The Window Washer - 1. Chapter 1

Monday morning. Steve, the sales manager, shot into my office and said, “Listen, Jerry, you’re gonna have that report ready by tomorrow, right?”

“Yes, Steve, it’s almost done. And, Steve, when have I ever been late with your report?”

“You’re the MAN, Jerry!” and then he disappeared as fast as he’d arrived.

There would be no problem getting the report done. There never was a problem getting any report done. I’d lost track of how many reports I’d prepared in the last five years. I could do Steve’s damned report with my eyes closed and one hand tied behind my back!

There was no need to rush. I’d finish the report in an hour. Plenty of time left.

I got up, stretched and headed toward the men’s room for a piss. After that I took the elevator down five floors to the lobby to grab a vente from Starbucks. I always got a kick out of the woman who worked there. I think she was Russian, and she always flirted with me. She’d say something like, “Ah, Mister Hardwick! You come to rescue me from a life of drudgery! You ask. I go with you! You take me to a tropical island, yes?”

I’d laugh and respond with something like, “One of these days, Lana, one these days....”

It was our little routine, and it always brightened my day.

I put cream in my coffee and grabbed a stool at the little bar by the window. There was no rush to get back to my office, and I always a enjoyed a few minutes at this spot. It had a great view of the busy sidewalk and street. I looked out. It was a sunny day. I always marvelled at the frantic maelstrom out there. Busses, cars, trucks, taxis, all swirling along to some important destination. There was an Acme Maintenance van parked in the loading zone in front. There were guys walking along the sidewalk. Lots of guys. Tall guys, short guys. Slim guys, fat guys. Guys in suits, guys in jeans. Guys with great asses. Guys with intriguing packages. I thought of the Gerri Halliwell song It’s Raining Men. Many of the men I was looking at were hot. Smoking hot. I was getting a little horny. I thought ruefully, “Looks like I’ve got another date with Mr. Hand tonight.”

Sadly, Mr. Hand was the only date I’d had now for several weeks.

My current boyfriend, Sven, an engineer, had recently left on an assignment in Asia. Before he left we’d had a long and heartfelt conversation about our commitment to each other. We thought that we had a good shot at a future together, but that this break would give us a chance to think it through. After all, doesn’t absence make the heart grow fonder?

Unfortunately that wasn’t the case. I was becoming more ambivalent about the relationship as the weeks rolled by. Sure, it was a comfortable alliance. He was a great guy. Good looking and charming. But for me there was something missing. There just wasn’t that “spark” that I thought should be in a good partnership.

Perhaps it was time to move on....

I checked my watch. Whoops! Time to get back to work.

As I entered the office Janice, our receptionist, waved a pink message slip at me.

I arched my eyebrow telegraphing the question, “Who?”

“Mr. Cohen,” she told me.

“Ah, yes, the banker. Reminding me about our meeting tomorrow, right? I must remember to wear a suit.”

I sat at my desk and concentrated on banging out the report for Steve. I was focussed pretty intently on my computer, just crossing the t’s and dotting the i’s, when I heard a light tap on my door. Janice stuck her head in and told me she was going to lunch (lunch time already?). She kindly asked me if I’d like her to bring me back a sandwich. I gratefully accepted her offer. Before she turned to leave she handed me three more message slips.

Two were routine business calls. I’d return them after lunch.

The third message made me smile. It was from my old high school buddy, Jennifer. She had been my friend, my confident and my saviour during those painful, confusing years. The years when I guy could get teased mercilessly for having a last name like Hardwick. I loved her dearly.

I picked up the phone and called her right away. She knew it was me from her call display and answered with an enthusiastic, “Hi stranger!”

“Hi Florence Nightingale,” I responded (alluding to the fact that she was now a nurse) then added, “What’s up?” I knew she hadn’t called just to chat.

“Well,” she said in a low, conspiratorial tone, “Paul is away on his annual retreat with John this week, Ryan’s in pre-school, and I need some pleasant company. I’m wondering if you’ve got time for lunch with your old friend sometime in the next day few days.”

Paul was her hunky cop husband and John, a fireman, was her twin sister’s husband--also a bit of a hunk as I recalled. Ryan was her 3 year old son.

Something about the way she emphasized the word “retreat” made me wonder. My mind drifted. For some reason I conjured a porno image of a cop and fireman. Hmmm, more material for my date with Mr. Hand...

Jennifer’s voice pulled me back to reality, “Earth to Jerry. Yes or no? Can you do lunch or not?”

