Page 25 of Delayed Intention

Planning Plans

“How pathetic is it that I volunteer to work most holidays?”

I am sitting next to Kelly, one of the emergency room nurses, where I am spending another Thanksgiving, working an extra overnight shift. I think everyone knows I do this to avoid my family. When Kelly starts to open their mouth to answer, I put up my hand. “On second thought, don’t answer that.”

“Are you afraid to hear the truth, Lily?” Their mouth quirks up on one side as they raise a pierced eyebrow at me.

“I’m not afraid of the truth. I’d rather not give it airtime. Not the same thing. Leave me to my rationalizations.” They laugh and move away to answer an ambulance calling in on the box. It’s probably another deep-fried turkey gone awry.

I turn back to my phone, scrolling through the pictures from my trip to Colorado two weeks ago.

Josh and I accomplished most of Eddie and Felicia’s wish list. We visited all three venues, tasted sample meals, and ate slices of cake.

I also had my hair and makeup done twice.

Somehow, Josh and I managed to steal time away for a few more hikes.

We even squeezed in an hour of horseback riding at a local stable.

It was a whirlwind, but the truth is, I enjoyed myself.

After spending more time together, I was eventually able to relax.

To me, Josh always seemed at ease. After a few days, I became calmer around him.

By the end, I didn’t have to get lit or freak out to have a meaningful conversation.

More than that, sharing honestly about what had happened nineteen years ago seemed to heal more between us than I had expected.

We didn’t talk about Dr. Kellerman again, but having the truth out there helped bring some peace into our past.

Sitting at the desk, scrolling, I was so absorbed in the images on my phone that I didn’t realize Kelly was back and standing behind me.

“Yummy, who’s the hot cowboy?” Kelly asked. At that, two additional nurses I’m friendly with seemed to appear out of nowhere to take a gander at the picture Kelly was referring to.

On my phone, Josh is on a horse surrounded by mountains and an ominous, steel-colored, cloudy sky.

The stables are usually closed this time of year, but of course, off-season, Estes is a small town, and Josh was able to hook us up.

Considering the picture again with the hovering nurses, I could admit he’s looking like the cover of a small-town cowboy romance novel.

He is even wearing a cowboy hat and boots, unironically.

It had been the end of our ride, so he was dusty enough to look like he’d blend in on the set of Yellowstone .

Okay, he’s beyond hot, and I feel sweat break out on the back of my neck under their collective scrutiny.

“That’s just Josh. He isn’t an actual cowboy, he’s a doctor.” I just made that worse for myself. “We went riding when I went to Colorado to help Felicia and Ed settle on their wedding venue and stuff.” Kelly and the other two nurses are eyeing me with uncomfortable interest.

“Uh-huh. Just Josh, is it?” Angela, a traveling nurse from the UK, chuckles to herself.

“It’s not like that.” I can feel my blush rising. “He’s just a friend—we grew up together.”

Jessica, the other nurse who happened to be around the control desk, pats me on the shoulder, “Okay, calm down, ‘just-a-friend’.” She rounds on the other two nurses.

“Don’t y’all have work to do, or do you need me to find somethin’ for y’all?

” With that admonishment, the others disperse, and she smiles at me with sympathy.

“They’re just teasing you ‘cause he is hot—you can admit that. And you never give ‘em somethin’ to gossip about, ya know?”

“I know, and thanks for jumping in—I do poorly under pressure.”

She smiles again, “Girl, you do better than you think you do.”

With that, several ambulances come into the bay at once, and Thanksgiving becomes a busy shift after all.

We sort through several patients with chest pain, multiple intoxicated alcoholics looking for detox, an unfortunate college-aged fentanyl overdose that didn’t make it, and lastly, a few traumatic injuries.

Hours go by before I finally get to sit down again.

While I’m catching up on my charting, I eat my packed turkey and cranberry sandwich.

The others brought hot dishes to share, and I brought in a parve pumpkin pie from a local kosher bakery.

Recently, in my ongoing quest for what might help me navigate my life, I have been trying to keep kosher.

