Chapter 9
Jamie
Did I really have to sit next to the Doctor? Couldn’t I sit on the other side, between the brothers, or far enough away that his scent wouldn’t mess with my head?
The Doctor is like a magnet — my perfect opposite. No matter how hard I try to resist, I’m always drawn to him.
I want to touch him, talk to him, breathe him in.
Look at him.
That’s where it all goes wrong.
I shouldn’t look at the Doctor. I can’t resist that puppy-dog gaze begging for a cuddle, especially because I’m not a cuddler. I don’t care for chin scratches or belly rubs.
Absolutely not.
And then he rejected me, and the disappointment burns. My pride howls, and my body feels perpetually wrapped in flames.
If I could have him for just one night, I’m sure this obsession would finally burn out — if I could do to the Doctor all the things I have in mind.
The Doctor shifts his weight every few seconds — restless, uncomfortable. He probably doesn’t even know what the fuck he’s doing here, or what he’s supposed to be looking at.
He definitely doesn’t feel like family.
The O’Connors close ranks in their usual circle, leaving him on the outside.
I’ve watched the brothers do this for years — loud, overbearing, sucking all the air from the room.
They think they’re intimidating. To me, they’re open books.
I know which buttons to push and which secrets they’d rather keep buried.
Reading people is what I do. I’m a meticulous observer. I notice what others miss because they’re too distracted or self-absorbed. Not me. I see, I hear, I speak. I never miss a chance to weigh in, and I steer people where I want them to go, using everything I know.
But the Doctor is different. Every time I think I’ve got him figured out, he shifts, shows me another layer I didn’t see coming. He’s a book with pages missing, and I want to know what’s on them.
“This isn’t really your world,” I tell him.
“Are you saying I don’t belong here?”
“It was just a comment.”
“Well, don’t make any more. They’re enough for me already,” he points at the brothers with his head.
“Tough, isn’t it?”
“What? Dealing with them? Not wanting to jump on their necks and stop their jugulars from pulsing?”
“To watch your family become someone else’s.”
I don’t know how the words come to me. Where the fuck were they hiding? Why am I saying them now? Why am I saying them to him?
The Doctor turns towards me. I look away, but I can feel his gaze, his eyes searching for something, as if trying to uncover a secret.
No, Doctor. There is nothing worth finding here.
“Is that how it is for you?” he asks quietly.
I shrug. “It was just a…”
“A comment,” he finishes for me. “I understand.”
He turns to the pitch, and I feel able to take a breath again. Just one. I can’t do more, not so close to him. I’ll try to make do with it. I’m quite good at holding my breath.
“It’s difficult, but I can’t help it.”
Ah, Doctor. Why did you have to fall for it?
“You can always do something.”
“Do you say that in rugby?”
“Nah.” I turn to him. “You really don’t know anything about rugby, do you?”
“While you children were busy running half-naked on the grass, I was trying to make something good.”
“So, being a doctor makes you better than a player.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“It looked like that to me.”
“I had no time for anything else. The studies, the internship, then the job…”
“And Evan.”
He nods, but doesn’t seem convinced.
“So busy chasing the goal, so focused and… I missed everything else, including fun.”
“You could try it now.”
“To play?” He asks in a panic.
I laugh; I can’t help it.
“Let’s not get carried away, Doctor. Even though you’re in decent shape, you still wouldn’t make it.”
“What? I…”
“You could learn something, though. About the rules, about tactics, at least learn the names of the national team players.”
“I don’t have much time, and I don’t have anyone to help me.”
“I could.”
Fuck, Jamie. Why the fuck don’t you ever shut your fucking mouth?
He is not your puppy to save. You are not taking him home for a bowl of water.
“You?”
“I don’t think you want to ask one of the O’Connors.”
“Ah, certainly not. That would be another funny little story to tell at family dinners.”
“Well, I guess you have no choice left at this point.”
“I don’t see why you should do that.”
“Let’s say I like to stick my nose in other people’s business.”
“I’m sure of that.”
“Think of it as a hand from a friend.”
“No offence, Captain, you and I are not friends.”
“No offence, Doctor, I don’t think we could ever become friends. I was just trying to be nice.”
“You’re never nice. Why should you be now?”
I sigh and take a step closer to disaster. “Because I know how it feels.”
“Being the family’s loser? I don’t think so.”
I smile tensely but stay silent.
“I work impossible hours.”
“No problem for me.”
“And I’ll be on call for the next forty-eight hours. This morning has cost me a double shift. I won’t be free for three days, and even then, I may not be in full possession of my mental faculties.”
“I’ll go easy on you,” I say, meeting his eyes. “Doctor.” I let the word out slowly, as if I’ve been holding it in, and it means more than I’m saying.
He smiles, looking a little embarrassed, and I let him stay that way. It flatters me, and honestly, I’m starting to like it more than I should.
“Do you have to work double shifts because you came here?”
“It’s no big deal.”
“And you have to deal with the brothers, outsiders included.”
“That’s a small price to pay, but I am well compensated.”
“You love him very much.”
“Of course I love him! He is my son.”
He says it like it’s the most natural thing in the world. But it isn’t, not for me.
For people like me, where I’m from, being a father doesn’t always mean loving your child. Having a father doesn’t always mean you feel safe.
Where I’m from, being a father means something completely different, something the Doctor has probably never known. It’s better not to think about it if you want to keep believing that, after all these years, the pain hurts less.