“Jennifer, you know I never pass up a chance to have lunch with you! How about Thursday?”

“Perfect,” she replied. “Gino’s at 12:30. And, Jerry, I want to hear all about your love life!”

“Then we’re not gonna have much to talk about, Jennifer.”

“I don’t believe you. Bye. See you Thursday.”

“Bye, Jennifer, and thanks for calling.”

Janice returned with my sandwich. Swiss cheese, avocado and alfalfa sprouts with mayo. My favourite. I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and ate at my desk. It was shaping up to be a busy afternoon. Besides what I had on my schedule there were always unexpected fires to deal with. I was technically our company’s Chief Financial Officer, but I thought my title should be The Guy Who Does Everything That Nobody Else Wants to Do. Sometimes my job was tedious and repetitive, but I really had little to complain about. I’d been extremely lucky to get in on the ground floor of a software start-up that did well. I made good money for my age, and the bonuses were generous. If the company was ever sold, or merged with a larger firm, the shares I owned would provide me with a nice nest egg.

So I started on what I expected to be a fairly routine afternoon. The hours evaporated. By 4 o’clock I need to stretch and have another pee. I got up and headed for the can. I stopped in the coffee room on the way back and grabbed a diet coke to take back to my office. I was deep in thought about a work issue. Walking along without really watching where I was going. As I entered my office I was looking down at the tab on the coke can, getting ready to open it. Suddenly in my peripheral vision I sensed a movement. I looked up, startled. Something was at my window. I froze mid step—one foot suspended above the floor. I stopped like I’d run into a brick wall. It was as if I’d seen Medusa and been turned to stone. Only what I was looking at was no gorgon. No, that was the wrong analogy entirely....

I was looking at God.

Well, not THE God, more like a Greek god. Zeus? Apollo?

A being so beautiful I could hardly breathe.

Suspended on a flimsy rope on the other side of my window....

I regained enough of my senses to realize it was a window washer. A very hunky, very attractive window washer. So beautiful that he had stopped me dead in my tracks.

I became aware that, he too, had become motionless. His squeegee stopped mid-stroke on the window.

We stared at each other. I swear sparks flew between our eyes. There was absolutely no doubt that a big time mutual attraction thing was going on.

Finally I remembered to breath. He smiled at me. I smiled back. My foot touched the floor again, and I stepped closer to the window. We held each other’s gaze.

He was the first one to make a move. Surprisingly, he spread the fingers of his free hand and put them to his face pantomiming talking on the phone. I realized he wanted me to phone him. I nodded yes enthusiastically and smiled even more. I wondered how we could exchange phone numbers. I doubted we could hear each other through the thick glass of the window.

Obviously a problem solver, he spread some soap film on the window with his squeegee. Then with his index finger he started to write in it. He formed the letters backwards so I could read them. The letters were blocky and child like.

He wrote, R O B. Rob! His name was Rob. I nodded understanding and continued grinning like a fool.

He then began writing numbers. I scrabbled to my desk for a pen and paper to write them down.

Slowly he wrote, 8 0 5 5 5 5 1 2 .......

I looked down to copy the first few numbers on a piece of paper. I looked up to get the last of them.

He wasn’t there! He was gone! Down! His finger had left a little trail in the film after the 2. I saw loose rope snaking down behind him.

The realization hit me like an axe to the gut. Right in front of my eyes he’d fallen to his death!

I instinctively grabbed my phone pressed 9-1-1 for help.

“Fire, police or ambulance?” the dispatcher asked.

“Ambulance!”

After what seemed like an eternity the ambulance dispatcher came on the line.

“The window washer!” I exclaimed. “He just fell five stories down to the street!” I was panting like I’d come back from a long run. Hyperventilating.

“Sir, can I confirm your address and phone number?” The dispatcher’s calm detachment helped to calm my jangled nerves just enough to take a proper breath and coherently recite my office phone number and the building’s street address.

Then he said, “Sir, we’re getting other calls about this. Can you stay on the line for moment while I put you on hold?”

“Yes! Of course!” I told myself to breathe deeply and slowly....

After a few moments he came back on the line and told me that an ambulance had been dispatched. He asked for my name in case any follow up was needed and then ended the call.

