"He asked for my phone number as I fished my coat out of the pile of
wool and down in the guest bedroom. I gave it to him. Hours later,
while walking to a bodega for some milk and cereal to tide me over
after the lackluster dinner, my mind began to reel. Could he really be
attracted to me? Had his divorce, which I’d heard his mother
complaining about, even been finalized? Was he trying to be some
parental figure I didn’t need?
I ruled out that last question the next night when he asked me what turned me on, laughing when I gave stock answers like “being kissed on the neck.”
“What about good conversation?” he asked teasingly. It was the first of many didactic moments in our time together. He stuck his tongue in my ear before I could worry about not having the right answer for him and why winning his approval suddenly felt so important to me.
The Doctor and I run into each other on the street every few months. I’ve since moved out of his mother’s apartment, and he’s officially divorced. We always hug, kiss and catch up. He looks at the woman I’ve become like a proud father—someone else’s. I look at him with thanksgiving.