Near the end of our beers, he grew a little quieter and looked thoughtful. “Dr. M., can I ask you a personal question?”
Here we go. “You can ask anything, but I may not-”
“What’s being with another guy like?”
Holy fuck. Was this the start of a porno? Was he stereotypically disinhibited by beer? Cue the soft, rhythmic music, please. I think I lost my jaw under the bar. “I…uh… What…do you…”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…I don’t mean like physically I just mean…well it has to be different when two guys are together, than a guy and a girl, right? I’m curious about the difference.”
I had long maintained that being curious about one another, and sharing that curiosity in respectful ways, was the only thing that can bring together people who are different. So I answered him. After thinking for a moment.
“Well…where do I start? I mean, if you take a hundred relationships between a man and a woman, all of those will be so different from each other that it can be hard to generalize. But I did date some girls when I was younger, and…” I was trying to figure out what to even say. “I mean, all I can tell you is what it’s like for me, and that’s sort of like this. Imagine traveling around the world dating people from all those areas, and each of you talks about your lives and shares with the other. Then you meet someone who grew up where you did, and uses the same slang, and knows all the streets, and can finish your sentences.”
I had enough composure not to continue with, and who has all the same parts you have and actually knows what to do with them. But I went on, “I mean, that’s more the story of just finding someone who’s right for you, rather than comparing a gay and a straight relationship. But sometimes, it’s just a couple of dudes hanging out, and that part is awesome. To me, at least.”
He looked fascinated, and while I’m a bit shy and don’t always look directly at someone I’m talking to, I had noticed that he never took his eyes off me for a second. I finished with, “I’m sorry, that was kind of all over the place. But I don’t think I’ve ever been asked that question.”
He stared at his near-empty beer glass thoughtfully. “That sounds…nice.” The words no sooner left his lips than he suddenly looked up, and blushed. Christ, if there were a single thing he could have done to make himself even more attractive, that was it. “I mean, for you. Y’know, because…”
It was time to get going, honestly. The combination of beer, the late hour, and a gorgeous and genuine boy was starting to make me feel like the Universe was toying with me. “I know what you mean,” I cuffed his shoulder, smiling. “C’mon, we both need to be up early, and Erica will actually kill me if you’re not in good shape.” I picked up my shoulder bag. Chance looked nervous for a moment, but then smiled, and looked down around his seat.
I watched him gather his things, and said, “Well… I live just a few blocks from the hospital. Hate to add a commute to a long day. Are you ok to get home?”
“Yeah I’m not too too far. I’ll just Uber it. Hey, Dr. M…” he was looking down, and it seemed he was avoiding looking at me, compared to his intense eye contact previously.
“What’s up, Chance?”
“Just… thanks for the encouragement. It means a lot.” He glanced up at me briefly.
“You bet. Keep your chin up. And thanks for the beer!”
We walked out and waved, going separate directions. I turned back toward him and almost kicked myself, lecherously wanting one more look. Luckily he just kept walking.
Rounds the next day went as usual. Jane and Catherine seemed to have had a good time the prior night, and were sharing with Evan, my other resident, who hadn’t come along. He promised he’d join next time. I passed Erica and her team at one point; I didn’t envy them being the late call team, and getting new admissions until that evening. I saw Chance look up and then back down when he saw me, developing a slight blush that might have been my brain just wanting to see it again. I started to worry I’d made him uncomfortable. I figured I’d have to check in with him at some point. This was all of the reasons I tended to keep to myself around students.
I returned to my office to do some charting when work on the ward was over, then walked home. There was leftover pizza in the fridge, along with more beer than food, and I availed myself of both. A couple hours later I got a text message on my work cell from a number not in my address book – a common occurrence around the beginning of the academic year, when new students were reaching out about things.
Hey Dr. M, this is Chance. Do you have a moment to chat?
I froze, wondering half-jokingly if this was going to ultimately involve HR. Best play it professional. Or just keep it short.
Hi Chance, sure.
The phone rang almost instantly. His number.
“Hello?”
“Heyy, Dr. Mendez, I’m sorry to bother you.” Ugh, so sincerely polite.
“It’s no bother, what’s going on?”
“Well…it’s just that, I remember you mentioned you lived close to the hospital. We just finished up and I was wondering if it would be okay for me to stop by on my way home. Just for like, two minutes.”
“Is everything okay?” I glanced around my apartment, waiting for Chris Hansen to step out from the hall and ask me to ‘take a seat.’
“Yes sir!” The Southern charm coming out, perhaps. “I promise I’ll be so brief.”
The Universe had me in a full nelson and was rubbing my head on the mat. I slapped it for mercy. “Sure.” I gave him my address and apartment number. “Just dial me on the directory inside and I’ll buzz you up.”
No one had a right to look good in scrubs. They were the standard light-blue kind, and when Chance stood in the doorway I had just opened, they showed off his body in ways I had somehow completely missed the night before. He stood about my height, just under six feet, but where I was thin and avoided the gym, he easily carried ten or twenty pounds more muscle. He had an in-between build, such that he could have opted for the trash-bag size scrubs, but went with one size smaller, and that was just approaching too small. There was a skin-tight long-sleeved black shirt under his scrub top, and he had bratty gray Adidas hightops on. He looked like an actor in a hospital-themed porno flick, for God’s sake.
“Hi,” I led off. He looked nervous and was definitely blushing.
“Hi Dr. Mendez. Thank you for letting me up. I…I know it might be odd or unusual, but,” he scuffed his feet on the floor, looking at them, “my mom…well she always taught me that apologizing in person was so important.” He squinted slightly on the word “so,” for emphasis.
“Chance, what are you-”
“I feel so badly about making you uncomfortable last night with my question, and then my response after you answered it. I’m really sorry.” He looked up at me and assaulted me with a pleading, honest stare and put his hand over his chest. I think he was actually trying to kill me.
“There’s nothing to apologize for. Don’t be…” I had considered saying ‘ridiculous’ but thankfully stopped short of implying a genuine and heartfelt gesture was unwelcome. “Don’t be hard on yourself. You’ve got enough of that this year. Did you feed yourself and drink plenty of water on late call, or are you completely uncompensated?”