Melissa and Jonathan, Chapter 1

[asteralison]

 

Melissa and Jonathan

By Aster Alison

 

 

 

Email: asteralinson@outlook.com

Twitter: @asteralison

Blog: https://asteralison.dreamwidth.org/

 

 

 

 

 

 

© 2022 Leila Belhadjali

Chapter 1

 

Starbucks London “You are here” mug for the cat sitter acquired. She ticked that off her mental checklist as she walked down the street to her hotel. Dinner with colleagues had been pleasant, but she’d opted not to stay for the after-dinner drinks and eventual bar hopping. If she had time, a new bathing suit for the stop at Blue Lagoon (her birthday gift from her best friends Mags and Cate) on the way home: hers was fine but she’d noticed it looked a bit worn when packing for the conference, the first one after the big Covid-19 epidemic had left everyone isolated for over a year. She’d like to get to that, but the next day’s priority would be the visit to see the Elgin Marbles. She hadn’t seen them since her first trip to London during high school, two decades earlier, and as she thought they’d be sent back to Greece where they belonged, she wanted to take them in again as an adult. The ginger biscuits for her dad, the marzipan for her mom, the Turkish Delight for Mags and Cate’s kids who shockingly liked it, and some treats for the office she could do the morning before her flight. She made a mental note to remind herself that she also needed to get Martin a tacky London souvenir mug, he loved those. Tea. Cate and Mags were easy, they always brought each other Cognac and chocolate from the Duty-Free Shop at the airport. That had started when they were in college together. That should be it, though she also wanted to check the Gift Shop at the British Museum for gifts for the kids. She wasn’t a fan of shopping most of the time but shopping for the kids was always fun.

It started to mist. The weather wasn’t bad for October, but she picked up her pace. She’d decided to walk back from the restaurant (so she could stop at the Starbucks to get the mug) and she didn’t think the hotel was much further.

The brightness and warmth that greeted her when she got into the lobby were welcome. She batted her eyelashes to dislodge the droplets of mist and walked toward the elevator. Her room, where she could take off her heels and her mask.

“Melissa?”

She stopped and turned towards the person who’d spoken. A tall -well, she was 5ft even, everyone was tall, but this guy was tall, at least 6ft2- young man, blond hair, blue eyes, a blue surgical mask. Eyes crinkled in what she was sure was a smile behind the mask, though there had been a clear question when he’d said her name.

It clicked. Jonathan. Martin’s son. She was sure, even though she hadn’t seen him in over four years. And well, mask.

“Jonathan!” she said with a smile. Harder now, that handshakes were out. They each put hand over heart and bowed slightly.

“I was only 98% sure it was you,” he said.

She laughed. “That was surer than I was. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you. Last time was probably about four years ago?”

He nodded. “I suspect so. I haven’t been back to Seattle much over the past few years. Well, until I moved back.”

“Your dad has kept me up to date.  Penn and pediatrics! Martin said you were now doing a fellowship?”

 “Pediatric oncology, yes. I was in London for a small meeting. You were here for the cancer metabolics one?”

“Yes. Done this afternoon. It’s been a bit exhausting, my first conference after the Year of Covid.”

“I hear you. How did you fare?”

“Well, all things considered. I’d just finished a gigantic experiment, so I spent the time with the data and writing the papers. A bit lonely, but eh, that’s nothing compared to many. Your dad said you’d been sick?”

He nodded. “Yes, right at the beginning, before we had enough PPE and before we really knew what was hitting us.

”Was it bad?”

He sighed. “Yes. It was. I was sick, and scared, and it took a long time for me to feel ready to get back to work. But getting back wasn’t optional, so back I went.”

“On the front lines, of course.”

“That is what I signed up for, right?” He smiled, but it was wry. “I will say, there was a small benefit!”

“Oh?”

“When I asked for time off, knowing that I’d been sick, and had worked the frontlines, they let me tack on another week of vacation. Which means that as of day after tomorrow, I have two whole weeks off. I can’t remember the last time that happened!”

“That sounds great. Are you staying in London?”

“Nope. I’m heading to Iceland day after tomorrow!”

She smiled. “Bet we’re on the same flight?”

“Oh?”

“I decided to spend the weekend in Reykjavik. I’m flying out day after tomorrow via IcelandAir. The 1pm flight.”

“Me too. Want to share a ride to the airport?”

“That would be great!” She hesitated. She was tired, her feet hurt, and she wanted to get back to her room. That was one hand. On the other, she’d always liked Jonathan, ever since she’d met him as a serious young pre-teen, before he’d started university at not quite 14, she had a bottle of hard apple cider in her room, and it already felt good to talk to someone friendly and not involved in cancer research.

In the end, he ended up asking first. “Do you want to get a drink? The hotel bar is still open.”

She shook her head. “Yes on the drink, but I have a bottle of cider in my room. If that’s ok?”

“Sounds great!”

They walked towards the elevator, got in.

