Dark Moon (4 page)

“Really?” I asked
in surprise. “What about the critical patient? Was that just BS?”

“No, not at all.”
His face turned serious. “But I would have come in the morning, on the way to
my office. When you were in class.”

“Oh.”
Stop
grinning like an idiot.
“Well, I’ll see you soon then.”

I started to open
the door. “Wait,” he said for a second time.

Michael slid out
of the driver’s seat and came around to open my door. I got out nervously. I
thought that by the way he was staring at me that he wanted to kiss me. Heart
racing, I gazed up at Michael, hoping my eyes would reveal that I wanted the
same.

But instead,
Michael leaned forward and gave me a quick hug. I thought I might melt in his
embrace. I forced my knees not to give out on me.

“Drive home
safely,” he said lightly.  He waited until I got in my car and followed me
out of the parking garage. Then, with a slight wave, he was gone.

 I debated
whether I should tell Maryanne that I had a date Saturday. I knew she’d be
thrilled, but it wouldn’t,
couldn’t
go anywhere, so what was the point
in talking about it?

But when I got
home, I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. Maryanne was sprawled out on her bed, a
calculus book in front of her. She didn’t seem to be doing a lot of work,
though. The TV was on and she was filing her nails.

“Hey, MA,” I said
cheerfully.

Her eyebrows shot
up in surprise. “You’re in an unusually good mood.”

“I’m not always a
sourpuss,” I argued. “But you’re right. I had an exciting day. Guess what?”

She looked up from
her nails. “You aced a test?”

I snorted. “That’s
what you think makes my day?” Before she could answer, I said, “Actually, I have
a date on Saturday.” It felt strange to say those words.

Maryanne sprung up
to a sitting position, her eyes widening in surprise. “Lana, that’s awesome!
Who’s the guy? He must be pretty special if you agreed to go out with him. Give
me all the details!”

I told Maryanne about
Michael, trying my hardest not to gush too much. I knew from firsthand
experience how obnoxious that could be.

“He sounds so hot!”
she squealed. “And he’s twenty-nine and already a doctor? Not even
just
a
doctor. An oncologist. That’s seriously sexy! I mean, you’ve really hit the
jackpot.”

“It’s just a
date,” I reminded her, but I couldn’t seem to wipe the grin off of my face.
Saturday wouldn’t get here soon enough.

###

Maryanne had
advised me to play it cool and not call Dr. Reynolds until Thursday. “I know
you’re excited but you don’t want to look too eager,” she warned.

“What if he thinks
I’ve lost interest?” I argued.

MA had rolled her
eyes. “He’s obviously super into you. Even if his ego is wounded, he’ll
rebound. Trust me.”

I thought I might
see Michael during my shift at the hospital on Wednesday, but I didn’t. I tried
not to feel disappointed. I knew he liked me, and it was unrealistic to expect
him to rearrange his schedule every day I volunteered on the off chance that we
might see each other.

So, Thursday, in
between Macroeconomics and Statistics, I pulled Michael’s card out of my
wallet, and, with shaking hands, dialed the number. He didn’t answer.
What
did you expect? He’s probably with a patient.

“Hey, Michael,
this is Lana. Just, um, calling so you have my number. See you Saturday.” I
hung up so I didn’t say anything else. I hated leaving voicemails. Too easy to
say something stupid that could be played over and over again. At least if you
fucked up and sounded like an asshole in real life no one could replay the
moment.

I didn’t hear from
Michael all day, and by the time I got home that afternoon I was convinced that
he’d changed his mind and wanted nothing to do with me.

“Relax!” Maryanne
tried to console me. “You’re being silly. He’s an oncologist, for fuck’s sake.
He’s probably still at the office. And he knows he’s seeing you tomorrow at the
hospital.”

“Fine,” I
muttered, feeling aggravated.

The next morning I
took extra time getting ready for classes and my volunteer job. I tried on
outfit after outfit, unsatisfied with how everything looked. My entire wardrobe
basically consisted of jeans and t-shirts; I’d never had anyone I cared about
impressing before. But now I did, and I wanted to look feminine, sexy.

