Chapter 21
Erin had to go all the way down to the front desk to ask for Nell's room number, then ride the elevator back up and get off two floors below her and Mia's, and now she's standing in front of the door with her hand raised, not knowing what she'll say when she sees her.
"You don't need to knock."
Nell's voice reaches her from down the hall, and Erin spins around to find the woman walking toward her.
"Hey," she whispers, and Nell notices her slightly reddened eyes.
"You want to talk in my room, or would you rather do it at the bar over a drink?" she offers.
"Your room. With a drink?"
"Done."
The tour's production manager swipes her key card and pushes the door open.
Erin likes her room better than her own—it's smaller, and the sheer size of the suite she's staying in always makes her feel a little uncomfortable.
This one has just the bed, a private bathroom, a desk, and a pair of armchairs practically wedged under the window.
"Sit wherever you want. What do you feel like drinking?" Nell asks, the minibar door already open.
"Anything's fine," Erin answers without turning around, staring at her hands.
Nell grabs a bottle of whiskey and pours two generous glasses.
"Want me to ask for ice?" she asks as she sits down in the other armchair.
"No, this is fine."
The doctor doesn't even like whiskey—in fact, she doesn't like any alcohol—but right now she needs it, so she'll take whatever Nell puts in front of her.
"I'd ask if you're okay, but with those eyes and that worn-out look, I'm guessing you're not," Nell says, direct as ever. "What's going on? Is it your sister?"
"No, it's not about Brooke."
"Then who is it about?"
"Me." Erin exhales and looks down at the glass. She just took a sip and it tastes awful, but the burn in her throat and chest feels oddly comforting, so she takes another.
"Okay." Nell settles back in her chair. "What's wrong?"
"I don't recognize myself." Erin doesn't look at her; she's fixed her gray eyes on the amber liquid and can't pull them away, like she's hypnotized.
"Today I realized I don't know who I am when I don't have a role to fill.
When I'm not taking care of someone, I'm alone at home waiting for the time to pass until I have to go to work and do the only thing I know how to do. "
"You're Erin Dooley—a woman who's spent her whole life giving to others.
But right now, here with me, you're just Erin.
" The doctor finally looks up. "I don't know you all that well yet, but you don't strike me as someone without a self.
You strike me as someone who's lost and running on autopilot.
You have to start separating things, Dooley, and putting yourself first."
Erin blinks, confused.
"Start making yourself the priority. If you're not okay, you'll never be the best version of yourself. Think about what you want and what you need."
"I don't know what that is, Nell," she cuts in, frustrated.
"Yes, you do, Doctor. The problem is you've never made yourself a priority.
Everyone wants something—some people take it, others ignore it, and the rest don't know how to get it.
You're in the middle group, because you think what you want doesn't matter, and it should be the most important thing in your life. "
Erin looks at her, then back down at the liquid in her glass. She's not so sure she knows what she wants, but she has to admit she's always put everyone else ahead of herself.
"Do you like your job?" Nell asks.
"Yeah, I guess so."
"That answer doesn't count, honey—either you like it or you don't. Take your time."
The doctor tries to do as she's told, but right now she's counting how many different ways Nell has addressed her so far. By the time she gives up keeping track, she focuses on the question and spends over two minutes in silence—silence Nell respects without interrupting or pushing her.
"I like it, and I'm good at it. I'm really good in the ER."
"But?"
"I don't enjoy the rest of it—the hospital, I mean. Everyone knows me, but I don't feel connected to anyone, and most of the time I feel like I'm just someone who haunts the hallways without anyone really seeing me," she admits, surprised to hear herself say it.
"Good, we're getting somewhere." Nell nods. "So now we know that part of your job doesn't make you feel comfortable. Which part does?"
"The work I do with MediSupport—the company that brings me in as medical support for events.
Every time they hire me it's to go somewhere new, where there are new people and I can introduce myself as the woman I am now, not the hospital ghost. And I have Barry, my partner.
I feel comfortable with him. He makes me laugh with his terrible jokes, and the hours fly by when we're on duty together.
I like covering those events where I don't know if I'll have to step in, and if I do, having to react without knowing exactly what happened. "
"Like what happened with Mia," Nell says.
"Exactly. I had to work with whatever little I'd managed to figure out on my own.
At the hospital there's always a handoff—someone tells me what happened before the patient even arrives.
With Mia, I had no idea if it was a faint from exhaustion, from being high, or something more serious.
That shot my adrenaline through the roof and made me feel like I was actually useful. "
"So now we know a little more about you. You're not a woman without a self—you're a woman who thrives on fast action and thinking on her feet."
Erin goes rigid and blinks, struck, because she realizes—yet another thing she's discovering today—that her life has always felt flat and predictable.
Every morning she's woken up knowing exactly what she had to do, knowing exactly how her day would start and end.
When she works with Barry, she knows how it starts but never how it ends.
"Do you have hobbies?"
"I like to read."
"Just reading? Don't you like to travel?
