Tell Me It's Real(37)

“And you’ve made out with him twice and only known him since Saturday?” she asked, looking like she was going to hit a button and have men in lab coats come carry me away.

Oh sweat balls. “Erm, we didn’t know we were brothers? Long lost. It was awkward, for sure.” I was sweating profusely. “Caused a big family drama. I think my mom will need therapy for the rest of her life.”

“Are you sure she’s the only one?”

“No, no. I’m pretty sure I will too once this is all over.” I laughed and I sounded way crazy. “It’s hard being attracted to your own brother. No… no other way around that.”

“This is some Maury Povich shit up in here,” she said. “Lord have mercy.”

I couldn’t help but grin. “I knew you’d be the sassy black nurse.”

“Now you racial profilin’ me?” she huffed. “Just because I’m black doesn’t mean I’m gonna be sassy, you hear me, cornbread brother lover?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Now, if you done bullshittin’ me, Mr. Taylor is in room 214. He’ll be discharged in a bit.”

I felt relieved. “Thank you. I’m sorry about everything I said.”

She turned serious. “And,” she said softly, “you need to make sure you get yourself some help. Nothing ever came from being in love with your brother.”

“Pearls of wisdom,” I said in awe. “You are the sassy black nurse—”

Her eyes flared. “Boy, I ain’t no nurse. I am an administrative professional, and you best get your ass out of my face before I make you leave.” She tapped her acrylic nails against the desk so loudly that each one sound like a gun shot. I couldn’t help but notice how orange they were, and I knew I needed to leave before I told her I saw her as more of a magenta.

“Room 214?”

She nodded tightly.

I turned and walked away, feeling her eyes like daggers in my back. That was pretty much the reason right there why I don’t like meeting new people. I tend to say things that others have a filter for, and I don’t have the power to stop myself. It’s like once I start, I can’t stop until everyone involved is either mortified or ready to shoot pepper spray in my eyes because I’ve somehow made it seem like I’m either a serial rapist or a participant in an incestuous relationship with my long-lost brother. Sometimes I don’t even know how these conversations get where they go, but it can’t all just be me. Other people seem to bring out my crazy, which is why I didn’t like speaking with pretty much anyone face to face.

Room 214 didn’t take that long to find, even though I wished it had. The closer I got to it, the more nervous I got. Not only did I want to agree to go out with Vince, I’d now maimed him, and I didn’t know if that was the best way to start a relationship. Then I started thinking about the word relationship and why my mind immediately went there, and that made me start to sweat even more. I was pretty sure I was sweating buckets by the time I reached room 214 (which, in my head, sounded slightly ominous, like a direct-to-DVD horror movie starring some eighties pseudo-icon who has not aged well. Room 214: Check-In To Terror). I thought about bypassing the room completely, but then I heard Vince’s voice and I just couldn’t. I tried not to think about what that meant.

You can do this, I said, psyching myself up. Just go in there, and speak as little as possible.

I knocked quietly on the partially opened door. It swung open almost immediately, a doctor standing on the other side. I was about to smile and introduce myself, but I was immediately distracted by the fact that Vince was sitting shirtless on the edge of the bed, wearing only his biker shorts.

It was right then that I believed in God.

Dear God, I thought. Thank you for this bounty you have bestowed upon me. I will be your humble servant forever now because of this view. Love, Paul. P.S. He has a pierced nipple?

He was lovely, completely and thoroughly. His tan skin reminded me of cinnamon, his strong chest covered in a smattering of curly hair that drifted down from his pecs to his stomach. My eyes stuttered on his right nipple for a moment, the small silver bar going through it flashing in the harsh fluorescent lighting overhead. I wondered what it would be like to tease it with my tongue and if he liked it to be twisted.

Then I realized I was in very real danger of popping wood in front of him and a doctor, so I thought of gross things like maggots and Mitt Romney and I was able to keep my errant dick under control.

Then I saw his abs, which weren’t quite defined, but almost so, and even the thought of Mitt Romney laid out spread-eagled in front of me covered in offshore tax incentives couldn’t keep the blood from flowing. Literally only four seconds had passed since the door opened, but I’d spent those entire four seconds ogling Vince like I wanted to eat him right then and there. Which to be fair, I kind of did. I glanced up to his face and caught the sly but tired grin that said he knew exactly what I was doing.