Did someone say Adam’s name?
I push open the door of the first floor restroom and look around. There is a doctor by the door talking to himself. Man, they really need to give these people some time off. It’s starting to affect them.
And I have to stop obsessing over a guy who quite frankly doesn’t exist. Not in my life, anyway. Now I’m hearing things. Check me into the psych ward, stat.
After a tense car ride with Dad, I’m eager to seek an escape from my problems. Grandma isn’t getting better. Her insurance will only a cover a hospital stay for so long, and after that they’re recommending placing her in a nursing home. I can’t believe it. I never thought things would come to this.
And I’m not going to stand for it. If Grandma can’t stay in the hospital, then she should come home, end of story. I can take care of her better than any aide in a nursing home. But no, Dad isn’t hearing any arguments on the subject. The decision is made. In two days, Grandma is checking into the Shady Hill Home for Seniors. The only good thing is that it’s closer to home, only about five minutes away. I can even walk there if I have to.
But I’m worried about the big picture. What if Grandma continues to decline? What if she ends up dying in this nursing home? I can’t bring myself to picture such a scenario. The outlook is too bleak. What will I do without her? What will become of me?
Dad’s generosity only extends so far, and without Grandma in my corner, I have a bull’s-eye on my back. Who knows how long it’ll take for Dad to make good on his threat to kick me out for good?
Tears start streaming down my cheeks before I can stop them. I can’t break down. Not here, not now.
The elevator door opens, and Little Miss Perfect from the ER reception desk walks out. She does a double-take. “Oops, sorry, I didn’t see you there. I’m in a rush to get outta here…oh man, are you okay?” she asks. There is a glimmer of recognition in her eyes like she somehow remembers me from the waiting room a few weeks back.
“Yeah, thanks. I’m fine,” I cut her off, wanting to get away from her as fast as I can. She is looking at me like I’m this poor, pathetic, sniveling child. Well, I don’t need her pity, that’s the last thing I need.
I walk into the elevator and push the button for the fourth floor. As the door closes between us, I don’t look up. I keep looking down.
Leave it to Stacy to predict the future. We are slammed. From the minute I jog up to the ambulance, out of breath, the calls don’t stop coming. No extended coffee breaks today.
But it is a welcome relief to turn my mind off and focus solely on what I am required to do. The roads are pretty slick, and I have to take my time and focus despite the urgent nature of some of the cases.
There is a guy who suffered a heart attack. Tommy works his ass off and gets him breathing again. Charlie knows we have to get him to the hospital as soon as possible, but the driving conditions aren’t the best. “We don’t need four fatalities, kid. Take it easy, all right?” he says when he sees the speedometer go above sixty-five miles per hour. “One patch of ice and we’ll all end up in emergency.”
I know he’s right, but the adrenaline pumping through my veins is the part of the job I live for, that I crave. It makes me feel really and truly alive, like I’m not a bystander in someone else’s world. I’m an active participant changing destinies, saving lives.
By no means do I think I have any God-like abilities or some superhero power to save everyone who crosses my path. Trust me, we lose a lot of people despite our best efforts. And those days are tough, more than tough. But when things are going right and we are kicking ass, there’s no better feeling on Earth.
I pull into General’s unloading dock. Knowing that Katie might be in the building is killing me. At every chance, I tried to steer our course to General, but about five hours later this is the first attempt that succeeds. We usually have a little bit of a down time between calls, and I can’t wait to case the hallways to see if I might bump into her. If she’s still here…
“Adam, I’m gonna need you to stay on the rig and man the comm,” Charlie says. “It’s been crazy all day, and I don’t think we can afford to miss anything. Tommy and I are gonna be in and out with this guy. We won’t be long.”
“Ah, boss. Not even a bathroom break?” Tommy asks.
“Nope, not here. Maybe when we’re back on the road, we’ll hit Sammy’s Donuts or something. Let’s just see how it goes,” Charlie responds.
Fate refuses to cut me a break. Sometimes I think Charlie’s right. You don’t often get second chances, and the one I had I threw away. Serves me right. Maybe she won’t even remember me if I bump into her again. How embarrassing would that be?
But in my head, she knows me.
Oh, does she know me.
Fantasizing different scenarios with her is my new favorite pastime. I love imagining her with me in California, taking her away from this bleak and frigid scene.
***
It is just about sunset, and we are sitting on my surfboard a couple hundred yards off the beach in this perfect, secluded spot I like to go to. I have never taken any one here, not April, not anybody. But I want to share it with her.
She is in front of me, the waves gently lapping at our legs. My arms are around her waist; her back rests against my chest. Her long hair is wet, its red highlights catching the last rays of sunlight.
“
What are you thinking about?” I ask, leaning in.
“
That I hope there aren’t any sharks in this water,” she jokes.
“
I don’t know. I think I might have seen one over there,” I say while pinching her side.
