“God, I missed you,” he said, and we kissed.
Then Brendan leaned back and stared at the ceiling. He seemed far away. “Want to hear the schedule?” he asked.
I nodded. I guess this meant that Brendan knew I wasn’t going away.
He rested his hand on my knee. “Have to be at the hospital at six. Sharp. Adam Kolski is doing the surgery at seven. He’s pretty good.”
“Pretty good?”
“He’sreallygood. Practically a godddddd,” Brendan said. And suddenly there was that magnificent smile of his. “Of course I got the best.”
“That’s more like it,” I said. And there, finally, was that smile ofmine.
“I should warn you, after tomorrow I’m going to look like a cannon shot me headfirst into a brick wall. If things go well. I hope you really do love my charm, that certain something in my eyes.”
“I love everything about you,” I said. “I especially love that you’re going to do this.”
Brendan kissed me again, and I melted. Then he said, “Let’s get out of here. Let me show you Rochester. And yes, thisisa date.”
Sixty-eight
A DATE.That was another cute line, and it reminded me of everything that was so good about Brendan and me. We had the same energy, the same passion about a lot of things, common interests; we shared a goofy sense of humor; and it was so hard to find someone who was right for you. God, sometimes it could seem impossible. For some people itisimpossible.
I drove and Brendan gave directions. About three or four miles from the hotel, back near the hospital, he told me to park anywhere I could find a spot. Actually, the side street we were on was surprisingly crowded for a work night.
“What’s here, anyway?” I asked.
“Stephen Dunbar’s Pub,” Brendan said. “This is where we used to blow off steam when I was a resident. It’s where I want to take you for our date.”
“A bar?” I asked him. “Stephen Dunbar’s Pub?”
He nodded. “I don’t think I should drink tonight,” Brendan said. “But I definitely think I shoulddance.”
Inside, the bar was about half full, a nice, comfortable crowd, and there were couples dancing to a Red Hot Chili Peppers ballad I liked, “Under the Bridge.”
Brendan immediately took me in his arms. “I like this song,” he whispered against my cheek. And then we were dancing. “And I love dancing with you.
“Thank you for Jennifer,” he continued to whisper. “She’s the perfect one. All that I ever wanted out of life.”
It sounded like a prayer to me. “I saw you praying once. In the kitchen,” I confessed.
“Same exact prayer,” Brendan said, and winked at me. “I’ve been saying it all summer.”
We danced to all the slow songs that played on the juke, and we danced slow to some of the fast ones. I didn’t ever want to let Brendan go, not even for a minute.
“What could be better than this?” he asked. “A date with my best girl, in my old school town, at one of the old haunts.”
I felt so incredibly close to Brendan, so much in love with him, which made what was going to happen in the morning unthinkable. I didn’t want it to happen, but tears welled up in my eyes. “Stop being so sweet,” I told Brendan.
“No tears,” he said, and wiped them away. “No tangles,” he laughed, then winced a little at his own joke. Brendan could always laugh. At any time. About anything, even this.
We continued to dance, to an old Smokey Robinson and the Miracles song. “After this is all behind us,” he said, “let’s travel. I’ve never been to Florence, or Venice. China, Africa—there’s so much to see out there, Jen.”
I started to tear up again. “I can’t help it. I’m not usually so sentimental,” I said.
“Oh, it’s kind of a sentimental time. Kiss me again. Keep kissing me. Right up until they operate.”
So we kissed again. But finally we headed back to the Colonial Inn, where I thought Brendan would collapse into sleep. But he didn’t.
