go, not let my mind wander to the dream. If only I could flip a switch and stop fantasizing about his kiss, his scent, his hand reaching out to hold mine.

If only it was that easy.

That evening, I decided the best thing to do was to distract myself with a movie. I thought if I got immersed in a story it would help me forget. It worked for a while too, until the love scene where the couple walked hand in hand on the beach. Instead of watching them, I found myself replacing the images on the screen with Greg and me. Then I’d drift off and miss a full ten minutes.

Frustrated, I turned the movie off and channel surfed. I settled on an episode of
International House Hunters
. The couple had relocated from Cincinnati, Ohio to a charming town in the French countryside. After they’d selected their house and did some minor remodeling, the scene shifted to the two of them getting cozy in a nearby café.

Before I knew it I was picturing Greg and me at the café. He was saying something funny and I was laughing, trying not to spill the wine I’d been sipping.

I was hopeless. The more I tried to stop fantasizing about Greg, the more I thought of him.

The next morning I woke with a change of heart. I decided it was unhealthy to keep wishing for a relationship with a guy who wasn’t interested. I decided to give up on Greg and go about my business the way I’d done before meeting him. Maybe take on a few more patients to stay busy in an attempt to push him out of my mind.

A half an hour later my phone rang. It was Mr. Varo. He never called on Sunday. “This is Sam,” I answered, worried he was about to give me bad news.

“Hi Sam. This is Greg Varo.”

I was in shock. I couldn’t speak.

“Um. . . I hope it’s okay that I’m calling. I know you didn’t give me your number.” He sounded nervous, unsure.

“Of course it’s okay,” I said. “How’ve you been?”

“I’m better. Took a while, but now I’m feeling one hundred percent.”

The phone trembled in my hand. “That’s good to hear,” I said, sounding professional. I wished I’d said something better.

“Anyway, the reason I’m calling is to see if you’d like to go out to dinner with me some time? I mean, if you don’t have a boyfriend,” he added.

I steadied myself by leaning on the kitchen counter. “I’d love to.” I stifled a happy squeal. “Um…when?” I said in my best impersonation of someone who was perfectly calm and collected.

“How’s this Friday? Seven-o-clock?”

“Sure,” I said, then gave him my address. I hung up and collapsed into a kitchen chair.

Maybe it was just a matter of mentally letting go. Or maybe this was my reward for not giving in and calling him. All I knew is I’d pulled a Mrs. Myszkowski, and it felt pretty cool.