Nothing.
My messages to her aren’t even read. My last message was over twenty-five minutes ago. Hers was from last night.
Lily
Kind Coffee, ok, see you at 9
Me
Great. See you.
Just grabbing my coffee, you want anything?
Just checking you’re okay
Ghosting me?
Lily?
She didn’t want to meet me. I tried to force the issue, and now it’s more awkward than ever.
The wedding is this weekend, and she had texted, agreeing to meet with me… I wanted to lay my cards on the table before we are thrown together in social situations. Tonight’s a pre-wedding party for everyone that’s arrived early and it’s an event we were both supposed to attend. Felicia and Ed are forgoing the traditional separation the week before the wedding so that the families can feel free to spend time together. Subsequently, there are events planned for nearly every day or night this week. I’m not sure what Lily thinks will happen over the next few days, as she’s expected to be at all the same events that I am.
I decide to let her off the hook. I love her. What else can I do?
Me: you must’ve overslept—see you tonight
I send the message and head over to the clinic. This morning is going to be a shit show since I’d pushed my early appointments to later morning and through my lunch hour to make time for the coffee date with Lily. As predicted, I arrived to find our clinic waiting area was standing room only. Brenda looks gratefully at me when I hand her a red-eye.
Since the waiting room is my fault, I begin by assisting Brenda, bringing the first four patients back while she pulls up their charts to update vital signs and histories. She sets about interviewing each patient while I work my way around through their acute problems or issues. We run it a bit like an assembly line, but we’re able to see each person on the compressed patient list and catch up with our original schedule by the end of the morning.
Working through lunch, I complete my charts as I eat a lukewarm burger from around the corner. By the time I’m caught up it’s time to start the afternoon appointment. Once I finish with the last patient, the fatigue starts to wash over me. Wrapping up the day, Brenda and I split up calls to patients to inform them of test results, and by the time I’m done, I’ve had just enough time to pick Ginger up from her day camp and get in the shower.
It isn’t until the hot water hits my skin that I feel myself finally decompress. With the shower pelting my back and the steam all around me, it occurs to me that I don’t have to go to this dinner. If Lily doesn’t even want to meet for a coffee, it may be better if I stay home. I have clinic again tomorrow—another full day—and I could use a beer, some pizza, and a good night’s sleep. I close my eyes under the water and wonder what I should do. I think about having to explain not being there to my mother and Michelle, who are expecting me to help with my nieces, and I know I just need to show up. It’s not about me anyway. Staying home would be the easy way out, but it would leave Michelle in the lurch.
After I finish my shower, I put on a respectable button-down shirt, and dark jeans and finish with a pair of overpriced tennis shoes. I feed Ginger and give her a bone in exchange for my company on my way out.
Walking along the river, there is something familiar about a tall, blonde woman getting out of a luxury SUV in the public lot behind the movie theater. Suspecting this is one of Lily’s sisters, I watch as an equally tall, dark-haired man exits the driver’s side and joins her, both of them looking down at their phones, likely trying to figure out where to go. I wait, watching them turn around and trying to understand the direction their phones are recommending, before deciding to help.
“Excuse me, are you both here for the Stern-Mendes wedding?”
The woman, who is stunning in a long pink dress, has her wavy blonde hair loose around her shoulders. She turns to face me at the sound of my voice and looks briefly confused before she smiles in recognition.
“Joshua Cohen, is that you?”
I nod, wondering if she’s Tamar or Daniella.
“It’s been a long time.” I reach my hand out to the man by her side, “Hello, Josh.”
“Ah. You’re Josh.” He smiles kindly at me. “I’m Arjun Patel, Tamar’s husband. Pleasure.” Okay, sothisis Tamar.
We shake hands as I remember my purpose for walking over.
“You can put your phones away, and I’ll show you where to go. It’s just over there,” I nod my head down along the riverwalk.
“Were you walking here? Do you live nearby?” Tamar asks.
“I live just over there,” I point, “the little house with the stone wall and that wooden door in it—that’s the one.”