“Try this,”
Maryanne said, throwing a sundress at me.

I pulled it on.
“It’s cute,” I said skeptically, “but I’m not sure it suits me.”

“It looks great!”
Maryanne was exasperated. “That’s one of my favorite dresses.”

“I think that’s
the problem,” I replied. “I don’t feel like myself.”

“Sometimes it’s
good to get out of your comfort zone,” she argued.

I studied the dress
in the mirror. It was black, had spaghetti straps and tiny blue and purple
flowers. I tugged at the top. “It’s too low cut,” I said. “And you’ve got way
bigger tits than me. I barely fill it out.”

Maryanne laughed.
“You’re nuts. It looks fantastic on you. Almost as good as it looks on me.” She
stuck out her tongue.

“Ugh, I’m going to
be late for class,” I muttered. “I guess this will do.” I twisted my long hair
into a loose bun and secured it with bobby pins.

“Use this,”
Maryanne said, tossing me a tube of mascara. I never wore makeup. My skin was
so pale already; I didn’t see the point of piling on foundation. Although I
had
worn it in the past, when I wanted to attract men. When I
cared
.

“Does it look
alright?” I asked self-consciously after applying the mascara. “Do I need
anything else?”

“That makes your
eyes pop, but I think you’ll look even more stunning with dark eye shadow.” She
tossed another piece of makeup at me and I dutifully brushed the dark green
color over my eyelids.

“Thanks, MA,” I said
before leaving. “I’m not trying to sound like an ungrateful bitch, I swear.”

“I know.
Truthfully, it’s kind of cute watching you get all hot and bothered over a
guy.”

I rolled my eyes.
“I just want to look nice for school,” I said innocently.

“Okay, Lana, you
keep telling yourself that,” I heard Maryanne call as I walked out and shut the
door.

###

I kept trying to
find excuses to go to the sixth floor, but every time I went up there Michael
wasn’t in sight. My shift was ending in an hour. And he had never called me
back after I left him a voicemail.
Well, this is what you get, Lana. You’ve
got no business trying to have a relationship.

It was different
with Maryanne. After college we’d go our separate ways, slowly lose touch and
eventually our friendship would just be a fond memory. But if I settled down
with a man, had a family, a normal life, I’d never be able to hide the ugly
truth from him, not long-term.

I had all but
given up hope when I finally saw Michael. He was talking to a nurse on the
sixth floor, a serious expression on his face. He must have sensed me watching
him, because he turned and looked in my direction. A smile played at his lips.
He said something else to the nurse and walked over to where I was standing.

“You look
fantastic,” he said in a low voice. “I’ve been trying to find you all
afternoon. I went to floor two so many times that I think I gave poor Evie the
impression that I have a crush on her.”

I snickered. “I’m
sure I’ll hear all about it when I leave.”

“I wish I could
take you out tonight,” Michael said, “but Rose is in town to visit Becky and I
have to go to a family dinner.”

“No worries. I’m
looking forward to tomorrow,” I replied.

“Me, too.” Michael
lightly, discreetly ran his fingers along my arm. “See you soon.”

I practically
floated through the rest of my shift.
Is this what it’s like to be in love?
I
had thought it was real with Damon, but I don’t remember ever feeling quite
like
this
.

Whatever it was,
the feeling was intoxicating. I had to keep my head on straight, though. This
was just a date. I was letting myself have fun. Nothing more.

Maryanne and I
went shopping on Saturday. I didn’t know where Michael was taking me, but as
Maryanne had said, “Even if it’s not super fancy, it won’t be McDonald’s. Better
to dress up than down.”

I had my parents’
credit card. They didn’t mind me using it, but since I avoided talking to them
as much as possible, I always felt bad when I charged stuff to them. My parents
aren’t loaded by any means, but they were willing and able to foot the bill for
the part of my college tuition that wasn’t covered by my scholarship.