“What floor?”

“I’m on seven.”

He pressed the button and leaned back against the wall as they started upwards. His eyes were closed.

“Tired?” she asked.

“A bit. It’s been a long few days. I ended up consulting on a case with a colleague at Great Ormand Street Hospital.”

He was at the beginning of his career, and already people were asking him for consults. It seemed Martin was too discreet about his son’s accomplishments. She shook her head with a smile.

“What?” he asked.

“Your father doesn’t brag enough about you, I think.”

To her surprise, he blushed and mumbled something about it was not a big deal, just a friend asking. She said nothing.

Once in her room, she turned on the lights, and motioned him to come in. She got out of her shoes, and found her comfortable slippers where she’d left them, and sighed at the relief. She was 5ft even. She wore heels for events, if not in every day.

“The new discussion when bringing someone into your space,” she said, smiling behind her mask, knowing her eyes were crinkled, “is not ‘do you have condoms, and have you been tested recently?’ but ‘think it’s safe to remove masks?” She suddenly blushed. “Oh my god. I didn’t mean to imply sex or anything, just that it was the new ‘first topic’!”

“No, I get it. I hear you.”

“And now you probably think I have people in my room for safer sex every evening. I’m shutting up now.”

“Don’t shut up, it was just getting interesting!” he said. “I get it, though. And to answer your questions. I’ve been in London for a week, masked in public. Vaccinated in February, good antibodies this summer, booster last month. I don’t have condoms, and I’ve been tested—” He stopped with a grin. “Oh wait, you didn’t need to know about that, right?”

She took a deep breath. “Not unless you have very different ideas about this evening than I do!  I’ve been here five days. Vaccination wasn’t until last spring, booster due next month, no idea on antibody status. I also have no condoms, but I do have a bottle of Welsh Apple County Cider in the fridge.”

“Cider sounds good.”

He took off his mask and shoved it in his pocket, she dropped hers on the dresser. She went over to the small fridge, and pulled out a bottle, found the glasses and sighed. “Of course. Why the heck would I remember that I need a bottle opener?”

“Got one in my room. I’ll be back in a flash.”

He left and she looked around. The almost comfortable armchairs would work fine. She considered changing into pajamas, but decided against it, in case he came back faster than she expected. She cringed again at her condom comment. It was something she’d have said to Mags or Cate, not to Jonathan, who was not precisely a friend and was certainly not in her age group to even make friendship an assumption. She calculated quickly. He was probably close to 24 now. Or 25? She didn’t know. She picked up the bottle of cider and placed its coolness against her cheek for a moment. There was no reason for feel flustered. She was just having a drink with a friend’s kid. In a hotel room in London. She sighed and went to get her knitting.

He came back a few minutes later with a Swiss Army Knife. “Part of my standard hiking gear,” he said. “And since I’ll be doing at least some hiking in Iceland, I packed my daypack.”

“Sounds like your time in Iceland is going to be different from mine.”

“What are you planning?”

“Well, nothing scheduled after we get in, it was too late for much though the hotel said something about doing Northern Lights tours on a show up and if we have numbers and conditions, we’ll go basis. Day tour of the Golden Circle the next day, and the day I leave I have a visit to the Blue Lagoon, they drop me off at the airport after. Early evening flight back to Seattle. Nothing earth shattering or exciting, the spa day is my birthday present from my best friends, and I’m looking forward to seeing what I can see. You, on the other hand, have more planned.”

“I do, and I’m very much looking forward to it… Thanks,” he added, taking the glass of cider from her, “Cheers!”

They clinked glasses and each took a sip. Melissa put down her glass and picked up her knitting. “So?” she prodded.

“Our flight gets in at three, I’ll head straight to pick up a rental Sprinter Van. And away I go. I’m planning on checking out the Golden Circle, of course, but the real plan is to drive the Ring Road around the island.  I have 11 days planned, then back to Reykjavik. Volcano hike, maybe. I might try Blue Lagoon and I want to visit the city as well. I will have to skip the fjords to the northwest, I just can’t fit it in. I’ve got some hiking days, maybe some boating. And I’m bragging. Sorry.”

“No, I’m listening. To be honest, I don’t tend to take many vacations away, and I’m a complete sucker for vacation stories. I’ll also sit and listen when you get back if you want to share photos—Ugh. Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply…”

“If you’re willing to sit through my photos, you’re on for dinner once we’re back in Seattle. I’ll buy or cook, whichever you prefer.”

“Do you enjoy cooking?”

“I do. I—”

He started talking about cooking and she listened, interested. Her idea of cooking was pouring milk on cereal or scrambling a few eggs. A successful meal was when nothing burned.

“And remind me,” he said, “You keep bees, right? Do you still have them?”

She nodded. “I do. I have 10 hives. I collect a lot of honey.”

“Have you been terribly impacted by colony collapse disorder?”

“No, I’ve been pretty lucky. I hope it continues.”

