A White Coat Is My Closet (22 page)

Once I’d filled the glasses with water from the Arrowhead dispenser in the corner, I handed one to Sergio, then clicked its edge with my glass. “Here’s to a perfect first date.” I grinned. “Or, if you’d prefer a little less pressure, here’s to a perfect bike ride.” I raised my glass in a toast and then took a satisfying swallow.

Sergio looked at me intently for a second before lifting his glass to his mouth. He took a quick drink, then set his glass on the counter next to the sink. In an instant, he grabbed my glass out of my hand, set it next to his, and wrapped his arms around me. He pushed against me until my back was pressed against the counter, then whispered in a deeply resonating voice, “I’d say you were right the first time. It was a perfect date.” I felt his lips, still cold from the ice water, press against mine without hesitation. I let my head fall back and melted into the kiss. It was like I’d been swept off my feet, toppled by a wave cresting on the beach of a tropical island. He gently pushed his tongue between my teeth, and I felt it dance against mine. Rockets went off in my head and brought time to a standstill. In that moment, all that existed was the sensation of Sergio against me. I couldn’t think, could barely breathe, and certainly couldn’t stand. If Sergio hadn’t been supporting me, I would have collapsed onto the floor. He traced his hand up my back to rest against my head. As the kiss intensified, he pulled me against him with hungry passion. I had a hard time convincing myself it was real. From the moment I had seen Sergio in the gym those many weeks ago, I had fantasized about holding him in my arms. Maybe I was still just dreaming.

When the kiss broke, he pulled his head back without releasing his grip on me. His smile was brilliant, and his eyes radiated like burning embers. They held my gaze with an intensity that continued to make my head swim. When he finally spoke, his deep voice coupled with his rich Italian accent sounded like music being played from a distant mountain. “Well, Doctor, we’ve unfortunately run out of time. Do you think it would be possible for me to make another appointment?”

I gave him another quick kiss, then rested my head on his shoulder as I pulled him back against me. “If it means getting to spend more time with you, I’ll have my nurse clear my entire schedule.” I released a soft chuckle. “Except for Wednesdays. Doctors golf on Wednesdays.” I lifted my head and looked at him. “I don’t suppose you could teach me to golf?”

He looked up at the ceiling and acted as if he was considering my question. He answered in a very thoughtful tone, but he didn’t succeed in suppressing a smile. “Well, I can at least teach you how to grip a club.”

I started laughing as well. “Fair enough. But seeing as how I’m a beginner, I’ll depend on you to also bring a couple of balls.” I raised an eyebrow. “Think you’ll be up for that?”

“Definitely.” He lowered his voice another octave, then repeated himself. “Definitely.” He caught my gaze for another second, offered a reassuring nod, gave me another quick kiss, and then pushed back. He began walking toward the front door. “But if I don’t get to work, I’ll be unemployed.” He smiled over his shoulder. “I can’t afford to instruct golf full time.”

I walked him back down to his car. He opened the driver’s door and leaned against it. He brushed his fingers down my arm. “It was a great day, Zack. Thanks.” He shifted to sit down and put the keys in the ignition. “Call me. We’ll schedule that first golf lesson.”

He rolled down the window as I pushed the door closed.

“Excellent,” I said. “I suspect that with your instruction, I’ll be ready for the pro circuit within a month.”

He smiled and began to pull away from the curb. “Going pro is going to require having a perfect stroke.” He smiled more seductively. “We’ll work on it. Call me, Zack. See ya.”

As he drove away, I yelled loud enough for him to hear, “You can bet on it.”

I
WATCHED
Sergio’s car round the corner before I turned to head back up to my apartment. I felt like I was floating. I wasn’t even sure my feet touched the stairs before I again found myself walking through the front door. I couldn’t remember ever having had a better day. A part of me felt like I should have been embarrassed about discussing my shame. Surprisingly, however, I didn’t feel as self-conscious as I might have anticipated. Though I worried about having come across as being a little pathetic, the conversation had actually ended up being helpful. Expressing some of the apprehensions I had about my own identity had helped me see some of my issues more objectively. It helped me to better understand how I had accumulated some of my emotional baggage, and as a result, made me feel genuinely optimistic that I might succeed in unloading some of it. In addition, Sergio hadn’t seemed the least bit put off by it. Instead, he had been incredibly supportive. He hadn’t made me feel like disclosing such personal information made me appear weak. In fact, he’d defended me and encouraged me to appreciate my strengths. And that kiss. Oh my God! My head was so high in the clouds I felt dizzy. It must have been oxygen deprivation.

I knew I was on call the next day and as a consequence would be captive in the hospital for the subsequent thirty-six hours, so I spent the duration of the afternoon and evening getting myself organized. I had to get some groceries, do a couple loads of laundry, and think about getting something to eat. I usually felt like doing such mundane chores was an exercise in drudgery, but after having spent the day with Sergio, I felt completely energized.

I went into my room, peeled off my tank top, shucked my shorts and threw them into the laundry basket, and grabbed a clean T-shirt and pair of Levi’s. Once I was dressed, I dumped the laundry basket onto the floor, separated the whites from colors, collected all the whites into my arms, and headed for the washing machine. As soon as the machine started filling with water and I had poured liquid laundry detergent into it, I added bleach to the dispenser. Estimating that the load would take about forty minutes to compete, I grabbed my wallet and headed for the store. After having spent the day mesmerized by Sergio’s impressive muscular definition, I was inspired to make some healthy selections.

Because the Ralphs was a convenient two blocks from my house, I decided to go there despite the fact that navigating through the parking lot was a nightmare. Fortunately, when I drove into the lot, a car was leaving a space immediately next to the exit booth. Apparently, whatever good luck token I had drawn that morning hadn’t yet expired. I was parked, out of my car, and pushing a shopping cart through the store no more than five minutes after I had left my house.

