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Mrs. Leslie immediately looks worried at the idea of her injured daughter running off to a major city. She places her mug on the counter and braces her hands on her hips. “Are you sure it’s a good idea right now with everything?” she asks, looking Ellis up and down.
“Josiah is going with me,” she says, pointing at me. Leslie’s focus shifts to me. We make eye contact, and she spends a full minute taking my measure, deciding if I’m qualified to takecare of her daughter. I see the moment she makes her decision. She nods her head ever so slightly, but she doesn’t take her eyes off me. It looks like she’s trying to send me a message telepathically. I nod back to let her know I got the message, loud and clear. Pretty sure it’s something along the lines of,If my daughter doesn’t make it home in one piece, I will bury you alive in the backyard.And I really do believe she’d do it too.
18
Ellis
Boston is so much bigger than I imagined, which I know sounds so silly, but I haven’t traveled to very many big cities. Dallas is the only other big city I’ve been to, and it has been years since I’ve had reason to go there. I was in high school the last time I went, and a lot of that trip is a blur.
I feel like I could like Boston if I wasn’t so tired right now. Just looking around this place is exhausting. There’s hustle and bustle everywhere I turn. As much as I hate to admit it, Mom and Josiah were right. My head and I are not quite ready for the tourist attractions. Thankfully, Devon is okay with ditching her plans to show me some of her favorite spots and drives us to our hotel instead. Maybe we can go see some later.
Devon’s performance is tomorrow night. Tonight, we’re going to have dinner with her and some of her friends from the ballet company, but first I need a long nap to recuperate from the chaos of the airport and the flight. Ihate being tired all the time. It makes me feel ninety years old instead of the young twenty-six that I am.
We get to our hotel, where Devon drops Josiah and me off at the entrance with a promise to pick us up at seven o’clock sharp. I glance at my watch. It’s only noon, so that leaves me plenty of time to rest. Hopefully I’ll have more energy tonight. I don’t want Devon’s friends to think I’m a boring party-pooper.
Josiah gets us checked in at the front desk while I sit in a chair in the lobby and people-watch. A young family walks into the lobby from the street outside. The father carries their small son in his arms, and the woman clutches her softly rounded belly. It reminds me of my decision I need to make…and soon, if I want to start applying to programs. Do I want to go the midwifery route or the obstetrician route? It’s a difficult decision, and every time I think I’ve reached one, I start doubting myself, or I think of more pros and cons for each option. I’ve been going in circles for days and days.
On one hand, I’d make more money and command more respect as an obstetrician. I’d be able to perform cesareans when necessary. There’d be so many things I could do as an OB that could help better women’s lives.
But on the other hand, it’s a lot more school. Sure, both require going back to school, but medical school is a much bigger commitment. And I don’t even want to begin to think about the mountain of debt I’d acquire trying to pay for it.
Midwifery is something I’ve always admired. It reminds me of ancient women coming together to shoulder burdens and share in the sacred bonds of womanhood. There is a growing need for midwives as more and more women choose that route. The hospital I currently work at doesn’t have any midwives that deliver there. I’d have to get a contract with the hospital in Clifton or somewhere else. I’m still not sure how Ifeel about moving to Clifton, though. Would Josiah be okay with moving there with me?
That question sends panic spiking through me. It is way too soon in our budding relationship to be considering things like that. We’ve agreed that we’re taking things slow. Like, infinitesimal-baby-steps slow. Thinking about moving away together is the complete opposite of taking things slow. Why did that even cross my mind to begin with?
Josiah startles me out of my momentary panic with a tap on my shoulder. He places a key card in my hand and says, “We’re in room 409.” We’re sharing a room to save money, and I’m not sure how I feel about it, especially now that thoughts of moving together have unexpectedly begun circling through my head.
Sharing a room will be very revealing, though. Is he a messy hotel room guest? Or is he neat and tidy? I don’t know what I’ll do if he’s one of those people who just throws his stuff around the room all willy-nilly. I might have to kick him out. But I highly doubt Josiah would be that guy. He’s far too thoughtful to leave a massive mess for me to deal with. His apartment gets a little messy sometimes when he gets too busy to give it a good cleaning, but he’s never been a total slob.
