8. Isaac
Chapter 8
Isaac
Second Year of Medical School
11 Years Ago, January
I felt bad for lying. I really did. I just couldn’t be her partner anymore. The further we moved into the program, the more hands-on we were. I couldn’t put my hands on her anymore. The reaction was visceral.
But she didn't know that. She could never know that.
I’m toweling off my body from a much-needed shower when I hear a knock on my front door. I forgot to text Jo back earlier today, but I’m sure she made the executive decision to study together.
“Hang on, Jo! Let me put pants on,” I yell, scrubbing my hair with the towel. Another knock sounds against the door, and I hurriedly tug a pair of gray sweatpants up over my legs. I’m pulling a t-shirt over my head when I hear a third knock, more aggressive this time.
“Jesus Jo, hold on!” I unlock the top lock and pull the door open. “Shit.”
The smile on my face falls before I can stop it. That’s not Jo.
“Victoria?” She’s beautiful. Wrapped in a black form-fitting dress and black heels, she would be most guys’ perfect woman. I clear my throat, awkwardly placing my hands in the pockets of my sweatpants. “What are you doing here?”
“A bunch of the girls are headed to Golden Hour and I want you to come with me.” She picks a dirty t-shirt up off my futon and throws it at me. “Get dressed.”
“I’m sorry, but Jo and I had plans to study tonight. I’ll have to raincheck you.” Like never.
“Oh, she didn’t tell you?” I see her batting her eyelashes at me. She’s not that sly.
“Tell me what exactly?” My patience is wearing thin. If I’m completely honest with myself, I was looking forward to a quiet night in with Jo. I lean back against my kitchen island and eye her curiously. Is she bullshitting me?
“She’s already there.” Victoria strides towards me in her heels and pats my chest gently. “Now let’s go get your girl.”
Ladies and gentleman, I have royally fucked up. Golden Hour is only about a two block trek from my second-floor walk-up and I regret every decision I’ve ever made as soon as we walk through the door.
Somewhere along the way, Victoria decided she was cold. I offered her my coat and she happily took it, wrapping it loosely around her shoulders. Now, she’s got her arm threaded through mine and I’m not quite sure how or when it happened.
The music is deafening as the door swings closed behind us. I glance around to see a handful of members of our cohort. Victoria joins them without another word to me.
No Jo.
Victoria lied to me.
No.
Victoria didn’t lie to me.
I catch sight of her exiting the bathroom, giggling with another girl from our class, and my pulse quickens. Jo is perfect in sweatpants. Jo is perfect with no makeup and her hair tied in a chaotic bun.
But Jo in a flowy purple dress and perfectly-curled hair is mesmerizing.
She stumbles before catching herself on a round bar height table. Someone’s having a good time… A sneaky smile weasels its way onto my face. Seeing her like this is refreshing. So much of our days are spent at the grindstone. Jo is especially hard on herself, only allowing time for fun when we have nothing on the to-do list. I glance around the room, wondering who Jo came with and how she plans to get home. Carmen is nowhere in sight.
I push my way to the bar, sneaking between two drunk co-eds and resting my forearms gently against the sticky bar top surface in front of me. The bartender scoops ice into four different glasses and pours a clear liquor over the top, spilling only a drop or two between each drink. I wait patiently to catch her attention as she tends to a few other patrons at the bar.
“Fuck man, watch it.” I grab the side of my ribcage where I was just stabbed with an elbow.
“You’re taking up space at the bar and some of us are actually gonna buy drinks, buddy.” Why does this guy look familiar? And why are so many of his shirt buttons undone?
I watch as the guy next to me pulls out a black AMEX and waves it over the bar towards the bartender. She looks up from the drink she’s making and makes no attempt to hide the roll of her eyes.
“What can I get you?” She reaches forward and grabs the credit card from his perfectly manicured hand.
“Yeah, gimme one whiskey on the rocks and a…wait,” he turns around sharply, looking for someone in the crowd. “What the fuck do you want, Jocelyn?”
I glance back towards where she stands now, dancing with three other women. She continues dancing undisturbed. “God dammit, Jocelyn, are you really that fucked up?” He’s yelling louder now, slurring his words and clearly pissed.