I went directly to the produce section and grabbed an assortment of fruits and vegetables. I had to keep my enthusiasm in check, however, because I had a tendency to buy too much, especially when I was hungry. Invariably, I would haul a bunch of bags of groceries home only to get consumed by busy shifts at work. Then, when I got home from the hospital, I was usually too tired to even consider food preparation, and all my purchases would end up wilting in the refrigerator. It was a wasteful, and expensive, cycle.

Bearing the “quick and convenient” concept in mind, I navigated over to the section that contained refrigerated, already prepared fresh food. I grabbed a package of low-fat turkey meatloaf and another of precooked chicken breast. Chicken was always a dependable standby. I could either eat it with brown rice or could just throw it over some fresh spinach to make a salad. Finally, I grabbed a package of pasta and a bottle of sauce for those evenings when I craved carbohydrates, then headed over to the toiletries aisle.

Fearing I might be running low and not wanting to risk forgetting something, I grabbed a bottle of shampoo, a tube of toothpaste, and a new stick of deodorant. I chuckled as I threw the deodorant into the cart, wondering if instead I should swing through the spice aisle and pick up a jar of oregano. I didn’t really think it could legitimately serve as a substitute, but under the right circumstances, it might contribute to pulling off an awesome joke.

I was just coming to the end of the aisle and figured I had about found everything I needed when I looked up and saw a row of personal lubricants. For some reason, just seeing them brought me to a halt. Memories of Sergio’s body pressed up against mine just an hour before came catapulting into my head. It was suddenly as if his masculine smell, a combination of soap, sweat, and aftershave, came wafting into my nose. My entire body responded as if I had swallowed a bottle of Viagra. There, standing in the middle of the grocery store with no provocation other than a memory, my dick suddenly threatened to rip right through my Levi’s. Blushing, I looked up and down the aisle. I was relieved to see I was still alone, but I still felt like a teenager caught masturbating. Giving it little more than a second’s consideration, I reached up and grabbed one that advertised itself as being extra sensitive. The day had been near perfect; no reason not to keep dreaming.
Hope springs eternal.

By the time I got home, finished my laundry, made something to eat, and reviewed some notes for a presentation I had to make the next day, it was almost ten thirty and I was beat. I jumped into the shower, then headed for bed. My last conscious thought was of a bright smile, golden-tan skin, amber eyes, and a thick Italian accent. I slept like I was under general anesthesia.

When I dragged my ass out of bed at five thirty the next morning, I still had a smile on my face. Sergio’s parting comment was still ringing in my ears:
Call me, Zack
. Pure music.

Though I had showered before climbing into bed no more than six hours earlier, I nonetheless again threw myself under its spray. I just couldn’t start my day without a shower. It was an integral part of the morning routine and necessary to wake up. By the time I finished, the coffee, which I’d set on a timer to start brewing five minutes before my alarm went off, was ready. A cup of coffee and a quick bowl of instant oatmeal, and I was out the door. I lived three short blocks from the hospital, so it was no more than a brisk ten-minute walk.

I pushed through the double doors that lead onto the pediatric ward at six fifteen. A near record—from under the covers to ready to work in forty-five minutes flat. Such an accomplishment should be recognized with a medal. I walked up to the nursing station. Diane McClure, also a senior resident, had been on call the night before. She looked a little haggard as she leaned on the counter. We were in the same year, and in addition to having grown to really respect her, she had become a good friend. She was smart, caring, had good clinical instincts, and was a hard worker. Being her peer, I was grateful that she was mindful of not leaving any loose ends hanging before she signed out. Some of our other colleagues had the reputation of being “dumpers.” They dragged their asses during their shifts, neglected to do much of the less desirable work, and then unapologetically handed it off, defending their negligence as having been “too busy.” Too busy, my ass! How about fucking lazy? None of us relished working thirty-six-hour shifts, but damn it, that didn’t excuse dumping. If it happened on your shift, goddamn deal with it. If you thought you’d get through a rotation and never be shit on, you should have signed up to be a florist, not a physician.

“I don’t even have to ask how your night was. I can read it in your face.”

She offered me a tired smile. “Do I really look that bad? So much for my plan to leave work and go cruise men in the automotive section of Walmart. That’s usually where I really score.”

“Hey,” I teased. “Don’t sell yourself short. I’m sure you can still hook up with a grease monkey. Though, in this case, he might be a real monkey.” I bumped her shoulder with mine. “Anything I can do this morning to help get you out of here? Most of the kids on my service have been pretty stable, so my head should be way above water.” I smiled. “Why don’t you give me sign-outs, and then I’m here to serve. Hit me with your best shot.”

“Thanks, Zack. Don’t think I wouldn’t be willing to take you up on your offer, but I think I have most of the loose ends pretty well wrapped up. We had a fair number of admissions, but none of the kids were too sick. Let me bring you up to speed on all the patients, then why don’t you go in and say hi to Christopher, your little guy with the newly diagnosed neuroblastoma. He had a rough night last night. The side effects from the chemo are kickin’ his ass. He’s been asking when you were coming back since about two in the morning. I had to promise him he would be your first stop.”

“I hate hearing he’s not doing well. I’m starting to really love that kid. What’s been going on?”

“The nausea and vomiting have been wicked, and despite having bumped up his acyclovir dosage, the cold sores in his mouth continue to be really painful. Poor little guy. He’s trying to be brave, but this must be so bewildering. One day you’re outside climbing trees, and the next day you’re in the hospital being given medicine that makes you feel like shit and causes your hair to fall out. When you’re five, it’s gotta to feel like someone’s idea of an ugly joke.”