The Man Who Saved Me

“That sounds great. I feel like Italian. There’s this really great place…”

“Too bad,” cut in Shonali, “because we’re going out for curry, and I know exactly where we’re going. I’d suggest having an antacid if your stomach can’t handle spices, doc.”

Adam looked indignant.

“I can take the fieriest of curries,” he declared.

“We’ll see, won’t we?” teased Shonali, but she knew that she was talking about more than just the curry.

She was gambling, for the first time in a very long time, and the odds were higher than she had ever known before.

She was gambling with her heart, in the hope that she could win his. Because she was beginning to realize that she couldn’t move on as if nothing had happened, because everything had happened.

*****

Shonali looked out the window and couldn’t quite believe it.

It was spring.

It was really spring.

She could feel it in the air. The world seemed to be full of potential for fresh beginnings.

But that potential seemed to bring with it a restlessness for all things new – or, in Adam’s case, all things old.

He hadn’t said anything to her, not particularly. But in the last two months, they had become close enough to understand.

Shonali wasn’t really sure how it was that she was standing in his apartment.

It brought home to her that he was really quite rich. She didn’t like spending too much time with him there, to be honest. It made her feel like an intruder.

Everything in his home was of excellent quality, but there seemed to be so little of him in there. It was as if his heart was all in his work.

Sometimes, thinking of that made her feel a little low.

She had come to truly appreciate what he did and how strongly he felt about it, but it did leave her more and more certain that she would never be able to find a real niche in his life.

The need she had to be a part of his life was frankly beginning to frighten her.

Of course, it was her own fault that she was in this untenable position. She could’ve broken things off with him at any time.

They had never really talked about it since that day. They had just gotten into the habit of spending time together as much as possible. If he had an evening off, they usually went out.

He had even finally gotten on Leonidas with her.

She had never done that for anybody except Carlos and Malia.

Slowly, it had developed into a place where Shonali looked forward to hearing from him all the time. She had started cutting down on her hours at the café. She’d been spending more time restoring bikes, because she could do that on her own time.

She could drop it in a moment and leave when Adam called.

Carlos understood, but she knew that a bit of resentment would soon build. She had been neglecting everything and everybody for Adam.

But she was still only a part of Adam’s life. She fit in when she did, because she changed everything around to suit him and his life.

It was beginning to feel a bit unfair, too.

But he had never asked her to do it. She had done it because she needed to see him.

She needed him.

When they were alone, they were insatiable. Physically, they were so compatible that it was difficult to keep their hands off each other.

But Adam didn’t speak of families, or about meeting his friends.

Maybe they wouldn’t approve of him dating a girl from the wrong side of the tracks. A black girl, at that, thought Shonali, getting even gloomier.

Adam didn’t seem to have had too many relationships in his past. He didn’t seem to have a past at all.

There was so much about him that she just didn’t know.

And yet, she was sure that she knew the most intensely personal part of him. She knew that his work, for him, was more than just work. He was a doctor, a healer, right down to the soul. He loved his work, and he loved helping people.

Shonali had learned when he had had a bad day, and she knew that for him, a bad day meant that he had lost somebody.

That definitely put things in perspective.

Working in trauma was taking a toll on him. She could see that. Anybody could see that.

But with spring had come restlessness. He had told her, recently, that he was tired of hospital politics.

Politics, he had told her, ruined everything. The real reason why doctors heal can be forgotten when it came to fundraising and treating VIP patients.

Adam had no patience for any of that. For him, how much money somebody had simply didn’t matter.

Of course, that was a luxury that you could really only have if you’ve never worried about money yourself. She knew that Adam had never had to worry about paying bills.

She had. She would never forget how much debt she had ended up in after her accident. Starting a business, even a small one, at that point had been so risky. But she’d had to do it, and she had worked herself as hard as she possibly could to clear out those debts.

Even now, she wasn’t done. She was well on track as far as the payments were concerned. But if she kept cutting down on her hours, she would soon have to take more money out of the business she and Carlos had built.

That was something she had always sworn she wouldn’t do.

Now, thanks to Adam, there she was, calmly contemplating it as if it didn’t even really matter.

What was wrong with her? This wasn’t who she was.

She was throwing away so much of herself, and for somebody who hadn’t asked for any of it.

For somebody who had been talking, wistfully, about working in places where only the work mattered. Where no matter what, you had to get the work done, because it was always a matter of life and death.

Shonali walked resolutely into the bedroom, which was really the only place in the space where she felt mostly comfortable. The living room looked like the kind of place that had been decorated by somebody who would never see her as an equal.

She really hoped Adam hadn’t done it himself.

She could hear the shower running. Adam had picked her up after work. He had asked her to wait and gone into the shower, and the water had been running for a long time.

She had seen the dullness in his eyes as soon as she saw him, of course. It usually meant that it had been a bad day.

It usually meant that he had lost somebody.

Adam had once told her that a certain distance, and sometimes very morbid humor, was necessary if you’re to be a doctor and keep your sanity.

He had added that he had never been able to find the distance, though when he was really tired, the morbid humor made an appearance.

She knew that, too. She had seen it, and soothed him the best way she could – with the pleasure her body could give him.

She had only been glad that she could give him that much.

She would never resent him for needing it. She knew how hard he worked.

She knew work was his life.