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Longing for him to kiss me anyway.
Wanting to take that chance on anything that happens afterward.
In a moment, I decide I don’t want my first kiss to be on our porch in the dark.
If he’s gonna kiss me I want Mark Love to kiss me somewhere special. Where it matters most. And I have the sudden inner knowledge that he does too.
“Let’s just get inside,” he suggests, and I feel silly for lingering so long until I realize he’s gonna see inside our house now.
Gonna see where and how we live.
I swallow hard at the thought but figure if any man’s gonna want me, he needs to know everything about me including where and who I live with.
I live with my dad in the suburbs, and that’s that I guess.
Once inside, I flick the lights on, waiting for Mark to follow me into the living room, but he’s stopped in the hallway.
In front of a picture of my dad hanging on the wall.
We don’t keep a ton of pictures up on the walls, but dad’s always made sure to keep a few from when he was in medical school. They always kinda inspired me, even though I know he doesn’t want me to enter the medical field.
Mark looks intently at a few of the frames before joining my invitation to the living room.
“Everything alright?” I ask him, registering his bewildered look.
“Those photos…” he muses aloud for a second but dismisses it with a grin and a shake of his head.
I search his eyes for an answer, but he almost seems more confused than I am.
“Never mind,” he adds, smiling wider and asking if I have a preference for steak or seafood before he searches for his cell phone.
The thought of food is too much, and I have to tell him how much I’d love steak right now.
“Bloody rare and with a ton of mashed potato.” I just about drool, thinking about it already, and am glad when Mark’s laughter matches my own enthusiasm.
“I know just the place, and they deliver,” he announces, swiping to speed dial and order for us both in seconds, checking my address with me before hanging up. Sounding like he’s ordered it all a thousand times before.
“I can cook,” he adds. “But with my work, I get a lot of food delivered from Café Bongiorno,” he admits.
I feel relief once I get us both a bottle of water, noticing the complete lack of any real food in our own refrigerator.
Dad’s cold breakfast on the table gives me chills and I move to clear it up. Tracing the chain of events from earlier.
Not long after I left home by the looks.
A spilled cup of coffee, a plate on the floor.
I feel like the worst person alive for a second until I feel Mark’s hands around my shoulders.
“He called 911, they got here in good time. It’s not your fault,” is all he says.
It’s all he has to say, but I still can’t help feeling guilty. Like somehow all of this was my fault for not getting him to a doctor sooner.
“I-I made two appointments for him…” I stammer. Feeling myself getting cold, shivering.
“I knew something was wrong… He’s just so…”
“Stubborn?” Mark suggests, turning me to face him, cupping my face with his hands.
“He’ll be fine, Evelyn. A few weeks before he’s pissing anyone off again. But he’ll be fine,” he reassures me.
The look in my eyes must scream the bills, the loss of his income.
“Evelyn,” Mark says ominously. “There’s something I should tell you,” he says, his voice so low and deep it rings inside me.
“You are married,” I hear myself groan, fearing the worst.
Or he’s at least got a string of women on the go.
None of them so chubby or half his age either.
“No,” he tells me bluntly. “I told you there’s nobody else,” he reminds me, his eyes darting to another picture on the mantle over the fireplace.
A photo of my dad from years gone by.
“Then what is it?” I ask him. “It is me, isn’t it?” Feeling like a frump all over again with his huge muscular body in front of me. My own soft thickness making me feel like nothing but a lump compared to the man.
He pulls me closer, leaning in again so much our faces almost touch.
“Yeah, it is you, Evelyn. But it’s also your...” he starts to say with intensity but breaks off.
He turns away from me, studying the pictures again and I figure it must be some Doctor-patient thing going on in his mind.
Like he’s maybe not allowed to be attracted to me because my dad’s his patient.
Before I have time to feel hurt again or worry about just what it is I’ve done or am that might repel Mark, he turns to me. Gripping me hard by the arms.
