Chapter Twenty-Eight Julian
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
JULIAN
It’s been three hours, and I’ve already downloaded Candy Clobber, become addicted, bargained with God, emerged on the other side, and deleted it from my phone, and I’m still stuck in this waiting room that smells like glossy brochures and stale potpourri, hoping that every time the nurse appears, it’ll be my name she calls to bring me to Nomi.
My thumb’s quivering over Candy Clobber in the App Store when, finally, my name is called.
“Julian D’Angelo?” The nurse is wearing magenta scrubs and a skeptical frown as I scramble to my feet, as if she can see inside my soul and it’s nothing but exploding lollipops. “Follow me.”
“How did she do?” I struggle to keep up with the nurse’s quick strides.
“Oh, she lay on that table like a champ. Real A-plus performance.” The nurse rolls her eyes, like I’m the biggest idiot she’s ever met.
I instantly like her.
“So… she’s okay?”
The nurse’s eyes cut to mine with a hint of an amused smile. “She’s fine, sir.”
The recovery area is a long hallway with beds parked diagonally, each separated by curtains. The pleasantly hostile nurse stops, pushes aside the curtain, and there she is. Even the bluish-white hospital gown can’t dim the warm glow Nomi radiates. Her eyes flutter open, and she smiles loosely.
“Hey, Jolene.” Nomi pauses, a divot appearing between her brows. “Josephine?”
The nurse snorts.
Nomi’s eyes brighten. “Junior!”
“Is this normal?” I turn to the nurse. “This amount of…inebriation?” I whisper the last word. I’ve never done an exploratory procedure like a colonoscopy; the anesthesia used on ER patients is far more heavy duty, and I have zero idea what to expect.
“She’s on propofol, the drug that killed Michael Jackson.” The nurse lifts an eyebrow. “Yes, this is normal.”
Nomi holds both hands out to me. “Julian.”
My worries melt into relief. “That’s it, baby.”
“She’s gonna be loopy for a while,” Mean Nurse says, handing me Nomi’s clothes. “Help her with the buttons, Junior.”
The nurse pulls the curtain closed around us, and the fact that the heart is a muscle has never been so clear to me.
Sitting in the waiting room, unable to see Nomi, unable to help or protect her, my heart clenched in worry, every beat an effort without knowing she was okay.
But now, as she leans forward on her bed to wrap her arms around my neck, my heart unclenches in degrees, like a fist prepared to fight for her finally allowed to relax.
“Oh, Nomi,” I whisper into her hair, almost drunk with relief that I have her in my arms, safe.
It gives me new perspective for all the patients’ families I had so little time and sympathy for.
“It’s just a procedure,” I can remember saying.
“The risk is less than two percent.” Two percent!
As if two times out of a hundred aren’t terrifying odds when faced with losing the person you love the most in this world.
The person who makes it all make sense for you.
Who makes you make sense to you. As if that wouldn’t be the most profound loss a person could experience.
God, I was such an idiot before I fell in love.
“How are you feeling?” I pull back enough to scan her beautiful face.
“Like I had the best nap of my life,” Nomi says dreamily. “And like I want to—” She leans toward my ear, as if she means to whisper, but says, quite loudly, “—fuck.”
She slides her parted lips over my earlobe, skating down the planes of my neck.
“Nomi, you have to stop giving me erections in medical environments.” I groan, running my hands gently down her back to the ties of her gown to undo them.
“Never!” She shimmies out of the gown, presenting herself topless like ta-da!
“I’ve got to get you dressed, now stop that.” I try to avert my eyes as Nomi runs her palms lightly over her breasts. I encase her quickly in her pajama shirt, and she wriggles suggestively. I give her my sternest tone. “Stop it.”
Her eyes dilate, excited.
Dammit, she likes my stern tone!
She looks down at the pajama prison I’ve wrapped her in, and her flirty face transforms into a giant awww! “You brought my lucky pajamas! How did you know?”
“They’re covered in Snoop Dogg and Martha Stewart faces.” I sniff, willing my erection to back off and read the goddamn room. “They’re objectively auspicious.”
“So smart.” She smiles, preening for me as she lets me button her up. “You’re my valedictorian, Julian D’Angelo.”
And fuck if I don’t swoon.
After I get Nomi dressed, we chat briefly with Dr. Rashad, Nomi’s new GI specialist who came highly recommended from my peers at Philly Gen.
She’s open-minded, focused on the latest research, and versed in many different approaches to treating IBD, not just the biologics route.
Dr. Rashad has been great so far and got Nomi in for a comprehensive combination colonoscopy and endoscopy within a week of Nomi’s call.
Seeing her sit attentively at Nomi’s side as she patiently reviews her preliminary findings with a clearly intoxicated woman makes me feel hopeful that Nomi will finally get the care she needs.
And if she doesn’t, I’ll be there to help her find the doctor who will.
“I’m surprised and impressed at the state of your colon,” Dr. Rashad says, which has to be the weirdest compliment I’ve ever heard.
