Chapter 11 Sem
“Ouch, Doc.” Mr. Lagerta winced, in my office again as predicted. “You using a full fist back there?”
I eased my grip. “Sorry.”
“Something you want to talk about? You seem”—he grunted when I shoved his vertebra back into place again—“tense.”
I was tense. Ever since watching Elanie leave karaoke with Blake last night, I’d been possessed by a highly inappropriate tension.
The kind of tension that occasionally shifted into a what’s-he-got-that-I-don’t type whining.
But not before bottoming out in a chasm of you-cannot-be-her-doctor-anymore-you-idiot self-recrimination.
“I’m fine, Mr. Lagerta,” I lied through my teeth. I was not fine. I was a mess. A mess who’d spent most of the day figuring out how to tell Elanie I couldn’t treat her anymore without sounding like a total creep. “Your back, on the other hand—”
“Yeah, yeah. I know.” Doing an uncanny impersonation of me, he said, “One more slipped disc, and I’ll be in a hoverchair. Do you ever get tired of being all high and mighty all the time?”
I snorted while walking my gel-covered hands to my sink. “Of course not. I’m a doctor. The only reason we go to med school is for the moral authority.”
Mr. Lagerta’s hearty laughter filled my office. “I gotta admit. I’m going to miss you, Doc.”
After drying my hands, I turned around and leaned on the counter.
“Believe it or not, I’ll miss you too.” The truth of the statement shocked me a little.
Evidently, I was entering the phase of my career where I made ill-advised connections with my patients.
“You’re heading back to Blurvos tomorrow, right? ”
Arching back, stretching his spine-goo junction, he said, “Yep. Back to the old ball and chain.”
I did a double take. “The what?”
“Ball and chain. You know, the wifey.”
“You’re married?” I blurted out, sampling the air around him for any trace of guilt or remorse and coming back empty. “But you’ve been so…active on the ship.”
His goo belly jiggled with laughter. “Don’t go all inside out, Doc. Blurvans tend to have open relationships. My wife and I certainly do. While I’m here on the Ignisar, she is in Delphi with her friends for the Magicians in the Buff festival.”
Holding up a hand, I said, “It’s none of my business. I shouldn’t have said a word.” Where had my professionalism gone? Where was my healthy detachment? Both had vanished like spindrift the day Elanie walked into my office.
“You’re kinda uptight.” Mr. Lagerta snorted. “It’s cute.”
Someone knocked on my door.
“Should I put my shirt back on?” he asked.
“That,” I said, “is up to you.” Just like everything else he did on this ship, just like everything anyone else did, even dating people who were wrong for them, it was none of my business.
Another knock. Louder this time.
“One moment,” I called out.
Mr. Lagerta was my final appointment, but it wouldn’t be a day ending in Y without an emergency walk-in right at the wire.
Pulling the curtain closed to let Mr. Lagerta get dressed with a level of privacy he probably didn’t care about, I straightened my shirt, ran a hand through my hair, and slid my door open.
“Elanie,” I said, shocked, wondering if I’d ever get used to her ability to surprise me at every turn. “Um, hi.”
“Dr. Semson.” Her shoulders were stiff, jaw tight, voice formal. “Are you busy?”
“Ooh, is that the bionic babe?” Mr. Lagerta asked from behind the curtain.
My eyes went wide while Elanie rolled hers.
“Give me five minutes, and then I’m all yours. I mean, I’ll be available.” I was stammering again. Couldn’t be helped. “For you. Five minutes.”
“Of course.” She backed away a step, her skin glowing the way it always did. Like sand reflecting the sunset.
Sliding the door shut, I turned around as Mr. Lagerta emerged through the gap in the curtain.
Bouncing on his gelatinous lower half, he said, “Back feels great, Doc. Wish I could take you home with me.”
“Good luck, Mr. Lagerta.” I held out my hand. “And safe travels back home.”
He gave my hand a shake. “Thanks, Doc. And call me Quyal.”
“Quyal?” It was a strange name, even for a Blurvan. “Is that short for something?”
“Quyaliguark, but only my mother calls me that.” He winked, slithering past. “See you next year.”
“I’ll be here.” Probably still spending all day in this office. Probably still alone.
“There she is,” Quyal crooned when I slid the door open again. “Don’t you just brighten this whole place up?”
“No,” Elanie answered, remaining, as always, unimpressed.
Quyal grinned at her, then at me, then sighed. “Oh, to be young.”
“He’s a strange Blurvan,” Elanie muttered while he slid down the hall, chuckling.
“You aren’t on my schedule today.” My attention shifted between her pink lips and her golden-brown eyes. “Is everything all right?”
“I just wanted to return this.” She held out my mirror, not answering my question. When I took it, she said, “And to tell you that I broke up with Blake.”
Fireworks exploded inside me, neon signs that read Yes! and Good for you! blinking into existence above my head. Which, of course, I ignored so I could tell her “I’m sorry.”
Her shoulder inched toward her ear. “It wasn’t working out. I’m not ready for a boyfriend, and I think I have you to thank for helping me figure that out.”
“Me?”
