this
morning?”
“Afraid so.” He
carried the plates to my small pine breakfast table next to the kitchen window
that overlooked my back garden. He pulled out a chair and sat down. “Life of a
resident,” he affirmed.
I placed the
bread in the toaster and stepped over to the table. As I came up next to him,
he placed his arms about my waist and glanced up at me from his chair. It was
then I got a good look at his body. I noticed how pale and slender his arms and
shoulders appeared. The grueling years of his residency obviously left little
time for exercise or outdoor activities.
“If this is
going to be a bother, we will have to sleep at my place. I get called in at odd
hours a lot.”
I fingered his
shiny stainless steel watch. “No bother.”
“Good. I’ll
bring some things over tonight. It’ll make it easier for me.” He reached up and
ran his hand along his thick stubble. “My razor for one, a toothbrush, a big
box of condoms.” He paused and grinned. “That is, if you don’t mind?”
“I don’t mind.
But I have one question.”
John turned back
to his eggs and picked up his fork, intent on eating and listening to me at the
same time.
“What changed
last night?” I asked.
“What do you
mean?”
“When I said I
thought you were a gentleman, I meant it. It just seemed like you suddenly got
turned-on or something.”
John laughed and
put his fork down on his plate. He reached out and grasped my hands.
“Nora, we have
gone out on how many dates, five or six? It was time.”
“Time?”
“Yes, time to go
to bed; time to go to the next level of this relationship. That is, unless you
think I was wrong. Was last night a mistake?”
I shook my head.
“No, not a mistake.”
He let go of my
hands and went back to his eggs.
I heard the
bread pop-up from the toaster. “I was just a little swept off my feet, I
guess.”
“I aim to
please,” John stated, and then shoved a large forkful of eggs into his mouth.
I refrained from
telling John how I really felt about the previous night. The whole experience
had left me more puzzled than pleased. I went to the toaster and reached for
the warm bread. As I began buttering the toast, I wondered why men always
patted themselves on the back after sex, as if they had just climbed Mt.
Everest, thinking that they had satisfied a woman when they had actually done
nothing of the kind. Maybe if I had voiced my displeasure, John would have made
more of an effort to appease me. But like most men, I figured critiquing his
technique would only lead to his hasty departure through my front door. I
thought it odd how they could be deemed the stronger sex, when ours was the one
who had to put up with all of their imperfections.
“Nora,” John
called. “Bring me some more coffee when you bring the toast.”
I looked at him
huddled over his plate of food and smiled. “Sure, John.”
In an instant I
had gone from sexy morning after girl to waitress, and that was the first moment
I became acquainted with the little nagging feeling deep within the pit of my
stomach; a small, burning sensation known to appear when the heart and the head
begin to disagree.
* * *
After John left,
I tried to go back to sleep, but my mind was spinning with questions about our
night together. Just when I was getting a little drowsy, my cell phone rang. I
sat up in bed and glanced over at the clock.
“Who would be
calling at six in the morning?” I muttered as I reached for the cell phone on
my nightstand.
“Hello?” I said,
secretly hoping John was on the other end of the line.
“Nora?” The
smooth voice sounded familiar, but I could not place it. “It’s Jean Marc
Gaspard. I need you to come to Hammond Hospital right away. Your uncle’s had an
accident.”
My heart
trembled with fear. “What, what is it?”
“He’s all right.
Just a sprained ankle,” Jean Marc went on quickly, sensing my distress. “He
fell at his house and called me.” He paused
morning?”
“Afraid so.” He
carried the plates to my small pine breakfast table next to the kitchen window
that overlooked my back garden. He pulled out a chair and sat down. “Life of a
resident,” he affirmed.
I placed the
bread in the toaster and stepped over to the table. As I came up next to him,
he placed his arms about my waist and glanced up at me from his chair. It was
then I got a good look at his body. I noticed how pale and slender his arms and
shoulders appeared. The grueling years of his residency obviously left little
time for exercise or outdoor activities.
“If this is
going to be a bother, we will have to sleep at my place. I get called in at odd
hours a lot.”
I fingered his
shiny stainless steel watch. “No bother.”
“Good. I’ll
bring some things over tonight. It’ll make it easier for me.” He reached up and
ran his hand along his thick stubble. “My razor for one, a toothbrush, a big
box of condoms.” He paused and grinned. “That is, if you don’t mind?”
“I don’t mind.
But I have one question.”
John turned back
to his eggs and picked up his fork, intent on eating and listening to me at the
same time.
“What changed
last night?” I asked.
“What do you
mean?”
“When I said I
thought you were a gentleman, I meant it. It just seemed like you suddenly got
turned-on or something.”
John laughed and
put his fork down on his plate. He reached out and grasped my hands.
“Nora, we have
gone out on how many dates, five or six? It was time.”
“Time?”
“Yes, time to go
to bed; time to go to the next level of this relationship. That is, unless you
think I was wrong. Was last night a mistake?”
I shook my head.
“No, not a mistake.”
He let go of my
hands and went back to his eggs.
I heard the
bread pop-up from the toaster. “I was just a little swept off my feet, I
guess.”
“I aim to
please,” John stated, and then shoved a large forkful of eggs into his mouth.
I refrained from
telling John how I really felt about the previous night. The whole experience
had left me more puzzled than pleased. I went to the toaster and reached for
the warm bread. As I began buttering the toast, I wondered why men always
patted themselves on the back after sex, as if they had just climbed Mt.
Everest, thinking that they had satisfied a woman when they had actually done
nothing of the kind. Maybe if I had voiced my displeasure, John would have made
more of an effort to appease me. But like most men, I figured critiquing his
technique would only lead to his hasty departure through my front door. I
thought it odd how they could be deemed the stronger sex, when ours was the one
who had to put up with all of their imperfections.
“Nora,” John
called. “Bring me some more coffee when you bring the toast.”
I looked at him
huddled over his plate of food and smiled. “Sure, John.”
In an instant I
had gone from sexy morning after girl to waitress, and that was the first moment
I became acquainted with the little nagging feeling deep within the pit of my
stomach; a small, burning sensation known to appear when the heart and the head
begin to disagree.
* * *
After John left,
I tried to go back to sleep, but my mind was spinning with questions about our
night together. Just when I was getting a little drowsy, my cell phone rang. I
sat up in bed and glanced over at the clock.
“Who would be
calling at six in the morning?” I muttered as I reached for the cell phone on
my nightstand.
“Hello?” I said,
secretly hoping John was on the other end of the line.
“Nora?” The
smooth voice sounded familiar, but I could not place it. “It’s Jean Marc
Gaspard. I need you to come to Hammond Hospital right away. Your uncle’s had an
accident.”
My heart
trembled with fear. “What, what is it?”
“He’s all right.
Just a sprained ankle,” Jean Marc went on quickly, sensing my distress. “He
fell at his house and called me.” He paused
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