They also sent me
a check every month for food and gas, but I had been eating out a lot recently
and was almost out of money for the month. My parents might have written
another check, but that would mean I had to talk to them. Not happening.

Still, I didn’t
want to spend
too
much. We headed to the mall first, to check out the
sale items.

“Mom’s going to
kill me if I put any more charges on her card,” Maryanne said, eyeing a pair of
burgundy velvet skinny pants.

“Those would look
good on you,” I replied. Maryanne had the perfect legs for skinny jeans and
pants. In fact, I’d told her many times that with her tall, slim body, big
boobs and long blond hair, that she could be a Victoria’s Secret model.

“It wouldn’t hurt
to try them on.” Maryanne let out a low whistle when she looked at the price
tag. “Maybe it would. Ah, what the hell.” She draped the pants over her arm.

I laughed. “So do
you think I should go for a skirt or pants?” I asked her.

“Skirt,” she said
immediately. “Or a dress.”

“I don’t want to
look like I’m trying too hard, though.”

“You won’t.”
Maryanne rolled her eyes. “Trust me, all he’s going to be thinking about is how
hot you look, not that you’ve tried to impress him. Men are so clueless about
that stuff. They believe we roll out of bed looking like sweet angels with a
naturally even skin tone and perfectly styled hair. And that we can guzzle beer
with the big boys and eat pizza and burgers and still maintain a size four
figure.”

“Well, we do eat
pizza and burgers,” I pointed out.

“Right.” Maryanne
nodded. “And do you know what I do the day after I eat pizza? Work out for
three hours and eat an ounce of chicken,” she said before I could answer.

“In fact,” she
continued, “that’s part of why I dropped out of my sorority. I couldn’t stand seeing
the lengths some of the girls would go to. I don’t think there was one time
when I visited the sorority house that a sister wasn’t vomiting in the
bathroom.” She shuddered.

Maryanne had
pledged our first year, but quickly decided that sorority life wasn’t for her.
She’d never really said why.

“That’s sad,” I
commented.

“I may starve on
occasion to make up for a bad decision, but I don’t vomit. That will ruin your
teeth.”

I laughed. “I
don’t think that’s the biggest problem with bulimia.”

She waved her
hand. “Enough depressing talk. You need an outfit, woman!”

“How about this?”
I held up a turquoise skirt.

“Try it, but it
doesn’t look short enough,” was Maryanne’s response.

Fifteen minutes
later we had picked out five different outfits for me to try on. MA was going
to try the skinny velvet pants and a pair of black leather pants.

We stepped into
dressing rooms next to each other. “Turquoise skirt is no good,” I said
immediately when I had pulled it on. I looked like a schoolgirl.

“Told you so,” MA
called back.

I dismissed the
next two outfits as well. The rose colored dress had a nice fit but it didn’t
compliment my pale skin, and I wasn’t much into pinks anyway. And the blue
dress MA had insisted I try had a stupid looking ruffle at the neckline.

“How do you like
the pants?” I asked Maryanne as I wriggled into a black dress.

“Need your
opinion,” she replied. “You decent?”

“One sec.” I
pulled up the zipper on the side and stepped back to study myself in the
mirror. The dress hugged every curve of my body. It fell to just above my knees,
but there was a slit up the right thigh. The top was simple: scooped neck and
sleeveless. The dress had a silky feel to it. I looked mature, sexy,
mysterious…it was perfect.

Not wanting to
influence Maryanne’s opinion with my own, I said, “Yeah I’m ready. I need you
to tell me what you think of the black dress.”

We both stepped
outside our fitting rooms. “Oh my God, Lana, you look effing amazing!” Maryanne
exclaimed.

I couldn’t help
but grin. “I like it, too,” I told her.

“I mean seriously,
you’re going to knock his socks off,” she said. “And his pants.” Maryanne
laughed.

I could feel my
heart racing. I had pushed all thoughts of sex out of my mind. I didn’t think
Michael was like Damon and I felt certain he wouldn’t expect sex on the first
date. But then again, what did I know?

