“I'm really glad you're home,” she says.
“Me too.”
“I honestly thought you might sign on for more time over there.”
“I was tempted to,” I reply. “They were certainly pressing me to re-up.”
“Well, why wouldn't they? You're a brilliant doctor.”
I laugh softly. “There are a lot of brilliant people over there doing good work,” I tell her. “I'm glad I got to be part of it for a little while.”
“So, why did you come home?”
I look out the window at the city passing by. It's surreal in a way. I've spent the last eight months in a world where practically every building was pockmarked with bullet holes and busted windows. And a good number of them had been reduced to nothing more than rubble. Seeing the city outside the car standing tall, whole, and without the sound of bombs exploding and automatic gunfire ringing out makes me realize how good we have it over here.
Unlike the people I worked with, we don't have to worry about going to the store and getting blown up. For the most part, we don't have to worry about being gunned down by somebody who doesn't share our political or religious ideology. We're free to move about, doing what we want to do, being who we are.
“Duncan?”
I turn to face my mom, who's looking at me curiously. “Sorry,” I tell her. “Just reflecting a bit.”
“Reflection is good,” she says. “But, do it on your own time. I haven't seen you in months, so it's your duty to spend some time with your mother.”
I laugh and nod. “Absolutely.”
“Not that I'm complaining, but what brought you home?” she asks. “I know you loved what you were doing over there, so why didn't you re-up?”
It's an easy question with a complicated answer. At least, it's complicated in my own mind. There's still part of me that can't believe I came home on the off chance a woman I hooked up with eight months ago is not only still single but is still pining for me the way I'm pining for her. It's crazy and it's ridiculous. I admit that.
But that’s how twisted up Alexis is in my mind. I just have to know. I have to see if there really is anything there between us. There's no way I can get my head on straight and move forward without knowing for certain.
“To be completely honest with you, Mom,” I say. “I came home because of a woman.”
She looks at me, her eyes widening slightly. “Because of a woman?”
I nod. “Yeah,” I reply. “A couple of days before I left for Syria, I met somebody,” I say. “And I haven't been able to get my mind off of her since then.”
“She must really be something special,” she smiles.
“Yeah, I think she is.”
“What's her name?”
“Alexis,” I answer. “Alexis Martin.”
“And where did you meet this Alexis Martin?”
“At the hospital's charity gala,” I say. “She was there with a friend of hers who's a nurse.”
“So, tell me all about her,” she says. “It's been so long since a woman has captured the eye of my youngest son, so she has to be quite remarkable.”
Jeffrey pulls through the gate of the family home and stops in front of the stairs that lead to the front door. My mother's houseman, Reginald, is already there waiting. He opens the door for us and lets us out as Jeffrey gets my bags out of the trunk.
“It's wonderful to see you again, sir,” Reginald says.
“Thank you, Reginald,” I reply. “It's good to see you as well.”
Reginald takes my bags from Jeffrey, who gives my mother and I a nod before slipping behind the wheel of the car again. He drives around the circular drive, then out to the back where the garages are.
“I can get that,” I tell Reginald as I reach for my bag.
“Nonsense, sir,” he protests. “I can manage quite well, thank you.”
I offer my mother my arm, and I walk her up the steps to the house. Elisa is standing there, holding the door open for us. She gives me a wide smile and a hug as I step through the doorway.
“It's good to see you, Elisa,” I say.
“Your mother has been very worried about you, Mr. Duncan,” she says.
“Nothing to worry about,” I tell her. “We were perfectly safe.”
My mother scoffs and heads for the sitting room. I give Elisa a wink and follow her in as Reginald sets my bags by the door, making it easier for me to grab when I head back to my own condo later on. Or hell, maybe I'll just spend the night here. It might be nice to have dinner and catch up with my mom.
I wander into the sitting room and she's seated on one couch, a fire going in the fireplace. It's cool outside, but I don't personally think it's cool enough for a fire. But hey, her house, her rules. I drop heavily onto the couch opposite her and notice the two glasses of scotch on the coffee table between us.
