Chapter Seven
CHAPTER SEVEN
NATALIE
T he closest urgent care that would take my out-of-network insurance was over an hour away in Waikiki. I pulled up in the parking lot and hopped out of the jeep, grabbing my crossbody bag. My cheek that had taken the stinger had swollen overnight, so I had thrown on blue-checkered Vans, a coral t-shirt, gray board shorts, and pulled my hair into a messy knot at the nape of my neck, before jumping in the jeep without a second thought. My stomach growled as I headed into the lobby, and I promised myself once I figured out what was going on, I’d find something to eat. I wondered if I would wither away before making it back to Bob’s.
The receptionist at the front desk took my insurance card and gave me a clipboard with paperwork to fill out, motioning for me to take a seat in one of the waiting room’s standard vinyl chairs. For a Monday afternoon, the room was surprisingly full of patients waiting to be seen, and I grabbed the last available seat.
Lost in thought while answering the questions, I almost didn’t hear my name.
“Natalie?”
I stood as I signed the forms, then looked up, expecting to see a medical assistant waiting to take me back. Instead, I saw my new friend standing in front of me, a look of surprise on his face.
“Joel.” Immediately, I put my hand over my cheek. “It looks awful, doesn’t it?”
“What?” He closed the gap between us as the other patients didn’t even try to hide their eavesdropping. “Not at all. I’m surprised to see you here.”
My hand dropped to the strap of my bag as I grinned. “That makes two of us.”
I didn’t hide it as my eyes checked him out. Seeing professional Joel, dressed up in dark gray chino pants and a light blue button up with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, versus the Joel I had created in my head after our weekend of hanging out, was fun. I liked getting a glimpse into this new side of him. It made me wonder about all the other aspects of his life I didn’t know.
Before we could say much more to one another, my name was called by a medical assistant. I gathered all my things and said goodbye, bummed our time was cut short. There was a mirror right by the hallway to the exam rooms, and I saw my reflection again.
I furrowed my brow, turned to Joel, pointed to my face, and let out a chuckle. “Seriously. Know anybody else to have this kind of luck?”
“Nope.” He shook his head and gave a small wave as the door closed behind me.
Half an hour later, with a prescription slip in hand, I made my way to the lobby to checkout. There, across the room, sitting in a chair and scrolling through his phone, was Joel. My heart leaped at the sight of him still being at the clinic. Quickly, I rationalized that he probably was catching up on some administrative work in the air conditioning, and his presence was in no way tied to me.
He glanced up and crossed to where I was. “Hey.” Concern was written all over his face.
“You’re still here.” It came out almost accusatory. I immediately got mad at myself for the tone and tried again. “I mean, I assumed you’d be long gone by now.”
The billing clerk handed me a receipt and wished me a good day. Joel held open the door, and we walked out together into the warm parking lot. Sounds of the city whirled around us. The noise of cars, mopeds, buses, tourists.
“I should be somewhere else, but I just wanted to make sure you were all right,” he admitted.
A large smile crossed my face despite my attempts to play indifferent. “Yes, I am. Turns out, bee stings can have moderate reactions that take hours to display fully. Don’t be jealous, but I get to have this beautiful welt for the next day or two. I also got a prescription for a stronger Benadryl that I now need a pharmacy to fill. Would you happen to know where the closest one is?”
“Believe it or not, there is a pharmacy on the ground floor of my building,” he said. “Leave your car here, and I’ll take you.”
There was no way anybody was this nice all the time. Before I could overthink it too much, I internally determined he was only trying to be helpful. If the roles were reversed, I would want to help him out too. That thought got dashed quickly in recognizing that sitting in the lobby was a lot more than being helpful. Maybe he wanted to spend time with me after all.
Joel opened the passenger door for me before getting in the driver’s seat and navigated his way through the city with ease. I watched as we sped past the art museum and University of Hawaii. Before long, we pulled into the parking lot of an older, towering apartment complex.
“This is a great location.” I climbed out of his car, looked around, and couldn’t believe he got to see all of this every day. Waikiki Beach was a block south, and he was on the outskirts of the busiest parts of the city, with the zoo to his east and Diamond Head beckoning close by. “I have got to see the view from your windows.”
He chuckled. “Reserve your opinion until after you see my place. I need to grab something for work and then we’ll run your script down to the pharmacy.”
The elevator opened to the eighth floor, and he led me to his door at the end of the hallway. “Home sweet home.”
He motioned me to step inside first. I found myself in a very small studio apartment with a tiny but sleek kitchen immediately inside the door to the right. His counters were immaculate, giving the impression he didn’t eat there often. There was a small table with two chairs pushed up against a wall. On the table was his laptop and a lone sill snake plant. To the left of me was a short hallway leading to the bathroom. On the other side of the hallway wall was the bedroom area that opened up right next to the kitchen. Beyond the bedroom was a balcony with views of the zoo and Diamond Head in the distance. His king-sized bed faced a mounted large flat screen TV with a narrow cabinet below. There was a comfy reading chair in the corner by the balcony and a side table with books stacked atop.
