FOUR
JACK
With my eyes still closed, I draw in a deep breath through my nose. My consciousness returns from another light sleep that can’t have been longer than an hour or two. I turn my head to a new source of light, and when my eyes open, they fall on the small window. The first daylight fills the room. I rub my forehead, trying to get rid of the last remnants of the earlier headache before checking the time on my phone: seven a.m.
My entire body is tense, and my shoulders make an unpleasant crunching sound when I roll them back. I need a massage.
I scoff. Yeah, right. Like that’s ever gonna happen.
My gaze wanders through the small room, and I only now notice the note on the bedside table. I must have fallen into a deep enough sleep because I don’t recall anyone coming in and placing it there, along with another sandwich and a peach. I grab the note and run my thumb over the neat handwriting.
In case you’re hungry next time someone wakes you up. E.
I place the note beside me on the bed and pick up the peach. I take in its rich and sweet scent and immediately think of her.
E . Emma.
I should curse the woman who convinced me to stay the night at this hospital and woke me up what felt like every fucking half hour to check my vitals. But I don’t. The opposite is true. I only stayed to do her a favor because she stirred something deep inside me. It’s been so long since I thought a woman looked stunning, but I felt just that about her and her honey-blonde hair and ice-blue eyes.
When the door opens, I expect Emma to walk in, but her shift must have ended because a different nurse enters the room. Tall, brunette, mile-long legs, and even in her scrubs, you can tell she has a nice rack.
See? That’s what I usually think about women when I look at them. Not that I’m proud of it.
“Good morning, Mr. Boyd.” She greets me with a broad smile, but hers is nothing like Emma’s.
What the fuck? Did I really just think that? Man, I must have hit my head harder than I thought.
“I’m Tamara. Good thing you’re already up so I don’t have to wake you. How are you?” She’s still smiling at me like a fucking fairy when she comes up to my bed and puts the blood pressure cuff around my arm.
“Good,” is all I tell her while she takes my pulse and shines that annoying little light into my eyes, which leaves me blinded for a few seconds.
“All good here. I’ll be back in two hours, and if everything is fine, you can go home.” She smiles at me again, and by now, I’m sure she’s flirting with me.
“Great.” I don’t even bother trying to be nice because I’m more than glad when she finally stops touching me and leaves. Once she’s gone, I instantly relax, and with a deep and long sigh, I drop onto the bed, staring at the ceiling.
I can do another two hours. Two hours of silence .
Only it’s not silent in my head. The unease from yesterday is back, and I still can’t determine its source. To mute my thoughts, I scroll through my phone, and it works until my stomach rumbles, so I grab the sandwich and take a huge bite.
Not thinking about Emma.
As promised, I’m good to go two agonizing hours later, and Paul and his girlfriend, Tessa, come to pick me up, along with his Golden Retriever, Hank. After the doctor tells me to take it easy for a couple of days and what symptoms to watch out for, we head to Paul’s car.
Tessa turns to me. “How was your night?”
“Ugh,” I grunt. “Didn’t get much sleep.”
“I was shocked when you agreed to stay,” Paul says.
“What other choice did I have? I was feeling off, and going home alone and dying of a possible brain bleeding didn’t sound appealing.”
“You could have stayed at our place.” Tessa narrows her eyes at Paul. “Why didn’t you offer that to your best friend?”
I laugh. “That’s nice, but I didn’t want Paul to pass on all the sex he claimed he was gonna have because he had to take care of his poor, injured friend.”
Tessa gasps and hits Paul’s shoulder. “Sex? Who with? Because it wasn’t with me. ”
Paul raises a single eyebrow at her. “Whose side are you on?”
Tessa shakes her head and turns back to me. “What about tonight? Are you okay on your own, or do you want to stay with us? Because there sure won’t be any sex.”
I laugh at Paul’s stunned expression. “Thanks, Tessa. That’s nice, but I’ll be fine.”
Once we reach Paul’s car, I get in the back with Hank, who lies next to me and rests his head on my leg. I smile and pat his fur, enjoying one of the few ways I tolerate actual body contact with a living creature. Animals are fine, and even an occasional hug from my four-year-old niece doesn’t bother me too much. It’s the grown-ups I have a problem with.
