Page 50 of Goalie Secrets
“I think the word you’re looking for is bossy.”
She shakes her head in disagreement. “In three sentences she found a way to welcome me to the neighborhood while doing important work for the community. Using her influence to do things forotherpeople isn’t bossy. It’s admirable.”
“You sound like the newest member of her fan club,” I say, amused that she easily captured the essence of my mother, who is efficient about getting her way. “I guess she’s only bossy to me because I’m her kid.”
“You have no idea what a bossy mother is, Jeremy. You don’t have a mother who’s tried to mold you physically and mentally into a second version of her beauty-queen self,” Vanya says with a sardonic tone.
“What do you mean?” My curiosity is piqued because she sounds both defeated and ashamed, as if the words were somehow a sign of weakness.
“Nothing,” she replies quickly.
“Were you in pageants as a kid, Vanya?” I tease. Thinking about a small version of Dr. Vanya Kapur in shiny clothes and a large tiara is endearingly amusing.
“Nope. I was never pretty enough,” she declares with a self-deprecating chortle. When she continues, there’s not a hint of self-pity. It’s all business, as usual. “I should get back to work. Thank you so much for the gifts.”
It’s an obvious dismissal that I’m trying to square with her strange words. Whatever happened in the span of thirty seconds has shut her down. Treading carefully, I change the subject because I don’t want to push any more wrong buttons.
“It’s no trouble for me to pick you up on Christmas.”
“No, thank you. I’ll see you at the community center. Send me the address when you can.”
I remain standing at the threshold of her office, wordlessly waiting for more. Just a little more. A glance or a word. I’m rewarded by a smile that does something to me. Maybe it’s because it’s a little sad or perhaps because, sad or happy, her smile is stunning.
“One last thing,” I state so I can stay a little longer. “If I heard you correctly, your mom must be a fool because you’re not asecond version of anyone, Vanya. I know nothing about being pretty enough to be a beauty queen, but I am positive that you’re beautiful every day, without even trying.”
Her eyes widen before she blinks incredulously. She’s about to say something but my name is suddenly called from the hall, breaking the spell. Vanya presses her lips together, holding back. After a split second of hesitation, I shut the door so we’re alone.
“You were going to say something. Say it,” I insist.
“Someone was calling you,” she urges.
“I heard. They can wait. What were you going to say?”
She’s barely audible when she mutters, “Before you arrived, I was telling Pete that I could uphold professional boundaries for myself. And here you are, proving me wrong. How am I supposed to stay on track when you say the most… the most astounding things to me?”
My own professionalism was thrown out the window weeks ago. It’s been impossible to separate the doctor from the woman. Her admission—that I’m not the only one affected—delivers prideful satisfaction.
Something floats to the surface to irritate me.
“Why would you have to talk about boundaries withPete? Was he bothering you?”
“On the contrary, he alerted me to some inappropriate comments from a patient. Comments I didn’t even notice.”
“Who?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Who was making moves on you, Vanya?”
“You.” The way the word leaves her lips—a little trite and a little sweet—urges me forward. None of the exasperation I expect is in her tone. “You,” she repeats more quietly.
“With my cookies and holiday cheer?” I say lightly. “Trust me, Vanya, those aren’t my moves.”
“Don’t I know it,” she stands and walks around her desk, probably to see me out. “We can’t be alone together. I don’t need a coworker to tell me that we’re blurring all kinds of boundaries. I’m a lot of things, but I’m not a hypocrite. Which means we either stop working together or we stop saying and doing things that make it harder to stay away.”
“I only said the truth. That you’re beautiful without trying. That you’re the most amazing woman I know.”
Without warning, Vanya closes the distance till we’re toe to toe. She tilts her head upward to find my gaze.