Chapter 11
Chapter eleven
Gray
So this was a thing that was happening. I was driving a patient home. Patrick lived in Streeterville, a hip little urban neighborhood. It was the opposite direction from my place, but that didn't matter at all.
What did matter was how quiet Patrick was on the drive.
Quiet enough that I started worrying that I had not only overstepped the bounds professionally, but that Patrick didn't want my help.
Or that he was feeling worse than he'd admitted.
Either was bad news. I finally just decided to be a grown-up and ask.
"Are you feeling okay? You're pretty quiet over there."
Patrick sighed. "I'm okay. I'm just thinking that I shouldn't have gotten you involved. A satellite could fall on the car. Or we could be chased by a semi, like in Duel."
"Great film."
"Amazing film," Patrick agreed, giving me a curious side glance.
"I don't think we're likely to be chased by a semi in Chicago. However, I promise to be extra polite to other vehicles and do nothing to provoke road rage until you're safely home."
"Probably wise." Patrick tapped his metal crutch with one finger. "I'm also thinking that I should have brought Krampus."
"I have it. It's in my coat pocket."
Patrick's eyes widened. "Wow. Okay. To be clear, I didn't give it to you."
I gave him a funny look. "I wasn't going to steal it, Patrick."
"No. See, I think I'm going to have to give it away to end the curse. Kind of like that movie It Follows. And you're the last person I want to give the curse to."
"Thanks?"
"Well, except my mother. And that's only because she's old, and she wouldn't survive much. You look like you could take a knock or two."
"This is a very weird conversation, but I suppose I'd take a knock or two to save your mom, if necessary."
"You're such a good person," Patrick said earnestly.
I chuckled. "You mentioned It Follows. You think you have to have sex to get rid of the curse?" I thought it would be worth it, but I didn't say that. "So, what? You gonna put that on Tinder? Available for a quickie if you're vers and curse-adaptive?"
Patrick smirked. "How do you know Tinder speak?"
"I might have tried it. Not my scene, though."
"Same."
I glanced at him, studying his face in the light of the streetlamps. He looked sincere. That gave me the courage to keep going. "Not many guys on there are looking for the white picket fence thing."
Patrick's eyes widened. "Are you? Looking for the white picket fence thing? Or wrought iron fence? Or any fence surrounding two happy people living together? Perchance?"
Wow. It was a bit early for this conversation, but here we were. And maybe it was just as well, because I was in danger of getting in too deep, too fast. "Okay, well, if I had my way, yes. House. Dog. Kids. The whole shebang. But I guess I'm getting a little old for a fairy-tale ending."
"You're not old at all!" Patrick exclaimed.
"I'm thirty-five."
"Well, I'm twenty-seven. Neither of us are too old to… to…" He hesitated.
"To?"
"To have dreams," he said quietly. "Or to reawaken dreams we gave up on. Why shouldn't we have those things? We can have them if we want them. Especially you, Gray."
My heart did a hot little thump and my winter gloves suddenly felt too warm.
"Anyway—" Patrick cleared his throat. "—you had to have sex in It Follows to pass along the curse only because that's how you got cursed in the first place. I got the Krampus as a Christmas gift, so I probably have to pass it along the same way. By gifting it. Turn right here."
I turned right.
"We're almost at that Chinese place, if you're still interested."
"I could eat," I said. I was starving.
"Me too. We could eat there if you want.
It'd be faster, and I really need food. I haven't eaten since lunch, and that was a hideous Grinch blood cake.
Turn right at the mini mart, and it's Joy Luck on the left.
And you'd better give me Krampus. I know it's ridiculous, but I don't want anything to happen to you, just in case. "
It was kind of sweet, if deranged. I handed Krampus over, and Patrick stuck it in his coat pockets.
I should be worried about Patrick's mental health, but I found I wasn't particularly.
The guy had been through a lot. And he wouldn't be the first rational person to believe in curses and good luck charms. My best friend in medical school swore by his lucky rabbit's foot keychain. He never went into an exam without it.
I didn't bring it up again until we were seated at a table in the nearly deserted restaurant, and our order was placed. I spun a green teacup around on the table and considered the situation.
I was out having a private meal with a good-looking male patient, and one who had multiple broken bones, a mild concussion, and a low dose of oxy onboard.
This was so out of the norm for me I wondered who this Gray was.
Maybe the guy in the photo from Peru? But then, I'd never met anyone I immediately taken to the way I'd taken to Patrick Bocker.
Plus, he thought he was under a curse. The protective instinct I felt for him, as well as the gonzo attraction, could not be denied.
"Let's just say, for argument's sake, that the statue isn't cursed," I began. "That you've had a string of exceedingly bad luck, probably helped along by your belief in the curse."
Patrick grimaced. "Except I didn't believe it.
Look, I'm a coder. I'm not the type to believe in gobbledygook.
I mean, I love horror and sci-fi, but all that stuff is pure fantasy.
Reality is concrete, and stainless steel, and deadlines, and…
and Chinese food. Even after slipping on the ice and then having a two-by-four nearly decapitate me in front of Macy's, I didn't believe it. "
"Okay."
"But then there was the Uber driver, being mugged by Santa, and the horse?
Not to mention how the figurine I myself threw away magically reappeared.
I mean, come on. I took statistics. Whatever the odds are of all those things happening to one guy on Christmas Eve, I think they must rank just under Hell freezing over. "
When Patrick put it that way, it did seem more than a coincidence. "It is a lot," I admitted.
"Plus, it was weird from the start!" Patrick said passionately. "There was a card saying I had to make a wish before I even opened the gift. And this was, like, an extra present in the Secret Santa exchange. No one would admit to being the giver. It's like it just appeared."
"So, what did you wish for?" I asked.
"Huh?" Patrick blinked those big blue eyes.
"You said you had to make a wish before you opened the Krampus. Whatever the wish was, it might be relevant."
Patrick started to say something, then blushed and closed his mouth. He looked away, a frown of thought on his brow.
"What?" I finally said.
"Our food's coming." Patrick gave a phony little smile. Apparently, he didn't want to admit the wish to me. Which was fine. He was entitled to his secrets.
Our order was embarrassingly large—moo shu pork, cashew shrimp, Mongolian beef, and veggie fried rice. We'd each picked two dishes, and Patrick's picks were what I myself would have chosen.
"I know a lot of people like Thai best," Patrick said as we dished up our plates. "Or Asian Fusion. But I could eat straight-up Chinese every day of the week."
"Me too."
Patrick looked doubtful. "Really?"
"If you ever saw my fridge, you'd laugh. It's all Chinese take-out containers."
Patrick stared at me for a long moment. I knew what he was thinking—saw it in his eyes. Felt it in my own heart. The ringing of a distant bell. As if something very important were happening here. As if I'd met someone very important. Maybe even The One.
But that was nuts. I didn't believe in love at first sight. Or first evening. Or third ER visit. There was no point in picking out furniture yet. Take it one moment at a time, Gray.
"Well, then, since you're a connoisseur, I look forward to hearing your verdict on this place," Patrick said, skewering a shrimp with chopsticks.
Patrick was right. It was the best Chinese in Chicago.