I slammed down the phone and raced for the elevator. I startled Janice, and she shot me a questioning look. I ignored her. I briefly debated taking the stairs but realized they exited the building on the wrong side. I needed the front side. I needed to take the elevator. I stabbed the button impatiently. Finally after what seemed like an hour’s wait (in reality it was only about a minute) the damn elevator arrived. I jumped in and stabbed the button for the ground floor. As the elevator slowly descended I began to shake from all the adrenaline in my system.

The elevator stopped and the doors opened. I hurried toward the building’s main door. I could see through the plate glass windows that he (Rob, my Rob) was lying crumpled in a heap on the sidewalk. I reached the door just as the ambulance pulled up, lights blazing and siren blaring.

The paramedics reached Rob just as I did. They told me to stand away. I backed off a couple of paces and stood there dumbfounded watching them do their work. They checked him over. Looked in his eyes. Listened for a heartbeat.

I could see blood on his head. I said a silent prayer that he was alive.

I heard him groan and saw him move his head slightly. He was alive! I nearly fainted from relief.

Quickly another paramedic brought a board-like device, and they gently rolled him onto it and strapped him down.

They put him on a stretcher and began wheeling it to the ambulance.

As they were loading him in I yelled, “Where are you taking him?”

The paramedic said, “St. Paul’s,” then slammed the ambulance doors closed.

The ambulance sped away. I stood and watched it disappear in the direction of the hospital. The siren noise gradually faded to nothing. Then there was just the background noise of a busy city. A white noise that somehow seemed surreal and eerily silent in the circumstances. I felt empty and lost. I felt somehow responsible for Rob’s fall. I felt guilty.

The small crowd that had gathered slowly started to disburse. My eyes darted around. I looked at where Rob had been on the sidewalk. I looked up at my office window. Then I noticed the sloped glass canopy running along the front of the building. Rob had been lying just in front of that. He must have hit the canopy on the way down. It had probably broken his fall enough to save his life. At least I hoped it had.

I then saw two cops talking to a guy over by the Acme Maintenance van. The cops were taking notes. I realized that Acme must be the company contracted to wash the windows.

There was another guy near the van wearing a harness like Rob’s. Another window washer. He was smoking a cigarette and watching the other guy being interviewed by the cops.

I approached him and blurted out, “He was washing my window when he fell!”

That got the guy’s attention in a hurry. He said, “Fuck man, bummer.”

“Yeah,” I said, and then added, “You wouldn’t know his name would you?”

“Yeah, sure, his name is Rob.”

“Do you know his last name?”

“Jeez, he just started a couple of days ago. Let me think. Some “M” name. Oh yeah, Mitchell. His last name is Mitchell. Like a first name for a last name.”

Good! I had the information I needed. I thanked him and headed back to my office.

The office was abuzz with the news about the guy who had fallen. There was a little knot of talkers around Janice’s desk. I’ve never been much into office gossip, so I headed straight for the privacy of my own office to avoid being drawn into an unwanted conversation. I certainly didn’t want to admit to having witnessed the fall.

I stepped into my office. Fuck! Jesus! I could still see his name and number written faintly in the dried film on the window. I quickly pulled down my venetian blind and angled it so the lettering couldn’t be seen.

I sat wearily at my desk and wondered what to do. One thing was for certain. I was in no shape to tackle any more work today. I needed to clear my head. I decided the best course of action was to head home and go for a good run.

I’m lucky to live near where I work, so a twenty minute walk later I was entering the door of my apartment. I grabbed a glass of water to hydrate myself, threw on my running gear and headed out to the seawall.

After a few minutes I was pounding along pretty good and began to feel a better. I tried to conjure an image of Rob as I’d seen him in front of my window. Nothing definite came into focus. Only adjectives: Beautiful. Stunning. Hunk. If you’d asked me to describe him in detail I wouldn’t have been able to. His hair was fairly short. He had a well proportioned face, although I couldn’t tell you what colour of his eyes were or what shape his nose was. I remember the way he sat in the harness emphasised an impressive bulge. I had an image of fairly muscular legs.

I wondered how I could follow up and find out what had happened to him. But I knew if I just called the hospital they wouldn’t tell me anything. I wasn’t a relative. They’d cite confidentiality.

Then I got an idea. Jennifer, my friend, was a nurse. Maybe she could use her contacts to find out something. At least I had a name to start, and I knew what hospital he was at.

