The Best Of Us

A short laugh escaped him. “I will always have a condom. Know why? Because we’re not going to get in over our heads. We’re going to be safe and we’re going to be sure.”

“Well, I have something to tell you. I haven’t had sex with anyone. I’m not sure I even know what to do. But I know I’m not quite ready.”

He stroked her soft hair. “Maia, I haven’t, either. But I bet if we do eventually do it, it’ll be all right. No hurry. Your call, like I said.”

“But you’re ready?”

He was quiet for a moment. He sighed. He was such a hustler—not. It had only taken about six months to get to this conversation. “There’s no way I can say the right thing here.”

She giggled. “I know you want to. I want to, too. But you know what? I’d like to be sure we’re going to be together for a while. I want to be sure we both feel like we’re with the one we love. But don’t say you love me—it won’t get you sex.”

He laughed. Then he kissed her cheek. “Okay, I get it. I do think I love you, though.”

“Seriously?”

“What do I know? I’ve never been serious with a girl like this. I love every second with you. Everything about us together is good. When we’re making out or doing homework. Okay, that’s a lie. Making out is better than homework. There is one thing...”

“Yeah?”

“When you start to seriously consider sex, with me or with anyone, you need protection. Like the pill or something. And I think if it’s ever with anyone but me I might have to kill him, but don’t let that bother you. I’ll do it fast and as painlessly as possible and we don’t have to ever talk about it.”

She laughed. “You’d never kill a fly.”

“Hah! I’ve killed hundreds of flies!”

“I’m already on the pill,” she said quietly. She shrugged and didn’t look at him. “Terrible cramps. But that doesn’t mean I’m ready for sex with you. But I do feel like I love you, too. For all the same reasons.”

Finn really thought he might explode on the spot, but not only had his father lectured endlessly on this topic, his aunt Sid had talked with him at length about how to respect women. There was a lot of talk about consent. “Whew,” he said. “Okay, you just keep me posted. You should definitely be sure.”

After that conversation, spring seemed to literally blast its way onto the land—flowers, bunnies, elk calves and all.

Leigh moved everything off her desk, then put everything back and moved everything off her credenza. She checked her pockets and dumped the contents of her purse on her desk. She looked under her desk and in each drawer. Then she went to the front of the clinic where Eleanor and Gretchen worked. “Has anyone seen my cell phone?”

“Did you call it, listen for the ring?” Gretchen asked.

“It’s turned off. I swear I just had it.”

“You checked desk drawers, purse?”

“Yes. And I emptied my purse completely to be sure.”

“Could you have left it in your car?” Eleanor asked.

“No. I sat at my desk and talked to my aunt Helen this morning.”

“Trash?”

“I’ll look,” Leigh said, heading back to her office.

“I took out the trash,” Gretchen said.

Leigh and Eleanor both looked at her. She had a reputation for not doing the dirty work until asked. At close of business either Eleanor or Leigh usually handled the trash.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Gretchen said. “Not the medical waste. Just the paper and kitchen waste.”

Leigh sighed. “I’ll go get it.”

“Let me do that, Dr. Culver,” Eleanor said.

“No, it’s my phone. I wonder if I could’ve knocked it in the trash while I was cleaning off my desk this morning. I’ll be right back.” She took the stethoscope from around her neck and put it on the counter. Then she went out back to the Dumpster.

She could see the white trash bag that came from the clinic but she couldn’t quite reach it. If the Dumpster had been almost full, the bag would’ve been within reach, but it was about a foot too far down. She spotted an old wooden chair and grabbed it, pulling it out. It was a little wobbly but still functional. She pushed the chair up against the Dumpster to steady it, then stood on it and leaned over the edge, reaching in. Her fingertips grazed the trash bag. All she had to do was get a grip on it and pull—

She teetered on the edge of the Dumpster as she reached and her toe accidentally pushed away the chair. In a frightful moment, she fell. Headfirst.

She froze, sprawled atop the bags of trash. Her first order of concern was whether she had landed on anything sharp. She didn’t feel any pain. Her next concern—had she landed on anything really icky? She heard the sound of footsteps—someone was running toward the Dumpster. Her third concern arose—how long was she going to look like a complete idiot?

“Oh Jesus,” Rob Shandon said, peering into the Dumpster. “What the hell happened?”

“Kind of a long story,” she said, still lying across several bags of trash. “Short version, I seem to have lost my phone.”

He grinned at her. “You want to get out of there?”

“Not without my trash,” she said. She moved around and found the one she was after. She tossed it out of the Dumpster. Rob ducked as it flew past. “All right. Can you give me a hand?”

“Yes, Doctor,” he said, reaching for her. He checked the edge of the Dumpster, making sure it wasn’t sharp. “Can you stand up? I’m going to lift you out.”

“The chair isn’t a good idea,” she advised.

“Yeah, I saw that. Just let me get my hands under your arms. Don’t try to help me—I’m going to pull you right over the edge. It’s kind of dirty but no sharp edges. Here, hold my hands until you get upright.”

She had to stand on a pile of trash to get high enough for him to get a grip on her. “Ew,” she said, lifting a foot to which a limp and slimy lettuce leaf clung.

He laughed. “If that’s the worst you get, you’re in good shape. Ready? Here we go.” He pulled her right over the edge and into his arms. And he just held her there. He didn’t even attempt to put her down.

“How did you know I was in there?” she finally asked.

“I was driving by and I saw your legs go over the edge. I knew it was someone from the clinic because of the scrubs but I didn’t know which one of you. I hit the jackpot.”

“You can go ahead and put me down now.”

“I’d rather not,” he said. “Brings something to mind I’ve been thinking about for weeks. We should go out.”

“Out?” she asked.

“On a date.”

“Where does one go out in Timberlake? There’s no movie theater and you have the best restaurant in town.”