EMMA DAMIAN 22

D A M I A N

You can't afford to be distracted as a doctor. But that's all I'd been since the last time I saw Emma, when she told me to stay out of her life forever.

I sat in my downtown Manila office, the late afternoon light streaming in, trying to concentrate on the work at hand. It was lunchtime, yet the shawarma rice dish I'd requested from my assistant sat untouched on the desk next to me.

I couldn't stop thinking about her.

I'd texted and called Emma several times in the last two weeks, but she hadn't responded. It made logical - she had said she didn't want to talk to me anymore, so what could I expect? Instead of giving me the mental green light to start moving on from her, her blatant rejection simply makes me crave her more.

I'd chastised myself several times for how I'd handled myself with her at the hospital. She'd reached out an olive branch and offered to be friends. Instead of accepting it, I demanded more.

That was the most terrifying aspect about it – I couldn't stop myself. Emma rendered my reasonable mind useless, my devotion and lust for her coursing through me in equal measure whenever I was in her presence.

It was quite bizarre. Women came naturally to me, and I was never afraid to keep my cool when one caught my attention. No way, Emma. With her, I transformed like a fucking caveman.

I took the black, plastic fork and inserted it into my bowl, a few of pieces of meat on the end. I popped them into my mouth without thinking. The dish was bland. I found it tasteless.

Come on – you’re running on nothing. What are you, some heart-broken teenager whining about your girl leaving you?

It was meant as some kind of mental pep talk, but the scenario only made me more keenly aware of what actually had happened. I’d broken Emma’s heart back in high school and never come clean to her why.

I needed to concentrate. I tossed the fork onto my desk and returned to my work. The afternoon was not going to be too horrible. I had a couple of appointments - one for a bigshot local attorney who had injured his shoulder on the slopes, and another for a youngster who had just signed with the Manila Stars.

I didn't have the luxury of sliding because of my status as the area's go-to orthopedic specialist. I'd worked hard to get to the top, but I couldn't concentrate on the job I'd developed because of a lady I couldn't get over.

Love was perilous. But I'd always been the risky one. Now I was discovering how difficult it was to be on the receiving end.

When my phone buzzed in my pocket, I hurriedly took it out and checked the screen. The hardest part of my heartbreak was the foolish hope I had when someone called or texted that it would be her, that Emma had changed her mind and decided to give me another chance.

“Yo! " I said, putting on my best cheery impersonation. “What’s up with the proud papa? ”

"The proud papa is just ten seconds away from dropping into a tired heap. So, how about you? " I heard Zea in the background speaking to Madeline in a gentle voice, followed by the baby quieting down.

"Exactly the same."

He laughed. "That's exactly what I thought. That's why I wanted to invite you over later tonight."

"Can you come over later?" Do you have time for that? ”

"All I have is time, Bud. Zea requested that I take a month off for the holidays in order to assist with the children. Of course, I'm glad to be here with my family, but I'm getting restless. Not to mention that she and I wish to thank you for your assistance when Maddie was born."

"Oh, you're not required to do that. I'm delighted to assist, guy."

"I'm sure you were. But we still want to give you something. And I'll give you a hint: it's something tasty."

I laughed. I was preoccupied, but hanging out with Carlos would allow me to get out of my brain. It sure beats spending the night at home, daydreaming about Emma.

"All right, let's get started."

"Come on over once you finish your work. We'll have a quick happy hour before heading out to dinner. Does that make sense? ”

"I'll be there," I said as soon as I hung up the phone.

The rest of the day flew by, and my appointments managed to be engaging enough that I had a nice reprieve from thinking about Emma. At a little after five, when I was finished for the day, I headed out of the office and hopped into my car, sending a text to Carlos before I drove off to let him know I was on my way.

Twenty minutes later, I arrived at the mansion where he and Zea lived. They greeted me at the door, Madeline in Zea’s arms.

“Well, well, well,” I said, approaching the happy little family. “If it isn’t the cutest little girl in Manila.”

And I wasn’t bullshitting. Madeline was as adorable as any baby I’d ever seen, and I couldn’t resist pinching her tiny red cheek once I was up the steps. She opened her eyes, a baby-sized smile on her face. Madeline waved her little arms toward me, and I gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

The sight of Madeline did something to me, made me wish I had a child.

“Look at that!” Zea cried, her voice elevated. “First emotion out of her other than red-faced screaming all afternoon.”

“Everyone’s happy to see Damian,” Carlos said, reaching over and slapping me on the shoulder. “Maybe we can talk you into babysitting duty?”

Zea, with her free hand, gestured for us to come into the house. “Come on in out of the cold.”

“I think you’ve about seen the limits of my expertise with kids,” I joked.

“I don’t know about that,” Zea commented with a smile. “I bet you’re better with them than you think you are.”