As soon as I got home, and my breathing slowed to normal, I called Jennifer. I explained what had happened, that I somehow felt responsible, and that I felt duty bound to at least follow up. She told me not to be silly then cautioned me that Rob could be in very bad shape. A fall like that could mean brain damage or a severed spinal cord. Jennifer wasn’t exactly cheering me up, but she did promise me she’d put out some feelers and find out what she could. Professional ethics prevented her from accessing any health records but she said she had a friend at St. Paul’s who might be able to help. She promised to call me as soon as she had some information. She explained that he was likely in acute care right now and wouldn’t be in a regular hospital bed until tomorrow at the earliest. She figured he could end up either in Intensive Care or Orthopaedics. I thanked her profusely. She didn’t ask me any probing questions right then, but I knew she’d wring me dry when we had lunch on Thursday.

I took a quick shower then checked the fridge for food. I had no energy to prepare a decent dinner for myself and not much of an appetite. I found some cold chicken and managed to cobble together a salad which I ate distractedly.

My mind seemed to be on an endless Rob loop as I the events ran through my mind. The surprise and thrill of seeing a gorgeous man at my window. Rob writing in the soap film. Rob disappearing. Rob injured on the sidewalk. Rob being taken away in an ambulance. Over and over, like watching one of those instant replays of a hockey goal.

My body and mind craved action. It was all I could do not to jump in my car and head for the hospital. But I knew that would be a useless endeavour. Like Jennifer said, Rob was probably receiving treatment, and the hospital wouldn’t give any information to a non-relative anyway.

I hoped he was getting good treatment. I hoped he wouldn’t die. I hoped he wasn’t paralyzed. I hoped he hadn’t suffered a brain injury. In other words, I was worried sick about him. I told myself I was being completely illogical. I didn’t know this guy. I knew nothing about him except his name. He could be a serial killer for God’s sake! But I knew he wasn’t. I don’t know why, but I knew with all my heart that he was a good man.

Had the hospital contacted his parents? If so, were they were rushing to the hospital? I realized that my concern for Rob must be a fraction of what they were experiencing. My heart went out to them.

Normally a run would bring me physical and mental peace. This one, unfortunately, hadn’t calmed me down as usual.

What could I do to take my mind off Rob? I picked up a novel I’d been reading. Put it down. Turned on the TV. Turned it off. Fired up my laptop. Checked my email. Clicked on some bookmarks. Read the posts on news sites. Opened my favourite man-photo blogs. Skimmed through a couple of new stories on Nifty. Checked out a gay porn site—watched two hot muscle bears fucking like their life depended on it. That got me going. A few strokes later I shot a good load. I felt physical relief but it did little to dispel the longing I felt for this window washer guy, who (and please pardon the pun) had just dropped into my life.

************

I didn’t sleep well that night. I remembered to wear a suit the next day, but I arrived at work that morning feeling groggy and frustrated. The whole building seemed to be talking about Rob’s fall. Speculation and rumours ran wild. It was all nonsense. I refused to be drawn into any discussions. I knew Jennifer would eventually call with some “real” news. I just had to be patient and wait.

When I got to my office I peeked through the blinds on my window. The writing was still faintly there. Seeing it made me a little sick. I hoped it would rain soon and wash the writing away, along with my guilt.

Luckily my work day kept my mind occupied. The meeting with the banker took up most of the morning. After that there was a steady stream of the usual daily crises to attend to. But the Rob loop kept playing in my mind; the worry butterflies danced in my stomach hour after hour.

Finally, at about 3 o’clock my caller ID showed “Jennifer.” With my heart in my throat I pressed answer and asked, “What’s the news?”

“Well, hello to you too,” Jennifer replied sarcastically.

“Sorry Jennifer, I’m just really worried about this guy.”

“I know, sweetie. Okay, here’s the news. I wasn’t able to find out much, but near as I can tell it’s not too bad. He’s in 10D which is the orthopaedic ward. That tells me he’s probably got broken bones. If he’d had a serious head or other injury he’d still be in the ICU.”

I slumped with relief. “Do you think I’d be able to visit him?”

“Well, give the hospital a call. The nurses on 10D will tell you whether he can have visitors or not. Jerry, you have a lot of explaining to do on Thursday.”

Once again Jennifer had come through for me. I thanked her profusely and promised I’d be there for our lunch date on Thursday.

I immediately called St. Paul’s Hospital and was connected to the nursing station on ward 10D. To my relief I was given the news that Rob could have visitors.

I grabbed my suit jacket off its hook and headed out the door. On the way out I told Janice that I had an emergency to attend to and would be gone for the rest of the day. In her usual kind way she asked if there was anything she could do to help. I shook my head no and told her I’d be in as usual tomorrow.

