The Man Who Saved Me

Damn it. Shonali really hated it when Malia made so much sense.

“I don’t like you at all sometimes,” said Shonali, pouting.

Malia grinned.

“I know. Now come on, it was your turn to get lunch, but you’ve been moping, so I didn’t even expect you to remember. I’m taking you out. I’m taking you out for comfort food. And maybe a midday beer. You are going to be all cheered up, whether you like it or not. I talked to Linda. She said you’ve covered so many of her shifts in the last week, keeping busy, that she can cover today. Now come on.”

Shonali laughed, long and loud. When Shonali laughed, it brightened everything up. She exuded pure delight.

“There is absolutely nothing in the world like being cheered up by you, Mal,” said Shonali, finally.

Malia grinned.

“I know. I’m an expert. I’m thinking of writing a book about it. You’re going to be my subject, Shon. Seriously, you’re a treasure trove of material. I’ll put you and Leonidas on the cover.”

Shonali grinned and nodded.

“Sounds like fun. As long as you let me teach you to ride Leonidas.”

“Give him a di*k and I’ll ride him,” retorted Malia, the crudeness of the retort contrasting so completely and ridiculously with her pixie-like looks that Shonali went off into peals of laughter again.

“What’s so funny?”

“Linda, you’re here. Malia…”

“I know what Malia is here for, and I approve. Wholeheartedly. Go out and get sh*t-faced or something, Shon. You’re absolutely useless here for now,” cut in Linda.

Shonali pouted, but she couldn’t make it stick.

She was right. She knew that she had been quite insufferable. And useless, as she had pointed out.

“Use the number if you want to, Shon. I just wanted to make sure you had the choice. And Ricky says if he gets sued, he’s going to make you pay for it, so let’s hope your Doctor Dreamboat is not the litigating type.”

Shonali shook her head, grabbed her jacket and headed off with Malia.

So maybe her life wasn’t perfect. But she had Malia and Carlos. Anybody with friends like that was richer than money could ever measure.

So she would go out and have a fun evening with Malia. She knew how much it took for Malia to take an afternoon off.

She had worried her friends.

Shonali couldn’t help but feel guilty about that.

She’d already given them enough to worry about to last many lifetimes.

She tossed her hair defiantly.

“Want to go on Leonidas?”

Malia grinned and shook her head.

“Shon, I don’t plan for either of us to be sober enough to get on a bike or in a car. Or even walk. We are getting a cab, and we are going to get sh*t-faced.”

Shonali chuckled and tucked her arm through Malia’s.

“Sounds like a plan. Let’s go and get sh*t-faced and talk sh*t about men.”

“Right on,” said Malia, and led the way.

Four hours later, Shonali and Malia were both well on their way to attaining that mythical stage known as sh*t-faced.

“Look. Look, I think you should just call him.”

Malia had said that six times, at least.

In the last five minutes.

“I don’t wanna.”

“Don’t you?”

“I wanna, but don’t wanna.”

Shonali was adamant about that.

She had no idea what she wanted.

“So just call him and get the damn thing over with. What’s the worst thing that could happen?”

“He might not remember me.”

Malia waved her hands as if that was irrelevant.

“Please, have you looked at yourself? He’ll remember those curves even if he’d fallen off that Ferris wheel. Had he fallen off it?”

Shonali shook her head, but she stopped because she felt everything spinning.

“Don’t think so. Nobody fell. What if he didn’t like me?”

Malia shrugged.

“Then you can find a new hero. What kind of silly ass hero doesn’t like you?”

At that point, that seemed like a very sound and sensible point to Shonali.

“What if he likes me?”

Malia waved her hands again, narrowly missing Shonali’s face.

“That could be a problem. You could bang him again and see if it’s as good as you remember. Keep him if he is.”

Shonali considered.

She couldn’t really see a flaw in that plan.

But she had a feeling there was probably one.

“What if he isn’t even here?”

Malia shrugged.

“Then you can find another doctor. Wanna go look for another doctor?”

Shonali shook her head.

“No. Want that doctor.”

And so it was that two very drunk women made their way back to Shonali’s place – they had strategically gone to a pub very close by – and settled down on the living room rug, to stare at Shonali’s phone.

“That’s his number,” said Shonali, for the eleventh time.

“I know. Shall I hit call?”

Shonali shook her head and resumed staring at the phone.

After a while, Malia got fed up and went to make them both sandwiches.

When Malia was drunk, she ate carbs.

By the time she got back, Shonali looked resolute.

“I’m gonna do it,” she declared.

“Do what?”

Malia meant to say that, but she’d stuffed the sandwich in her mouth and mumbled something that could’ve been anything, instead.

The power of true friendship meant that Shonali understood what she meant, anyway.

“Call him.”

Malia nodded encouragingly.

“Hit call,” she advised.

Shonali stared at the phone for a minute longer, and decided that she was going to do it.

She was really going to do it.

She was going to call him.

*****

Adam sat at home and stared at his phone.

It was one of his very rare evenings off.

He had always cherished and hated his evenings off, making him a conflicted and neurotic mess.

He would binge watch Netflix series instead of catching up on his sleep or going out with friends.

Honestly, he wasn’t sure how many people he would consider his friends anymore. Everybody had changed so much since he’d started traveling, and many of the people he considered his friends weren’t around.

They were still on assignment.

There was a part of him that hated how he wasn’t. There were so many places in the world where he could be useful.

No, that wasn’t the only reason. He could be useful exactly where he was, too. There were so many places in the world where he could be useful just for his skills, and not for the fund-raising skills that came with the family name.

He sighed and walked to his window, looking out.

He was on call.

He was always on call.

But he had colleagues who knew better than to call him when he insisted that he was on call despite needing the break.

They were worried about him, he knew that. They thought that he needed to find something more in life.

He could always go home and spend the evening there.

That thought made him chuckle, though it was a mirthless laugh.

Go home, for peace – there was a fine joke.