Or a good movie at the theater, museums, the opera—I don't know, Erin, there are a thousand things.
Me, for example, I like collecting mugs.
I buy one in every city I visit. I love going out for a walk, wandering the streets at my own pace, reading at night in bed, or having breakfast on the terrace.
I also prefer live theater to movies, I hate Asian food, and I go crazy for good tacos and a beer.
Those are the things I enjoy now. What do you enjoy? "
Erin smiles—a small one that comes out more as a breath through her nose.
"I think beyond reading and wearing cargo pants"—she points to one of her legs—"I don't really have any other hobbies. I've never been to the theater. Movies don't get me out of the house, because if I want to watch something, I do it at home with a huge bowl of popcorn and a soda."
"So you like watching movies at home while you eat popcorn."
Erin laughs.
"Yeah, I guess so."
"Like I said before—you need to get out more and make the effort to meet people. What about women? Or do you go for men too?"
"No, just women."
"And?"
"I don't know, Nell." Erin raises a hand to her hair, and the production manager watches her twist a strand between her fingers.
"Let's try a different approach. What kind of woman are you attracted to? Tall, short, brunette, blonde…"
Erin laughs again and then tugs at her hair, thinking.
"Blonde or light-haired, and I've always been drawn to women shorter than me. They have to be more outgoing, because it's pretty obvious I'm not, and direct—because none of that comes naturally to me, and if I end up with someone like me, dates are a disaster."
"So we already know part of what you want in a woman beyond looks: someone who isn't afraid to ask for what she wants or say what she thinks. What else? Think, Doctor—we're still at the surface."
The answer comes so fast it surprises her.
"Someone who doesn't need me. Who isn't with me just because of that. Someone who looks at me and doesn't just see the doctor."
Mia's blue eyes surface in her mind again.
She has that gaze burned into her: the look on her face when she stared up at her after waking from the collapse, disoriented and scared, and every single time she's looked at her since—as if she sees something in her that even Erin can't see.
Her pulse picks up, because Mia doesn't look at her that way out of need.
The singer could snap her fingers and have another doctor at her side whenever she wanted.
She looks at her that way because she wants something else from her—something Erin still doesn't know if she can give.
"That one matters," Nell says. "And I hope it's clear to you now who you are.
In my opinion, you're a woman who's tired of giving without receiving, of living for others without living for yourself—someone who never learned how to ask for what she needed because she thought it was secondary, that it didn't matter.
" The production manager leans forward. "From now on, get it through your head that the most important thing in your life is you.
Find your happiness, Erin. And when you do, decide which people around you deserve a piece of your time. "
Erin swallows. She knows Nell is talking about her sister, and she also knows she's right about all of it. She needs to start putting herself first, and she's willing to do it—even if she doesn't know exactly where to start or whether she'll be able to pull it off.
"Thank you, Nell."
"Thank you for trusting me, honey. You going to finish that?" The woman nods at Erin's glass, which she hasn't touched again and is just holding loosely in her hand.
"No," she says, leaning forward to hand it over.
Nell sets her empty glass on the floor beside the armchair and takes a long sip from Erin's.
"That was a good conversation," she says, satisfied.
"And I hope you don't forget it. That every time you think you don't know who you are, you remind yourself that you're a very interesting, intelligent, attractive, and young woman.
Don't waste your life, Erin. You've already spent too many years giving yourself away—it's time to start living for yourself. "
"I know. And I will." Erin plants her hands on the armrests and stands up.
"What are you doing?" Nell's look is so pointed that Erin freezes.
"You are not leaving here without telling me what's going on with Mia.
I'm no psychic, but the two of you radiate so much sexual tension whenever you're in the same room that it's hard to miss.
Well—Noah probably has no idea unless Mia tells him, because that boy lives in his own little cloud.
" Nell makes a gesture, lifting her hand toward the ceiling, and Erin sits back down, cracking up.
"I like Noah," she says, crossing a leg to rest her ankle on her knee.
"Everybody likes that boy. He's a sweetheart, and I hope he finds someone just as good someday—but we're not here to talk about Noah."
Erin curves a smile and looks at her.
"I don't know what you want me to say, Nell. Whatever's happening with Mia has me completely confused."
"But you like her."
"Yeah, I think so."
Nell raises an eyebrow.
"Okay, yes. I like her."
"Better. And what are you going to do about it?"
Erin closes her eyes for a moment and shakes her head.
"I have no idea, seriously. Out of everything I've figured out today, one of the most important things is that I don't know her. I haven't bothered to get to know her this whole time. I decided who Mia was instead of finding out whether any of it was true."
"Then you do know what you need to do."
Erin's laugh is deep and loosens something in her, like she's shedding weight with every breath she lets out.
"You're right."
"Of course I am, Dooley. Now you can go." She makes a shooing gesture toward the door, amused, and Erin lets out another laugh as she stands, facing the woman.
"I said it before, but thank you again, Nell."
"You know where to find me, Erin. Come to me whenever you need to."