15. Isaac
Chapter 15
Isaac
First Year of Residency
8 Years Ago, August
I nearly choke to death on my own spit at the remark, and Jo’s hand flies up to cover her mouth. “Uh, Kyle, his name is Kyle.”
“Well, I stand by my statement.” Grandma Betty turns towards the bar and signals to the bartender with what I’m assuming is code for another drink. Either that, or she’s turning into Carmen and looking to find a special someone to take home tonight.
“I think maybe it’s time for some water,” Jo speaks up from her position next to me.
“Nonsense, the night is as young as I am old!” Grandma Betty glances up at the television screen in front of us. “See, it’s only just after 9 p.m.! Don’t try to tell me you’re giving up!”
I glance up, noticing the 92nd minute of playtime in whatever soccer matchup is currently being broadcast. I don’t even have it in me to correct her, so I nod and smile, taking a seat on a barstool next to her. Jo follows my lead and takes the seat on Grandma Betty’s right, watching the game intently. “I genuinely have no fucking idea how soccer works,” she yells over the music from the DJ. “Why is the clock counting upwards?”
Before I can attempt to answer, the bartender approaches us.
“Betty, are these two bothering you?” he asks, eyeing Jo and me. She plops herself down on the stool between us, shaking her head.
“Oh no, dear, they’re friends. Friends that need drinks because they are simply too boring for my liking currently,” she slurs, just enough to barely notice. Grandma Betty is a fucking tank.
The bartender slides a milky looking drink towards Grandma Betty and she stirs it with the cocktail straw. “Can I get you two the signature drink of the evening?”
Jo eyes the glass curiously before glancing over at me, eyes wide. “Is that 2% milk?” she laughs, watching as Betty sips happily.
“This is a white Russian—vodka, coffee liqueur, and cream—a favorite of the bride and groom.”
Jo doesn’t even make an attempt to hide her actual gag, and I burst into laughter, shaking my head. She is the most outrageous woman I’ve ever met in my entire life.
“I think we’ll just take two Blue Moons, on tap if you have it.” I look to her for approval and she nods, only holding my gaze for a moment before looking back towards the soccer game. “Carmen, three o'clock,” I tilt my head to where movement in my peripheral vision reveals Carmen and a beautiful redhead walking toward us, carrying their heels in hand.
“Shh, don’t call her that,” Jo responds, glaring at me.
Hold on. Don’t call her Carmen? I furrow my brow in question, but Jo waves me off as the two women approach the bar. Carmen’s arm is slung loosely around redhead’s shoulders and they are both clearly inebriated beyond repair. “What’s he doing here?” Carmen, or whatever I’m supposed to call her right now, is clearly talking about me.
“Uh, don’t worry about him, Dee. You caused a panic by kidnapping Grandma Betty like that!” Jo shakes her pointer finger playfully at Carmen—Dee?—before standing up and extending her hand towards the redhead. “Who’s your friend?”
“I’m Willow,” she responds in a deeper voice than I expected to come out of a woman of her stature. She’s most definitely not short, but Carmen has at least a few inches on her, even barefoot. Willow looks up at Carmen with a seductive grin, and I can’t know for sure, but I assume there’s some inappropriate ass touching happening behind them. How the hell Carmen can pull so quickly, I’ll never know.
“What’s with the buzzkill happening over here? You two need something stronger than a beer!” Carmen squeezes Willow’s shoulder before releasing her from their previous hold on each other. Before Jo and I even realize what’s happening, the bartender is pouring an array of shots and mixed drinks in the direction of Willow. Grandma Betty sips her white Russian happily, occasionally hiccuping. She’s going to be a bundle of sunshine in the morning.
Her own drink in hand, Carmen places two shots of tequila in front of Jo on the bar. This is a red alert. Jo and tequila do not play well together. Memories of the beginning-of-the-semester party the weekend after we started school flood my brain. She’s going to vomit tonight. I’ll put money on it.
The bartender sets two shots of tequila in front of me and my stomach churns reflexively. Oh boy. Looking from the bar top, past Grandma Betty and over to Jo, I notice she’s already downed both of her shots and is taking a swig from her beer. The music has changed pace from upbeat to a ballad, and I lean over to Grandma Betty, speaking directly into her ear.
“Would you like to dance with me, Betty?” She slams her glass down on the bar and smiles.
“Well kid, it’s been years since someone’s asked me that. You better know what you’re doing!” She grabs my hand, and somehow I’ve lost control of the situation and am being dragged out onto the dance floor. Couples make room for us and I glance back at Jo, who has swiveled in her stool to watch us dance.
