an offer in one of the hospitals there. She’d set it up, assuming I’d take it but, well—you know me. You can take the jungle doc out of the jungle, but you can’t take the jungle out of the jungle doc. I didn’t conform enough for her and I certainly didn’t want her to assume she could control me with a good job offer.”
Arlo shook his head. “We lasted six long, difficult months then she met someone who could—and eventually did—give her all the things she wanted that I couldn’t.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“I’m not. She did much better than me. Besides, it’s the story of my life. I can’t bring anything to a relationship but me. I’ve got no money. Where I live—well, you’ll see that for yourself. I don’t own things. I work ridiculous hours. It wouldn’t be fair of me to expect anybody to live that life, and it wasn’t fair of me back then to ask you to, then end it the way I did, when you told me all the reasons you couldn’t. At the time I was soangry. Eventually I realized that anger was disappointment, and not in you. But in myself for expecting that I could ever have any kind of real relationship in my life since I have nothing to offer.”
“You have yourself. If someone loves you, that should be enough.”
“But that’s not enough, Layla. You know it and I know it. But I made this choice, it was a promise to my mother. Now a lot of people depend on me. And if not methere’s nobody.”
Layla shook her head as well. “I almost got myself into something once, but it’s a long, complicated story. Girl on rebound meets wrong boy, mistakes his overtures for true love, boy tries to change girl to fit his mold, girl’s not the type to bend into anybody’s mold. In the end not a heartbreaker so much as an eye-opener and a huge caution that I’m better sticking to something where my heart doesn’t get involved.” And the last sentence of it went something like: Besides, he didn’t measure up to Arlo. But Arlo didn’t need to know that.
“Sorry to hear that. Even sorrier that I had a part in it.”
She forced a sad smile to her face. “The truth is, I don’t know what love is, Arlo. I recognize the kind my parents gave me—more obligatory love than the genuine thing. And don’t get me wrong. They’ve spent a lifetime trying hard, not always getting it right, but trying. Which, I suppose, is love in some variation. At least the only way they knew how to give it. Then there’s what I felt for you, which came with a time limit. I thought if I ignored it, it would magically disappear. Then Brad I don’t get it right, or don’t do something right. Not sure which.”
“Your parents you can’t help. With me—us—the boundaries were there before we” He swallowed hard. “Before we turned our friendship into something it wasn’t meant to be. And with Brad, everybody makes that mistake sooner or later. The rebound affair. That’s what I had with Gayle, I suppose. Someone to fill in the gaps.”
“Then you were rebounding from me even though we weren’t”
“Readjusting,” he said.
“I like that. And maybe that’s what I was doingreadjusting.” Readjusting to life after Arlo. Yet here she was, the one place she didn’t belong given the feelings for him she’d had. But this time she was prepared. At least, she hoped she was. Because she needed to close this chapter. Even after all this time. “So, now that we know each other’s biggest mistakes, how about showing me your hut?”
“Are you sure you’d actually stay with me after”
“Just consider it like sleeping in on-call. Remember those days during our residency after long, hard hours where you barely had time to eat, let alone sleep, when any bed would do as long as the person occupying the bed next to you didn’t snore?” She paused for a moment, and despite herself laughed. “You didn’t start snoring, did you?”
“Haven’t had any complaints. At least, on the nights when I sleep in the hospital, the patients I’m watching haven’t said anything. Neither has Chauncy.”
“Who’s Chauncy?”
Arlo chuckled. “You’ll meet him soon enough. And probably get to sleep with him as well.”
She didn’t know what this was about, but his eyes were sparkling with laughter the way she remembered. It was nice seeing that again. Nice being part of it.
“No door?” she asked, as he pulled back the mosquito netting on his hut to let her in.
“Not yet. It’s on the list of things I want, but the hospital gets the little funding we raise, not me, so it’s not a priority.”
A quick look revealed a small area where he prepared food, a desk off in one corner, a couple of rough-hewn chairs and a thin curtain separating a small area at the back from the rest of what was, essentially, a one-room hut. It was clear, and as basic a space as she’d ever seen, and she could picture Arlo living here. He’d always been a man of simple needs—something she’d admired about him. “Sono facilities?”
“Over at the hospital. Once you get used to it, it’s not so bad.”
“Bad, as in?”
“Adequate. A hose through a window that brings water from a tank outside and takes a while to prime and get running. Or you can heat a bucket of water on the stove over there if you prefer a warm bath.” He smiled. “I’ve lived in much more primitive digs than this so, to me, this is all good.”
“Primitive for me was that weekend you took me to a cabin in the Catskills. Remember that?”
“It had indoor plumbing,” he said defensively, smiling.
“And I had to carry in wood to the fireplace. In my life, a fireplace is turned on with a little knob off to the side. One little flick, gas turns on and, voilà, a fire.” That had been a nice holiday, though. A wonderful holiday. No trappings like her parents required. Just simplicity and—the two of them. Snow outside, safe and warm with Arlo inside. Feeling protected by him. Drinking hot chocolate. Playing chess for hours on end. Making love for even more hours. Watching, through the plate-glass window, the snow coming down outside and being glad she was in Arlo’s arms, inside. Perfect.
He chuckled. “I always did say you were a wimp.”
“So, where’s the switch to turn on your lights?” she asked, looking around for it.
“I have a generator, but fuel to run it’s pretty expensive and hard to come by out here, so most of the time I light the place with a kerosene lamp. And candles. One of the women here makes candles for me.”
While Ollie had tried to prepare Layla for Arlo’s lifestyle, he hadn’t come close. Yet she was here anyway. But it was only for two months, which did concern her—not the lack of amenities but being so close to Arlo because, already, memories she didn’t want coming back were flooding in. The Catskills. Going to farmers’ markets on the weekends. Reading out loud to each other at night—she liked Charles Dickens, he liked Stephen King. The way he’d always shown up at the hospital to walk her home when it was dark. Or check the oil and battery in her car, then go fill it up to make sure she wouldn’t get stranded somewhere on the road. The big thingsthe little things. The things she’d taken for granted. So many of them were coming back to her now.
She’d expected some of that, but not so much, which made her wonder if what she’d thought of as a nice romance, or even an intense
