Page 22 of Salvaged Heart

22

ANDERS

“ A nderson Carmichael?” An older female nurse wearing obnoxiously bright pink scrubs announced from the door leading to the back offices. This was it, the moment I'd been avoiding for what felt like forever. My heart beat rapidly in my chest, my limbs feeling paralyzed, unable to get me to stand. Beck rose to his feet, tugging me up with him.

“This way.” She motioned to Beck.

With a gentle nudge, he pushed me forward. “He’s a little nervous.”

She gave me a reassuring smile. “That is completely normal, but there is no reason to be concerned. Looks like we are just having a chat today and taking a few vials of blood. Is that correct?” She checked her chart. “You’ll like Dr. White, everyone does. Will your…friend be joining us?”

“Partner.” Beck corrected, and my head snapped in his direction. Did he just say what I thought he did? “Did you want me to come back with you, babe?” He added, this time to me.

What was he playing at?

“Yep,” I squeaked, grabbing his hand and pulling him after me as we followed the woman down the hall.

She took my weight, height, and blood pressure before ushering us into a private room and closed the door behind her on the way out. The room was barely more than a box, ten by ten at most. An examination chair was shoved in one corner, next to a small desk with a laptop and files arranged in neat piles over its top. The walls were covered with a mixture of posters showing the insides of various body parts and warnings regarding the horrific effects of smoking. The anticipation was making me nauseous.

I'd never been good with doctors. As a child, I sobbed just at the mention of a visit, and my limited experience with them as an adult hadn’t been much better. The few times I'd ventured to one in recent years had been to feign some injury, requesting painkillers. They’d caught on to me quickly. I’m sure I was on a list somewhere. The doctor was probably reviewing a warning about me as we waited.

“It will be okay.” Beck’s hand squeezed my shoulder. He hovered over where I sat propped on the edge of the chair, the vinyl cover squeaking horribly as I wriggled about. “Whatever the outcome, yeah?”

A knock came at the door before I could answer, and the doctor wandered in. He was a younger guy, maybe in his early to mid-thirties at most. He was clean-shaven, handsome, and wearing a white coat over his own set of hot pink scrubs. Did they buy them in bulk? He sanitized his hands before offering one to me to shake. I took it hesitantly.

“Anderson Carmichael?”

“The one and only.” The slight quiver in my voice made my false bravado transparent as hell. “Most people just call me Anders.”

“Nice to meet you, Anders.” He had a kind smile. “My name is Dr. Nicolas White.”

He took Beck’s hand next before pulling a tiny wheeled stool out from under the desk and sitting on it. He slid all the way up until he was practically between my knees. His proximity was entirely too close for comfort. I did my best to lean away from him, but the back of the examination chair kept me in place. Seeming to pick up on my sudden discomfort, he moved back a few inches.

“What brings you in today, Anders? It looks like this is your first visit to my practice.”

I nodded, suddenly finding I didn’t know how to string a sentence together. My cheeks heated as I pondered the right words to use. I shouldn’t be embarrassed. Beckham had coached me over breakfast that morning that none of this had been my fault. The doctor’s job was to make sure I was healthy, not judge me. But still, my tongue felt four sizes too big, and the room was a thousand degrees.

Beck’s finger brushed a curl behind my ear before returning to my shoulder. “You got this.”

“Urm, I need to get tested…for er… STIs.”

The doctor didn’t bat an eye. “Well, we can take care of that for you today. Do you have any reason to believe you may have contracted one? Any concerning symptoms? Unprotected sex?” He leaned behind him, pulling a pair of latex gloves from a box fixed to the wall. “Is it okay if I take some vitals while I ask you questions?”

I nodded again.“Yes, no, and yes. In that order.”

“Can you be more specific?”

I looked at Beckham, trying to urge him to stop the line of questioning, but he just grinned back at me, making me feel itchy all over.

“I am, well was, an addict for nine years. When I was high, being safe wasn’t as important as it should have been.”

He nodded in understanding, clipping a small black device to my finger. “And what substances were you primarily using?”

“Opiates, mainly, Vicodin specifically, but I’ve tried pretty much everything at least once.”

“Shared needles or used any non-sterile needles?”

“Not that I remember.”

He slowly brought his gloved hands up to my neck, waiting for me to nod permission, and pressed his fingers along various points on my neck before replacing the hand with his stethoscope. He asked me to breathe in and out as he placed it on different parts of my chest and back. Scribbling illegible notes as he went on the notepad on his knee.

“And are you currently clean? Sober?” The small machine on my finger beeped, and he plucked it off.

“Yes, close to six weeks now. From all drugs and alcohol.”

