Chapter Sixteen Nomi #2
“Um, it says closed?” Carl says tentatively, like this is the biggest mystery in the universe.
“Then it’s CLOSED, CARL!”
Zap! Zap!
I flail behind the booth’s table while Carl shuts the door quickly.
“Wow,” Graham says. “This is worse than I thought.”
“You’re such a dick,” Nomi says, though she’s smiling at me fondly. She hates Carl, too.
Eve clears her throat. “As I was saying, have you ever noticed how women always have one big flap?”
Nomi’s laughter dies, and she turns to glare at her. “Eve!”
I frown, confused but relieved I’m not battling an immediate spike of anger. “Uh, what?”
“The labia majora, scientifically speaking. One side’s always bigger.” Eve cocks her chin up and folds her arms. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
I huff. “Well, they don’t teach that at the Yale School of Medicine.”
Zap!
I stare at Nomi, incredulous, but she just shrugs. “Condescending! Try again.”
“Alright.” I sit up straighter. “I think I’d know if women had—”
Zap!
Nomi raises her eyebrows. “You can do better.”
I breathe in deeply, channeling patience. Jesus, my teeth feel weird. “In my experience, no, I have not noticed one big flap.”
Nomi nods, satisfied.
“So you’re saying you don’t have a lot of experience, then.” Eve smirks.
“I didn’t say that!” I yell, eyes frantically meeting Nomi’s just as she winces and presses the button.
Zap!
“I have some experience.” I look anywhere but Nomi as I try to neutralize the words coming out of my mouth. “Though I do not date. Much.”
“Really,” Eve leans forward, intrigued, and to my surprise, so does Nomi. Her eyes flit to mine, curiosity blooming there.
“Nomi doesn’t date much, either.”
“Jesus, Eve!” Nomi shoves her shoulder.
“Well, there is Lil Dom,” Graham says, meeting Eve’s smirk with his own. “She taps that from time to time. And the old English teacher from Sparrow Nook High.”
“Mr. Sanders?!” I breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out. I want to go rip the stupid elbow patches right off the cool teacher’s arms that started teaching there straight out of college. But I breaaaaathe instead.
“How—nice,” I finally growl with great effort. Nomi regards me suspiciously but ultimately does not zap me.
“Great job, Julian!” Eve slaps me on the shoulder. “This concludes the art of casual conversation. You showed real growth. Now. What’s your cable provider?”
I frown, still sweating about Mr. Sanders. “Um. Comcast?”
“Perfect.” She sets the timer on her phone. “You have twenty minutes to cancel your cable subscription. Go!”
“But… I don’t want to cancel my subscription!” I look between Graham and Nomi pleadingly.
“Don’t worry, they won’t let you,” Graham says. “That’s the point.”
“Step one.” Eve sits back with her arms folded behind her head. “Find a working phone number and put it on speakerphone.”
*eight minutes and six failed phone numbers later*
“No, I will not enter my account number again. I’d like to speak to a real human!”
Zap!
Suddenly, the hold music shifts to a real, human voice. “Hello, this is Matilda. How can I help you today?”
“Oh, thank God. I need to cancel my—”
“Before we begin, I need to verify your identity. Could you please provide your account number, your date of birth, and your last registered address?”
“I just entered all of that on the automated—Ow!” I breathe deeply and try again. “My account number is 459821JFP—”
“B as in Bubbles?”
“No, P as in, I don’t know, Petunias.”
“Okay, great. B as in Betunias.”
I rear back in my seat. “Betunias is not a word!”
Zaaaaap!
“P, I said P, as in please,” I whimper. “Please help.”
Meanwhile, Nomi is losing it, she’s laughing so hard. “Betunias,” she whispers out, and Eve grabs her, laughing into her shoulder.
“I’m sorry, that information is incorrect.”
“What?!”
Zap!
“I mean, let me give it to you again,” I moan out, then provide the rest of the information, a broken man.
When the timer goes off, I hang up unceremoniously on Matilda, who I’m now fairly sure is an AI ghost in the machine. I did not manage to cancel my cable.
“That’s okay,” Eve says cheerfully. “These exercises are designed for frustration and failure.”
“I think he did well, by and large,” Graham says. Nomi chokes back a laugh.
“Is it over? I want it to be over.” I collapse my forehead onto my arms.
“Too bad, because we have one challenge left,” Eve says.
My head darts up. “What’s the third challenge, Eve?”
“The one that matters most,” she replies. “An appointment.”
Surprise crumples my forehead. “For real?” I turn to Nomi. “Dr. Srinivasan’s on board with this?”
“On board?” Nomi huffs. “He’s holding the remote.”