I quick marched the several blocks to the hospital and headed for the elevators. As I passed the gift shop on the first floor I thought that it might be a good idea to grab something to take to him. I went in and looked around. There didn’t seem much that I could take to a man. There were flowers and teddy bears and lots of stuff for new babies. Finally I spotted a floral arrangement set in a tiny red bucket. It somehow seemed like a good choice. I was glad to have something to offer when I arrived at his bedside.

I took the elevator to the 10^th floor and found the corridor for the D ward. At the nurses’ station I asked for directions to Rob Mitchell’s room. They pointed to the third door down the hall.

Suddenly I got cold feet about seeing Rob. I really had no right to be there. He didn’t know me--didn’t even know my name. For the first time since the accident I realized my “connection” to Rob was tenuous at best. Would he even recognize me? If his family was with him how could I explain my sudden appearance?

My desire to see him won out over my trepidation. I arrived at his room. I took a deep breath and crossed the threshold.

What I saw was shocking. Luckily he was asleep and didn’t see me recoil.

His left leg was in a cast and suspended by some sort of pulley contraption. His left arm was in a cast and sling. The left side of his face was purple with bruising. His hair was dishevelled. He had an IV in his right arm. The un-bruised side of his face looked pale and waxy.

But he was still so beautiful it took my breath away. I stood there staring at him, sick with a longing desire. Then I chided myself for having unsavoury thoughts. It was completely inappropriate. He was obviously in very rough shape and here I was perving on him. His recovery would be long and arduous. He didn’t need some drooling stranger to complicate his life.

I stood there undecided, wondering what to do. He was asleep and, to be honest, I was disappointed, because I would have liked to at least introduce myself. I felt like an idiot just standing there looking at him clutching that goofy floral arrangement.

I was saved by the arrival of a nurse. He seemed surprised to see me there but greeted me warmly. He introduced himself as Andy and said, “I’m glad he has a visitor, I think he could use a bit of company. No one else has been here yet. Are you a relative?

“No, I replied, “Just a friend.” Then, the nurse’s family question registered in my brain and out of curiosity I asked, “What about his family?”

“I think his relatives are in California. We’re expecting them to arrive any time now.”

“I really don’t want to bother him,” I said. “I’ll just drop of these flowers and be on my way. I’ll come back when he’s awake and in better shape.”

“No, it’s okay,” Andy said, “I’m just about to check his vitals so I’ll wake him up anyway. And, it will be good for him to be awake for a bit. Believe it or not some stimulation will help him with his healing. He’ll be a little dopy from the pain medication and he’s got a bit of short-term amnesia. But as I said, a little awake time won’t hurt him. Just don’t stay too long. By the way, we’re calling him our miracle boy for surviving that fall with just a few broken bones. He was very lucky.”

With that he walked to Rob’s bedside and touched his right shoulder gently. “Rob, Rob, wake up, you have a visitor.”

I watched Rob’s face as his eyes fluttered open. He saw the nurse and gave him a little smile. He blinked a few times, obviously trying to shake off the grogginess.

Andy said again, “Look, Rob, you have a visitor.”

Gradually Rob woke up, and then he slowly turned his head and focussed his gaze on me. He looked me up and down. There was no recognition in his expression, only puzzlement. Then he knitted his brows into a frown, and to my surprise the first thing he said was, “Are you a lawyer?”

“A lawyer?” And then I realized that I must look like a lawyer standing there in my suit. He thought I was an ambulance chaser! I realized that I needed to explain my presence at his bedside.

“No, no, not a lawyer. My name is Jerome. Jerome Hardwick. Um, you probably don’t remember me but we met yesterday, just before....” And I realized I couldn’t say “your accident” or “your fall” so I just said, “Well, just before....” and let the implication sink in.

Rob said, “Oh, really? Well, you look sort of familiar, but I can’t place you....”

Andy interrupted and said he needed to check Rob’s vitals, which he then proceeded to do. He quizzed Rob on his pain level, which seemed to be okay at that time. He said he’d be back with another pain pill in a little while. He explained that it was better to treat the pain before it got bad. Then he cheerfully complimented Rob on how well he was doing. After he finished he looked from Rob to me, then back to Rob and said, “Well, I’ll just leave you two to sort things out. Don’t stay too long, Jerome.” As he was leaving he gave me a knowing wink (thank God for gaydar) and pointed to a shelf where I could put the flowers. I told Rob the flowers were for him (as if it wasn’t obvious!) and put them down.