“While there is inflammation suggesting that you’re in an active flare, for you to have had Crohn’s for so long and with so little long-term damage to the tissue is really miraculous.
” She smiles kindly at Nomi. “You’ve done a great job taking care of yourself, Nomi. ”
To Dr. Rashad’s credit, she only slightly flinches when Nomi throws her arms around her neck and tells her she loves her.
“I’ll follow up tomorrow with a full report after you sleep this off, okay?” Dr. Rashad turns to me. “Nomi may be uncomfortable as the anesthesia wears off. She should drink lots of fluids and rest. No major activities tonight.”
I blush furiously.
“There will be lots of gas,” Mean Nurse says as she reappears within our curtain. She smiles at me. “Lots.”
“Excuse me, but how far do you live from Sparrow Nook, New Jersey?” I rub my chin. “And would you be interested in a family clinic position?”
Mean Nurse scoffs. “You couldn’t afford me.” Then she leans in and says under her breath, “But my name’s Tonya Jones, and you can find me on NursePros. Be prepared to negotiate.” She claps me on the shoulder. “Get her home safely, Junior.”
In the car, Nomi leans her seat all the way back, then thrusts her bare feet onto my dashboard, letting them slide back and forth with every turn.
I let her, which is how I know I’ve truly evolved.
She uses the car’s voice command to call Eve, Graham, and then Eric, to his, frankly infuriating, delight.
“Nomi?” Eric’s voice echoes throughout my car, more pleased than he ever sounds to talk to me. “So, you are real!”
I hang up on him.
Before Nomi can call my mother, a call comes in from Veronica. Nomi hits the answer button on the console with her big toe. “Yessssss?”
“Babe!” Veronica sings, her Jersey accent filling the car. “How was the procedure?”
“Great!” Nomi announces happily, then places her hands on her belly and pushes experimentally. “I’ve got the farts.”
“Let ’em rip, girl. Julie won’t mind. Right, Julie?”
I clear my throat. “Is there a reason you called?”
“I just had a great meeting with the city manager. She feels terrible about the zoning snafu and has agreed to cancel the lease, no penalties, and return all your deposits. She’ll even prorate the September rent, so you only need to pay for however many weeks it takes to move out.
” Veronica’s voice has taken on the chipper tone of someone delivering best-case-scenario news when all the scenarios are heartbreaking.
“We can start looking for a new spot for the dispensary as soon as you’re done with the farts, babe. ”
Nomi’s pleasant smile flickers in and out, then disappears. “Great. Um. Any leads?”
I put my hand, palm up, on her leg. She takes it and squeezes.
“There’s an old vacant tire shop on the highway. Zoning is anything goes out there, and it gets great light. Weed covers up rubber smell, right?”
Nomi swallows. “Let’s see it. Monday, maybe?”
“You’ve got it, babe.”
The call disconnects, and Nomi turns to me, giving me a small, brave smile. “It’s going to be okay,” she says, though it feels more for her benefit than mine. All traces of the goofy, loopy Nomi are gone, and I hate that reality’s what sobered her up.
“It’s going to be great, because you’ll make it great.” I bring our joined hands to my mouth and kiss hers softly. “I can take half-days this week and help you pack up. You’ll be out in time for Labor Day.”
“After Labor Day.” Nomi’s real smile returns. “I wouldn’t give up my front-row seats for the Labor Day parade for anything.”
I cut my eyes back to her. “You’re not going to do anything embarrassing to me, are you?”
“Julian. You’re voluntarily driving a tiny red clown car while wearing a fez. I don’t have to do anything to embarrass you.”
“It’s in honor of Aunt Edna.” I sniff. “It’s the first Labor Day parade she’s ever missed driving for the Shriners. This way, she won’t have to.”
“It’s the best tribute imaginable. Super loose butthole of you, honestly.”
“Thank you.” Weird that that made me tear up, but in the year 2026, we feel our feelings.
“It’s really cool that the Shriners are letting you drive, and you’re not even a member.”
“So cool,” I lie. I haven’t told Nomi that in a fit of intense Edna nostalgia, I joined the Shriners chapter of Sparrow Nook, so that fez is mine.
Just like I haven’t told her that I’ve officially accepted Dr. Appa’s offer, informed Philly Gen of my plans not to return, adopted BonBon, and asked Veronica to find me a house.
She probably called to update me on my potential leads, which means I’ll have to secretly call her back later.
It’s not that I’m afraid Nomi doesn’t want me here.
She’s working on opening up and trusting me as much I’m working on not yelling at Carl, which shows just how invested she is in this relationship.
It’s more that I want to show her, and maybe also myself, that I’m listening to my heart for once, and this is what my heart wants.
I want to play beer pong with my cousins.
I want to be Nico’s cool uncle. I even want to smoke joints on the porch with my mother and feed my dog ham chunks.
I want to be there for Mr. Gutierrez for the long haul, and I want to love my job because of how it makes me feel instead of enduring it for validation I could never give myself. I’m making the decision to stay for me.
I will tell Nomi, though. Soon. And then, I’ll ask her a question of my own.