Chapter Seven:
"Robin? Are you okay?" Patrick ran into her bedroom and saw her on the floor, wearing a towel.
"Patrick?" she looked at him as she stood up slowly and limped to her bed.
"You screamed. I was worried," he said and tried not to stare at her bare arms and legs, the towel not very long.
"I'm fine. Please leave my room," she said as she winced.
"What happened?"
She sighed and looked up at him.
"I fell. I'm fine and I really need for you to leave."
"Did you hurt your knee?"
"Patrick, please get out! I am almost naked and you're creeping me out!"
He put his hands up and nodded.
"Sorry, I'm going."
He walked out and she limped over and closed her door.
She figured the shower was out for the moment, so she grabbed a pair of shorts and a tank top and put them on, sighing before she made her way back to the family room. She saw Patrick waiting for her and she smiled.
"I'm sorry if I was rude, but I'm not used to having anyone here. I also don't really need any help. I've lived alone for a long time and can take care of myself," she sat down on her chair.
"I got it. I just heard you scream and I was worried," he rubbed his eyes and she looked at her watch.
"You should have more fluids," she said. "I'll get them."
He didn't understand her. Why was she helping him? What was her angle? Why was he allowing her to take care of him?
"Patrick?" she touched his hand and he jumped.
"What?"
"Where did you go? You zoned out."
"Nowhere. I'm fine," he sighed. "I think I should leave."
She shrugged.
"You're not a prisoner. I thought I could help you, but you have your car and you are welcome to leave."
"What is your deal?"
She limped back to the chair and sat down opposite him.
"I don't have a deal. I just wanted to help you feel better. It's what I do."
"You take patients home with you? Is that a common service you offer?"
"You're an asshole. I think you're right. You should leave."
"Why did you want to help me?"
"I don't know," she glared at him. "Glutton for punishment?"
He held her gaze and waited.
"Against my better judgment, you seemed like someone who deserved to feel better. Besides, I recognized your self loathing."
"You recognized it? From where?"
She sniffed and exhaled.
"The mirror."
He was stumped.
"But you're so put together. You have a great life and you're a brilliant doctor who still practices. You haven't let anything about your HIV stop you and to be honest, it's kind of annoying," he smiled and she laughed.
"Nice."
"I'm just saying," he grinned.
"I appreciate your assessment of me, but to be honest, it's a bit short sighted. You have known me for all of two days and I don't think you're qualified to make any judgments about me."
"You're wrong. We were stuck in an elevator together and that equals at least a month of dating time."
She burst out laughing and he thought she was stunning when she smiled.
"What kind of logic is that?"
"And, you watched me puke more than once, so that equals at least four or five months of dating time," he said.
"Wow. This is the longest relationship I've been in," she said and crossed her arms. "Should I be expecting a proposal soon?"
He smiled.
"That depends," he said.
"On what?"
He looked at her television and smiled.
"On your ability to beat me at Madden 13."
She blinked.
"You have no idea what you're getting yourself into."
"Are you scared?"
She scoffed at him.
"Hardly. I just don't want to embarrass you."
She nodded and grabbed the game remotes.
"Get ready to be schooled."
About an hour later, Patrick was sweating. She was good; she was really good.
"Are you done being embarrassed?" she asked him after she beat him again.
"I'm shocked. You should enter a contest or something."
She took the remotes and put them away before she turned and smiled.
"I have lots of talents."
He smiled and nodded.
"I'm beginning to see that."
Her phone rang and she answered it as she sat back down on the couch. Patrick got up to use the bathroom and found himself smiling.
She was something else. He found himself truly acting like himself around her and it was freeing. He didn't have to pretend. He didn't need to be anything other than who he was and it just made him happy.
Making his way back to the room, he saw her smiling and laughing while on the phone and he found his happiness waning. Who was she talking to? Was it a boyfriend? Did he really care?
He sat down and sighed, his mind running and his irritation with the whole situation growing.
