Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
SHANE
Ihave no idea if Dr. Gavin Shaw is actually a good physician or not, but he’s oddly paternal and has a really cool Scottish accent. Since I take very little advantage of the SAG-AFTRA Health Plan myself, that was a good enough reason to select him as my primary care physician.
When I came to see him about the insomnia after I got back from Maine, he brought up the possibility of sending me to a sleep clinic if things didn’t improve.
Obviously, that’s not going to happen, but back then I was willing to try anything.
Back then, Nico’s little sister was just a faint, quirky memory.
Back then, all kinds of thoughts about all kinds of things kept me awake at night.
Now, all other thoughts have fallen away when I’m in bed and all that’s left is Willa.
“Well, yer thyroid test results came back normal, yer blood pressure is excellent today, and ya look jes’ great, Shane Miller, much better than the last time, eh?”
“Better, yes. Things got worse and then a lot better, and now it’s… I don’t know what it is now.”
“All right, well,” he says, flicking at his beard while reading my sleep diary entries, “let’s have a look here… Uh-huh… Mmhmm… Exercise. Hah! Indeed… Mmhmm… ‘Relief.’ Interestin’, innit?… Lavender, you say? Essential oils. Great. Fantastic stuff.”
“You think that stuff works?”
“Aye. I think anythin’ works if it works, right?”
“Sure.”
“Read a book. Have a pint. Smoke a wee bit of skunk—what have you… Guilt? Not so much. Guilt never works for anyone. Fuck guilt.”
“Easier said than done.”
“Fuck it and be done with it.”
“Okay.”
“Uh-huh… New nanny.” He grins up at me. “Very nice. Good… ‘Dickhead.’ Ach! Come on. You’re very, very hard on yourself—much too hard on yourself, boy. You worry about your kids?”
“Of course I do.”
“Let me tell you—bein’ a parent, jes’ like bein’ human, is all about makin’ mistakes.
Huge ones, little ones. I once forgot my children in the car at the mall for two hours.
But guess what? They were fine. They didn’t realize I’d gone until the battery died on their—what do ya call it—the wee game thing. The old ones.”
“Game Boy.”
“Aye. You know when kids worry? When they see their parents worry.” He slaps the pages of my sleep diary.
“So…let me get this straight… See if I can read between the lines here… New nanny at home.” He gives me the thumbs up.
“Relief. The right kind of exercise.” He winks at me. “Everything’s grand. Sleep is good.”
“Basically, yes.”
“Fuck things up with the new nanny?” He points his thumbs down. “Everything goes to shit. Sleep’s shit. Mood’s shit.”
“In a nutshell, sure.”
“So. Don’t fuck things up with the new nanny.”
“It’s a little more complicated than that.”
“Yeah? How so?”
“She’s my best friend’s little sister.”
“And?”
“And she’s my kids’ nanny now. They love her. If I screw things up with her, I might screw things up for them too. I might screw things up with my friend.”
He stares at me for a few seconds. “Forgot to check somethin’.
Hang on.” He reaches over and sticks his hand under my balls.
I’m wearing jeans and he is a doctor, but what the fuck?
“Whaddya know. Ya still got ‘em.” He yanks his hand away. “Had me worried there for a minute. Anythin’ might screw everythin’ up.
Live your life. You only get this one. It doesn’t have to be perfect.
Set things straight with the nanny and be done with it. ”
“That’s it? That’s your professional medical opinion?”
“Whatever works, lad. For me—if I might share a wee bit of my own life with you.” He leans forward, lowering his voice.
I nod, warily, as I cross my legs in a totally manly way so he doesn’t try to grab my nut sac again.
“I been married to the same woman for twenty-five years, God bless her soul, and whenever I’m tossin’ and turnin’ in bed, keepin’ her up at night…
she’ll jes’ reach over and give me a nice slow tug on the old knob.
Nothin’ too excitin’ you understand, jes’ a nice slow tug to get me off and we’re done.
Simple as that. A bonnie lass and a good handy and you’re all set to conquer sleep and the world…
Now…” He claps his hands together. “When’s the next Shane Miller picture comin’ to a theater near me? ”
“I’ve got a big Melissa McCarthy comedy coming out in a couple of months and then a little independent film coming out hopefully not long after that.”
“Nothin’ too artsy-fartsy, I hope.”
“Not at all. I’m really excited about it.” Everyone’s a critic.
“Excellent. Off ya go.”
Yeah.
I still don’t know if Dr. Gavin Shaw is a good physician or not, but off I go.
When I get to my car, I find myself initiating a call that I hadn’t planned to make before my doctor’s appointment, but now it seems like the only call to make.
“Hey, superstar.” Nico looks surprised to see that I made it to the restaurant before he did, and rightly so. It’s happened maybe once before since I moved to the Palisades.
We bro-hug. His leather jacket has the vague scent of bars and some kind of incense and the perfume of dozens of women.
I’m so much more aware of smells now because of Willa.
In my peripheral vision, I can see the hostess and a couple of waitresses whispering to each other and giggling about us.