Dancing with Betty is the exact distraction I need from focusing my energy on Jo, but there’s an invisible string that keeps turning my head toward where she sits. Carmen and Willow have since joined her at the bar, and they sit sipping on their beers and laughing about something I can’t quite hear. Carmen leans over and whispers something into Jo’s ear and she gasps, her free hand grasping her chest in shock. I do my best to continue to sway with Betty while trying to decipher what is happening at the bar.
“So are you going to tell her you’re in love with her, or are you too much of a chicken shit?” My mouth falls agape, but I close it quickly, looking at Betty with wide eyes.
“Ex-excuse me?” I stutter, dropping Betty’s hand.
“Honey, I’ve seen many a man in love.” She pauses to hiccup. “And you are down bad.” The music has transitioned once again to an upbeat cover of a song that I can’t quite decipher, and Betty decides she’s had enough of me, walking back towards the bar. I follow just behind her, ready to catch her if the amount of alcohol she’s consumed tonight should cause some unsteadiness.
As we reach the bar once again, Carmen stands to her full height, extending her right hand out to Betty. “Come on now, let me take you back to the correct wedding so I can take Willow to my hotel room.”
Jo chokes on her drink, spitting beer back into her glass. “Cute, Jo,” Carmen responds, taking Willow’s hand in her left. “Do what I told you.” Jo lets out a little drunk giggle in response. The bartender slides me a beer I didn’t order while Carmen leads Betty and Willow out the front door.
“Are they getting into a limo?” I ask Jo, who steadies herself by grabbing the edge of the bar top and turns to observe the three ladies getting into what is, in fact, a stretch limousine. “Who the hell is that Willow girl?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know, but she seems A-okay to me! If Carmen’s happy, I’m happy!”
“You mean Dee? ” I emphasize the name that Jo used in our earlier conversation with the women.
She chokes out a laugh again, setting her beer down on the bar. “Oh yeah, she never gives her real name out to her lady friends. I think it’s some,” she forms air quotes with her fingers, “protective mechanism.” The bartender grabs her glass, replacing it with another beer. Though my glass is still half full, he slides another my way as well.
“Wait, but why Dee? That’s not even close to Carmen.”
“Carmen San Di ego, obviously. Please keep up.” She pokes at me, gazing sidelong to meet my eye. I raise my glass in cheers, and we continue to drink. Because why not?
“I need to make a phone call.” Jo states matter-of-factly, pulling her phone out from her bra. I really need to get this girl a purse or something.
“Oh, okay, do you need me to leave you to it?” I take another drink of my beer, wishing and hoping she won’t ask me to leave her here.
“Nah, you can hear this.” Why do I have a feeling I’m not going to want to hear this? She unlocks her phone and maneuvers to the missed calls list. There are at least ten missed calls from Andrew. She taps on the most recent log, and he picks up before she has the chance to bring the phone up to her ear.
“Andrew, I’m breaking up with you.”
I lose all control of my upper extremities and knock my half-full beer right over on the bar. Scrambling to right myself and the glass, the bartender throws a rag my way. I sop up the beer, continuing to listen to Jo’s conversation. Six words I’ve waited four years for.
The voice on the other end of the line gets louder, clearly yelling, but the words are indecipherable to me. Jo sits quietly, letting him express whatever feelings he has about the statement she just made. My semi-intoxicated brain can’t quite compute what is happening before the bartender brings me another beer. What is with this guy?
Jo sighs, letting the phone fall away from her face while Andrew continues to yell into the receiver. She rolls her neck around in a circle, taking a drink of her beer and brings the phone back to her ear.
“Let me put it this way,” she cuts him off. “We’re over.” She hangs up the phone with an aggressive tap of her screen.
“Care to tell me what that was all about?” I trail off, watching as she holds up her left pointer finger in my face and proceeds to down the entire rest of her beer, slamming the empty glass onto the wood of the bar.
“I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s get drunk.”
Sounds like a great idea.
Two shots appear in front of us. I know weddings are generally open bars, but something tells me this guy is up to no good.
A few minutes of silence pass between us as we continue to consume the free alcohol that is so readily being provided to us. Eventually, she clears her throat and speaks. “Carmen told me you and Victoria are together.” I can’t tell if it’s a question or a statement, but her eyes are full of curiosity and what looks like sadness. Is that sadness?
“No, we’re not together. It’s just—” I pause. “She’s in Boston with me. Residency is stressful.” I shrug, silently hoping that she understands. Victoria is wonderful. She’s fun and free and available. It’s never been serious between us—strictly casual—something to fill the void. I know it’s not the healthiest way to cope, but we have an agreement. This rush of blood and anticipation that courses through my veins is foreign in comparison to the subtle attraction I have for Victoria. But I’m not doing anything wrong.
