The second message is even better. My smile widens as the images she sent me load. There’s one with Anna still in her pajamas biting into the muffin I brought her with the widest smile. Then there’s one with her lips puckered as she takes a sip of her drink, her eyes radiating joy. I let out a chuckle to the last one where she sticks out her flat stomach in an attempt to look bloated, one of her hands is on the “puffed” stomach while the other holds a handwritten note on an A4 page, saying, Thanks for brekkie, Liam. With a little heart above the I in my name.
I answer immediately. Anytime, Anna.
All through the rounds, checking up on my patients at the ICU, and the rest of the day, I’m still smiling. Seeing Anna first thing in the morning seems to have this effect on my day.
A Woman of God Not a Psychic
Anna to Liam: Hey, what time today?
Liam to Anna: 11 at our bench.
Anna to Liam: Oooh, we have a “our bench” now?
Liam to Anna: Yeah.
Anna to Liam: So curt and formal, Doc. No humorous quote of the day?
Liam to Anna: With people.
Anna to Liam: Sorry, I’ll do my best to be a good girl and behave. Not.
My fingers itch to write something even more suggestive. But I don’t. Instead, I call my sister to discuss all things Liam and frustration. “Forgive me sister for I’ve sinned, it’s been . . . um, ten minutes since my last confession.” Yeah, Vicky and I talked before I left home.
“What troubles you, my child?” Vicky says in a haughty tone.
I smile to myself, thinking about meeting Liam soon. I miss him. It’s been too long since I saw him last. “Can’t stop thinking about surrendering my virtue, sister.”
“Ceding to the desires of the flesh in general or is it with someone specific in mind.” Vicky isn’t able to help herself and snorts in amusement.
“Guess,” I murmur.
“Child, I’m a woman of God not a psychic.”
We both scoff now. “Hahaha, no, you’re a comedian.” I inhale with frustration. “Seriously though, I feel like it’s been the longest one-sided foreplay. His arm touches me accidentally and I’m like, Arm-touch, oooh so seductive. I interpret every little thing the guy does as sexual. It’s absurd and sad. Poor thing reaches for water and parts his lips, boom parted lips on my body jumps to my head.”
“I hear ya. Excruciating,” Vicky says. “I think that Jesse would love to help you if you just say the word.”
“Not the one I want doing these things to me.” Even the thought leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.
“I’m sorry to leave you high and dry, or in your case, high and wet,” she amuses herself.
“True comedian,” I say flatly.
“But I got to go, sis, meeting’s starting.” She ends the call with, “Praise be.”
“Bye to you too,” I say to an abandoned, silent line.
The slowing in my stride as I enter the vicinity of the hospital is unintentional. Even though we talk all the time, more than a few times a day, I’m more than a little giddy seeing Liam. It’s been over a week or so since we last saw each other. A blasphemy, if you ask me. He was busy, I was busy, it just didn’t work. I wish I could see more of him, but I understand that it’s nothing intentional. After pushing out the meeting with the realtor due to Liam’s unavailability, we’re finally going to meet with her today. Which brings me to the present where I’m waiting for Liam at our bench.
Liam smiles, walking my way. He’s in a white button-down pushed up to his elbows and faded denim, looking, simply put, terrific. “There she is.” He leans in for a hug and I’m hit with a delicious scent of freshly showered with a hint of masculine perfume. Yummers.
I hand him the coffee I brought him, and I’m reciprocated with the sweetest and most intimate smile. These exact kinds of tender moments, they kill me. We got the whole communication with no words thing down pat like the best relationships have. We can work so well it’s a shame we stay away from what could be an epic romantic thing. Stubborn, perfect fool that he is. Liam removes the lid, bringing the cup to my nose for a rich inhale before taking the first drink. Some couples with substantial mileage don’t reach this level of rhythm and flow. With any other guy, I would have had The Conversation by now. The hey-I’m-falling-for-you-faster-than-an-astroid-coming-at-earth-so-where’s-this-thing-going-dude? But this is not a conversation to be had with this one. Oh no. A guy who told me from day one that he is not looking for a relationship. A guy who very skillfully, quite admirably really, simply warned me to never bring up the subject.
We walk side by side, talking about random stuff, making each other laugh. As ever, perfect rhythm and flow. Liam stops and points the key fob at his car and shortly after we get in.
“How many viewings do we have today?” I ask as he cranks the car.
He shrugs a pair of square sunglasses on. “A few.” He sends his hand to the passenger seat headrest. “Guess, three-four,” he adds as he throws the back window a glance, backing the vehicle out of the parking spot. “All in the same neighborhood. It’s a five-minute drive. I just wanted to make sure we’re on time,” he says in way of explanation for taking the car rather than walking there.
“Nice neighborhood,” I say, as we enter a cul-de-sac with manicured lawns and a few lofty maple trees.
“Looks like the perfect place to slowly wither by suburbia.” Liam turns off the engine and pivots to look at me with a thin, sarcastic smile.
With one foot out and my hand still on the handle, I say, “Let’s check out what Adult Land has to offer. Maybe leave the engine on so we make a run for it if things get too creepy.”
Liam chuckles and joins me at the curb.
He beeps the car closed as I ponder out loud. “You’re looking for a house, Vicky just bought her first one and I might own a business soon.”
“Guess we all follow the same Shit-to-Accomplish-in-Your-Thirties guide—”
“Hey,” I cut him off. “Some of us aren’t thirty yet, Gramps.”
Liam just throws his arm around me and squeezes me to his side, then lets me go. And a beat later he takes my hand in his. I fall silent. Perhaps realizing what he is doing, he releases it to put his sunglasses back on. He clears his throat. “There,” he nods at a lady in a grey skirt suit who’s standing next to one of the townhouses.
After shaking our hands followed by pointless pleasantries, the lady turns to Liam, a folder pressed to her chest. “So, Dr. Brody—”
“Just Liam,” Liam says with a friendly smile.
She returns his smile and resumes, “So, Liam said you were looking for a four-bedroom townhouse with a yard?” She looks at us both as a unit.
“Oh, it’s not for us,” I correct her, waving my hand between Liam and me. “I’m just the prerequisite other set of eyes.” We might be in constant communication, we even have a “our bench,” apparently. Some people refer to us as you in terms of a unit when there isn’t really an us. There’s Liam. There’s Anna. There’s not, unfortunately so, an actual Liam and Anna.