Dr. White placed a hand gently on the opposite shoulder than the one Beckham still clung to, meeting my eyes with an intense expression. “That’s quite an accomplishment. Congratulations.” It struck me as a strange thing to say.

“Thank you.”

“Are you currently sexually active?”

Before I could even mull on the question, Beck answered for me. “We would like to be.”

Jesus, Beck. I should have left him in the waiting room. But who was I kidding? The only reason I hadn’t bolted yet was thanks to his calming presence by my side.

“Not currently, no,” I added sheepishly.

At least Dr. White seemed amused by Beck’s antics and flashed a wry smile before moving his attention back to me. “And your previous sexual partners, have they been exclusively male?”

“There have been women before, but I identify as gay.”

Another thoughtful nod followed by a scribble of something else.

“Just a few more questions, I promise.”

Just a few more questions felt closer to a hundred. Dr. White checked my eyes, ears, tongue, and throat while interviewing me on a whole range of topics. How were my energy levels? Poor. Fatigue? Crippling . Issues with depression and anxiety? I’m a mess. Problems gaining or maintaining weight? Have you seen me? The whole experience left me exhausted and mentally burned out, my answers to his endless questions growing short. Beck seemed to pick up that I was quickly reaching the end of my rope and took over most of the conversation while I became entertained watching dogs playing outside at the doggy daycare across the street, through a tiny window to the right of the doctor’s head.

Finally, he seemed to have enough information and sat his notepad on the desk, walking around to perch on the edge closest to me.

“I will have nurse Sandra take blood samples for your STI panel. While she’s at it, I would like to take a few extra vials to run additional tests and get a urine sample. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you, but like with any substance abuse, the lasting effect on our bodies from opiates can sometimes be as damaging as the use itself. I want to test the functions of a few of your key organs and screen for potential autoimmune disorders.”

“Autoimmune?”

“I will be straight with you, Anders. Some of your symptoms are quite concerning. I am particularly worried about your weight. It is very low for a man of your height, and the fact that you haven’t gained much since getting clean might hint at a few potential illnesses.”

“How long will it take to get the results?” Beck asked from beside me.

“The STI panel we should get back by the end of the day. We have our own lab on site to screen routine blood work. I will need to send some of the samples to a third party for more specific testing. Those should be back by early next week. Try not to worry in the meantime. I know it’s easier said than done.”

I hadn’t even considered there could be something else wrong with me, and the thought that I could have done lasting damage to my body was debilitating. I screwed my eyes shut tight, trying to breathe through the rising panic following the steps Beckham had taught me. He was asking the doctor something else, but the sounds of their voices became a hum as my mind raced through every worst-case scenario imaginable.

“I hope you won’t ever have to use it, Beckham. But it’s important to keep on hand.”

“He’s better. I won’t let that happen.”

“We both know that’s not how this works. He could relapse tomorrow, or ten years from now, or never at all. But if the worst does happen, it will make the difference.”

Seeking Beck's comfort, I found myself leaning into him, twisting in the seat until my face was pressed flat against his stomach, inhaling his intoxicating scent. He held me close, still chatting away with Dr. White while running his fingers through my hair.

At some point, the doctor left, patting me on his shoulder as he went, letting me know he would be in touch as soon as the results were in, and he’d like to see me in two weeks, regardless. The nurse took five vials of blood before passing me a cup to relieve myself into.

Beck grabbed my hand as I passed him, following the nurse toward the toilets. “Need me to come with you?”

“I think I can manage.”

“I know I keep saying this, but I am really proud of you. I know today wasn’t easy.”

“Thanks…Babe.” I threw him a wink, earning a chuckle in response. “But in all seriousness, thank you for being here.”

Dr. White called a little after five pm to let me know my STI panel had come back clear. Beck let out an obnoxious whooping sound as the doctor delivered the good news, which had me diving to turn my phone off speaker and throwing Beck a silent what the fuck .

“Seems like you have been very lucky. Have a great evening, guys.” I couldn’t help but smile at the slight suggestiveness in his tone.

Beck announced the news was worthy of splurging on tacos for dinner, and we found ourselves in a small Mexican restaurant overlooking the lake. It was the sort of kitschy place that hung pinatas from the ceiling and placed a sombrero on your head while loudly singing and clapping along to Happy Birthday in broken Spanish. But the food was heaven. Everything was salty, cheesy, and just all-around good for the soul. That, combined with how Beck had been flashing devastating smiles at me all evening, had left me buzzing in my seat.

“How do you make eating tacos look like an orgasmic experience?”