“You made me realize that I need time to learn more about myself, about who I am now. Because whether I want to admit it or not, the upgrade has changed me.” Her chin ducked, those neon signs flickering when she said, so sadly, “I am not the same.” But it wasn’t until she raised her head and added firmly, “So I won’t need to see you again,” that they both buzzed, then popped, then died.
“You won’t?”
She shook her head.
“Why?” Why? Wasn’t this what I wanted? Wasn’t I just about to tell her I couldn’t see her anymore?
“I came to you because I had questions about sex,” she said with a calculated sharpness. “I’m no longer participating in sex-related activities. Therefore, I no longer need you.”
She might as well have hurled a bowling ball into my gut, but she was right. This was for the best. Probably for both of us. “I understand.” I gave her a tight-lipped smile while my heart sank. “I wish you nothing but the best.”
I was about to retreat into my office to lick my metaphorical wounds when she said, “Wait.”
“Yes?” My response was too eager, but that might always be the case with Elanie. Knowing myself, which I did, I was now destined to a life of seeing her in the hallways or at staff parties and waiting with my heart in my throat for the moment she might say hello to me.
“You helped that bionic, right?” she asked, another shocker. “The one who tried to walk off the ship?”
“You heard about that?”
“Chan told us about him at staff meeting this morning.” A nearly imperceptible divot sank between her brows. “Is he okay?”
“I’m sorry, Elanie. I can’t talk about the status of another patient.” Because if I didn’t have my oaths, what did I have? Just instaWave dinners and an inappropriate crush.
“I understand.” She broke eye contact with me, her gaze dropping to her shoes. “I’ll let you get back to work.”
“Wait, Elanie,” I said when she tried to turn away, cocking my arm back for a Hail Mary pass. “If you ever need me for anything else. Anything medical, or…just to talk. I’ll be here.”
“Thank you,” she said. Then she reached into my chest to grasp my heart and squeeze when she called me “Sem.”
As I left my office for the night, tired of wallowing over the fact that I wouldn’t see Elanie again, wouldn’t sing karaoke to her, wouldn’t draw her diagrams or loan her mirrors or feel like I lassoed a moon when I made her smile, I decided I needed a drink.
The bar nearest the med bay was a Ulaperian hang that had decent burgers and a great beer selection. And, surprisingly, it also had Freddie sitting on one of the stools, waving me over.
I waved back, relieved to see him. As often as I dreamed of being somewhere else, and as much as I felt like I’d let everyone in my life down by ending up here, there were good things about living on this ship.
No matter how weighed down I felt after a long day of caring for guests, there was always someone waiting around the corner or on the next barstool, ready to lift me up.
“Hi, Freddie,” I said, taking the stool beside him. “How’s things?”
“I don’t mean to be rude.” Freddie grimaced. “But you look like hell.”
Ordering an IPA through my VC, I said, “Just a rough day.”
“I’ve seen you on rough days. This seems like something else. Need to talk?”
I huffed a laugh. “You should try your hand at empathy, Freddie. You’ve got a real knack for it.”
With a wry twist to his lips, he said, “Haven’t you heard you should never challenge a Venusian?” He cracked his knuckles. “Okay, let me see. This wouldn’t have something to do with a certain bionic we both know, would it?”
Shit. Was it that obvious?
I crossed my arms on the bar so I could thump my forehead onto them.
Freddie chuckled while his kindness and good humor warmed the air around me. “She does make an impression.”
“I can’t talk about her,” I said into my forearms. “She’s my patient. Well, she was my patient. She fired me today.”
“Because she broke up with Blake?”
Turning my head, I arched a brow. “Seriously, Freddie. Do you have Portisans in your family? Some distant empath uncle somewhere?”
“There were rumors that my great-grandfather was adventurous, if you catch my meaning.”
I laughed weakly.
“No, I’m not an empath,” he said. “It just makes sense. She went to you to figure out how to deal with him. And now that they’re no longer together—”
“She doesn’t need me anymore.” I sighed, nodding my thanks to the serving drone when they dropped off my beer. “How’s Sunny feeling?”
Tilting his glass my way, he said, “You’re changing the subject. But she’s doing well.”
“Has the morning sickness subsided?”
“Not yet.” He took a sip of his whiskey, his vibe growing heavy. “It’s not just the morning sickness that’s bothering her. It’s the way being pregnant again reminds her of her son. Of Jonathan. It’s been difficult for her to feel happy when a large part of her still feels so sad.”
I sensed it in them both since their first visit, when I detected that Sunny’s nausea wasn’t because of a bug, but a baby. Once the initial shock of an unexpected pregnancy wore off, they were bright, vibrating with joy. But there was a gray tug of grief in the mix too.
“I imagine that will always be there,” I said. “That balancing act of love and heartache.”
“You might be right.” Then his expression turned light. “But, bloody hell, Sem. I’m so excited to meet him I can’t sleep at night. I’m going to have a son.” His eyes misted. “I’m going to be a father.”
Holding my glass out to him, I said, “Congratulations.”
He clinked my glass with his. And yes. There were definitely good things about living on this ship.