“Murder hornets?”

She laughed. “No. Seriously not. At least not yet, but the Natural Resources seem to think they may have gotten them. I hope.”

He pointed at her knitting. She was almost done with the second sock of a pair, in pinks and peaches and oranges. “Sheep?”

“Oh god no. That is one rabbit hole I have not gone down!”

She offered him more cider and poured them both a second glass.

The conversation drifted and ranged far and wide, from bees to cider to anecdotes from his years in med school. Science and her research, and his specializing in pediatric oncology, maybe with a focus on neurological cancers. Politics and that they both read science fiction and fantasy.  Nothing much personal and they both noticed that neither spoke of significant others in their lives, but at that point, it was just idle curiosity, not a need to know for any reason.

Jonathan went back to his room to change into jeans, and Melissa took the opportunity to put on her pajamas, which were sweatpants and a t-shirt. She stared at herself in the mirror. Short, small boned, black hair caught up in a messy bun. Deep blue eyes, which she thought were her best feature. Pale skin that burned and did not tan, and a smattering of freckles on her nose. She sighed. Cute. Never beautiful. But cute. She bit her lip. Why did she care?

Jonathan had a bottle of wine with him, they’d long since finished the cider.

“Wine?”

She shook her head. “I’m a lightweight, sorry. If I have a glass of wine, after a half bottle of cider, I’ll be either maudlin-weepy or passed out asleep in about 15 minutes. You go ahead.”

“Would eating help?”

“Possibly, but all I’ve got is two pretty awful cookies from the meeting today… Oh. Room service. If they’re open this late?” She looked at the time. “It’s 1:30AM,” she said, surprised.

“Perfect time for a burger and fries!”

She gaped at that. “At 1:30 in the morning?!”

He laughed. “You develop strange eating patterns when you’re a resident. Burger and fries are a perfectly good meal about 20 hours of the day. Pizza is a great meal at any time of the day, but I’m not about to do room service pizza.”

She shook her head and went to grab the room service menu that was on the desk.

Burger and fries, a cheese plate, and two desserts ordered, Jonathan poured her a glass of wine.

“Here’s to room service at 2am and chance encounters!” he said.

Despite her protests he had them put the bill and tip on his tab. “Oh come on Melissa! You’ve known my dad for long enough to know that I’m not hurting.”

“I do know that, but that doesn’t mean that I can’t pay my fair share.”

“Of course you could. But… I—Look, I’ve not told pretty much anyone in my life who doesn’t know me from back when about my grandad’s legacy. I’ve lived off my salary, and when I have time, I’m going to start a foundation with the money or just get bored and donate to the Gates Foundation. But it’s there, and I like being able to do stuff like this and usually don’t do it too much because I don’t want to stand out.”

“Which is why you’re staying here rather than a top-notch hotel, I assume?”

“Yes.  The hospital put everyone here. I wasn’t about to single myself out and go elsewhere. Plus this place is fine. I’d probably have stayed here or someplace similar anyhow.”

She was quiet for a bit. He’d inherited a lot of money as a tween when his grandfather had died, leaving him the bulk of his estate, bypassing his father, though she knew Martin had gotten some money through his mother.

“If it makes you feel better, I always pay for Dad and Den, and Dad always tells me ‘You go ahead and pay, you’ve got money, I am a poorly paid academic researcher, woe is me, woe is me, and the catch was crappy in Alaska last time so Den has no money either. And I think I’ll have another Negroni.’”

They both laughed. Martin had worked through any bitterness at being left out of his father’s will in favor of his son, and any excuse for another Negroni was always good in his book.

“Well, thank you, then.”

She finished the second sock of the pair she’d been working on since she’d gotten to London. She always knit socks while traveling. She put away her knitting and sat back down. Without a drink, or knitting to occupy her fingers, she felt somehow vulnerable. They talked about this and that, nothing really, while they waited.

Their food came and they set it on the small table between their armchairs. Melissa yawned as he handed her her glass of wine.

 “Food, then bed! …. Oh god. Now I’m doing it. Let’s have dinner and then go to bed, each in our own beds.”

Melissa laughed and stole one of his French fries. “In retribution I am stealing a French fry. I knew what you meant.”

They ate and talked and shared the desserts, agreeing that while the toffee pudding was delicious, it was almost too sweet.

They piled the dishes back on the tray, Melissa eyeing with a bit of dismay the empty wine bottle. She was feeling it and hoped the hangover the next morning wouldn’t be too epic. She got herself a glass of water and gulped it down.

“Any doctor tips for hangovers that I should know about but don’t?” she asked.

“Breakfast,” he answered, and she sighed.

He carried the tray to the door and put it down in the hallway. Her turned to her, she was leaning against the door jamb.

“Good night,” he said. “That was a wonderful evening, thank you.”

She nodded. “It was great,” she agreed.

He turned around three steps down the hallway, but she’d already closed her door. He hesitated then continued towards the stairs.