Robin hung up after promising to see whoever was on the phone the next night for dinner. She sat down and smiled at him.
"That sounded happy," he said quietly.
"It was awesome news," she said. "We're going to have a nice celebration tomorrow night."
He nodded.
"Great, I mean I'm glad for you and whoever was on the phone. I hope you're happy," he stood up and crossed his arms. "I'm going to go back to my hotel."
She was confused.
"Is something wrong?"
"No."
"Okay, but you suddenly seem angry."
He shrugged and glanced at her.
"I don't really care enough to be angry," he started and she snorted.
"Nice. There's the door. Don't let it hit you on the ass on your way out," she got up and went to walk away when he reached for her hand.
"Robin, stop."
She pulled her hand back and glared at him.
"No. I don't know what your problem is, but I'm not interested. You are sullen and withdrawn and a complete jerk. I tried to tell myself that it was because you were newly diagnosed and you had a lot to handle, but HIV positive or not, your behavior is atrocious. I was wrong to bring you here. I was wrong to think there was a man inside who was worth helping. I am done being wrong."
He watched as she walked into her bedroom and slammed the door.
XXXXXX
Chapter Eight:
Robin limped around her bedroom, her anger growing. She was angry with herself for letting Patrick get to her. She was angry for bringing him home and she was angry for being so upset.
"This is fucking ridiculous," she said aloud. "I need to get a grip."
She heard a crash and jumped before she turned to look at the closed door.
What the hell was that? Was he robbing her?
Would serve her right, she thought. Who brings someone into their home like this?
She walked slowly to the door and took a deep breath and exhaled before she opened it.
"Patrick?" she walked out.
There was no response and she wondered if he left.
"Why do you care?" she muttered to herself. "He's rude and arrogant and a jerk."
"Robin?" a voice whimpered from the floor of the family room.
All thoughts of anger were gone as she rushed to him.
"Patrick? What happened?" she saw him lying there, sweating and looking green.
"I was trying to get to my car, but I suddenly didn't feel well. I went to sit on the couch, but I missed. I think I broke your mug."
She took his pulse and smiled at him.
"An old boyfriend gave it to me and I didn't like it, so no big loss." She helped him sit up. "It's time for another IV," she said. "Can I help you onto the couch and then I'll get it."
"I should leave," he said unconvincingly.
"You are in no position to drive anywhere," she helped him up and onto the couch before she went and grabbed more meds and fluids. She walked back and saw his eyes were closed and she placed the fluids in the port she left in his arm. She hooked the bag up to the pole she had in the room and when she went to leave, he grabbed her arm.
"Robin," he said softly as he looked at her.
She sat down on the edge of the couch and smiled.
"I'm here."
"I'm sorry," he said sincerely. "I'm really not such an asshole. I'm sorry."
"You just rest and we can talk when you feel a little better."
He felt his chin quiver and he covered his face in shame.
"Hey, Patrick, it's okay. You're going to get through this," she said, her eyes filling at his anguish and her own understanding of his situation.
"I don't know that I will. I don't know if this is the beginning of the end."
She nodded and put her hand on his chest.
"It's not. It's just a bump in the road."
He looked at her and saw her compassion.
"Promise?"
She nodded.
"I promise."
XXXX
Robin was making some dinner later that evening and she kept a close eye on Patrick. He hadn't moved from his spot on the couch and she knew that sleeping was what his body needed right now.
She was so confused by him. Her reaction and his attitude were both alarming. In all of the years since her diagnosis, she had stayed to herself. She guarded her heart so closely and other than a few close friends and her family, she never connected to anyone.
But something was different about Patrick. It was weird, because she really didn't know him very well, but for some reason, she felt like he understood her.
"Robin?" his voice startled her.
"Shit," she turned and covered her chest. "You need to make a noise or something."
He smiled and shrugged.
"Sorry. I think you were lost in thought. I didn't mean to sneak up on you."
She felt her heart rate begin to return to normal and smiled.
"How are you feeling? You look better."
He walked to the table and sat down.