Rob watched me for a few seconds. Again his gaze traveled over me from top to bottom. Then he smiled and thanked me for the flowers and asked, “How did we meet?”

I was concerned that if I told him the details of our “meeting” that it would upset him so I just said, “At my office.”

“You mean at the building where I was working?”

“Yes, there.”

“Sorry, Jerome, my memory of yesterday is a bit fuzzy right now. You’re going to have to fill in the details for me.”

Shit! He was forcing details out of me. I thought for a second and decided honesty was the best policy and said, “I was inside my office. You were outside washing my window. I think we had a bit of a connection, and you gave me your name and phone number. You wrote them on the glass.” There! It was out in the open.

“Yes! I think I remember now. He knitted his brow in thought for a moment then grinned and said, “I can see why I’d want you to have my phone number, you’re awfully good looking.” Then his expressions turned to puzzlement again and he said, “I remember writing on the glass but I don’t remember anything after that....”

I was delighted at his positive response but decided that a change of subject was called for, so I asked him if there was anything I could do for him. He said he’d like some water. I moved near the bed and picked up the glass that was on his bedside table. I held it out to him. He gingerly moved his right arm (the one with the IV in it) to take the glass. As his fingers gripped the glass they overlapped mine. It was an intentional move on his part; he was putting a lot of pressure on the contact. I felt the heat of his fingers.

I looked into his eyes. He returned the look. He pulled the glass toward his lips. I took the straw with my free hand and placed it in his lips. My fingers brushed his lips. I felt the contact through my whole body—I was on fire.

Jesus! This guy and I were practically having sex in his hospital bed. I was getting hard. I looked down and saw a definite bulge developing under his blanket too.

My heart was beating so hard I thought I would have a heart attack.

All I could think of saying was, “Wow!”

He said, “Yeah, me too. Jerome, would you be offended if I asked you to kiss me?”

It was a rhetorical question, so I put the water glass back on the bedside table and leaned over him. He turned his face to mine. We kissed gently and tentatively.

When I pulled away my mind was racing as fast as my heart. What was I doing? Not only were my actions immoral, I was setting myself up to get hurt. That’s what I was doing. This guy was bombed on pain killers. He was so stoned he was mistaking friendship and maybe gratitude for love. He was in no position—mental or physical—to make rational choices. Besides, I knew next to nothing about him. I knew only two things for certain. That he was gorgeous and that he worked as a window washer. From what the nurse said I could guess he was from California. Other than that, zip, nada.

I smiled ruefully and said to him, “Rob, this isn’t right. You’re hurt, you’re probably bombed on pain killers, and I’m violating your trust by coming on to you. I’m really sorry. I should go.”

“Sorry for what, Jerome? Sorry that you’re good looking? Sorry that you’re a nice guy? You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m the one acting like a slut. I just put the moves on you, in case you hadn’t noticed. Please don’t go. You said yourself we had a connection. Stay with me until I get my next pain pill. It will knock me out after a few minutes. I’d like you to be with me until then. There’s something about you that makes me feel safe.”

“Okay, Rob. I’ll stay. But we have to take it slow, okay?”

“Okay, good, now hold my hand. No strings attached. It will help keep my mind of this...” He gestured to his plastered arm and leg.

So I lightly held his hand, and we sat in silence for a few minutes holding each other’s gaze and smiling tentatively. I felt closer to him by the second. It was like we were communicating telepathically. A beautiful, tender, romantic few moments....

Then, without warning a woman careened into the room. She stopped at the foot of his bed, tears welled in her eyes, and she exclaimed, “Oh Robert!”

Then she noticed me. She looked at our entwined hands. She looked at Rob, then at me again. Clearly at a loss for words. Confused.

Rob said, “Hi mom, this is Jerome. Jerome, this is my mom, Mary Mitchell.”

I said, “Hello.”

She said, “Hello....Are you a lawyer? Thank God! We should sue the pants off that company!”

Rob and I giggled at that remark, and I once again explained that I was only a friend. It was nonetheless a rather awkward moment—getting caught holding hands like that. We chatted about general things, such as how her trip went, for a few minutes but it was obvious that Mrs. Mitchell wanted her son to herself, so I chose to take my leave. I went through all the polite goodbyes, gave Rob my card, and told him I would see him tomorrow.

As I left the room I reflected on the amazing couple of days I’d had. Little did I know the excitement was only starting....