“Do you think I’m ready?” I thumb my chest. “Because I don’t think I’m ready. We should cancel.”
“Too late for that, I’m afraid.” Nomi smiles apologetically. “But for what it’s worth, I do think you’re ready, Julian. You’re a great doctor who just needed a new perspective. You have that now, even if you’re still working on your temper.”
We walk in just before the last appointment of the day, Nomi, Graham, and Eve trailing behind me, giving me last-minute instructions, helping me into my doctor’s coat, and in Eve’s case, waving the remote ominously in my face.
“I’ve set it extra high, Julian, because these are high stakes. You got me?”
I nod, and she thumps my chest, hard. “Don’t fuck this up.”
I sob nervously.
Nomi spins me around to face her, inspecting my hair, then straightening my collar.
The feel of her light touch on my neck, nails scraping gently down the skin there, sends the biggest zap through me yet.
I want to grasp her by the elbows and pull her to me, holding her close so I can bury my nose into her long, wavy hair.
I spent the afternoon being mildly electrocuted by this woman, and it’s the best day I’ve had in months.
Years maybe. When was the last time anyone cared this much about me? Spent their time trying to help me?
“You’ll do great,” Nomi says softly, still holding lightly on to my lapels. “Just remember to take a deep breath before saying anything, and if it still feels hard, picture Deborah as your patient instead.”
“Deborah,” I say, still lost in my inconvenient yearning to touch Nomi. “Why?”
“Because everyone’s a Deborah, in their own way. Everyone has a story. Everyone is struggling. We’re all just trying to make it through our lives as best we can.”
I frown, overwhelmed with the desire to stroke her hair. Do you have a story, Nomi? Are you struggling?
Dr. Srinivasan opens his office door and regards me coolly. “Julian.”
“Dr. Srinivasan.” I hold my hand out. “Thank you for the chance to come back today. I’m very sorry for how I’ve acted in the past, and I promise I’ll do my best.”
After a long beat, Dr. Srinivasan shakes my hand. “That’s good to hear. Now, who has the remote?”
“Here you go, Doc.” Eve drops it into his hand. “It’s cranked extra high.”
Dr. Srinivasan breaks into a diabolical grin.
“We’ll be in the waiting room, rooting you on, buddy,” Graham slaps me on the shoulder.
“I’m here for the screams, to be honest,” Eve says.
Nomi smiles. “Remember. Deborah.”
After a long, lingering look at her, I turn and follow Dr. Srinivasan into one of the most important appointments of my life. I’m determined to do this right. The door opens, and I suck in a breath.
Oh, Jesus.
“Carl!” I say, loud enough the poor man flinches on the examining table.
“The—the coffee man?” Carl gathers his paper nightgown close around him. “W-what are you doing here?”
“Bet you didn’t know I was a doctor, too, eh?” I give him my winningest smile, tuck my sleeve over the pink shock collar, and open his records.
“Now, what’s brought you in today?”
NOMI
The summer sun lingers late into the evening, as though it can’t bear letting go of today, either.
I haven’t laughed like that in, God. Ages.
Delivering tiny shocks to Julian was a surprisingly effective therapeutic device for us both.
It taught him to think before he speaks, and it helped me forgive him, one zap at a time.
I didn’t stay in the waiting room with Eve and Graham. I wanted to—I’m dying to know how Julian’s appointment went—but the first warning bell of pain twisted through my abdomen, and I knew I needed to retreat.
It always starts with pain. Sometimes it’s sharp and slicing, like I’ve swallowed a bunch of knives determined to make their way out.
Other times it’s a burning feeling tunneling through my insides, leaving me raw and tender.
But whether it’s cramps or spasms or the racking pain that bullies me to tears, it always ends the same way.
The pain mounting until an urgency bottoms me out, sending me running for the bathroom, leaving me rocking and miserable and always, always alone.
I take a long pull from my vaporizer and exhale, watching the thin shimmer of air dissipate.
I can’t stop a Crohn’s attack, not without medication that ruins me for the next week, but sometimes with the right cannabis, I can head it off for a while, pluck the sharpest teeth from its bite.
This indica hybrid is good for blunting the pain and removing the lengthy, wretched prelude to the main event.
It buys me time. It shortens the episode.
It, unlike so many other medications I’ve tried, helps.
The dispensary’s door to our brick patio whispers open. I turn on the old picnic table’s top where I’ve perched to see Julian standing there in the mellow, melon light of the waning day.
“Can I join you?”
I release the lungful of cannabis vapor in surprise.
“Oh, um. Sure.” I turn back to hide my wince.
I hate being around others when a Crohn’s attack is brewing.
People don’t know how to coexist with another’s suffering, and I hate seeing them try, and fail, to make me feel better.