Am I?
She nods, a forced, tight-lipped smile appearing on her face. That doesn’t feel like sadness. “To singleness and lots of beer.” She grabs her beer, raising her glass to me in a cheers. “Can we just have some fun tonight? I know it’s getting late, but I could use some good old-fashioned drunken chaos.”
I chuckle, grabbing her hand and twisting her off the bar stool. “Let’s fucking dance, baby!” Nearly everyone in the room is on the dance floor, but we find a spot of our own and I twirl her around in a circle, pulling her close to me before she loses her balance. “It’s been a long time since we’ve done this!” I lean in close to relay the rest of my message. “I’ve missed you, kid.”
She nods silently, a glitter in her eye, and wraps her arms around my waist, letting her head fall against the slope of my chest. There’s something so different about holding her in my arms. I know I shouldn’t compare her to Victoria. It’s simply apples to oranges, but this feeling in my chest?—
The warm, burning sensation.
It’s only Jo.
“I’m sure, I’m so sure.” Jo’s voice is quiet and breathy into my neck. It’s nearly four in the morning, and the remainder of the evening was a blur, but somehow we’re here, outside the door to my hotel room. I back her up against the door, both of my hands plant firmly on the cold wood of the door frame around her.
“Why did you break up with Andrew?” I lean forward, my forehead just barely grazing the exposed skin of her shoulder, waiting for her answer.
“What?” She sounds like she’s just run a marathon, and I just barely hear her over the sound of my own heartbeat echoing in my ears.
Seeing her like this.
Hearing her voice.
It feels so right, but also all wrong.
“Why did you call Andrew and tell him you were done?” I speak more firmly this time, hovering the weight of my body just above hers. Her hands fall hesitantly to my chest before she answers. Please tell me it’s because you want me. Please tell me it’s always been me just like I know it’s always been you.
“You know why, Isaac.”
Tingles explode all over my skin, and I can’t seem to get the key to the room out of my pocket fast enough.
Come on, come on.
Grabbing her waist, I twist her and pull her back to my chest. The key in my hand feels like it holds the answers to a million pent-up questions. Jo is shaking.
“Are you cold?” I slide the key into the lock, but pause, reaching to remove my coat.
“If you don’t open this door right now, I will burst into actual flames. No, I’m not cold! ”
I glance down the hallway before pushing both the door and Jo’s body into the hotel room. It’s dark save for a small desk lamp I left on this morning. I know Carmen is busy with endeavors of her own, but I can’t help but worry that Jo’s yelling just woke up the entire hotel. Does she want people to know?
Shut up, dummy, you’re getting ahead of yourself. Just because she’s here…in my hotel room…at four AM…doesn’t mean anything.
“Isaac.”
I look up to find Jo, picturesque in the light from the lamp, sitting on the edge of my bed with her hands clasped in her lap. She’s the physical manifestation of every dream I’ve ever had. My brain short-circuits from sensory overload, and I stare at her silently while I reboot the system. Her hair. The full curve of her breasts in that dress. It’s all too much.
“I can go.” Oh, absolutely not. You are not running from me. She attempts to stand from her spot, but I kick the door closed with a slam, quickly striding towards her.
False confidence.
But she doesn’t need to know that.
I stop just shy of the bed and remove my suit jacket, tossing it into the chair in the corner of the room. “You are not going anywhere.” Enunciating every syllable. She needs to recognize how absolutely serious I am about this. About her.
The flush of her skin is evident, even in the darkened room, as I kneel at the foot of the bed, placing a hand on each of her legs and gently separating them. The slit of her dress provides ample opportunity to watch as the skin of her thigh becomes visible. I situate myself between her legs and run my fingers along the seam of her dress. We’ve been close before. We’ve had access to skin before.
This is different. I take a slow, full breath, exhaling for longer than any normal person would. This is different and we both know it. The hotel room is aglow with possibility and the universe has got to be telling us that it’s finally the right time. For us. Emerging goosebumps on her skin tells me she feels the same.
“Jo, I?—”
“I know.”
Four years. I can’t fucking screw this up.
“Tell me to stop, Jo. Tell me to stop, or I will fuck this all up.” I place my palms flat against her thighs and slide them up under her dress until my fingertips twist into the lace of her thong. “Tell me to stop before I decide it’s a good idea to take these off of you.”
“No,” she whispers. “ Please don’t stop.”
She cups a hand under my chin, pulling my face towards hers, and presses her lips gently to mine before pulling away, searching my eyes. “I need to know you’re sober enough for this.”
