Chapter 2: Building Tension
“So,” he said, “what kind of medical conference?” He asked on the shuttle, where they ended up sitting next to each other.
“Cardiology. Though, I almost didn’t come.”
“Why almost?”
“Too busy. Too much work. Easier to just stay.”
“But you came anyway.”
“My senior colleague insisted I not miss this one. Said I’d regret it.”
Deepak smiled. “My sister asked me once: when was the last time you did something just because it sounded fun? I couldn’t answer.”
Liz looked out at the thick curtain of falling snow. “Is your life always about work?” he asked.
“I’m a doctor. People depend—”
“I get it. But when do you actually live if you’re always too busy?” His voice was gentle. “We get one life. One ridiculous, delayed-flight, terrible-coffee life.”
The words landed somewhere in her chest. She was twenty-nine. Successful, responsible, always where she was supposed to be. And she couldn’t remember the last time she’d done something just because she wanted to.
* * *
"What was I thinking?" He said pulling out a can of soft drink from his jacket pocket as they waited in queue at the hotel reception, "I need a stiff one, not a soft drink." He added mock shivering in the warm, climate controlled hotel lobby.
"Then why did you get it?"
"Well, I couldn't say no to an apology." He said grinning and added before she could respond, "I was thirsty at the airport, and this vending machine was the only one in sight. I entered the money, chose a bottle of water and...nothing. I tried to reason with it -- said we had a deal, I give you money, you give me a drink -- nothing. Then things got violent and I gave it a smack and a kick before giving up and walking away. I had not walked 10 steps when this kid walks up to the machine, and it spits out a drink."
Liz started laughing at the story, "You think that's funny? I decided to give the machine a piece of my mind and walked back up to it when it popped this out." He said holding the can. "Apology accepted."
“Maybe we can grab a drink from the bar after checking in.” She suggested.
“Sounds like a plan.”
After checking in and collecting their respective room keys, the two made their way towards the hotel bar—“CLOSED DUE TO WEATHER”
“You kidding me?” he said staring at the sign. “This is the weather that needs you!”
*When do you actually live?*
“My room has a minibar. Conference speaker upgrade. Suite, actually.” She took a breath. “If you wanted to continue the conversation.”
He stared at her for three seconds.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
* * *
The suite was nicer than expected—sitting area, floor-to-ceiling windows showing snow falling outside, well-stocked minibar.
“Conference speakers get this?” Deepak looked around. “I’m in the wrong profession.”
She opened the minibar, smiling at his easy humor. “Whiskey okay?”
“Perfect.”
She made two drinks, handed him one, sat across from him. Safe distance.
He raised his glass. “To delayed connections.”
“To unexpected conversations.”
The whiskey burned warm.
“So,” Deepak said, settling into the couch, “do you actually save lives or is that just TV drama?”
“Sometimes. Not as dramatically as TV.”
“Disappointing. I was hoping for defibrillator scenes and intense music.”
“You make everything sound light.”
“Because it is. We’re humans on a floating rock. Might as well laugh.”
She studied him. “You don’t take anything seriously, do you?”
“I take plenty seriously. Just not myself.” He looked at her. “You though... you take everything seriously.”
The observation stung because it was true. She let the comment hang as she refilled their glasses.
“So,” she said, “someone waiting at home?” She asked trying to steer the conversation away from herself.
He paused, smiled. “There was. Past tense as of seven days ago.”
Her chest tightened. “I’m sorry.”
“She’s moving to the Caribbean. Back to her ex. Job in Barbados.” He took a sip. “She’s sitting there breaking up with me, and I said, ‘That’s hot.’”
Liz blinked. “What?”
“That’s exactly what she said too.’ And I said, ‘The Caribbean weather. It’s hot. You’ll need sunscreen. Then I told her to get one of those big floppy hats. Really commit to the aesthetic.”
“While she was breaking up with you? What did she do?”
“Started laughing. Said ‘I’m going to miss this. You’re so annoying.’” He smiled. “I told her to go be happy. Send me a postcard of a sea turtle.”
“Did you mean it?”
“The sea turtle part? Absolutely.”
“No—the ‘be happy’ part.”
“Yeah. If he makes her happier, she should go. And I got to leave her laughing instead of crying.”
Liz stared at this man who’d been dumped a week ago and was sitting here making her laugh. They talked another hour. Snow falling outside. Whiskey warming inside.
Deepak set down his glass. "You know what I noticed about you?"
"What?"
"You smile like you're asking permission first."
She stopped, drink halfway to her lips. "What?"
"No offense, but it feels like you're checking if it's allowed. Even now."
"That's not—" She paused. "Is that really how I seem?"
"You seem like someone who's forgotten she's allowed to want things."
The words cut deep. Too close.
She set down her glass, stretched trying to find a way to change the subject.
"It's late. I should probably head out" he said taking the hint, looking at his watch. “Thanks for the drink."
He moved to the door. Hand on the handle.
"What if I've forgotten how?" She asked.
He stopped. Turned. "Forgotten how to what?"
She still couldn't look at him. "To want things. Without permission. Without justification."
He let go of the door handle and turned to face her.
"Then remember." His voice was gentle as he leaned against the closed door. "Right now. What do you want?"
Long pause. She finally looked at him.
"Something I shouldn't," she whispered.
"Says who?"
The question hung between them.
"Stay," she said.
"Yeah?"
She looked directly at him. "Yeah."