I don’t do it for any reason other than that rules make me feel secure.

Honestly, I’m still not sure if my increasing love of structure is pathological or making me better—in any case, I’ve been taking comfort in it.

Once I finished charting, I treated myself to a piece of pie with a cup of tea and decided to text Josh. Before I left Colorado, he’d told me he’d be covering a hospital shift on his Thanksgiving, just like me. I wonder how his night’s going.

Me

hey there

After less than a minute, I get a response.

Josh

hi yourself — how’s ur shift

usual holiday fare — u?

kind of slow here, was just about to text u

great minds…

any news about your plans to come out?

Yes. Will be in NE Dec 5 thru end of month. U?

supposed to be off 1st and last week of Dec—U will be with Rose?

Yes. Looking forward to it

Got to go. Happy Turkey Day.

Ok. U2

Around midnight, my shift is wrapping up, and I change out of my scrubs in the women’s locker room before I head home. I wish I had another plan for tonight, or a roommate or something. Here I am—single and alone for another major holiday.

Driving home, my mind starts to spiral: will I ever find anyone to share holidays with besides being a third wheel to Roselyn and David? Probably not. By the time I get home, I feel flat, more than depressed. After hesitating briefly, I start a new letter to Josh.

Thanksgiving Night/Black Friday morning, 2024

Dear Josh,

Hi. We just texted tonight, which was nice, so I thought, why not just write to him again?

I think I told you this already, but, in case I didn’t…

I feel as though my thoughts are so much clearer when I’m writing than when I type or talk to someone.

I don’t know why that is, but something about writing puts me at ease.

The best way to explain it is that, when I write, I get a built-in pause to think, and therefore, my mind isn’t going a thousand miles an hour, in all the different directions.

So, I guess, when I write, I’m able to express myself with confidence—if that makes sense.

What I feel, when I’m able to put my anxieties and fears to the side, starts to become clearer.

Being the pragmatist you are, you probably think all of that seems silly. I’d bet that you just know your next steps and why you would take them. I envy you :)

Sometimes, I’m afraid that I’ll spend my entire life feeling lost in it. I hope each day that I’ll have less fear than the day before. Lately, I’ve had so many breakthroughs and new experiences that now I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Ugh! My brain. It’s tiresome being me. I suppose that’s why I don’t have so many close friends. I find myself surprised when I have any at all. I mean, I get so tired of listening to my crap—why wouldn’t someone else be tired of me too?

I wonder if you’ve ever felt that way. To me, you seem so self-assured and so adult.

I, on the other hand, feel like an imposter.

Except when I’m seeing patients. Something about my training kicks in, and I’m a different person.

I wish I could be that resolute in the other areas of my life.

Sometimes patients are mean—because they are sick or are just not good people—and they can try to push my buttons, but work is the one place I’ve developed thick skin.

It’s funny — I can do that at work, but if I sense my mother is having a mean thought toward me, I fly apart into scattering pieces.

Sometimes I wonder—will I ever just feel content?

Just be okay as I am. I guess time will tell.

Deep down, below the surface of me, there’s a part of me that can admit I want to feel okay, be calm, be at peace.

Abbie says I should be happy about the growth I’ve had this fall.

It’s been big stuff. But when I compare myself to what I think normal people are like, it feels like I’m learning now what I should have learned decades ago. It’s hard not to be frustrated.

Abbie says comparing myself to others is bullshit.

She’s helped me learn to laugh at myself.

At all of it. She’s a great friend. I was thinking of asking her to be my plus one at the wedding—I would love it if you could meet her.

My dream is to put the two of you in a room together and get some popcorn.

Of course, bringing her to the wedding would fuel half my family’s belief that I’m into women, but I’m not sure how much I care what they think anymore.

Hope your Thanksgiving is not too busy. Talk soon.

Your friend,

Lily Shoshana Mendes

P.S. not sure why I signed my whole name, LOL, but I’m not rewriting this whole letter just b/c of that!

L :)