Page 11

William

With Ryan’s approval, Dr. Baptiste came by to conduct our physical exams. He, and one of his nurses, transformed the kitchen into a work area while waiting for Ryan to come out of his room. I figured letting him go first would be best. We could get it over with before he had a change of heart.

“Give me a second.” I made my way to Ryan’s bedroom, knocking a few times but he didn’t answer. Testing the knob and finding it unlocked, I cracked it open. The overcast skies darkened the gray room.

“Ryan?” It felt wrong to enter without his consent. The bathroom door stood ajar, its light trickling into the room. I called his name a little louder before announcing, “I’m coming in.”

I called his name through the partial opening, spotting him standing in the shower with the water off, fully dressed. His panicked breaths filtered through the door.

Pushing inside the bathroom, I opened the shower door and stepped in front of him, careful to leave enough space between us. He wore a thick sweater with what looked like at least three layers of shirts beneath, and his lower half was twice its normal size. He had to have on a whole pack of socks as well. He’d layered up to protect his skin from their touch, and I couldn’t tell if the sweat on his brow was from the panic attack or the amount of fabric he wore.

“Turn around,” I whispered. He shook his head, hands flexing in front of him. “Please, trust me.”

His chest expanded with his inhale, but then he faced away from me. I allowed myself only a second of uncertainty before pressing my back to his. Ryan stiffened, both of us no longer breathing.

We slept in this position for over a week. We’d done so with nothing but our clothes between us the last couple of nights. I never initiated it, though. Ryan was the one in control, the one to decide, and he would sneak into my room and do so after I fell asleep.

Ryan wasn’t in the mood for physical contact, but I’d taken the liberty anyway, hoping for me he’d make an exception. He relaxed into me after a minute, and I did the same.

“They’ll need to take your blood pressure. The nurse will do that.” My voice echoed around us. “She’ll secure the cuff around one bicep, then press a button to inflate it. It’ll temporarily block the blood flow in your arm. That’ll allow her to measure your blood pressure. She said she can do this without touching your skin,” I pointed out, and his shaking subsided.

“And your weight. You’ll step on a scale for that. She’ll need to take a few vials of your blood for testing. She’ll tie a tourniquet around your arm, maybe ask you to make a fist, then she’ll search the crook of your elbow for a good vein before inserting a thin needle into it. It’ll feel like a quick pinch,” I hurried to say when he grew agitated again. He’d felt a needle prick his skin before. They’d had to sedate him at the hospital, and I was sure he’d been drugged in that way in the past.

“She’ll wear gloves,” I added, hoping it helped. “No skin-to-skin contact. But she will need to touch you.” I pressed further into him in an attempt to absorb his fear, whispering for him to take a deep breath.

“They’ll ask you to pee in a cup. That’s always fun,” I said in a wry tone. “I end up needing to run the faucet and think about waterfalls to get my body to cooperate.” I looked back to see if he’d smile or laugh at my joke, but he did neither.

“They’ll ask questions about your medical history. Your family’s medical history too.” I moved on quickly. “They’ll want to know what types of medications you’re on, if there’s been any changes to your health since your last exam… Things like that. I’ve already told Dr. Baptiste that getting those answers won’t be possible this time. He understands.”

His posture softened, so I turned and waited for him to look at me. His big, ebony eyes shimmered like they did sometimes when his emotions were too heavy for him. If only I could hold him.

“They may do a few other things, but it’ll be okay. They won’t hurt you,” I promised. “I’ll go first, if you want. And I’ll stay when it’s your turn, if you want that too.”

Ryan wiped the sweat from his forehead with the sleeve of his sweater, before nodding once. I’d never grow tired of that. Now that he’d deemed me worthy of his gestures, they never stopped coming. Nods, head shakes, a palm extended when he wanted me to shut up. I tended to ramble, and even though he didn’t speak, he made it clear his ears worked just fine.

I left him to unbundle himself, and was sitting on a stool with the blood pressure cuff around my arm when he crept into the kitchen. He looked from the empty tubes lining the rack on the island, to the nurse concentrating on my pressure reading.

“Good morning, Ryan,” Dr. Baptiste greeted from where he sat in front of his open laptop. Ryan startled at his voice, he hadn’t noticed him sitting on the other side of the kitchen. The doctor stood. “I hope you don’t mind me calling you Ryan. William assured me it would be okay.”

It hadn’t occurred to me until then that I didn’t know Ryan’s last name. Ryan didn’t answer him, but Dr. Baptiste wasn’t offended by it. He knew enough about Ryan not to be.

“Natasha will take your vitals once she’s done with William. I’ll step in to review those results, and to go over what we’ll be testing you for. I’ll check to make sure everything sounds nice and healthy internally, and to answer any questions you may have.”

Ryan looked at the pencil and paper I’d left on the island for him.

“There are a few forms I’ll need you to sign first, though.” Dr. Baptiste gave him a warm smile. “And William expressed that you’d like him to be present for it all. Is that correct?”

Ryan nodded, a curl springing free from his elastic tie.

Dr. Baptiste pointed to the small stack of paperwork on the counter. “Everything’s there for you whenever you’re ready. I can explain anything you have trouble understanding, but it’s pretty straightforward consent and privacy stuff. William can confirm that as well.” He retook his seat and slipped his glasses back on, splitting his attention between his screen and the file in his hand.

It didn’t take long for Natasha to finish up with me. She passed me a specimen cup and asked me to fill it to the indicated line. “I’ll be right back,” I whispered to Ryan, who still stood several feet away from all the activity.

Returning from the bathroom, I handed the cup over to Natasha, looking Ryan over to make sure he’d made it through my short absence unscathed.

