Heidi
Somehow, Max and I settle into a routine. We work together as Dr. Donnelly and Dr. Morgan, exchanging nothing more than heated glances. Then we go home, mostly to his place since mine is still a basic furnished rental, and we’re Max and Heidi. Two adults who can’t seem to get enough of each other.
On our days off, we’ve gone all over Vancouver Island. There’s an unspoken agreement to avoid Westport, but we’ve visited Dogwood Cove, headed down to Victoria, and one weekend, we went inland to hike some trails in the national park.
I won’t lie and say it’s a comfortable routine because it’s not. I hate having to hide, even as I rationally understand the need. In my head, I have a countdown to the end of my residency. But not because of my excitement to finish the program and be a doctor — no. Because of my anticipation over not having to hide how I feel about Max anymore.
Because moments like tonight, where we’re stretched out on Max’s far too comfortable couch, his head in my lap as we both read — me, an academic journal, and him, some patient charts he’s auditing for a colleague — these moments feel surreal. As if we were always meant to end up here.
“Have you ever had a case of measles come to Westport General?”
Max puts down the chart he was reviewing and tilts his head up to look at me.
“No, not in my years there. I heard of an outbreak over on the mainland a couple of years ago, but thankfully, it never made it to the island.” He shifts to one side and sits up, drawing my feet into his lap. “Why?”
My eyes are still focused on the article I’m reading about the resurgence of some childhood illnesses in the wake of a rise in numbers of unvaccinated children. The seminar I’m attending next week on pediatric outreach in remote communities has an entire panel discussion dedicated to increasing vaccination rates.
“This article I have to read before my seminar — the number of measles cases over the last few years is surprising. And the kids that get sick but maybe don’t get diagnosed or treated by a doctor; those aren’t included in the statistics.” I pause, thinking through what exactly is troubling me. This is one thing I never expected to appreciate so much about having a partner who works in medicine — the ability to discuss things and have my opinion valued. “Parents have so many difficult decisions to make, I can’t begin to fathom how they make them all. But I guess it’s just baffling to me that vaccines are such a hot topic. Medicine has come so far, and can do so much, but the one thing we can’t eradicate is fear.”
Max nods thoughtfully. “True. And remember, there’s always going to be a certain amount of mistrust in medicine. Our job as doctors is to respect everyone’s different opinions while still doing our best to educate them on what we believe is best practice.”
His response astounds me. So many doctors and nurses get incredibly frustrated when faced with families that choose not to take the simple measures that would protect their children. But not Max. His capacity to see both sides and to compassionately respect different opinions, even those that go against everything he stands for as a physician, is so freaking sexy.
“Do you want children, Max?” The question spills out before I can think about whether it’s too soon to ask. “Sorry. Wow, brain to mouth filter isn’t working.” I blush furiously, attempting to pull my feet out of his grasp, but he just tightens his grip.
“It’s okay, I don’t mind,” he says casually. I make myself relax back into the couch, filled with curiosity about how he’ll reply. “The answer is, I don’t know. I’ve seen a lot in my career that makes the idea of having children of my own absolutely terrifying, but at the same time, I love that I have a big family. Having one of my own might be nice someday.”
“I get that. Children bring such joy, and I’ve always wanted a family, but at the same time, knowing what we know makes it even more scary.” I fall silent, my mind automatically tracing back to the last conversation I had with a man about starting a family. A conversation that was nowhere near this respectful and open. “Anyway, I guess somewhere along the way, I accepted a family wasn’t going to be in my future.”
“Why?”
I shift on the couch, really not wanting to say why. I hate bringing up Thad with Max.
“It was him, wasn’t it. He made you set aside that dream.”
Keeping my eyes downcast, I nod.
“But you’re not with him now, are you?”
My head lifts, and I meet Max’s crystal blue eyes that are focused intently on me. The air between us is crackling with some indescribable energy. My tongue darts out to moisten my lips.
“No. I’m not.”
The conversation has shifted into something that feels precarious. Suddenly, I’m nervous. Do I want to define our relationship right now? Things have been so good; will it be ruined if we try to make this more? Either way, I’m not sure what I expected as a reply from him, but it wasn’t for him to abruptly lift my feet off his lap and stand up. He starts to head into the kitchen, and it’s only when he’s halfway across the room that he finally says something.
“How do you feel about soy-glazed salmon and some roasted vegetables for dinner?”
I scramble to stand and follow him. “Sounds delicious.” I come to a stop on the other side of his kitchen counter and wait for him to close the fridge door. Things are awkward all of a sudden, and I’m desperate to go back to the easy comfort of before. “Max. I’m sorry I brought up kids, I shouldn’t have. We don’t have to talk about that, we just started seeing each other and I don’t want you to think I was implying anything.”
He freezes, a bag of asparagus and bottle of soy sauce in his hands. I watch as he slowly, methodically places them on the counter, then walks around the end of the island, spins me around, and pins me in place with his hands on either side of me.
“Heidi, I said I didn’t mind the question and I meant it. Our relationship might be new, but that doesn’t mean you should hold back from asking me whatever you want to know.”
“Then why do I feel like things got weird,” I whisper, searching his face for any sign that he’s hiding something in his reply.
He exhales sharply. “It’s my fault, I brought him up. And I can’t stand to think of any man having his hands on you or talking about kids or a future with someone else, especially not him. I walked away so you wouldn’t see how much of a caveman it turns me into when I’m reminded of the fact that you haven’t always been mine.”
My mouth falls open. And Max lifts one hand to gently cup my chin and close it slightly, before leaning in to kiss me.
