A Year to Remember (15 page)

“Why did you feel the need to do coke in the middle of our date?” I used my professional tone, the one where I don’t allow any of my personal beliefs and judgments to interfere with the relationship between me and my client.

He had the decency to look guilty. “I don’t know. I could tell the date wasn’t going well, and I knew it would make me feel better.”

“Did it make you feel better?”

I could see his mind working. It isn’t easy to confront someone while they are using, but since I’d never talk to this man again, this was my only chance.

“No, it didn’t,” he admitted.

“There is no such thing as doing cocaine recreationally, Max. It’s illegal, it’s dangerous, and it’s stupid. You could lose everything you’ve worked so hard for. You don’t want that, do you?”

He shook his head.

“I’m going to give you a referral for a therapist who deals with addiction. I’m also recommending you find a Narcotics Anonymous meeting.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a Twelve Step program like AA, only for drug addicts.”

“I’m not an addict. I don’t use it often, and I can quit whenever I want to,” Max angrily informed me.

“I’m not saying you are an addict. Go to a few meetings and see what it’s all about. That’s all I’m saying.”

I motioned for the waitress to bring the bill before continuing. “If you had a patient who smoked cigarettes and wanted to quit, what advice would you give him?”

“I would tell him there are various ways to make it easier for him to quit, like the patch or the gum.”

It astounded me how easy he could change gears and think like a doctor. I hoped he didn’t practice medicine while high.

“Well, think of a therapist and NA as methods to help you.”

I rummaged through my purse and got the card of the therapist for Max.

“Here’s his card. You can find NA online, and there are tons of meetings around. If you’re not comfortable going to one around here, you can find one on the other side of town. Remember, it’s anonymous, meaning no one can tell anyone including your patients, if they see you there.”

He took the card without complaint. I couldn’t determine if he’d take that first step but at least it was out of my hands.

We sat in silence while he paid the bill. When it came time to go, I realized I couldn’t let him drive me home while intoxicated, and I couldn’t drive a manual transmission. I’d have to find a ride. He offered to pay for a taxi, but I didn’t want to take his money. After a brief hug and a “good luck” from me, he left me alone in the restaurant.

I tried Missy first, but I got her voicemail. I left her a message. My parents didn’t have their phones since they were at the movies and my brother was out of town visiting his in-laws. I’d have to spend the money for a cab.

It took an hour before it arrived and I had to stop at an ATM machine to get the cash I needed to pay the driver. Thirty dollars and an hour and a half later, I fell into bed completely dressed, asleep before my head hit the pillow.

I awoke the next morning to the song “S&M” by Rhianna, a ring tone I had specifically designated for Missy. I discovered I had drooled all over my pillow and remembered having a sex dream about Caleb. Good thing he hadn’t actually been with me to witness the embarrassing drool.

“Hey, Miss.”

“I’m sorry! I didn’t get your message until this morning! What happened with your date?”

“We had an enlightening heart to heart over his drug use and after I gave him a referral for psychological treatment, he drove himself home, hopefully without killing himself or anybody else on the road. I took a cab,” I announced.

“Did he at least give you money for it?”

“The cab or the therapeutic session?”

“Both.”

“He paid for dinner. Does that count?”

“Why didn’t you take the cab money?”

“It didn’t seem right.”

“Bullshit. You didn’t want to make him feel bad. You probably said you already had a ride lined up, didn’t you?”

God damn, I couldn’t keep anything from her.

“Yes. All right? I lied and said you were coming to get me.”

“Otherwise, how’d the date go? Are you going to see him again?” she teased.

“You’d better be messing with me. Of course, I’m not going to go out with him. Aside from his recreational cocaine use, he’s still a jerk. The guy doesn’t even like children. He’s a pediatrician for Christ’s sake! Plus, he’s terribly conceited.”

“Too bad. I’m sure your mom will be disappointed you’re not going to marry a Jewish doctor.”

“She’ll have to get over it.”

“Where are you and Bachelor Number Two going tonight?”

“We’re going to Antonio’s for dinner, and then to see Bon Jovi in concert.”

Unlike Max, Ryan had called this week to confirm our date. He wasn’t a great conversationalist on the phone, but I couldn’t wait to see him in person. All I could remember from meeting him were his blue eyes.

Missy and I talked for almost an hour and after our exchange, I felt much better about the state of our friendship. Whatever had been bothering Missy, she was obviously over it now. I’m grateful I didn’t rock the boat and call her out on it. Now things could go back to the way they’d always been.

I spent the rest of the day trying to decide on what to wear to the concert. Should I dress like a head banger in a black T-shirt and mini skirt with my leather boots and leather jacket, or should I dress to flatter in black jeans and a blouse? I opted to take the middle ground and wore jeans with a nice T-shirt and vest with high heels and leather jacket. Now, I could feel both sophisticated and wild.

Before I could feel completely comfortable with my decision, I used my cell phone and sent Missy a picture of me dressed for the date. What did single people do before cell phones?

She texted back a smiley face and the words ‘don’t have too much fun!’

Missy also had a date tonight with someone new. All she told me about Hillary was she smoked clove cigarettes and smelled really sweet. Personally, I think smoking is a disgusting habit, even if the smoke smells sweet. Missy seems to consider it a turn-on.

After the date with Max, I had low expectations for my date with Ryan. When I saw him pull up in my driveway, then come to my door with roses, my hope for an enjoyable evening suddenly increased.

He didn’t drive American, but at least he didn’t drive a sports car. Ryan pulled into my driveway in a Toyota Camry, and I felt immediate relief. It’s not that I judge men by the vehicles they drive, like I do with choice of coffee, but clearly I ought to start. Caleb drove a reliable SUV like me. He obviously shared some of my values. Max drove a sports car to go with his fast personality. Ryan didn’t drive American, but at least he chose sensibly.

Maybe I
should
start judging my dates by their cars. From now on, I vow to make that my first question whenever I meet a new potential mate.

I opened the door to greet Ryan, and I swear to God I wanted to grab him and have my way with him then and there. I had never been on a date with such a patently sexy man in my entire life. He put Brad Pitt and Robert Pattinson to shame with his blue eyes and dirty blond hair.

What the hell did he see in me?

“These are for you.” He handed me flowers and kissed me on the cheek.

“Thank you. They’re beautiful. Would you like to come in while I put these in a vase?”

“Sure,” he replied as he stepped into my small foyer and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Wow, nice place.”

“Yeah, it’s okay. I thought about buying a small house, but it’s a lot easier to take care of a condo, since I don’t have to worry about the exterior.”

“That’s cool.” He appeared confused.

He didn’t seem to know anything about condominiums, but I wouldn’t hold it against him.

I picked out a crystal vase to display my flowers in my bedroom. However, I would be the only one taking pleasure in the sight of the flowers, since I would not be having sex with Ryan.

There wasn’t a rule against doing everything else, right? I actually stopped and contemplated Ryan naked.
God, I’m acting like a typical man!
When I pulled myself together, I returned to him in the foyer.

“Are you ready to go?”

Ryan’s perusal of my body made me blush. “I suppose we have to, being we have the tickets.”

Damn, we had better get out of there or I’d be in big trouble. On second thought, we had plenty of time before Bon Jovi took the stage. What would it hurt to skip dinner and miss the opening band?