While I had given everything a once-over from my spot by the door, Joel rummaged around in what appeared to be the world’s smallest closet by the bathroom.
“I honestly love it,” I hoped I sounded as sincere as I felt.
“It’s not big, but it’s at the end of town I wanted, and this spot gets me to the rest of the island quickly.”
I nodded toward the kitchen. “Do you cook much?”
“Not since moving here. It’s not even because it’s small, but I don’t enjoy cooking for one.”
“Which explains why you have such an exhaustive list of favorite places to eat,” I realized aloud.
He nodded, then furrowed his brow. “Do you cook much?”
“Not if I can help it.” I pointed to myself. “High-maintenance, remember? Although I do make a mean crepe, thank you very much.”
“I like crepes,” he said. “What’s your place like?”
I mulled over my answer for a second. My apartment was easily three and a half times the size of his. It was waterfront on the Willamette River, a few blocks from work. When I bought it, the listing had boasted of two large bedrooms, two bathrooms, a deck that looked out on the skyline and sat between the Broadway and Fremont Bridges. Lots of room for socializing and hosting. It was airy and light and much newer than his place. “Bigger.”
He laughed that warm, happy laugh I liked so much. “That’s not hard.”
I finally moved from the front door area and wandered over to the bedroom to snoop at his book collection. I could feel his eyes on me as I touched the spines of each one, taking in the titles. He had a variety of historical fiction, thriller, and biography. My back toward him, a smile he couldn’t see crept on my face; it felt so intimate looking at what he enjoyed reading, what shaped his views and became an escape for him.
Turning around, my eyes swept across the wall that held his bed. Above the wooden inlay headboard was a large canvas photograph of him with a gorgeous redheaded woman on what appeared to be their wedding day with the Bixby Bridge at Big Sur in the background. He was in a tux, she was in a beautifully elegant and simple long-sleeved lace wedding dress. I whipped my head to where he was still standing.
With eyes bugged out as I asked, “Are you married?” Nothing about his place would indicate he lived with anybody. Maybe she was deployed. Maybe they had a long-distance relationship while he worked here. Maybe they were separated, but he was hopeful they’d reconcile.
His face fell. He again got that far-off look filled with sadness.
And then he hit me with what I wasn’t expecting to hear. “I was. She died two years ago in a car accident.”
Time paused. I stood there, mouth open, no words coming out. Even though his whole apartment was smaller than the bedroom I was currently staying in at the resort, the distance between us felt vast. Did he want me to ask questions? Could I ask questions? Did he want to talk about it? Did he want me to just share my condolences and excuse myself to go to the pharmacy? With how upset he looked, this was obviously still a very deep wound, and I swiftly realized I didn’t know how I fit into his narrative. I was really bad at these situations. I avoided uncomfortable moments at all costs.
But then I made a choice. For the second time in as many days, I did something uncharacteristic. Crossing the room in four steps, I put my hands on either side of his face, took a deep breath, and then wrapped my arms around him, holding onto him for dear life.
At first he didn’t move his arms from his side, but after a moment, he embraced me back. He held on just as tightly to me as I did to him. We didn’t say anything. We stood there, and eventually our breathing synced.
“I am so, so sorry,” I said next to his ear, the first to break the silence.
His voice was shaky and quiet. “Thank you.”
“What was her name?”
“Charlotte. But everybody she loved most called her Lottie.” I felt him swallow hard.
Still holding him tight and not able to see his face, I asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”
I felt him shake his head. “Not yet.”
“Want me to let go?”
He shook his head again and tightened his grip. I closed my eyes, and when I breathed him in, I noticed his woodsy floral scent from the first day. I don’t think I could ever get tired of that smell. Holding him and being held, even under the weight of this emotional discovery, made me realize how much had been missing from my relationship with Dane. I felt more emotionally connected to the man I barely knew than the one I had known for years. Had it always been that way? Had there ever been a time Dane and I could have had a moment like this—us against the world? Probably in the beginning. Perhaps even until the last two years when we let our lives spiral out of control.
Joel’s phone buzzing finally released our hold on one another. He pulled it from his back pocket and glanced at the caller ID. “I have to take this. I’m sorry.”
“You know what, I’ll head downstairs and take my prescription to the pharmacy,” I said and headed toward the door.
He nodded and stepped out onto his balcony to answer the call. I rode the elevator down to the street level and made my way past the row of retail stores to the little pharmacy. The tech behind the counter told me I could pick it up in two hours. Pulling up a ride share app, I was just about to order a car to take me back to the urgent care to get my car so Joel could head back to work when I ran into him outside his building’s entrance.
“Hey. Are they able to get that filled?” he asked.
“Yeah, but it’ll be a couple hours.”
He gave me a half smile like he had something up his sleeve.
“Perfect. Are you hungry? I know a great place around the corner. I’m starving, and I have a big question to ask you.”