“After my parents …” Her smile faded, and she slipped a mile away into her own thoughts. “Christmas is just a really lonely time for me. Probably not first date conversation.”
I realized I was right, and it felt like all the blood had drained from my face. “Fuck, I’m sorry.” She waved me away, dismissing my apology. “How about, um … how about before?”
“My mom was Jewish. The kids at school used to go on and on about their tree. Maybe I was a little jealous,” she confessed. She pressed her lips together, but then her laughter escaped and echoed throughout the salvage yard.
It was contagious, and soon my cheeks hurt from smiling so much.
I opened my mouth to ask more questions, but the movie began, and we both turned our attention to the makeshift screen. I lay back, propped on my elbows as Avery sank down on her side and pulled the cellophane from her plate. Her eyes danced over the homemade apple pie before her smile stretched from ear to ear. She kept weird hours like me, and being single, that meant a lot of TV dinners and takeout.
“Thank you for this.” She took a bite and hummed in satisfaction. I’d never seen a woman quite so beautiful as Avery sitting on a worn sheet in the middle of a junkyard, looking perfectly content.
“Quinn promised you a piece of his mom’s pie for a piece of ass. I thought it was only fair that you get to try it. Just make sure you return the plate or Quinn’s mom will kick my ass,” I joked.
She covered her mouth as she chewed and giggled, her laughter chiming along with the crickets’ chirping.
“Stop,” Deb demanded.
“I can’t help it.”
“Stop, or I’ll shave off all my body hair and mail it to you.”
I turned around in my chair, noticing her annoyed expression as she waited by the microwave. The break room was full of a strong medley of smells, none of them appetizing. I was chomping on my PB & J and apple slices, the only thing in my cabinets that would keep until lunch. Deb was heating up what looked like a plastic replica of broccoli, chicken, mashed potatoes, and gravy, and Michaels was sipping on a Diet Coke in the corner.
I hadn’t seen outside in over an hour, but the last time I’d looked, the sky was dark and rain was soaking the parking lot and pouring off the awning that hung over the ambulance bay like a waterfall. I wondered if Josh was working out in the weather, and if he would feel like seeing me after being out in the muggy wet all day.
“I can see you thinking about him,” Deb said in an accusatory tone.
“He’s helping me with a car.” My frown turned into a wide grin. “Who does that? I’m going to have transportation again in a month, maybe two. Until then—”
“You dirty little slut,” Deb said, sitting across from me at one of the five round tables in the west break room. The wallpaper reminded me of Step-Down and waking up after the accident. That only made me think of Josh more. I was annoying myself.
She leaned in like I was going to reveal a juicy secret. “That’s why you didn’t call me for a ride. He took you to work today, didn’t he?”
“I … none of your business.”
“Road head?”
My face screwed into disgust, and I peeked over at Michaels. She was pretending not to eavesdrop, but everyone knew she had been one of the first nurses in the department to welcome Josh to Philadelphia … with her vagina. “Deb. Jesus.”
She rolled her eyes. “How did I befriend such a prude? At least a good-night kiss?”
“No.”
“No?” Her voice went up an octave. “Give me something. You’re boring me to death. I can’t even have a decent sex life vicariously through you.”
“What about you and Quinn? Did he call?” I asked, hoping she’d change the subject.
“Maybe,” she said. It was a pitiful segue into a detailed reproduction of their phone call, complete with inappropriate jokes and innuendo. The longer she talked, the more I knew they were made for each other.
In truth, I was glad I didn’t have to recount the last moments of my night with Josh. Deb wouldn’t have understood, anyway. It had been wonderful, and quiet, and exciting, and from the moment we left until he walked with me to the stoop of my apartment building, a million butterflies had burst from their cocoons and fluttered around in my entire body, hairline to toe polish. In one night, Josh Avery had transformed from the hospital hustler into what I had been waiting for. We hadn’t had time to kiss because we’d hugged, his cheek had touched mine, and words had tumbled out of his mouth like he couldn’t keep them in any longer. Seven words that would change everything.
I need to see you again. Tomorrow.
I’d said yes, and then he’d turned around, got in his car, and pulled away. He had seemed just as surprised by his request as I had been. When I’d finally processed what had happened, his brake lights had already turned the corner.
Josh hadn’t said he wanted to see me. Anyone could say that, and it would be sweet. No, he needed to see me, just like he’d needed to say it before it burst out of him like water from a broken levy.
“So,” Deb said, “I told him he was a narcissist. I could shart on stage at the Merriam Theater in front of the entire hospital board and it would somehow be about him. But I dunno, I kind of like it,” Deb said, resting her chin on her hand.
“Romantic,” I said.
“Speaking of romantic, did you fuck him?”
“Deb!”
“Spill it!”
“No,” I said through my teeth. Thankfully, Michaels was only on her fifteen-minute break and on her way out.