| |
She forced herself to smile.
“That’s very sweet, Grayson. But, unlike you, I know just how much the meds scramble your brain. So let’s save it for when you’re sober, ok?”
There was something about his glare, clear and cutting, that almost made her think.
But then he said, “Of course, Nurse Annie” in a stilted cold voice, and that was that.
He sat in a stony silence for another few minutes before saying, casually, “You don’t have to stay, you know.”
She glanced to him, surprised. “But...”
“I’m a lot better, you said so yourself, this morning. Anyway, think I’d sleep better if I were alone.”
Was she imagining the sarcastic tone in his voice?
Still, he was eyeing her expectantly. Annie rose, “Sure, if... you’re sure.”
He nodded, his face expressionless, “See ya.”
Outside, Annie’s slumped against the door. Had she just ruined everything?
—
THE NEXT FEW DAYS, Grayson didn’t answer her calls or texts. Showing up at his hotel, she’d found that he’d changed rooms.
Secretly, Annie was relieved. She still didn’t know what she’d say to what he’d said that time. Who was she kidding? That had to be the meds talking, a hundred per cent.
And yet, what if it hadn’t been?
The next day, after work, she found him. One step out of Sunnybrook Hospital, and there he was.
As soon as she saw his face, she knew why he was there.
Though he said it anyway, “I’m three days sober, and no less sure.” His hard eyes bore into her. “I know how I feel, and I know what I want. It’s you.”
That flint-eyed gaze allowed no wavering, no pauses. And yet, how was she supposed to know anything when he’d sprung this on her unexpectedly? Not to mention, his whole ‘knowing’. What did it even mean?
All Annie could do was blurt out, “I don’t know. Ok?”
“Don’t bullshit me,” his voice was as abrupt as a slap.
“I’m not bullshitting.”
“So you take off work to tend to some guy you don’t give a damn about?”
“I don’t not give a damn about you.”
“Oh yeah? Then which is it then? You know how you feel about me or you don’t?”
Annie could only gaze at him dumbly, sadly shaking her head. “I don’t...”
“Know, yeah, got it,” he said.
Annie was digging into her palm with her nails, “It’s pretty rich of you, you know. Showing up here like this, saying those things to me completely out of the blue. After you said...”
“‘We can only do this once. I don’t do relationships’. What, you think I don’t remember my own words? You think I wanted this to happen?”
Right now, Annie felt like sinking into the ground. She hated him; stupid Grayson with his demanding, pained eyes and snarled mouth.
“You think I ever expected this?” he continued. “Ever thought that...” he threw his head into a shake. “Forget it.”
She grasped for his hands. “Grayson, please, I...”
He wrenched his hands away. “No. You made yourself more than clear.”
“No, I...”
“Don’t know, got it.”
“But I don’t know, ok?”
The truth was that after all these days, she hadn’t even let herself hope that what he’d said to her in that hotel room had been real. No, she’d been avoiding the question, avoiding the implications. She was avoiding even considering the happy possibility of it. There was no denying the thrill that was brimming inside of her at his words – but there was no denying the tremor it gave her, either.
“Ok,” he said.
He nodded, then turned and left, leaving her with tears streaming down her face. As horribly uncertain as always; whether to follow or stay.
—
DAYS PASSED IN A BLUR. Avoiding pain was like that. You just worked until all you could do was fall into bed, maybe quickly shovel in some food or guzzle some water down, if there was time. Rinse and repeat.
Annie should know. She had experience in this.
Except on the third day, in the break room in the middle of the night, she broke down. Her break was too long. She’d forgotten cookies and she was starving, and, he was gone. Grayson. His project had concluded yesterday, and part of her had hoped he’d show up then, one final goodbye, one last chance. Part of her had hoped he’d show up, not knowing what she’d do if he did.
Pat found her, crying into her Peach Danone, “Annie, you alright?”
Annie tried smiling, wiping her eyes and muttering, “PMS.” But Pat wasn’t having it.
“I’ve never seen you like this. You go home. I can cover. It’s dead during the night shift anyway.”
When Annie didn’t move, Pat flung her wrist at her. “I mean it. Now shoo, or I’ll have to throw you outta here myself.”
The older woman’s gap-toothed smile was stern and unflinching. So, smiling a ‘thanks’, Annie left, knowing it was a mistake.
Back in her empty apartment, she walked past the couch she and Grayson had made love on, past the counter they had made love on, and grabbed some Mint Oreos they had fed each other from the cupboard. Then, she walked up to the top floor.
The balcony was empty, luckily. No pot smokers or students drinking. Just her, the cool impassive night, her Mint Oreos, and those stars. Just like... God, there really was no escaping him, was there? Only a few weeks, and already her life was too intertwined with his to forget him, at least not easily.
Not like... Jeremy.
Her whole body shuddered, even as she shoved an Oreo into her mouth and chomped it down. Rarely did she let herself recall her ex’s name, but now that she did, a whole swarm of memories clattered in its wake. The two of them, a first date in the park, a second date in the library. They were so beautifully young and blooming with potential. He didn’t smile a lot, but he smiled more when he was with her.
He had rings under his green eyes, wind-swept black hair, and the kind of cheekbones models would kill for. He’d said all the nice things to her, until he hadn’t anymore. One night, on her eighteenth birthday, when he was tired of waiting, tired of her being a tease, when he’d drunk the wine they were supposed to share... the incident.
Annie shook her head angrily. No. She was not going to think of that, she wasn’t going to think of any of it.
Two more Oreos in her mouth – chomp, chomp, chomp – still wasn’t enough to distract her.
Not from... Grayson. Grayson, who was as different from her ex, as sun was to moon, and yet, when it came down to it – that was what she feared, wasn’t it?
Grayson growing curt and demanding like Jeremy had. Even worse, Grayson’s playboy past becoming his playboy present. His kindness shrivelling away into cruelty. Their love becoming... contorted and unrecognizable.
And yet, staring out into the stars, Annie was beginning to understand. Avoiding the future because of fear from the past was as good as throwing the past into the future. It was as good as reliving those circumstances. If she never took a chance again, never dared to open her heart again, what was the point? Of any of it? Body parts twitching along to some long-forgotten dance, going through the pointless motions? Laughter a trifle too quiet, smile stretched too tight. If she didn’t let herself open up again, what else awaited her?
And, in these past few years that was what she’d been doing, hadn’t she? Hiding from the past; letting it devour her present and future, too, until she could hardly recognize the shell of herself that she’d become – baggy clothes and dire thoughts, staying in and staying safe.
Annie hadn’t noticed she’d been chewing the same Oreo for a good five straight minutes, until she swallowed it. She wiped away the pricks of tears in the corners of her eyes and exhaled.
Yes, she had been playing it safe for years now. But she was done with living that way.
Annie took out her phone, scanned through it, landed on Grayson’s number and dialed it. He didn’t pick up, of course – it was 3 am in the morning.
And so, Annie started talking and kept talking. She told him and told him some more. And then, she hung up.
—
DAYS PASSED, MORE OF the same blur. And, little by little, it occurred to her. Grayson wasn’t going to respond. She’d messed up. This was it.