But am I ready to take this huge step forward? Sharing a hotel room is a big deal. Ahugedeal, actually. We’ll be in each other’s company constantly. If I feel myself becoming overwhelmed or annoyed or just too tempted by him, there will be no escape. Sharing a room is not conducive to taking things slow. I thought this would be easy, but it seems like we both keep barreling over everything we previously talked about.Have some willpower, why don’t ya!
We step into the spacious room, and relief floods through me when I note the presence of two beds. I don’t know what I would’ve done if there was only one. I let Josiah handleeverything for this trip. I use the word “let” very loosely because he actually insisted on doing everything. He didn’t want me to lift a single finger. He bought the airline tickets, booked the hotel, scheduled pickup from the airport with Devon. All I had to do was pack my bag and show up. I even had help with those two things, because my mom helped me pack.
I toss my purse on the floor and throw myself down on the bed closest to the window. The sun is shining right onto my face, so Josiah rushes over to close the curtains. It’s blissfully dark in the room now, and I’m already drifting out of consciousness. Before I can completely give in to the oblivion of sleep, Josiah brushes the hair from my face and plants a gentle kiss onto my temple and then another on my lips. I wrap my arms around his neck, hoping for more. His breath fans across my face as he laughs. His palms grasp my upper arms, and his thumbs rub lightly.
He gives me one little peck, not nearly enough, before slipping out of my arms. “You need to rest. I’m going to go see about getting us something to eat for lunch,” he says. I’m asleep before he’s even out of the room.
Dinner with Devon’s friends is a rowdy affair. They’re all so loud and exuberant, and I don’t know what to think of them. They’re funny…or at least some of them are, but I’m not used to such chaos when eating out in public. We’re in the private room of a busy restaurant, and everyone is laughing and talking over each other. There are approximately fifteen conversations happening all at once, and I’m having a hard time keeping up with any of them. It seems like they are all able to keep up with every conversation with no problem.
Maybe it’s just the head injury, or maybe it’s the fact that Ican’t stop thinking about how I woke up from my nap surrounded by Josiah earlier. His arms were wrapped around me, and his breath was tickling my ear. It was so warm and snug, and I’d never felt safer or cozier. I wanted to stay there forever. It was disappointing when he woke up and declared it was time for us to start getting ready for dinner. I was so tempted to call Devon and bail on her so we wouldn’t have to move, but it’s been so long since I’ve spent any quality time with my sister. I didn’t want to disappoint her.
Now I’m wishing that I would have listened to my gut. It’s so loud in this tiny room that it has my ears ringing and my head splitting in two. Devon is so engrossed in her friends’ chatter that I think she’d barely notice if I vanished into thin air right now. I wish that was an option. The food is good, though, so that’s a bonus.
Dinner finally ends, and everyone starts talking about going out dancing as we all walk out of the restaurant. Don’t these people dance enough? Why do they want to do it in their free time as well?
Josiah leans close to Devon’s ear and tells her he’s going to take me back to the hotel. I can’t wait to lie down. Maybe if I’m lucky, Josiah will wrap me up in his arms again while we watch a cheesy rom-com that’s guaranteed to put a smile on my face.
Devon takes one look at me and tells her friends she’ll see them tomorrow at the theater. They walk off in the direction of whatever nightclub they’ve decided on, and it suddenly seems blissfully quiet out here on the street.
“Why don’t we pick up some ice cream, and we can head back to your hotel room and watch a movie?” Devon suggests.
“You would rather hang out in our hotel room with us than go dancing with your friends?” I ask. She’s a young, beautiful, single woman in a bustling city. I have a hard time believingshe’d rather be eating ice cream with her wounded sister than going out with her friends and flirting with gorgeous men.
“Yeah, I never get to spend time with you, and I can tell you’re tired. I go out with them all the time,” she says. I’m so thankful she understands.
We stop by a grocery store where we each choose a pint of ice cream. When we get to the hotel room, Josiah and I sit on one bed, and Devon plops down on the other.
“I love third-wheeling,” she jokes, but I can hear a hint of pain and frustration in her words. I give her a long look.
