29. Jo
Chapter 29
Jo
T he blinking cursor on my screen taunts me. Not even my blue-light glasses can save me from the amount of staring I’ve done at this email for the last three days. I was supposed to have woken up from this nightmare by now.
Congratulations! We are pleased to invite you to the 32nd annual California Medical Researchers Forum education conference in Sacramento, CA.
Sacramento.
California.
Ding!
I grab my mouse, clicking on the new email that just hit my inbox. It’s from Dr. Zin.
Dr. Carello ? —
Please bring your travel receipts to the registrar for reimbursement purposes.
The tightness in my chest becomes exponentially worse as I imagine all the scenarios. I can’t even read the remainder of the message.
I’ve been on a plane before.
It’s not the plane.
We flew to Disney World when I was in eighth grade. Dad wanted it to be a special surprise for me and Chloe.
It was incredible.
The plane is not the problem.
I grab my phone, shooting off a quick text to Carmen.
Help.
Not ten seconds after I set the phone back down on the table, it lights up again, ringing silently.
What kind of monster has their ringer on loud in this day and age?
“Thank God, I need help. How the fuck do I do this? I’m on the verge of a massive panic attack.” The words are all expelled in one long breath, but I’m met with silence. I pull the phone away from my ear and check the screen.
Maybe the call dropped.
My stomach drops right out of my butt.
“Uh, hello?”
“Dr. Carello.”
His voice is confident and sure. Something I’ve been faking my entire life.
God dammit. What the hell is wrong with me? They make caller ID for a reason, Jocelyn.
I clear my throat, “Dr. Britlyn. Sorry about that. What can I do for you?”
“Yes, I was wondering if you had transportation plans for next month?”
Like literally, who is this man, and what has he done with Isaac?
Either he has a stick shoved so far up his proper ass that it’s choking him to death, or he’s some sort of English royalty wearing an Isaac mask.
Regardless, it makes me feel gross.
And would he just call me Jo, for fuck’s sake.
“Uh, next month?”
The conference you moron, he’s asking about the conference.
“Oh yes!” My voice squeaks out and I scoff, mostly at myself and my inability to properly control my speech. “Well, no, I mean, I don’t. Wait, you mean a flight? Yes. I have a flight.”
Oh my God.
“Do you have transportation to the airport, Dr. Carello?”
Right…
“Oh, that. No. I don’t.”
“I’ve arranged a ride for us. I’ll send you the details closer to our travel day.”
I yank the piece of hair I’ve been absently twirling around my fingers, nearly pulling the whole chunk right out of my skull.
“Okay?” Isaac’s voice wavers just slightly.
Is he…nervous?
I push the thought from my brain. That makes no sense. I’m projecting my nervousness onto him.
Yeah.
“Okay.”
The line disconnects while I replay the conversation in my head.
I’ve arranged a ride for us.
For us.
For us?
For us.
“So, let me get this queer.”
Carmen getting the fellowship position, only an hour from MMCI, might be my only reason for waking up in the morning. One of these days I will make the trek to Missouri, but for now, my couch has become her semi-permanent weekend living space.
“It does not make you any less gay to say the word ‘straight’, ma’am.”
Carmen scoffs, waving me off with a flick of her free hand. The other hand is wrist-deep in a bag of sour candy.
“He arranged your ride to the airport?” She pulls a chunk off of her gummy worm with her teeth, chewing obnoxiously.
“Please, the chewing. ” I make a show of plugging my ears with my pointer fingers. “Good god, woman.”
“You want me here, you have to love all of me,” she replies, making a smacking noise with her lips.
“Yeah, yeah. We’ll see how you feel when I make my breakfast sausage in the morning.” I flop down on the couch next to her as she shivers her disapproval. Carmen has been animal free since 2003 , as she puts it. Though I’m pretty sure there’s some sort of animal in those gummy worms she’s hoovering.
Just another one of my major flaws.
“So I like men and I eat meat, sue me!”
It’s me, officer. Take me away.
“Well, isn’t that redundant,” Carmen adds, bursting into laughter.
“Oh my God.” My cheeks flame pink at her insinuation, but I bounce right back. “Honestly, I wish. Andrew wouldn’t even let me.”
“Pause,” she responds, her eyes flicking to me. “What?”
I shrug, grabbing a few pieces of candy from her bag before she pulls it out of my reach. “He said it was boring. Or, I was boring? I don’t remember.” Carmen stands from her spot on the couch, throwing her hands up in the air in frustration.
“You’re telling me he refused to go down on you and wouldn’t let you go down on him?” She pulls her fingers through her unruly curls, separating them. “What the fuck! ”
I lean forward, snatching the unattended candy bag from the couch cushion and dropping it in my lap.
“It’s whatever.”
I can feel myself closing off, retreating back into my shell.
“I mean, no, it’s not. But we don’t have to talk about it.” Carmen sits back down beside me, letting out a whoosh of a breath.
Andrew never loved me. I honestly don’t think he was ever even attracted to me. Yet I went back, again and again. It makes me sick to think about how weak and small he made me.
Never again.
“So, the conference.” Carmen changes the subject before I have a chance to spiral. “You’re going to the airport together?”
“I guess so,” I respond, tucking my legs up underneath me to warm my toes. “You know how I am with travel, Carm. I’m fucking terrified.” The beer that I’ve completely forgotten about catches my gaze on the side table. I slide it into my grasp and stand, turning to Carmen. “Another beer?”
She nods, throwing her feet up on the coffee table in front of her. I make my way into the kitchen, listening as she continues.
“Do we think he’s on your flight?” She’s flipping through channels on the television when I return, setting both of our beers on the side table, where they are destined to be forgotten once again.
“I checked the flight log.” I flop back down on the couch. “There are two flights from Midway to Sacramento that day.” I focus my attention on the popcorn ceiling of my apartment. “So either we’re on the same flight, or he’s going to sit at the terminal for eight hours after mine departs.”
“I hope he’s not that stupid.” Carmen reaches forward and grabs hold of her beer bottle, taking a long gulp. “Guess we’ll have to wait and see what happens.”
Tell that to someone who doesn’t have severe travel anxiety and a crippling crush on a man who has refused to see her for twelve years.
“Yeah, guess we will.”