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ChapterTwenty-Four
Ian
Mid-February
“I’m so glad you’re getting away. You need this. You give so much of yourself to your patients, but you have to hold some back, or else one day you won’t have anything left to give.”
“I hear you, Mom.” I emphasize her name to ensure she gets I am partially mocking her. Under motherly concern on Wikipedia, Patty Duke’s photograph should be among the images included. Her concern stems from my January schedule. I ended up filling in for quite a few sick surgeons. Extremely long, stressful days bled into weeks.
But as I sit in the back of a dated sedan with my dream girl sitting two feet away in a white cotton skirt that hints at her lean, shapely legs and a blue chambray halter top that cups her breasts perfectly, life is too blue sky to seriously weigh a motherly warning.
Sunny leans closer to the window as the island whizzes by outside her rolled down window. We left my apartment early in the morning, flew business class on one of the few direct flights from Houston to St. Martin, and then took a boat to Anguilla.
I would’ve waited to return Mom’s call, but Sunny encouraged me to go ahead. Now and then, she glances over her shoulder with a soft smile as she listens to my end of the conversation.
“Are you staying in Sam’s place?” Mom asks.
“No.” Yes, Sam suggested this resort, and offered his villa, but I checked out the rental rate. When the hotel reservationist told me his villa rented for forty thousand a night, I asked for something more intimate and fitting for two.
“That’s a shame. It’s gorgeous. Did you see the pictures from when we went there two years ago? It’s stunning. And it comes with a chef and staff.”
“Sounds a bit much for just me, don’t you think?”
“Are you really alone? Ian…” I might be in another country, but her don’t-tell-a-lie tone crosses the distance with no issue.
“Mom, I just needed to get away. That’s all.” I wink at Sunny. “Let me go. I’m pulling up to the resort now. I’ll call you when I get back.”
“Well, have fun. Send pictures if you can.”
“I’m planning on sleeping most of the week.”
“Oh, that’s a waste. At the very least, make it down to the beach or the pool. Maybe you’ll meet someone.”
“Right.”
“You know, I heard Sandra is on vacation this week, too.” I lean closer to the window on my side of the car and sneak a quick glance at Sunny to see if she can hear Mom. I don’t want her freaking out that Patty Duke’s sixth sense might be coming out to play.
“Is that right? Good time of year to get away, I guess.” Sunny’s attention remains fixated on the tropical landscape and the stucco and cinder block buildings with packed dirt front yards jammed up along the twisting road. “You and Dad have a good week. Love you, Mom.”
The car turns into an elaborate white stucco entrance with gold lettering that reads “Four Seasons Anguilla.”
I disconnect the call before she can say more.
“Does she really believe you came here for a week by yourself?” Sunny asks.
“Sure,” I lie.
Things between Sunny and me have been distant since Christmas. She ended up getting a virus over New Year’s and stayed home. But I stayed the course and booked this trip. It might be our last time together, and I’m determined to enjoy it. My primary objective for the next seven days is to ensure Sunny is utterly relaxed and well-fucked. If this doesn’t work, the next steps on this pregnancy journey won’t be nearly as much fun, but I’ll still be there for her every step of the way.
We met with the fertility specialist on January 15, and with Sunny’s blessing, I reviewed her medical history. Her mother died of heart complications. Sunny didn’t know much about it, and I offered to get more information, but the doctor said that forty years ago medicine wasn’t as advanced. To Sunny’s knowledge, there are no medical records, and I’d expect she’s right. Given the way things were back then, it’s hard to imagine her father would’ve requested a copy of the hospital records. It’s likely she had unknown heart issues, and the pregnancy strained her heart. Her mother died when she was twenty-four. Sunny is forty and displays no signs heart issues. The fertility specialist was optimistic about her chances of conceiving and wasn’t worried at all about her mother’s medical history.
Sunny taps her fingers on the car seat. Something is bothering her.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s hard to believe a single man would come to the Four Seasons in Anguilla.” Sunny’s skepticism is evident in what I can only describe as a frown.
“She’s familiar with the trials and tribulations of being a surgeon. Good days and horrific ones. She was a nurse. She gets it. Everyone wants to think a doctor pops out of med school fully proficient, but that’s not how it works. It’s a lot of learning. A lot of trial and error. When I was beyond discouraged, she’s the one who gave me gravity.” Sandra rotates her lithe body and fixes those sky-blue irises on me. “So, would she doubt I’d go on vacation by myself? My first vacation, in, well, not including Christmas, ever as an adult? No. I think she’s genuinely happy I’m getting away.”