I glanced around curiously. “Where’s Oliver?”

“He’s over at a neighbor’s,” Carlos explained. “So we can have a little peace and quiet before dinner.”

“I hope delivery Italian’s good for you,” Zea said. “We’re both running on about five hours of sleep between us and I don’t think we could manage more than a Pop Tart.”

I laughed at her dramatic statement, not for once doubting the validity. “Sounds perfect. But you guys should’ve said something – I could’ve ordered it and picked it up on the way over.”

“No way,” Carlos said. “Tonight’s our way of saying thanks. We’re treating you.”

“Speaking of which…” Zea murmured before handing Madeline to Carlos. “Got a little something.”

Carlos wiggled his eyebrows in expectation as Zea vanished down the hall. She returned a few moments later with a bottle of something dark and brown, a red bow stuck on the side. Before I even saw the label, I knew what it was, recognizing the little horse on the top of the cap.

“You got me a bottle of Blanton’s?” I asked, smiling broadly. “Guys, seriously – you didn’t have to.”

“Bud, you stepped up without a second of hesitation when Maddie decided to make her entrance into the world. You’re a hell of a friend, and we both want to make sure you know it.”

The slightest hint of a lump in my throat formed, but with a quick throat-clearing, it was gone. “Thanks, guys.” Zea handed over the bottle and gave it a long look. “Just…doing the right thing.”

“You always do,” Zea said, gripping my arm for a moment and squeezing.

Then, out of nowhere, invading my thoughts as always, appeared Emma in my mind’s eye. I always do the right thing? Not with her, I didn’t.

“Anyway,” Zea said, checking her phone. “Grubhub says the food’ll be here in thirty. I’ll get Maddie asleep and set the table.”

“Let me help,” Carlos offered, putting his hand on her arm as she turned to leave.

“Not a chance. You two give that booze a spin.” She flashed a warm smile over her shoulder as she left the entrance hall.

The whole exchange, watching a husband and wife who loved the hell out of one another, put a longing in my heart that I hadn’t been prepared for. What the hell was wrong with me?

“Come on, bud,” Carlos said, putting his hand on my shoulder and leading me out of the room. “Got just the place to crack this open.”

We went upstairs to Carlos’s grand, impressive study. He led me to the far end, where he opened a set of doors, revealing a small, enclosed balcony. The view was killer, looking out onto the mountains.

He reached past me and flicked a switch. “It’s heated but give it a second to get going. I’ll crack this bad boy open and pour us a couple.”

“Perfect.”

I dropped into one of the chairs and let my vision blur, the landscape stretching out in front of me. I was in a damn daze, no idea how to begin processing how I felt.

And as if he could read my mind, Carlos returned and spoke. “Now,” he said, handing me a glass. “I want to hear about your Bora trip. You’ve been cagey about the whole thing, and I want to hear about it.”

“I haven’t been cagey,” I immediately denied.

“Sure you have. And I could tell there was something going on between you and Emma when I showed up at the hospital.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Not at all. And believe me, if it was so obvious that even a man running late to see the birth of his own daughter noticed, you’d better believe you’re not hiding it as well as you think.” He raised his glass. “But first, let’s toast.”

I laughed, raising my glass. “After that pre-amble, let’s make it about something other than my inability to mask what’s on my mind.”

“Sounds good to me. To…good friends. And always staying that way.”

“Perfect.”

We tapped rims and sipped. The booze was perfect – velvety smooth with just the right bite. I felt better the moment it began to pool in my belly.

“Alright,” Carlos said, reaching over and giving my leg a friendly smack. “Now let’s hear about this Emma situation.”

“Fucking hell. Where to even begin?”

“Start with Bora and we’ll go from there.”

“Then you ought to grab that bottle – I’m gonna need it.”

He laughed, getting up and returning with the bottle. Carlos topped me off and I began my story. Talking about my personal business wasn’t easy. I’d always been more of a kiss and tell type than a spilling my guts about my personal business kind of guy, but damn, did I need to let off some steam.

“Wait, so you guys got drunk and hooked up?” He interrupted me after I glossed past that part of the story.

“That’s the thing,” I countered. “It’s not like we got black-out drunk and woke up in bed together. I was buzzed, and so was she. It was the sort of situation where we were both tipsy enough to do what we wanted to do sober but wouldn’t act on.”

“Got it,” he said, nodding. “And let me guess – she didn’t wake up too thrilled about it.”

“Not even a little. For a minute there, I worried she might pitch me out the damn window.”

He laughed. “And what happened after that? I mean, after she decided she didn’t want to splatter you on the Strip.”

“She left. As in, without me. She booked her own flight back to Manila and left. Told me she never wanted to see me again. Really chapped my ass, too – got me worried about her.”

“But that wasn’t the last time you saw her.”