"I feel much better, thank you."
"I'm making some soup if you feel like eating," she turned back to the stove.
"Don't you want me to leave?"
She mixed the pot and covered it before turning to face him.
"Can I tell you something?"
He smiled and motioned for her to sit.
"I think you need to stop being so angry."
He was quiet and she continued.
"Being HIV positive isn't the end of the world. As someone who is also HIV positive, your attitude is offensive."
"My attitude is offensive?"
"Yes, and incredibly unattractive."
He smirked and leaned back, crossing his arms.
"I didn't know you were interested."
She rolled her eyes and didn't miss a beat.
"I'm not. There are all forms of attractiveness, Patrick. Being handsome only gets you so far."
"It's gotten me pretty far."
"I'm sure it has. Are you proud of that?"
He leaned closer to her and glared.
"Why don't you ask what you really want to?"
"And what's that?"
"You want to know how I was infected. I didn't sleep around. I'm not like that."
She nodded.
"Like what?"
"A man whore. I don't sleep around. I enjoy women and I am proud of my success. There is nothing wrong with how I lived my life."
She could tell he was angry and she wondered if this was a deep issue.
"I don't recall telling you there was anything wrong, or accusing you of being, as you so eloquently put it, a 'man-whore'. I also don't understand why you talk to me like you're angry, like I accused you of something."
He sighed and rubbed his eyes.
"You make me uncomfortable."
She was surprised.
"I make you uncomfortable? How can that be?"
"Look at you. You are HIV positive and you have an amazing life. You are a brilliant doctor and your outlook on life is simply unbelievable."
"Right, so how again is that uncomfortable?"
"Because I can't see my future. I see only pain and loneliness and sadness and I don't know how you can't. I look at you and I feel ashamed."
"Of me?" she asked, horrified.
"No, of me and my behavior. I just don't see how there is any reason to be happy."
"I see, well then you should probably leave and find a hole to live out the remainder of your days. I'm not here to be your poster child for living with HIV."
He was surprised at her anger.
"I didn't mean that in a bad way."
She got up and turned to go back to the stove when her knee buckled and she fell. He jumped up and went to help her.
"Get away from me," she said, her tears coming. "Just stop."
"Robin, I'm sorry if I upset you, but let me help you, please."
"I'm fine," she said tearfully.
He backed up as she stood and he was at a loss at her reaction.
She moved the soup off the burner and turned the stove off.
"I've lost my appetite. You are welcome to eat if you want. Excuse me," she said and didn't look at him as she limped out.
He turned and followed her, not about to let this go.
"Robin, please wait."
She turned to face him and her eyes were swimming.
"Have you ever had a moment when you say or do something embarrassing and the only thing you want to do is run away?"
"Of course," he said.
"Well this is it. You following me doesn't allow me to run away."
He smiled and shrugged.
"Good. I have more to say."
"Not everything is about you, Patrick. Maybe I need to be alone."
"Maybe you don't."
"What do you want from me?" she asked him. "Why do you care?"
"I don't know. Why does there have to be an answer for everything? Why can't I just want to help you?"
"Because you won't stop looking at me in a way I don't understand and I can't take it. You have no idea what I've been through and the things you said and the way you think of me and my life is a fake. You have no idea how hard it is, and I'm tired. It was wrong of me to bring you here. It was wrong of me to think I was someone who could help you."
He walked closer to her and she met his gaze.
"Maybe I can be someone to help you?"
"I just don't think so."
"Maybe you're wrong?"
She smiled and he shrugged.
"I'm never wrong," she said.
"Sure you are."
"Nice," she looked at him and sighed. "I need to sit down. My knee is throbbing."
"Can I start there?"
She limped to the couch and looked at him.
"What do you mean?"
"Helping you. I was an orthopedic specialist. I focused mainly on knees."
"Oh, I had no idea," she said and watched as he moved to pull her legs up on the couch as he sat down.
His hands on her legs were causing her way too much enjoyment. This wasn't a good idea, not at all.