“Joining me for a drink?” I ask.
“I am of age, you know,” she says.
I laugh and pick up the glass as she takes hers. I lean forward, and we tap our glasses together, the ring of the crystal echoing around the room.
“To being home,” I toast.
“To having you back where you belong.”
We sit back and take a sip of our drinks, and I relish the smooth burn of it going down. The stuff I got over there was good, don't get me wrong, but the stuff I get here – which my mom makes sure to have on hand for my visits – is better.
“Yeah, I missed this,” I say.
“I'm sure you missed a lot,” she replies.
I nod. “I'm dying for a thick, juicy burger,” I say. “Maybe a steak too.”
She laughs. “I take it the quality of beef over there was lacking?”
“Yeah, you could say that.”
“That explains why you look so sickly thin.”
I laugh. “I do not look sickly thin,” I protest. “I had routine checkups over there and I lost a grand total of three pounds. The food was good, just not what I'm used to.”
“Well, you still look awfully thin to me,” she winks. “I'm just thankful you're home.”
“I'm really glad to be home, Mom.”
“So, tell me more about this Alexis Martin,” she says. “I'm more than a little intrigued.”
I honestly don't know what to say without making myself sound like some teenage boy with a crush. I mean, honestly, I know very little about her in a practical sense. We swapped some stories and got to know each other a little bit, but it's not like we spent enough time together to know each other's most intimate details. That's a situation I'm hoping to rectify, but it's going to take a little time – and luck.
But still, how do I quantify my feelings? How can I explain this magical, mystical connection we shared? How can I tell my mom any of this without sounding like a complete babbling idiot?
I let out a breath. “Honestly, we only spent a few hours together,” I confide. “It was an intense few hours, but only a few hours all the same.”
She looks at me, an inscrutable expression on her face. “You came home for a woman you only spent a few hours with?”
I give her a wide grin and spread my hands as I shrug. “I never said it made any sort of logical sense.”
My mom laughs, a mischievous sparkle in her eye. “Love often doesn't.”
“Whoa, pump the brakes there,” I protest, joining in her laughter. “Nobody ever said anything about love.”
“No, but it's the next logical step,” she says. “I can tell you already care for this girl a great deal.”
I drain the last of my scotch. “That obvious, huh?”
“I'm your mother,” she says. “You haven't been able to hide anything from me since you were a child.”
I stand up and offer to take her glass, but she shakes her head. My mom's never been much for drinking and has barely touched what's already in her glass anyway. I walk over to the sideboard and pour myself another stiff one before walking back and taking my seat on the couch again. She takes a small sip of her drink and looks at me expectantly.
“I don't know what I feel, if I'm being perfectly transparent with you,” I sigh. “All I know is that the whole time I was over there, I couldn't get her out of my head. I thought about her constantly.”
“Wow,” she says, a wry smirk on her face. “That must have been a far more intense few hours you spent with her than I originally imagined.”
I laugh and shake my head. “There's just something about her that really clicked with me, Mom,” I try to explain. “We just shared this really powerful connection. I know we both felt it.”
“Have you talked to her since you went away?”
I shake my head. “I haven't.”
“Eight months is a long time,” she says. “What if she's with somebody already?”
I shrug. “Then, I have to take my lumps,” I reply. “But I realized over there that I owe it to myself to at least take a chance here. I have to find out if what we shared is real and if there's a possibility of us maybe, exploring it together.”
A faint smile touches her lips and that inscrutable expression on her face remains in place.
“What?” I finally ask.
She shakes her head. “Nothing, dear.”
“Yeah, I know better than that,” I say. “Spill it, Mom.”
Her smile grows wider and that mischievous twinkle in her eye only deepens. “I just never thought I'd live to see the day when my rational, purely logical son, would give in to his emotions like this,” she says. “I never thought I'd see you choose to follow your heart, rather than let that big brain of yours guide you.”
“Do you think I'm being foolish?”