His abrupt words caused me to inhale what was supposed to be my next bite of food. I choked it down, fighting back tears that threatened to roll down my face. My entire throat burned. Beck just continued to sit there, an amused grin plastered across his gorgeous face, not in the least bit concerned that I was gasping for air.

“I’m sorry, what now?” I finally managed to get out once I was done fighting for my life.

“I swear your eyes rolled back in your head on that last bite. It was quite pornographic, kind of a turn-on.”

I shot him a stern look. “What’s gotten into you today?”

“What do you mean?”

“First, you introduce yourself as my partner to that nurse, then outright tell Dr. White that you want to have sex with me, and now you are blatantly hitting on me in a family restaurant.”

The whole thing was screwing with my head. Beck was the most affectionate person I knew. He constantly sought physical touch, whether it was grabbing my hand, cuddling, or even the early morning kisses he pressed to my forehead when he thought I was fast asleep. But that was just how Beck was. He had been that way with Laurel, too, hadn’t he ? I searched my memory bank for evidence of how it had been with them together. Things were hazy at best, but I came up empty-handed. Sure, they hugged and kissed, but he hadn’t gravitated toward her like he seemed to gravitate toward me. When I entered a room, it was like he sensed it coming and immediately turned the full weight of his attention to me, no matter what he was busy with.

Then there were the things he said to me. The casual way I’d catch him checking me out. The way he’d pulled me into his chest earlier when I had been on the verge of panic. He hadn’t made a big deal of it or fussed over me. He’d just held me in his arms until I had been strong enough to pull away again. It was almost like he wanted all of me, not just the good but all my mess, too.

“I’m flirting with you.”

“Flirting.”

But Beck was straight. No, not straight. What had he said? I don’t think gender has ever been important to me. So, Bi, then? Pan, maybe? It’s always been about something deeper. Demi? Did it even matter?

“Yes, Anders flirting. You should know. You used to do it all the time when we first met.”

“High Anders would flirt with a telephone pole if he thought it was looking at him a certain way. I’m not sure that’s much to go on.”

His face dropped.

“Shit, I’m sorry that came out wrong.”

Beck sighed, meeting my eyes. The sincerity in his expression was enough to flay me alive.

“Anders, I’m trying to make it clear how I feel about you. I might not be going about it the right way, or maybe I am jumping way ahead of the gun here and misreading all the signals I think you’re sending me, but I really like you. I want to get to know you, I want to make you laugh, I want to date you…”

“You want to date me?”

“If you’ll let me. I want to take you to the movies and lay with you under the stars. I want to buy you flowers or whatever the guy equivalent is. I want to eat tacos with you in offensively themed restaurants, and above all else, I want to flirt openly with you because I am becoming completely addicted to how your cheeks get all flushed when I do it.”

Words were, yet again, failing me. He was saying exactly how he felt, but it didn’t leave me any less confused. Beck was the kind of guy who could have any girl, or I guess guy, he wanted. Sure, it hadn’t worked out with Laurel, but he was the sort of person people dreamed of having as their partner. Intelligent, driven, talented, athletic, funny, impossibly kind, and heart-stoppingly handsome. He would go to great places in his life, but here he was, continuing to waste his time with me. It didn’t make any sense.

“Tell me if I’m getting this all wrong.”

“You’re not. I want all that, too.” There was the truth. I wanted all those things he'd said, and most importantly, I wanted them with him. I just didn’t deserve them.

“Then stop resisting. I understand your concerns medically, and that’s all good to go. I understand you’ll need to take things slow physically and might not ever be ready for certain things, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to get to know your heart, Anders. If hand jobs in bar alleyways are all you can give me, I’m content with that.”

“You can’t possibly mean that?” No one ever did.

“But I do, Anders. Please let me show you.”

I stared at my hands, picking at the skin around my nails, chewing what felt like a hole through my lip. I wasn’t good at taking people at their word. I'd been fucked over one too many times in the past, but there had been a time when I had been open with my heart. I’d let Jonah in after all, and those years we'd spent together had been magical, well, if you ignored how it had ended. Would I go through life trying to avoid experiencing those feelings again? All that happiness? I didn’t want to be lonely. I'd just accepted that was all I deserved.

If I allowed myself to be happy, why couldn’t that be with Beck? I hadn’t tricked him into feeling this way about me. He didn’t have to be here. He now knew all the terrible parts of me, but he hadn’t run. He was still telling me he wanted all of these things despite it.

He reached up and released my lip from where I was mangling it between my teeth, pressing the palm of his hand softly against my cheek. Then, as if reading my mind, he added, “You deserve good things, Anders. Let me be your good thing.”