Proximity Read online

CHAPTER 6

  Mercifully it was the weekend, and I couldn’t have been more relieved to put the medical center in my rearview mirror. I wasn’t on call this weekend, so I resolved to turn off my phone, hole up in my house, and live off leftovers. I knew Sabela would worry if I didn’t at least check in—so I sent her a quick text saying I was overtired from a rough day at work and needed some alone time, promising to stop by and fill her in after work on Monday.

  Immediately upon reaching home, I took a long shower and changed into some incredibly unattractive but extremely cozy pajamas. I left my hair to air dry (I’m pretty bad off if I don’t see the need for a blow dryer) and tossed a frozen lasagna dinner into the microwave.

  The occasion clearly called for a melancholy movie, but as a rule I don’t buy any DVDs that I find too depressing. I scanned my collection for something reasonably dark and settled upon one of the four versions of Jane Eyre I hold in my possession. (You heard me right, that’s four—I know, I practically have a disease. I am physically unable to resist good classic romantic drama.)

  By the time the lasagna was done heating, it no longer seemed very appealing. I picked at it for a minute while the previews ran, then gave up and put it in the fridge.

  It’s definitely not like me to miss a meal.

  I sprawled out on the couch and tried to get absorbed in the movie. I was reasonably successful until the scene where Mr. Rochester proclaims his love for Jane, calling her a “strange, almost unearthly thing”. Clearly I know the story by heart—and it has been many years since it has moved me to tears—but I suddenly found myself blubbering like a baby.

  If only it were the case that “unearthly” women had that kind of luck in love.

  I clicked the remote and sat for a moment in the pitch dark. Eventually I hoisted myself off the couch and stumbled my way through the darkness to my bedroom. I thought I would never fall asleep—but the next thing I knew, the sunlight was coming in through the window.

  I shuffled to the bathroom for a quick freshen-up, then threw on a tank top and fitted athletic shorts. My stomach spoke to me with a loud rumble, and I headed to the kitchen to practically inhale a bowl of cereal.

  I needed no time to consider how I would spend my day. Instinctively, I headed to my little ballet studio above the garage, and cranked up the music. I lost myself in dance for hours, until my legs were shaking and threatened to give out beneath me. Then I just flopped down on my back in the middle of the floor and let the music wash over me.

  Sunday morning passed much the same as Saturday had, but by the late afternoon I was beginning to lift out of my funk. I managed to do the laundry and clean up the kitchen, then dressed myself and turned my phone back on. I decided to check in with Sabela earlier than promised, knowing she would be sick with worry at this uncharacteristic detachment.

  There was obvious relief in her voice when she picked up the phone, and she insisted I come over for dinner. In her usual style, she made no attempt to pry from me the reason for my reclusive weekend. Although I was in a much better state of mind than just two days prior, I didn’t feel ready to divulge the shameful reason for my mini depressive episode. I brushed it aside as work-related grumpiness and tried to carry on with casual dinner conversation. Falling comfortably into family chatter with Sabela and Dominick eased my woe considerably, and by the end of the evening I was certain I would survive this ridiculous self-pity.

  I vowed to return to my normal self at work on Monday, and I managed surprisingly well. It helped that I didn’t come across Eric that day. By the time I did see him on Wednesday, I was actually quite composed. My eyes still drifted in his direction almost uncontrollably, but my stomach only lurched once or twice.

  Before long, I was into another weekend. There was plenty of catch-up work to do from my “lost weekend” before, so I had little time to dwell on anything else. By the following week, I was rather confident that I would come through this temporary heartbreak unscathed.

  But just as life was returning to its usual not-quite-normal state, the unthinkable happened.