Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
“S cott invited us to his house out East for the weekend. Can you come?” Matt asks over FaceTime. He is back in LA for the week, and I am in a Hilton hotel room in Houston, Texas, sweating my ass off. The heat down here is no joke.
I smile at the us . I am still getting used to the idea that Matt is my boyfriend. Still flying high from our time in DC and still getting used to the idea that I am approaching thirty-nine, have been married and divorced, and now once again have a boyfriend. I feel like there should be another word, more mature, more meaningful, but here we are.
“That sounds fun.”
“So, I’ll tell him we’re in?”
“Definitely. What have you told him about me?”
“Oh, just the usual. That you’re brilliant. And beautiful. And funny. And that you have the greatest vagina on the entire planet.”
“Excellent. Just as I’d hoped.”
I laugh. I'm nervous to meet Scott, one of Matt's oldest and best friends. He talks about him often, and I know their friendship dates back over twenty years, right before Matt’s music career took off. Matt passed my friend test with Meredith with flying colors. I hope I’ll do the same.
“How’s Texas?”
“Hot. As hell. Still. If only the board could've waited until winter to send me here.”
“What’s the plan while you’re there?”
“Tex-Mex first, then visiting Texas Children’s Hospital.” I filled him in earlier on the details of my trip. Texas Children’s Hospital is spearheading a new initiative to meet the demand of a recent surge in children’s mental health concerns. I've got back-to-back meetings scheduled for the entire two days, including with their director of clinical services. This is an ongoing part of my research mission to see if this is something that can be achieved at New York Presbyterian.
“According to their numbers, they’ve seen an eight hundred percent increase in emergency room visits for kids under eighteen experiencing a serious mental health crisis, and that is just since the pandemic,” I tell him.
“Man, what do you think is causing all of that?”
“I’m not sure exactly, but that is what everyone is trying to figure out. Certainly, the isolation, lack of social connectedness, upheaval in routine—kids just don't have the brain development to understand that, and consistency is incredibly important in childhood development."
“Yeah, and how did anyone even get help when we couldn't leave our houses?"
“Exactly. Kids are completely dependent on their caregivers. And parents were and still are stressed the hell out, completely maxed out, and maybe their own mental health issues worsened. Loss of jobs, food insecurity, housing insecurity, it's all part of it. There are so many contributing factors, and we probably won’t understand the magnitude of all of it for years to come. But the reality is we are in a postpandemic mental health crisis, kids especially. I hope we can figure something out. And soon.”
“I admire you, Jules.”
I like how interested he is in my work, my job, my thoughts on things. He's curious. Concerned. He pays attention, forms his own opinions, asks me questions that illustrate all of that. During the week he sends me links to articles he read that he thinks would be of interest to me—in addition to the memes, videos, etc., usually followed by a text asking, What do you think about this?
It isn't something I'm used to.
At the beginning of my relationship with Nick, he loved to hear stories about the kids I worked with. The ridiculous things they'd say, the unbelievable circumstances they overcame. He made me feel like what I was doing really mattered, which was a vital part of my restoration process at the end of challenging days. I couldn't remember when or why Nick's interest seemed to wane, whether it was as I moved into more administrative roles, or if he just became preoccupied with his own work. But in the last few years we spent together, there was usually nothing more than a cursory how was your day from him.
“Thank you. I admire you, too.”
“I feel like you’re making a difference. A big one. It’s inspiring. And very sexy.” The compliment makes me uncomfortable.
“And you are, too! Think of all the people who have found solace in your music. Who have used it to get through something, or to maybe realize they aren't alone in the world. That matters.”
“I accept that. Thank you.” I see him walk from his kitchen over to the couch.
“So, tell me … what exactly is under that top you have on?” he asks with a naughty smile.
I am happy to show him.
* * *
By the time I get back to New York, I am exhausted. Spending two days at Texas Children’s Hospital was a roller coaster. On one hand, I was inspired by the ideas and initiatives the hospital has put into action—and so quickly—to address the mounting crisis. The hospital system has teamed up with community-based providers and local elected officials to start three intensive outpatient programs in the greater Houston area. They offer free training to school systems and educators on mental health and have enhanced community outreach by parking and staffing mobile crisis units in each of the major school districts. They work with local medical and nursing schools to incentivize students to consider pursuing a psychiatric specialty. It is even more impressive that they were able to scale it so quickly and get the buy-in. Texas Children’s is three times the size of my hospital, and I feel like any new idea or change is riddled with red tape.
On the other hand, it was devastating to see the enormity of need. I spent time in the emergency department, and they were flooded—standing room only. It seemed like half of them were kids in a serious mental health crisis. There were no beds, and safety precautions, standard of care, and hospital liability fears were constantly at odds with each other. Kids were rotting in the ED for days, sometimes weeks, waiting for psych beds. No school, no real treatment, and seemingly no hope for them or their parents. Things seemed bleak, and it felt heavy.
Getting home and seeing Murphy alleviated some of the disquietude I was feeling. Even with him by my side, I am dragging by the time Friday rolls around. Determined not to let my blah mood ruin my weekend out East, I take the day off to go shopping. I stop by my favorite lunch spot on my way to a blowout followed by a mani-pedi. I get back to my apartment and change into jeans, a plain white T-shirt, and a vintage leather jacket Meredith gifted me for my thirty-fifth birthday. I drop Murphy at Lisa’s down the hall, with his weekend bag packed full of food and his favorite toys, and walk back to my apartment. By the time I hear Matt knock on my door around three p.m., I'm feeling mostly restored.
I open my door and am, yet again, blown away by how gorgeous he is. Seeing him for the first time after we've been separated never seems to get old. His hair is windblown, and he's in pair of his signature jeans and an incredibly soft pink T-shirt. He's wearing glasses, round frames in a warm brown tortoiseshell, the first I’ve seen of them. He looks adorable and sexy all at once. I stand on my toes to kiss him in the doorway. He wraps his arms around my waist, and I feel my body do a familiar activation—butterflies in my stomach, a smile so wide it hurts my cheeks, and goosebumps on my skin. The physical attraction is off the charts, and that’s only the half of it.
“Hello, handsome.”
“Hello, gorgeous.” He slides his hands from my waist to my ass.
I touch his glasses. “These are very cute.”
“You're dating an older man … comes with the territory.”
I laugh and kiss him on his cheek, on his nose, and one last time on his perfectly pink lips. He pulls me close against him and pushes his hips against mine. I gasp when I feel how hard he is.
“I've missed you. So fucking much,” he murmurs into my ear. I grab his waistband and shove my hand downward. Apparently, I have no self-control around him, either. He indulges me for a moment and groans before he pulls my hand out and gives me one last kiss. “As much as I’d like to do this right now, I parked the car in in a fire lane.”
Matt grabs my weekender bag in one hand, my hand in the other, and we walk to the elevator. Once inside, I can’t help but touch him again. His dick, which I can see pushing against his jeans, is taunting me. He leans his head against the wall. “Jules. Please don’t do this to me.”
“I’m sorry." I kiss his neck. “Do you know that you are extra irresistible today?”
"Very soon, we will do this. And make up for all the times I've wanted to do this since I last saw you," he whispers into my ear.
A promise.