“Hey man, cool it.” I catch his eye momentarily and immediately regret speaking up at all. I’ve seen this look before. I turn slowly away from the bar towards where Jo is dancing and lean back on one elbow. “She’s clearly having a good time, that’s all.” I gesture to Jo and her friends as the beat of the song quickens. She needs to have a good time.
She deserves it more than anyone I know.
“I don’t need you to tell me what kind of time she’s having. She belongs to me.” This asshole is Andrew? The bar’s music and boisterous conversation fades into the background when my focus hones in on his face. “I bet you’re Isaac, aren’t you? The little bitch that follows Jo around while I’m not here?”
He takes a step closer to my side and it’s clear he wants a fight. As much as I would love to step up and deck this guy, I won’t cause Jo any more harm than he already has.
The bartender clears her throat behind me. “A whiskey and what, dude? I’ve got other customers.” She holds up her index finger to a couple at the end of the bar, waiting for Andrew’s answer.
“Fucking forget it. I’ll take my card back,” he spits, grabbing the card without another word.
“You?” She turns her attention to me, but I’m too preoccupied by Andrew approaching Jo with fire in his eyes.Dad always says not to throw the first punch, but the desire to put my fist through his face is growing with every passing second.
“I’m good, thanks,” I reply. She nods with a strained smile, turning to help the couple across from me. Jo, oblivious to the shitstorm coming, throws her hands up in the air just in time for Andrew to grab her forearm.
“Hey,” I yell, leaving my post at the bar to approach Andrew from behind. “Don’t fucking touch her.” My face is red-hot and my breathing is ragged. How dare he?
Andrew grasps her forearm, yanking it out of the air and pulling her whole body towards him aggressively. She stumbles slightly, caught off guard by the sudden jolt to her upper body.
I stand up straight, watching as he shoves her toward the door, and trying with all my power to restrain myself. My nails bite into the flesh of my palms with the intense pressure of my clenched fists. The three girls that were dancing with Jo just moments ago scatter to make way for Andrew in his drunken rage. One of the girls picks up what I assume to be Jo’s purse and tries to hand it to Andrew. He grabs it angrily, chucking it at her as she fully loses her balance and falls backwards onto the floor.
Andrew shakes his head and laughs at her, turning on his heel and pushing another couple out of the way. He makes his way to the door, turning back once more to look at Jo. “Find your own way home.”
Burning anger bubbles up through my chest. A vivid image of me chasing him down and plowing my fist through his face plays on repeat in my brain, but I don’t.He is not worth it, but Jo is.
She needs me.
At least I hope she does.
Multiple girls gather around Jo to help her up, and I walk towards her quietly. There’s a glint of tears in her eyes, but she wipes them away before I can make my way over to her.
“Are you okay, Jo?” She takes her purse from the classmate who retrieved it from the ground next to her and looks up at me, still clearly jarred from the interaction. I gently place my hand on her shoulder.
She’s shaking, and I am too. I want to take her away from anything and everything that’s caused her pain and try my best to fix it. I want to kiss the red marks on her forearms and heal her from the outside in. I want to protect her from a world that wants to hurt her.
I want all of those things, but for some reason the only words that come out of my mouth are, “Hey, it’s okay.”
She pushes my hand off her shoulder, throwing her purse over her head and across her body. “I’m okay, Isaac, it’s no big deal.” Running her hand over her hair, she looks up at me once more. The tears are back.
“He’s just drunk. And we got into a fight earlier, so he was already upset with me. It’s fine.” She pulls her sleeve down to cover the emerging redness on her forearm and clears her throat. “It’s fine.”
“Let me take you home, Jo.” She shakes her head again, one small tear falling from her eye and down her rose colored cheek.
“I don’t want to go home.” My heart rate doubles in time with her statement. Just as I begin to reach for Jo’s hand, Victoria steps into my line of sight behind her, my jacket in her hands.
“Isaac. Go,” she whispers and places my jacket around Jo, giving her shoulders a reassuring rub.
I nod and give Jo’s hand a squeeze, pulling her into my side and wrapping my arm around her shoulders. “C’mon, let’s go get some french fries.”
The immediate change in her body language makes my chest tighten.
I guide Jo out of Golden Hour and towards my car, sending a silent thank you to whichever deity stopped me from ordering any drinks at the bar.