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Rick started talking about his classes and how three students kept dropping, I put in a smartass comment about how he was obviously crap as an instructor and my classes were all on overflow. The conversation went on, and I said a couple of things, keeping on the edges of the discussion. I just couldn’t focus, couldn’t get my head clear.
Kyle told a story about the class he was teaching giving him hell because the example he used on the slide deck was from Mindy’s project in his class when she was his student. One of the guys said, “Well we can’t all be your wife, doc,” and he had laughed and said, “It’s sad but true that none of you has shown the kind of insight and brilliance she did as a mere student when she was not in fact my wife or known to me in any way.”
“You’re saying that your students are teasing you about hooking up with a student?” I asked.
“No, my students were making a humorous observation and suggesting that I used her work as the example because she’s my wife. When actually I used the example because she’s so fucking smart that they’d benefit from reading part of her paper to give them an idea of what they should be trying to do. So, when I explained that, even the guy who called me out laughed. If you take yourself so seriously, Aaron—God, I’ve been hoping you’d grow out of that. I know you’re the youngest one of us, but you’ve got to lighten up.”
“Says the man who came to us with the weight of the world on his shoulders like it was a damn Greek tragedy that you kissed Mindy in your office?” Hamilton chuckled.
“Married your intern but whatever,” Kyle snorted, and we all cracked up.
If there was one thing you had to admit about the Bachelor’s Club, it’s that they all had the confidence to laugh at themselves as well as each other. Did I take things too seriously? Was it a sign of immaturity? I gave about thirty seconds of angst to that question before I was looking around again, mind wandering. I drifted in and out of the conversation.
Kyle asked if I was okay, and I said I was just tired. He shook his head. Kyle can see through an excuse a mile away.
“You climb stuff and go on hikes when you’re not working your two jobs, Aaron. Tired isn’t in your vocabulary. I think you’ve got your mind on something else,” he said.
“Give me a break, old man,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I’ll buy the next round, okay?”
“I reject the label but accept the drink,” he said affably. I went to the bar and when I came back with pitchers, I nearly missed sitting on the table, Rick’s hand shooting out to catch it as I put it down too near the edge.
I missed the table, my heart missed a beat and seemed to flip over.
A sweep of reddish blonde hair, a ponytail swept back from her shoulder and swinging free like a shaft of sunlight in a dark room. My eyes fixed on it. On her. I knew that Leanne was at home with her dad. Drinking at a bar was the last thing she’d be doing. But the twist in my gut from thinking I saw her. It was humbling, the way that even someone, some stranger from across a room with hair the same color as hers was enough to stop me in my tracks.
It wasn’t even the same color. Even under tacky overhead lights I could see that the ponytail in question was orangey, not the golden strawberry color of Leanne’s hair. It was probably dyed, and a little on the brassy side. While hers was a sugary saffron color, sunlight only warmer, softer, without the jarring tones of yellow or orange, something that put me in mind of paradise. A clearing in a dense forest, the spill of light that was soft and beatific, not harsh. The tender inside of a flower petal that pales near the center where it joins the bud, satiny and secret.
Kyle cleared his throat. I looked up and caught his eye and he gave me a knowing smile. It wasn’t really possible that he knew I was thinking crap about flower petals because some chick in a bar had hair kind of like my student and inter Leanne’s. That was over the top even for me. I just shook my head and made a real effort to join the conversation instead of drifting off and daydreaming.
I wanted to be present for my friends. Okay, no I didn’t. I wanted to kiss Leanne again. And again.
CHAPTER19
LEANNE
After a long week that left dark smudges under my eyes and left me exhausted, shaky but grateful, my dad was finally released from the hospital. I had taken some stuff from my place to his house so I’d have what I needed while I stayed there with him. I needed to get things ready for him to be able to function comfortably.
I had cleaned and Rina had helped me stock the fridge and cupboards with heart healthy snacks so he wouldn’t get his hands on anything that could derail his recovery. Low sodium. Low cholesterol. Organic. I was learning as fast as I could, how to adapt things he loved so they could be prepared without the ingredients that would hurt him. No more artificial colors and flavors. Plenty of whole grains. All this until my brain wouldn’t hold any more details. I was afraid I’d do it wrong, fail to see some danger and by letting my guard down, or by being inadequate, that I’d let him get sick again. Part of me, the illogical part that was terrified and heartbroken that he'd suffered so much, thought I could stop this from happening again. No matter how
I had talked to my therapist on the phone. She’d told me once again that food isn’t the poison or the cure. That I had to quit obsessing about his diet and make sure I had some protein and carbs every meal. She was right. I was anxious and not eating properly at the hospital, living on coffee and the bright orange crackers with peanut butter from the vending machine. I needed sunlight, real food, a nap. I was just so scared and so determined to try and take control of my dad’s recovery.
When I got my dad in the house, he was trying not to get emotional.
“You know, kiddo, I thought that was it for me. It sure is good to be back here. I didn’t think I’d get to come home again, much less spend time with my best girl. But you need to call a nurse to come look after your old man. Don’t let this interrupt your schooling. You have important things to do. Anybody can sit here and watch me drink my water and walk back and forth to the bathroom.”
“Not going to happen. For the tenth time, Daddy,” I said stubbornly, a smile on my face. “Did you have some rando come count my cheerios when I was recovering from your eating disorder so you could go out?”
“One, you’re my child and you were in fact still a child. So, no, I didn’t hire a babysitter. Two, I wasn’t finishing up a degree and doing a big internship. You have to have this time to complete your training, Leanne. You’re not neglecting me. It’s not like you dumped me in a cardboard box that says, ‘Free Dad to Good Home.’ Just hire someone for a few weeks till I’m back on my feet.”
“You know what? I got my stubbornness from you, and the other thing is, I’m pretty sure your cardiologist said the worst thing for your recovery was arguing with your devoted daughter,” I teased. He chuckled, but he was still so pale, thinner than before. It squeezed my heart to see him weak like this.
“I’ll go sit down and be a good patient. I won’t try to do cartwheels or anything while you make lunch.”
“Promise?” I asked, handing him the remote and filling his water glass. He nodded.
I was in the kitchen making sandwiches. Whole grain bread. Turkey and lettuce and putting some hummus and carrot sticks on the side when I got a text. I saw it was Aaron, but I pushed it aside and told myself this was more important. Sure, we had shared a kiss after a really emotional and exhausting day and night. It didn’t mean anything. We still couldn’t be anything to one another. It was off limits. So I went on chopping vegetables and sprinkling blueberries on the salad for antioxidants. When I was done making lunch, I let myself look at my phone.
Aaron was asking how I was, being a nice guy. My face heated at the mere sight of his name, but it didn’t mean anything. That was just a good guy being himself, not a man interested in a woman. I sighed. It was too bad I couldn’t stop thinking about him. Not even for a minute.