Seeing my
expression, Maryanne quickly said, “Relax. This is just dinner. Sure, if you
date him he’s going to want more, but he doesn’t expect you to sleep with him
on the first date. No decent guy would,” she assured me.

I smiled. “This is
it then.” I looked at her velvet pants. “Those are hot!” I told her.

Maryanne studied
herself in the mirror. “I think they make my ass look big,” she said
critically.

“MA, your ass
wouldn’t look big if you padded it out like a Kardashian!”

“Ha, I wish. These
pants are really expensive so I should put them back.”

“Yeah, if you
don’t feel good in them, don’t get them,” I agreed. “What about the leather
ones?”

“Oh, those are
hot,” she said with a mischievous grin. “I look like a dominatrix.”

“Only you could
pull that off.” I shook my head.

“Let’s get out of
here.” Maryanne glanced at her phone. “You’ve got a few hours before your date.
Let me fix your hair when we get home.”

“What’s wrong with
my hair?” My hand flew to my head self-consciously.

“Nothing, but it’s
naturally wavy. I think that black dress needs stick-straight hair. Trust me,
the effect will be head-turning.”

We paid for our
clothes and left.

Maryanne helped me
get ready for my date with Michael. I washed and dried my hair, and she used
her flat iron to get out all of the kinks. I borrowed her mascara again, and
this time, she made my eyes up with about four different eye shadows. “You use
different colors for the creases,” she explained.

When she finished,
I had to admit, the end result was quite stunning. My eyes looked huge and
sultry. My hair was sophisticated and the dress was sexy but not sleazy.

Maryanne took her
phone and made me pose for pictures. “I feel like I’m going to prom all over
again,” I said laughing.

“I have to capture
the moment,” she said teasingly. “I’ve never seen you dressed up like this,
Lana.”

“That makes two of
us.” I took the black clutch Maryanne had lent me and placed my wallet, phone and
keys inside.

“Here.” Maryanne
handed me the lip-gloss I was wearing. “So you can reapply after you eat, or
after you kiss.” She raised her eyebrows.

“You’re making me
nervous,” I wailed. I fanned my underarms, hoping I wasn’t sweating like a pig.

“Can I meet him?”
Maryanne asked.

“You’re not my mom
and I’m not thirteen!” I exclaimed, punching her playfully on the arm.

“Well at least
take some obnoxious selfies so I can get a look at this hunky doctor of yours.”

“Maybe.” I perched
on the edge of my bed. “Not long now.”

Michael arrived exactly
two minutes early. He called me, saying he was in the parking lot by the
dormitory.

“I won’t wait up,”
Maryanne said as I left. I had the feeling she was glad I was going out. She
hadn’t said she had a date, but Maryanne was awfully dressed up to be spending
Saturday night alone. She was wearing her new leather pants and a red top that
barely covered her midriff. I suspected one of her boyfriends was coming over.

Michael was
standing outside his car, typing something into his phone, when I walked up.

“Lana.” His eyes
lit up when he saw me. Michael leaned in to hug me, kissing my cheek.

“Hey, Michael.” I
tried to play it cool.

I’d only seen him
in his scrubs and, if possible, Michael was even more gorgeous in normal
clothes. He had on a navy button down top with the sleeves rolled up and the
first two buttons undone, sleek black pants, and his hair was disheveled in the
bedhead-but-I-really-did-this-on-purpose way.

“You look amazing,”
he said. I blushed at the way he was looking at me. Michael touched my face.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered.

“You’re not so bad
yourself,” I said back, flashing what I hoped was a flirty grin.

He opened the passenger
side door and I sat down on the sleek leather seat.

“Our reservation
is at eight-fifteen,” he told me. “We’re going to The Red Door. Have you been
there?”

“No, but I’ve
heard of it.” The Red Door was a trendy new restaurant that opened two months
ago. It was expensive, and supposedly you had to book a table weeks in advance.
“How did you manage to get a reservation?” I asked.  