“
Oh, don’t you dare!” she squeals. “You don’t want to capsize us both, do you?”
“
No, I have better things in mind,” I say.
“
Like what?” she asks, turning around. As soon as she does, I cup her face with my hand placing my lips on hers. Our kiss deepens as she slides her legs around to completely face me. She is more adept at keeping her balance than she gives herself credit for.
I feel her hands glide along my chest until she encircles my neck, pulling herself even closer. The press of her body against mine ignites my desire, but it also feels soothing, comforting. It’s this sense of peace that I crave. She is my safe place. She is my respite from the craziness of the world.
***
THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!
I open my eyes. Charlie is back banging on the driver’s side window. “C’mon, kid. You can’t fall asleep on the job now. We have three more hours to go.”
And just like that, it’s back to reality.
I sometimes wonder how I got myself into this predicament. No friends. No social life. No romantic relationships of any kind. Sure, I was voted ‘most shy’ by my high school class, but just because I’m quiet doesn’t mean I don’t have a rich inner life going on under the surface.
I was never into things other people my age were into. In high school, my classmates loved to play mindless games on their iPhones like SongPop or Words with Friends. I found them to be a waste of time. They liked to talk about what hair products or pair of shoes they were going to buy next. I never had much spending money, so I couldn’t contribute anything to the conversation. Or they obsessed over their crushes or broken hearts, but until that night in the club, I had never been kissed.
I had a few people I hung around with like Jody ‘Skeeter’ Wheeler, who never went anywhere except for school, and Tony Bianco, who ate lunch ostracized from the rest of the student body. I always felt a natural affinity for loners and rejects. It’s where I belonged. In their company, the pressure to fit in didn’t exist.
However, on the flip side, they weren’t exactly the most loyal of companions. As soon as we graduated, they never looked back. Not that I was ever in constant contact with them anyway, but I never received a phone call, text message, or email from them all summer. Once autumn arrived, I didn’t go out of my way to reach out to them, to see how their new lives were going. Frankly, I didn’t care anymore.
It is second nature for me to shut people out. I never wanted anyone to get too close to see what a wreck my family life really is. Dad certainly didn’t encourage me to invite friends over or to tie up the phone line for a marathon chat fest. Grandma wouldn’t have minded, but my at-home hours always seemed to coincide with Dad’s off-work time. He didn’t like any type of distraction when he was stationed in the living room for his all-night TV session. Grandma and I lived there, too, but we had to be seen and not heard. It wasn’t an inviting environment to grow up in, to say the least.
And boys were out of the question. Any guy who showed the slightest inclination toward me was thoroughly dismissed before a first date could even be mentioned. No hormone-riddled, insecure teenage boy stood a chance of going up against such a determined prison warden. As far as Dad was concerned, no one was getting near me, as long as he had something to say about it.
While it was nice to have someone who wanted to offer a sense of protection, the severity of it wasn’t exactly healthy. I knew he was a wild, high-strung rebel at my age. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that he got some girl pregnant when he was in high school and used that to rationalize his treatment of me.
Too bad he wasn’t there when it counted.
Am I technically still a virgin? I didn’t have what is considered sexual intercourse, but I would say it came pretty darn close. I don’t know what makes me feel worse—that I’m still a virgin or I’m not. I’m glad my curiosity over the whole subject was slightly sated, but my emotions over the experience are all over the map. The arousal. The embarrassment. The exploration. The shock. But the one recurring thought I do have is—it would’ve been so good if I actually loved Patrick.
Instead, it was a frustrating one-night stand that went nowhere. He never called me after that, and I never saw him again. That’s what hurt most of all—like I was discarded because I didn’t give him what he wanted.
I’m not even sure if the whole thing was consensual. The only reason things went as far as they did is because I knew him—slightly, but I knew him. He wasn’t a complete stranger, and I didn’t feel like I was in danger. I didn’t want to have sex with him. I said no, and we didn’t. But he didn’t stop completely like I thought he would either. He kept going into a different territory.
But what bugs me is that he kept asking me the whole time if I was a virgin. Was it blatantly obvious? What it that much of a turn-off?
I try not to think about what happened too much. His rejection. My inexperience. The exposure. The girl with the high ideals reduced in a moment to a cheap thrill.
I never really spoke to anyone about what happened that night. Sure, Jennifer prodded at first, but when she sobered up the next day she never asked about it again. I think she felt guilty. Things like that weren’t supposed to happen to me. But they did.
Ah, time to relax. For the first time in God knows how long, I have a day all to myself. I’m not going to worry about homework, housework, any kind of work. I’m just gonna chill.
I hike a couple of miles into the woods behind my apartment. It is the first warm day in a while with the daytime temperature hovering in the fifties. The sun is melting the snow, so it’s a bit muddy, but I feel exhilarated. I love being out in nature. It makes me feel alive.