“Of course not. I went to her place after I got in. And she told me never to talk to her again.”

Carlos lifted his glass to his lips. But before taking a sip, a thoughtful expression took hold. “Hmm. Okay, go on.”

“And that’s how it was until the day Madeline was born. We were at the hospital waiting for it to happen, and then…” I drifted off, knowing what came after was a little on graphic side.

“And then what?”

“Some, uh, stuff happened in the supply closet.”

His eyes flashed with mirth. “Some stuff? Are you kidding? Dude, you better give more details than that.”

When Carlos and I were younger and in med school, we were constantly swapping stories about our conquests. We were always in competition, always trying to outdo one another. But with Emma, it was different. For some reason, I didn’t want to brag. It was almost as if what she and I had was too important to be reduced to some hook-up story. And I wasn’t about to ask, but I had a feeling Carlos felt the same way about Zea, even before they were married.

“We talked, and she told me she wanted to be just friends. But I decided to push it.”

“Push it?”

“Yeah, as in pushing her into a supply closet to hook up right there in the hospital,” I confessed.

He laughed, throwing his head back for a good one. “Are you fucking serious? You guys screwed while I was in the other room waiting for my daughter to be born?”

Hearing him say it out loud was more than enough to make me keenly aware of how low-class it was. “Man, when you say it like that…”

He shook his head, still laughing. “No, it’s fine. Hey, gotta pass the time somehow, right?”

“Something like that.” My words came out in a grim tone – I was already thinking about what happened after.

Carlos’s expression turned serious, noting my tone. “What happened?”

“We were in the supply closet, and things were getting…intense. But then this weird feeling came over me. I didn’t want to hook up with her in some shitty, dingy supply storage room. It felt wrong. So I backed off, told her we should go back to my place. Well, that gave her the chance to think about what was happening, what she was about to do. She backed off.”

“And let me guess – she told you never to talk to her again.”

I let out a snort of a laugh. “Yeah.”

“Just picking up on a theme here. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she’s saying that because she doesn’t know what else to do.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t read her mind, obviously, but I’m getting the impression when you two are together, Emma gets all kinds of confused. She wants you, but she hates you for what you did. And rather than sift through her feelings, she tells you to leave her alone forever. Kind of a throwing the baby out with the bathwater sort of thing.”

“Then what do I do?” The moment the words came out of my mouth, I paused. I never asked that question. I’d always been a man who prided himself on knowing what needed to be done, never doubting. But when it came to Emma, it was an entirely different matter.

I felt lost, helpless. And I didn’t like it one bit.

Carlos shook his head. “Maybe she means it this time. After all, you only saw her again because Madeline happened to make her appearance. There might be a chance you never get to say another word to her. Life’s not like the movies. There’s not always closure.”

The idea of me and Emma being over like that made me sick to my stomach. We’d known each other since we were kids, and that was how our story was going to end, after an abortive hookup in a hospital supply closet? I wanted to quickly dismiss the idea.

“But if I see her again…”

“The truth, man. I know it’s a cliché, but that’s all there is to it. You need to tell her everything.”

“About what happened with me and Marian?”

“About that whole fucked-up story – how Marian pretended to be pregnant to get you on the hook to marry her.”

More tightness took hold of my chest at the idea of spilling my guts.

“I learned that with Zea,” he said. “You can’t have the kind of connection, the kind of openness you need with someone to really fall in love if you’re keeping so much locked away. It just doesn’t work. You’ll always be on a different wavelength. And there’s one more thing.”

“Why do I have a feeling I’m not going to like it?”

Carlos smirked. “Because you’re not.”

I sighed. “Then let’s hear it.”

“You have to open yourself up to her. It’s like pulling your chest open and exposing your heart. You’ll be standing in front of her, more vulnerable than you’ve ever been, and it’ll be up to her whether or not to stitch you back up or drop kick you right in the chest. But if you want her, that’s the only chance you’ve got.”

I said nothing, sipping my whiskey and staring out onto the mountains. He let me think while we finished our drinks. A few minutes later, Zea popped in and let us know the food had arrived. We sat down and got ourselves good and full on take-out lasagna, the good stuff that comes in those big foil pans, loaded with cheese and as greasy as it gets.

Wine went with the meal, of course, and after dessert of some pretty damn good tiramisu, I realized I was a tad too tipsy to drive home. Carlos and Zea were happy to let me stay in one of their guest rooms, and we spent the rest of the evening talking and catching up, the big Christmas tree looming large.

Watching Carlos and Zea and Madeline together, a happy family, their home full of love and warmth, filled my heart. They seemed…complete.

My last thoughts before drifting off to sleep were of Emma and whether or not I’d ever have with her what Carlos and Zea shared.

Or if maybe Carlos was right, that it was all over, that a happy ending would be nothing more than a dream.