“I’ve got my
connections,” he said mysteriously. He laughed. “No, seriously, it’s nothing
that impressive. I treated the owner’s wife last year. At her last follow-up,
he told me about this restaurant he was opening and said if I ever wanted a
table I could call him personally. And tonight seemed like the perfect night to
take him up on that. I wanted to go somewhere special with you.”

“Anything would be
a welcome change from the usual campus food,” I joked.

We got to the
restaurant and Michael handed his keys to the valet. “After you,” he said, opening
the door.

I stepped inside.
The décor was really fun. The low lighting had a red tone to it and black
booths lined the walls. There was a long bar at the far end, and in the middle
of the room were high-top tables.

The place was
packed. We made our way to the hostess and Michael gave her his name. A couple
of minutes later, we were led to a secluded booth in one of the back corners of
the restaurant.

“The owner
promised me the best table in the house,” Michael said, “but I didn’t expect it
to be this nice.”

“So you haven’t
been here before?” I asked.

“No, you’re my
first.”

A waitress brought
us menus and a wine list.

“Do you drink
wine?” Michael asked me.

“That’s what I was
drinking the other night,” I said laughing. “When I ran into you outside of my
dorm.”

“You were so
adorable,” he said. “I knew, of course, that you were lit.” Michael grinned.

“My roommate
Maryanne and I were having a night in,” I told him. “I don’t drink a lot,” I
added hastily.

“I’m not one to
judge. Is red okay?” Michael asked me.

“Yes, but remember
I’m twenty. What if they ask for ID?”

“They won’t,” he
responded.

Sure enough, the
waitress brought the bottle of wine that Michael ordered without questioning my
age.

I took a sip of
the Chianti, trying not to gulp it down but hoping it would help to calm my
nerves.
I should have asked Maryanne to get a bottle, so I could have had a
drink before we left.

But I didn’t want
to make a fool of myself, either. I was wearing Maryanne’s gorgeous stilettos
that looked fabulous with the dress but weren’t the easiest shoes to walk in. The
last thing I needed to do was get wasted and fall flat on my face.

“What made you
decide to become an oncologist?” I asked Michael. “And you’re so young; how
long have you been practicing?”

“It will be two
years next month,” Michael replied. “My mother died when I was in college from
stomach cancer, which is what spawned my passion for oncology.”

“That’s horrible!
I’m so sorry,” I said.

“It was the
darkest time in my life. I had been such a fuck-up before then. I was barely
passing school. Spending all of my time with friends, drunk, partying, playing
video games.”

“I can’t imagine
that,” I said. “You seem so…put together.”

“That was nine
years ago. I’m a different person now,” he said seriously. “Have you ever had
one single thing in your life completely change who you are?”

I nodded. “Yes, I
have,” I whispered.

Michael looked
like he was expecting for me to elaborate, but I shook my head. “I want to hear
your story,” I told him.

“When my mom got
sick, I didn’t grasp the seriousness of it. People get sick and then they get
well. I had no comprehension that cancer was a completely different monster.
After her diagnosis, she deteriorated quickly. We didn’t even have a year.”
Michael paused.

“Before she died, I
took a leave of absence from school to help my family. Tried to become the son
I should have always been. I took her to chemo, talked to a lawyer to help
arrange mom’s will and ultimately, planned her funeral. Rose and my father were
shattered, immobile.”

“Michael, that’s
so sad. But doesn’t it remind you of her, every day when you see terminally ill
patients?” I asked.

He nodded. “It
does, but I feel like what I’m doing might someday save another mom, sister,
father.” He shrugged. “Everyone has loved ones. We all crave human connection.
It’s incredibly heart wrenching to see these families that gather in the exam
room, hope in their eyes, praying for good news. And, sure, sometimes it is
good news. But the majority of the time, the outlook is bleak.”

His words rang in
my ears.
Everyone has loved ones. We all crave human connection.
I had
spent so much of the last couple of years pretending I could get through life
as a loner. But it didn’t matter what I wanted. I was shutting everyone out for
their own good.