Completely unblinking, she continues. “I haven’t had a drink in hours. I’m telling you to take them off , Isaac.”
I swallow hard, grasping the fabric in my fingers and slowly pulling them down. She shifts her weight backwards on the mattress to allow me to tug them down her thighs and off her legs, watching as I toss them into the chair with my jacket. The urge to kiss every single inch of her body overtakes me, and I drag my lips over the bare skin of her thigh.
The weight of her hands on my shoulders redirects my attention to her face. I wrap my arms around her abdomen and pull her into me, smashing my lips against hers once more. She tastes like oranges and tequila, and I will never, ever be satiated. My tongue teases the seam of her lips and she opens without hesitation, but I pull away slowly.
“Lay back. There is nothing in this entire universe that I need more in this moment than to taste you.” She shudders, listening to my command and leaning back on her elbows on the mattress. I stand upright once more, and blood rushes to my head, dizzying me momentarily. She’s looking up at me with trust and hope, like I can do no wrong, even though I’ve wronged her so many times in the last four years.
The pressure against the zipper of my pants is nearly unbearable, so I shift myself gently, kneeling back down between Jo’s legs once more. Tonight is for her, not for me.
She whimpers quietly, squirming when I push her dress up around her stomach. “Isaac, I’ve never…you don’t have to do that…” The sound of the air conditioner is the only grounding force keeping me from floating straight to heaven.
“I know I don’t have to. I want to make you feel good, Jocelyn. Let me make you feel good.”
She sighs, settling just slightly into the bed as I wrap my hands around her knees and throw them up over my shoulders. I can still taste her lips on mine, but I already know I’m in for something even more incredible. Any ounce of exhaustion I felt from the day’s events has disappeared, and I’m left with that familiar burning sensation in my chest.
“Hmm,” I hum gently into the skin of her inner thigh, gripping my fingers tightly around her hips and dragging her closer to the end of the bed.
The scent of her vanilla perfume mixed with sweat and desire will be forever seared into my memory.
“Dammit Isaac, I’m losing my mind, I need you.”
She’s right. Fuck taking my time. If I have my way, this will be the first of many times I experience Jo like this.
I scoop my arms up under her legs and place my hands on her stomach, pushing her firmly into the bed. One long stroke of my tongue up her center and she melts into my arms, moaning quietly.
Her taste.
Her scent.
Perfection.
She attempts to pull away as I flatten my tongue against her, but I hold her still, sucking her clit into my mouth gently.
“Isaac.” Her legs tighten around my head while I lick and suck and hold her like it’s the last thing I’ll ever do.
How I’m surviving this without blowing my entire load right into my dress slacks, I will never know.
I peek up from my home between her legs and watch as she extends back into the mattress. Her hands are wrapped up in the duvet cover, and I continue to drag my tongue from her pussy to her clit over and over and over again, pausing only to take the time to gently suck her clit between my lips and hum my satisfaction into her porcelain skin.
I feel her arousal accumulate in my facial hair before she speaks again, releasing her grasp from the blanket and finding my hair with a tug.
“Isaac, I’m gonna come. Please don’t stop.”
I continue my pace, flicking her clit with the tip of my tongue until she’s writhing under my palms. Her grasp on my hair tightens as she rides the waves of her orgasm with my tongue inside her.
There is nothing that will keep me from making this girl mine forever.
When the sunlight shone through the open curtain this morning, I said a silent prayer to every god possible that the events of last night weren’t just a dream. Luckily when I opened my eyes, Jo was there, her hair tied up in a messy bun and her mascara half-removed. She fell asleep almost immediately after I finished cleaning her up last night, and I watched for an hour as she breathed steadily.
I hit the ‘Up’ button on the elevator, balancing the two large coffees and an assortment of pastries I snuck out to pick up for our hangover recon. I can’t help but let myself feel the excitement of what could be with Jo.
Last night was perfect.
Maybe today we can spend the day together?
I reach the eighth floor of the hotel, and gather my emotions to face her again.
Be cool, man.
I tuck the bag of baked goods under my armpit and attempt to open the door with one hand.
“Jo, I’m back and I brought reinforcements!” I laugh, entering the room with the coffees and paper bag in the air.
Every bit of possibility and hope that buried itself under my sternum deflates with a sad, pathetic hiss when I’m met with silence and an empty unmade bed.
“Jo, please pick up the phone. I just want to talk about this.” I pace the living room of my brand new apartment in Boston. I stayed as long as I could, searching the hotel and asking all our friends where she could’ve possibly gone. But when push came to shove, I needed to get on the plane and back to residency. To real life.
And somehow, even though I thought I did everything right, Jocelyn Carello is gone from my life once more.