“Remove your shirt and have a seat,” Dr. Baptiste said from behind me. I whipped my head around in panic to find him inserting his stethoscope plugs into his ears. He gestured toward my stool, rubbing the bell against his lab coat to warm it.

My back burned in all the spots I wanted to keep hidden. “We keep our shirts on.”

Dr. Baptiste didn’t argue. I’d never declined removing my shirt during an exam before, so he likely assumed I did so now in support of Ryan’s needs.

I sat, and he reached under the hem of my t-shirt with the bell, placing it against my skin and instructing me to take deep breaths in and out. He listened to my lungs next.

Dr. Baptiste added a few notes to my file, then looked over the rim of his glasses at Ryan then back to me.

“It’s okay,” I said, knowing he wanted confirmation before discussing my medical history in front of Ryan. We went over my current medications and the status of my runner’s knee.

“And you’d like to be tested for everything , is that correct?” He glanced at Ryan again.

“Yes,” I replied. It seemed like a lifetime ago since I last had sex, but I always had them run the full works on my blood and urine samples anyway. I didn’t see the harm in being thorough. They’d be running all the same tests for Ryan, especially considering his situation.

“Okay,” Dr. Baptiste said, “it’s your turn, Ryan.”

He took his time stepping to the counter where the forms waited, tremors overtaking his hand as he picked up the pen.

“Do you need me to read them to you?” I asked under my breath. Natasha busied herself with getting everything ready for him, and Dr. Baptiste had gone back to tapping away at his keyboard. Ryan hit me with a hard head shake loaded with stubbornness and attitude.

It took him a while to get through them, but Baptiste and Natasha did a good job of pretending they had a lot to do while they waited. He drew a squiggly line near the signature request at the bottom, then exhaled before taking up my vacated stool. I stood next to him like a bodyguard until Natasha politely asked me to wait several feet away. Unhappy about it, I obliged, moving to lean against the refrigerator.

Ryan kept his gaze on me the whole time, either afraid I’d leave, or maybe needing me to anchor him. My stomach cartwheeled at the idea it could be the latter. Careful, William.

He grimaced when the needle pierced his skin, crimson blooming beneath his beauty mark.

We’d made it through Natasha’s portion of events. Dr. Baptiste stepped in next. “Okay, I’ll need to slip this under your shirt,” he said, moving in with the stethoscope in hand. Ryan gripped the edges of the stool, recoiling and turning his face away.

“No!” I barked, holding a hand up. Everyone jolted. “Over his clothing,” I said in a lower tone.

“That will dull the sounds,” Dr. Baptiste advised.

“It doesn’t matter,” I said, holding Ryan’s frantic gaze and repeating, “Over his clothing.”

I walked the doctor and Natasha to the elevator, promising I’d help Ryan get set up on the portal so he could access his results in a few days. Locking the front door and resting my forehead against it, I closed my eyes for a beat, trying to shake off the tension. I’d been on edge all morning, nervous that at any moment Ryan would call it quits or freak out and end up needing to be restrained like at the hospital.

Taking a deep breath, I turned to head for the living room. I stopped, noticing Ryan watching me from outside his bedroom door. He’d jumped off the stool as soon as they were done with him, hurrying to scrub away their touch. His hair hung damp around his shoulders, his shirt wet and clinging to him as though he hadn’t dried off before dressing. He looked as tired as I felt.

“I’m proud of you,” I said. He averted his gaze. We stood there a while, me staring at him, him staring at a spot on the floor. I didn’t mind. It meant I got to drink him in without worrying about what he’d see written across my face.

He eventually did look up, and we watched each other until our blinks were in sync, until our chests rose and fell in unison, until our breaths turned into sweet music to my ears.

Ryan’s fingers twitched at his sides, and he raised a hand to the juncture of his arm, where the needle had been. Next, he closed his palm over his bicep, where the blood pressure cuff had been placed. Then he rubbed a hand over his chest, as though he could still feel the bell of the stethoscope there. The lump at his throat shifted with his swallow. I shouldn’t have been able to see it from this distance, but my vision seemed to be supernatural when it came to him. A slow nod followed.

“You’re welcome,” I choked out, in response to his demonstration of gratitude. Something tender passed between us while our staring match continued. I could’ve stood there all-night gazing at him. I could’ve composed the greatest song ever, inspired by the look of confusion and curiosity in his eyes.

But then it was over, our connection broken when he slipped into his bedroom, closing and locking the door behind him.

I hurried to fall asleep that night, knowing he wouldn’t come to me, wouldn’t press his back against mine if he knew I was awake. I counted numbers and sheep and all the lies I’d told myself since he arrived, but it was hours before oblivion found me.

I woke in the middle of the night with a jolt, my palm over my mouth in the role of dream catcher. My nostrils flared as I clamped down, squeezing my lips closed to keep the name from my past trapped inside. I knew if I turned on the lamp and looked down at my hand, I’d see the letters scorched into my skin.

Rolling over, I scrambled up after noticing the spot next to me empty. Ryan never came. I clicked on the lamp then, removing my sweat slicked shirt and pleading with my heart. “Just once,” I whispered. “I promise.” One brief moment to remember, to feel his name on my lips. A small indulgence.

The pain in my chest and my head competed as they bargained with one another. One wanting to protect me, the other demanding total obliteration. Scurrying into my closet, I stopped in front of the tri-fold mirror, alternating between staring at my back, and watching my tears fall as I prepared to rip myself to shreds. I should’ve known better. Perhaps I did. Maybe I just couldn’t live with ignoring it anymore.

Bracing myself for the ache and the guilt and the continuing life of turmoil ahead… I said it. I gave life to the name that haunted me.

“Asher.”