After being cooped up all winter, this dose of freedom is just what I need to clear my head. As I climb to my favorite vantage point, I think about how radically my life changed in the last year and if I’m ready for more.
I miss the beach. I really do. It was my escape, my refuge. The tourist-jammed resort areas where I worked didn’t appeal to me as much as the private nooks and crannies that the locals only shared with a select few. Those untouched places—where all that went on was the steady pounding of the surf—spoke to me.
The hypnotic nature of those locations made me believe that what I experienced there with April was real. That she was a part of me and I was a part of her. Joined together as one, never to be separated. Our bodies moving together…breathless, euphoric…a union that seemed predestined.
How wrong I was. I meant nothing to her. Well, next to nothing. I was a toy she got tired of playing with. I aroused her passion, but not her heart.
She was my first, and I gave everything to her. But while we were physical, we were never intimate. She never opened herself up to me. I didn’t know her thoughts and fears, what she dreamed about, or what she wanted out of life. I revealed everything while she smiled and undoubtedly tuned me out.
It hurt to be so stupid, so naive, so trusting. Bearing your soul is never easy, but to have the object of your desire basically turn away after realizing things had gone too far—that’s agony.
Reaching the top of the hill, I lean back against a tree and look out at the breathtaking landscape before me. I found this spot at the end of last summer, and I couldn’t wait to come back to it. It is pristine farmland, stretching as far as the eye can see.
It is a view I want to share with someone, but not just anyone. Someone who can feel as moved by it as I do. Someone who will get it without explanation…
That’s the person I need in my life. That’s who I’m looking for.
Who would have thought I’d end up back in a Tri-County ambulance? But here I am, en route to Grandma’s nursing home. No Adam this time, only a heavyset guy with a serious bald spot and a tough blonde chick with muscles to spare. I want to ask them if they know Adam, but they aren’t exactly the most approachable duo.
Besides, Grandma looks scared. Her stretcher is tilted into an upright position and she is nervously looking around. For some reason, it feels like we are going to her final destination. Like she will never make it home again.
I try to shake that thought from my mind and instead focus on her. While she is still with me…
“Grandma, are you doing okay? Do you need anything?” I ask.
“I’m fine, Katie. Don’t you go worrying about me,” she responds.
“I’m sure this place won’t be so bad, right?”
“Whatever you say, dear.”
“I know it’s not what you’re used to, but it’s only to get you back on your feet so you can finally come home.”
She doesn’t answer. Instead, she closes her eyes and gives an almost inaudible sigh.
The lady ambulance worker, listening to our whole exchange, gives me a sorrowful look. With her experience, she must know I’m fooling myself for expecting a happy ending to this sad tale.
I don’t want to bother Grandma with any more of my false optimism. It’s better if she rests before our arrival—a check-in we are both dreading.
It isn’t a comfortable ride sitting in the rear of the ambulance. I am jostled by every bump in the road. I appreciate Adam’s driving skills even more since this guy hits every pothole in existence. Maybe he has some extra padding thanks to his donut cravings, but the rest of us sure don’t. I wish I had the nerve to tell him to slow down. This isn’t an emergency call.
Ever since meeting Adam, it’s like I see ambulances wherever I go. In Dad’s car on our daily ride to and from the hospital, I’d always glance at the ones we passed to see if Adam was driving. We encountered at least five a day. I never realized there were so many on the road.
There was a time last week when I wasn’t sure if it was him. It was only for a brief moment.
***
I am held up at a light near our house. There is a funeral procession of cars, and a cop is stopping traffic to let it go by. Shelby is on my lap. We are returning from our walk on the wooded trail near the park. Her paws are muddy and she desperately needs a drink of water.
“It’s okay, girl. We’re almost home. We just have to let these people pass. All right, calm down. That’s a good girl,” I whisper.
It is one of the rare moments in recent weeks when I’m in a car by myself. It is a relief to get away, if only for a half hour or so. And Shelby is good in the car. She likes to perch on my arm and look out the window. That means I need to drive with one hand, but it’s a short distance. I can handle it.
As we continue to wait, I think I see what looks like the front of an ambulance across the intersection. I’m not completely sure since I am a few cars back and there’s a building in the way. After seeing so many ambulances lately without spotting Adam, I don’t pay much attention to it.
Traffic starts to move as the cop lets a few of the cars ahead of me proceed, but he stops me when I reach the front of the line. In order to ease things on the other side, he starts waving them through.
Shelby whines at the delay.
“I know. It would have to be us he stops, right? Hang in there, Shelbs,” I urge.
Distracted by her distress, I look up as an ambulance does indeed pass in front of me. For a split second, I make eye contact with the driver. He has shaggy blonde hair like Adam, and the same type of build—super skinny. Time seems to freeze for a minute.
I swear he looks at me, like I look at him. Thunderstruck.