I’m hoping that this kind of recognition and attention, if not our thirteen-year friendship, is what will prevent Nico from flipping our table at some point during brunch.
But I’m also ready for anything, now that I’ve made a decision.
We shoot the shit and order an early lunch and a beer for each of us, catching up. I ask him about his Grammie; he asks about my mom. The usual. Until finally, he asks, “How’s Willa working out for you?”
“Really well. The twins love her. She’s shockingly great with them. And she’s just nice to have around.”
“Good.” He watches me while taking a pull on his beer.
There’s a long, strange silence that can only be filled with a sigh and four words: “I’m falling for Willa.”
He lowers the bottle from his mouth. “What?”
“I really like your sister. A lot. I’m falling in love with her.”
He slams the beer bottle on the table. “What?”
“How many times do you want me to say it?”
He continues to stare at me, incredulous. “Zero. What? Since when?”
“Since I met her, I guess. At Erewhon, I mean. Maybe since the first time, in some weird way, I don’t know.”
“Willa?”
“Your sister, Willa, yes. Are you clear on who we’re talking about now?”
I watch his hands, which are balling up into fists while he processes this. He shakes his head and raises one hand to his temple. “I don’t even… It never even… I don’t know why it didn’t… I didn’t think she was your type.”
“She wasn’t. I mean. She isn’t a type. She’s amazing.”
Nico studies my face, and I don’t know what kind of expression I have, but it’s obviously telling him what he doesn’t want to hear. He covers his eyes. “You had sex with my sister.” He groans. “I’ve never met one of her guys before. I can’t. Ugh. Why would you do that?”
I’m arching an eyebrow at him when he finally manages to look at me again.
“Don’t answer that. I feel sick.”
“Do you really?”
“I don’t know. I know I’m being an immature little shit, but this is weird.”
“If you’re pissed off, I get it. I just can’t change how I feel about her. I tried. Anyway, she’s pissed at me. I get that too. But I wanted to tell you, before I…try to make it work with her.”
“Why is she pissed at you?”
“Do you really want to know?”
“Not really.”
“She basically gave me an ultimatum.”
“She did? That doesn’t sound like her.”
“Not in a shitty, manipulative way. She just told me what she wants. She’s cool. She’s really, really cool.”
“Wow, you really like her, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“Does Margo know?”
“No. Fuck, no.”
“Dude.”
“I know. I mean. I don’t know—Margo likes her too, I think. I can’t even think about that yet. I just know what I want. I want Willa. And I want you to be okay with that.”
“What’ll you do if I’m not okay with it?”
I shrug. “Wait for you to come to your fucking senses but do what I’m gonna do anyway.”
He laughs. “Fair enough.” He holds his hand out across the table for me to shake. “You got balls. Thanks for telling me. Treat her right.”
“It’s all I want to do.”
“Just how serious are you? You better not be fooling around—if this is just a fling to you…”
“It’s not. I mean, it’s early days. But I don’t know if I could ever get enough of her.”
“Oh God. She kissed your fucking hand.” He covers his face, shaking from laughter. “I just remembered that.”
I can’t stop smiling, now that I’m thinking about her out in the open. “She’s full of surprises.”
He throws his head back. “Fuck, this sucks ass. Part of me wants to high-five you for banging the nanny, and part of me wants to punch you in the balls for banging my sister.”
“I feel your pain.”
“Are you gonna tell the kids?”
“Not for a while. I don’t even know what there is to tell at this point, other than ‘Daddy’s hot for Willa so if you hear noises when we’re in a room together, don’t come in.’”
He groans again.
“The thing is, man, I realized I’ve had insomnia off and on ever since I decided to marry Margo.
I don’t regret it, and obviously I’m glad everything happened the way it did because of the kids, but…
on some level I was afraid I was making a mistake.
Marrying Margo. And then worrying that because of the way my life was going that I’d never have the real thing with a woman. But when Willa’s around…”
“You can sleep at night?”
“I can sleep whenever I want to.”
I would never in a million years expect Nico to cry or even tear up unless he had to for a scene, but his face is contorting with some kind of emotional intensity that I’ve never seen from him before.
He’s holding his breath, and when he finally exhales, he punches his chest a couple of times.
“That’s some lyric-worthy shit, my friend. ”
“Christ, you aren’t going to write a song about us, are you?”
“I gotta go where the muse takes me.”
“Well, then, I’m happy if this inspires yet another ballad that will get you ridiculous amounts of pussy and royalties for years to come.”
He holds up his beer bottle to clink with mine. “To family and friends and pussy and royalties and sleeping whenever you want to.”
“And having balls.”
“And having massive, good guy balls…that my sister has probably had her hands on—fuck.”
“We don’t have to talk about this anymore.”
“I’d be cool with never talking about this again.”
“My balls, or me and Willa?”
“Let’s just never refer to your balls and Willa in the same sentence ever again.”
“Done.”
And that is why Nico Todd is my best friend.
And also why I will secretly be thinking about Willa’s hands on my balls for the next hour.