“What are you, a fucking girl pining for gossip?”
“No, asshole, I just want to hear how your dinner was.”
“It was great, Asher, everything was delicious.” I got the feeling Chase had no intention of detailing our night’s highlights. “Chase was just about to show me around.”
Asher directed his attention back on Chase. “I can show her around. You better get your ass in there to say hello to everyone before your parents stroke out.”
“Fine. Lil, I’ll be right back and then we’ll get something to eat.” He placed a chaste kiss on my lips before stalking down the hall.
“Come, Lili, this way. I’ve got to show you the library, it really is impressive.”
I followed Asher through an arched doorway at the end of the gallery into a stunning dark wood paneled room with gorgeous inlaid hardwood floors. There were floor-to-ceiling books lining two of the walls and an outside wall of windows that overlooked Central Park. The view was amazing. But what caught my attention was a fourth wall that showcased a stunning brick wood burning fireplace and a beautiful deep stone mantel that housed a collection of what appeared to be family portraits. My eyes were drawn to a photo of a young teenage Chase with his arm casually draped around a stunning girl about the same age. Long blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders. Her head was tipped up, slightly peering directly into Chase’s bright eyes as she laughed. My heart raced at how alive he looked, how innocent and carefree. Their feet were buried in the sand, the ocean at their backs, as their sun kissed glow radiated happiness. The surrounding photos gave me a similar warmth. Some with his parents, but most were gorgeous beach action shots of the two as toddlers and young children; one unmistakably Chase and the other the unidentified blonde.
“They used to love it there.” Asher startled me as he spoke to my back. I wasn’t sure how to respond. I sensed I was supposed to know more than I did. “See that smile, Lili? He was happy then, and in a blink of an eye, it was gone.” I felt the heat from his body as he took a small step closer to me. “You brought it back. I saw it the other night when he smiled at you.” He turned me to face him. “I never thought I could see Chase happy again.”
His emotional words were penetrating. My mind spun with a million questions. Chase was hiding something. Was it the heaviness that occasionally filled his eyes?
My voice barely above a whisper, I asked, “Is that his sister?”
Asher’s shoulders visibly tightened. “Yes. He never mentioned her to you?” I subtly shook my head no. He abruptly turned on his heel, cursing under his breath. I shifted on my instantly wobbly legs. My stomach sunk. Asher paced back and forth in front of the glass-lined wall before finally stopping to stare out the window. “Damn him.” He ran a hand through his tawny hair before giving me the words I dreaded. “She’s dead.” I audibly gasped, wrapping my arms tightly around my waist. “He never told you he had a sister?” My eyes filled. “They were twins, inseparable.”
At those words I inhaled a sharp, painful breath. Flashing in front of my eyes were our conversations and the tension surrounding music. Small pieces of the puzzle were fitting together, but the photo of our patient Kelly’s twins was at the forefront. He shut down that day.
“When?” I needed to know. How long had he suffered?
“She was ... um ... twenty-one.” Asher turned around and met my gaze. His eyes softened at my obvious sorrow. I was saddened to learn that Chase had a twin sister who died, but what distressed me more was the fact he hadn’t trusted me enough to tell me. Shit. Fifteen years.
“What happened?” I asked.
“There was a car accident.” A tear rolled down my cheek. Asher gripped my elbow and led me to the high wingback chair that faced the fireplace. “Sit.” I followed his command and eased myself down into the chair.
“Why didn’t he tell me?”
Asher shrugged and looked away.
“Why didn’t I tell you what?” A deep intense voice came from the doorway. “What’s going on?” His face was obscured from my view, but I heard the flaming intensity in his breath. Asher directed his eyes toward the mantel not speaking a word. Chase let out a small ragged sigh. His footsteps stopped directly behind my chair. “I’ve had enough. I’m done here. This was a mistake. We should have never come here.” He crouched in front of my chair and looked at me. “You’re crying, baby?” He swiped at the moisture that collected under my eye. “Damn it, Asher, what the fuck?” The glimpse of sadness in his eyes was replaced by anger. He looked up at Asher. “She’s crying. Fuck ... I’m getting you out of here.” He pulled me from the chair and led us directly through the front door. He slammed it closed before drawing me into a tight embrace.
12
New reality
By the time we approached the Ben Franklin Bridge it was ten thirty. Home. Up until today, the four-mile round trip trek across the majestic suspension bridge was my favorite run. However, it paled in comparison to the high I had from running in Central Park. After our brief appearance at the birthday brunch from hell, blowing off steam was imperative. Six miles of unexpected green mixed with concrete jewels encased by towering skyscrapers was a runner’s dream. With my sneakers and Pandora alone I could have been a pig in shit replaying the weekend’s highlights. Hell, other than the meeting the family fiasco, the whole weekend was a highlight. Quite possibly of my life.
I put music on the backburner though and resorted to running and talking. The loss of Chase’s twin sister was understandably heartbreaking. I hoped one day he would open up to me, but after witnessing his eyes when he walked in on Asher’s and my conversation, I steered clear of any topic family-related. I would have strapped an oxygen tank to my back to keep him from retreating into his head. So by mile two, with some mild coaxing, he finally engaged again. Dr. Playful was back. And in an attempt to keep the conversation light, I rehashed funny Sierra stories and told him all about my Cape Cod beach obsession. He talked about Asher and some of their crazy antics, pre-professional life.
It was a good eighty degrees out, despite being early evening, and Chase hadn’t even broken a sweat. Museum Mile marked the halfway point, and all but a thin sheen covered his arms and legs. I, on the other hand, was a puddle and needed to wring out my panties. He teased me mercilessly when I begged for a break. If he hadn’t been sex in sneakers I probably would have quit. Instead I pushed up the West Side and back down the East, before passing the beautiful Carousel and looping back west to finish at Tavern on the Green. Awesome.
Even in my short visit, it was obvious the two sides of the park seemed to have their own distinct personalities. Chase explained it like different specialties in medicine; city neighborhoods had their stereotypes as well. Terms like rich, old money, sophisticated, and class obsessed referred to his parents’ neighborhood—more like his God-awful mother who made Main Line brat sound like a compliment. Versus liberal, artsy, eccentric and wealthy, when he referenced his side of the park. I sensed that Chase’s address was nothing more than polar opposite from his parents. It was crystal clear he hated the idea of stereotypes. Period. It seemed as well as he fit his born and bred Upper East Side neurosurgeon stereotype, he defied it. After all, most surgeons wouldn’t even risk waving their hands between sensored elevator doors, never mind box. Dr. Contradiction.
It was getting dark as we crossed over the bridge into Center City; the Philly skyline was in view. We were almost home and still hadn’t spoken about tomorrow. Reality was setting in. I shifted in my seat to shake off my nervous energy.