It underscores the hopelessness I already feel when I’m sick.
At least when I’m alone, I don’t have to carry their discomfort, too.
I close my eyes, drawing in a deep breath of Blackberry Kush, before turning off the vape.
The relaxing effects are immediate, and I sigh gratefully as the wringing, needling pain in my middle dampens.
The metal picnic table reverberates slightly as Julian’s weight settles next to me.
When I open my eyes, his are trained on my face, his pupils flitting systematically across every inch of me, observing.
“You’re not feeling well.” He glances at the vape in my hand, then back to me, studying me still. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m fine,” I protest. “I’m just… anxious. Still haven’t received the dismissal from the zoning commission.”
He sighs. “I’ve called every day this week. I don’t understand what the holdup is.”
I nudge him with my shoulder. “Well, don’t keep me in suspense. How did the appointment go?”
“Great, actually. Dr. Appa only zapped me once.” A mischievous smile lifts the corners of his mouth. “It was worth it.”
I laugh, and the sound seems to float on the air. “You called him Dr. Appa!”
Julian blinks. “Oh, God. I did, didn’t I? How embarrassing.”
“Don’t be embarrassed. He can be your Doctor Daddy, too.”
Julian groans, and the laughter comes easier to me now. The waves of pain sweeping through me earlier have crawled back out to sea, letting me enjoy this temporary low tide. I can afford to stay here a little while longer. I’ll be gone before they come back, tucked safely out of sight at home.
“You really did do well today.” I lean back onto the table, resting on my propped arms. The moon’s already hanging above, patiently waiting its turn to light up the lavender sky.
Julian snorts. “Judging by the amount of times you zapped me, that’s not true.”
“It is, though.” I turn to face him, and he leans on his arms, too, facing me back. “I know you believe you’re prickly and defensive as a rule, but I think it’s a learned response. A way you’ve chosen to be.”
“Nomi,” Julian exhales my name in a small laugh. “I don’t choose to be this unlikable.”
“No,” I concede. “But you do choose to come out swinging. And I think, if you wanted to, you could learn to lower your fists.”
The knowing smile on his face fades in degrees, replaced by contemplation.
Julian is beautiful when he thinks. The way he turns over his thoughts methodically, doggedly, searching for what makes sense.
In a world with so much apathy, Julian and his determination stand out like a pillar of stone in a sea of gently swaying grass.
Something you can depend on, a place where you can rest, even if some of his edges are still sharp.
“And I did that today? Lowered my fists?” His body’s angled toward mine, as if all of him is listening.
“Today was more about noticing when they’re raised, I think.”
Julian blinks, then shakes his head. “Are you always this philosophical when you smoke pot?”
“No. Sometimes I’m potato chips.” I gesture to my body, now angled toward his, too. “Just entirely, potato chips.”
A single laugh bounces out of him, and he leans all the way back, lying completely flat on the tabletop. I join him, relishing the feel of cool iron latticework on my warm back.
“I wish I could be more like you,” he murmurs up to the night sky. “You’re impossible not to like.”
I huff, even as my cheeks burn with heat. “It seemed pretty possible when you first returned to Sparrow Nook.”
Julian faces me again. “I’ve felt about a thousand different things for you over the years that I’ve known you. But I’ve always, always liked you.”
I blink back at him, shocked, even as his words glimmer in my chest, the first stars of the night to shine.
“I’ve just gotta learn to stop throwing punches at the same time.” He smiles, sad and wistful. “I’m so sorry, Nomi.”
I swallow. “I—know you are, believe it or not.”
A thrumming sound reverberates through the iron table, and Julian startles, then fumbles for his pocket. “Sorry—that might be Dr. Appa.” He checks his phone, then sighs, resting it on his chest.
“Do you have to go in?”
“No, just Mom reminding me about a party this weekend. Marco’s son is turning four.” He removes his glasses and rubs his eyes with his palms. “There’s nothing worse than a D’Angelo family birthday party.”
“Oh, yeah? Bring me,” I blurt on impulse. Damn Kush!
He stares at me without his glasses. His eyes are so blue, so unadulterated like this, it steals my breath.
“You want to come? Why?” He puts his glasses back on, and I can breathe again.
I shrug shakily. “Keep an eye on you so you don’t make any kids cry. Birthday cake. Your hilarious Aunt Edna. Take your pick.”
His mouth opens and closes, and I can tell he’s choosing his next words carefully.
Progress. I smile.
“So, you’re going to spend your Saturday afternoon at my nephew’s birthday party, with me, after everything I’ve put you through? How can you be so nice to me?”
I sigh. “Because, Julian D’Angelo, I’ve always liked you, too.”