Tessa, who sits in front, turns back to me. “By the way, we’re celebrating Paul’s birthday at Anna’s house.”
“Uh, really?” I frown. “That’s too bad.”
“What is?” Paul squints at me through his rearview mirror.
“I don’t think your sister will approve of my present.”
“Which is?”
“You remember what you gave me for my thirtieth birthday last year?”
“Yeah,” he says, and I could punch his face for his amused tone. He might be my best friend, but he overstepped.
“Tessa, has Paul ever told you that story?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t think so, no.”
“Please, Paul, do tell. ”
Paul bites his lips. “I got Jack a stripper,” he tells her.
Tessa gasps. “You did not!”
“Yes, I did. Jack freaked out, but he didn’t want to hurt her feelings, so he endured the lap dance she gave him. So much fun.”
“You are unbelievable.” Tessa smacks Paul’s arm before turning to me. “Wow, Jack, that must have been horrible for you.”
Usually, all my friends accept that I avoid any kind of physical contact, which I am glad about, but sometimes, Paul can be a pain in the ass. I know he means no harm and wants me to get over my strange behavior, but with that stripper, he went over the top.
“So what’s your present for me then?” Paul asks.
“It’s only fair I return the favor.”
“Excuse me? You’re getting him a stripper?” Tessa spins around and raises her eyebrows at me.
“Yeah, why not? A male stripper, though.”
Tessa blinks at me, opening and closing her mouth before bursting out laughing while Paul gasps. “You wouldn’t dare!”
“You should have listened to Henry. He told you not to do it, and now you’ll have to face the consequences.”
“Ah damn.” Tessa can hardly speak during her laughing fit. “That’s—the—best idea—ever! I’d—love that!”
Paul glares at her. “Again, whose side are you on?” He shakes his head and mumbles, “Good thing I love you.”
“Who? Me?” I call from the back seat, smirking .
“Yes, Jack, you,” he says. “Because everybody loves you and your sweet nature.”
I flip him off, still smirking, before scratching Hank behind his ear. “You love me, boy, don’t you?”
Hank lifts his head and answers me with an enthusiastic wag of his tail.
That night, I sit on my couch alone, like so often.
Most of the time, I enjoy solitude. I also love spending time with my friends. I love making music with Paul and Henry. Paul has been my best friend for over twenty years. We grew up together, and he probably knows me like no other.
When we both moved to New York from our hometown, Boston, we were fortunate to meet Henry, who fit in perfectly with us. Now, the three of us play at an Irish pub every Friday night, attracting a wider audience each week. Our gigs are my escape. After a long week of work and other stress, I look forward to sitting behind my drum kit and letting it all out.
As a teenager, I loved hanging out with my friends—and girls. But what happened over ten years ago changed everything. Today, being around many people is challenging, especially now that our circle of friends is continually growing. It started with Ben, who is a good friend of Paul’s. There’s Ben’s fiancée, Amy, and their baby girl. Then there’s Lauren, Henry’s girlfriend .
Not too long ago, Paul found his other half, Tessa, and more often than not, Tessa’s best friend, Ava, also joins us.
I find myself having to explain to more and more people that I hate to be touched—although I like them. That particularly includes hugs and pecks on the cheek. Luckily, they’re all okay with it without asking too many questions. I see it on their faces, though.
And I saw it on Emma’s face last night.
I should work on my issues. I’ve tried. I’ve tried so hard, but it was futile, even with all my therapy sessions. And some days, I hate it more than others.
On a day like this, for example. When I meet someone I want to get to know better but can’t—when I find myself drawn to a woman, and not in the only for a one-night stand - kind of way.
I rise from the couch with a heavy sigh and walk into the kitchen to grab a drink from the fridge. Unfortunately, it’s a Coke. I’d love to drown my thoughts in some beer, but the doctor advised me to refrain from drinking alcohol. So I have to listen to more of my inner monologue.
Welcome to my fucked up mind.