Nate (The Princesses of Silicon Valley - Book 4) Read online

  I look at her tag, “Mariana Castro, you have a way with patients.”

  She shrugs and smiles, “He’s a nice man, we all work a little harder when we’re in the spot light.”

  “Really, I thought he was kind of cranky.”

  She shakes her head, “Everyone is cranky when they are in pain. You need to look past the pain and see the person. Most people just want to feel better. We get him moving and he will get happy.”

  I nod and watch her greet her next patient. With her arms outstretched she smiles. “Mrs. Warner, I watched that show you recommended. Oh, you were so right. It was funny.” She then wheels Mrs. Warner over to one of the tables. “Let’s see how you’re doing.” As she gets her on a plinth and performs a painful stretch, Mariana’s warm banter works magic on the patient. Mariana then looks over to me and winks.

  As I walk away I can still here her warm, friendly voice in my head. I never got why guys get so stupid around women until now. Mariana’s vitality is amazing, it just hooks me. She’s the human equivalent of heroin. After this one brief sample, I want more.

  In a small town like Rochester, my hookup reputation is now biting me in the butt.

  While flirting with Mariana, she gets a big smile and in her amazing voice she laughs, “Oh, Dr. Nate, you’re so cute, but meu amigo, I’m not going to be just another one of your women.”

  I now make a point of checking out my patient’s progress in physical therapy. Mariana always has a smile on her face, and a warm caring comment on her lips. Her melodic voice and the fluidity of her movements make it seem like she’s in a continual spontaneous song and dance. I have no idea how a women from a tropical climate can live in Rochester, Minnesota, but now I want to find out. Remembering how much shit I gave Dave when he spent months following Melissa around just happy for any bone she’d throw out, I now find myself in the same situation.

  I’m now on a one man improvment course to prove to her that I’m a good guy and she should date me. It’s tricky since I want to be near her but don’t want to get pulled in for sexual harrasment.

  Finding any excuse to be where Mariana is, I’m haunted with flashbacks of Amy showing up whenever I worked out. Mariana always laughs when she sees me, calling me her “cachorrinho.” I learn that she’s from Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, which helps when I look up the experession she’s been using. It turns out cachorrinho is a little puppy. Knowing I’m pathetic doesn’t help. Finally, I call Melissa and ask her for advice.

  “This is the silliest call I’ve ever gotten.”

  “Can you stop laughing and give me some advice.”

  “Wait,” she says chuckling, “can I just fly out and meet the woman that’s gotten the notorious Nate Lambard in a spin.”

  “Melissa, still not helping,” I say, annoyed as I wonder if I should just hang up now.

  “OK, OK, Nate, just start acting like an adult. Stop hooking up. Show her by your actions that your more than your reputation.”

  “Yeah, but that could take a while.”

  “Yeah, so, is she worth it?”

  I realize it’s not too hard to follow this advice since I’ve lost interest in going to bars to hookup. None of the girls I meet have that sexy voice, big easy smile, and dismisive shrug that I’m hooked on.

  After a couple of months of being Mariana’s cachorrinho she finally throws me a bone as says, “Dr. Nate, this cold weather is making me sad. I just need one night of good Brazilian food and Samba dancing to get my happiness back.”

  Brazilian food and Samba isn’t somthing you’ll find in Rochester. Thank God for the internet, it takes me less then one minute to locate a Braziliian restaurant with Samba dancing in the suburbs of Minneapolis—an hour and a half from Rochester. Convincing Mariana that I’m not a crazy pervert is my next task.

  She finally relents after she tells me, “Dr. Nate, don’t think I’m another one of your women.”

  I beg, borrow, and trade hours so I can drive her up on a night she’s off.

  Chapter 9 – Brazilian Food

  Picking Mariana up at her place, I’ve already made reservations and mapped out the route. Her roommate invites me in. I recognize her because she works on the same ward as Mariana; thankfully it’s not because we’ve hooked up. Having to wait a half an hour for Mariana to be ready, I start questioning if I told her the correct time. The wait is worth it, her eyes are on fire as she Samba dances down the stairs. Bundling up against the seven degree Minnesota temperature, we head off in my Jeep. Mariana brings some Brazilian CD’s to get us in the mood. On the way up we listen to her music. It’s my first time I’ve ever heard Marisa Monte, Renato Russo, and Michel Telo. Mariana sings along with the songs and her exuberance just fills the car with happiness.

  Reaching the restaurant Mariana is thrilled that the owners are actually Brazilian, and not some Americans who traveled to Brazil and now want to bring their vacation home. Speaking Portuguese she orders us Feiloada and Bobo.

  She then orders a Malbec telling me with a shrug, “It’s from Argentina, but it’s still good.”

  We share the food, which includes a lot of beans. She then tells me all about moving to Rochester after finishing her masters in physical therapy. After flan for dessert, we hear Sérgio Mendes coming from the back room. Mariana’s face lights up as she throws up her hands, “Dr. Nate, vamos dançar!” It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to realize she wants to go dancing.

  I should probably be self-conscious, since I’ve never danced Samba, but I’m so enthrolled with Mariana that the thought doesn’t really cross my mind. I’m just hoping that Samba dancing includes some form of slow dancing, since I have a strong desire to get my hands on her.

  Lucky for me, Mariana tells me to put one hand on her shoulder and one on her waist as she she gives me a Samba lesson. We must be on the floor for at least three hours. The room fills up and the floor gets busy, but I only notice Mariana. At some point she tells me she needs to take a break. Getting each of us a Devassa beer, she continues to move her hips. A few fellow Brazillians come up to her. Talking to them in Portuguese she leans into me in a flirty, possesive way. Placing my hand on her waist, she shakes her butt against me and I think I must be in heaven.

  On the way home she keeps on thanking me for the “maravilhoso” night. She tells me, “Just a taste of home can help me survive this long Minnesota winter.”

  Not wanting to push my luck, I’d don’t even try to kiss her when I walk her to her door. As I watch her open the door, I genuinely tell her, “This was a lot of fun, we should go out again.”

  “Oh, Dr. Nate, you’re so much more of a gentleman than I thought,” she gushes, as she lifts up on her tiptoes and kisses me on the cheek. Knowing that her first impression of me was correct, I vow to be the gentleman she now thinks I am. As I move to walk away, Mariana grabs my hand and looks at me through her eyelashes. With a sly smile she reaches again up on her tiptoes and gives me a kiss so warm and wonderful I think the Brazilian sun is now shinning brightly, even though we’re in the middle of a cold Minnesota night.

  After what feels like forever, or maybe just a minute, she pulls away and says, “Dr. Nate, your so cute, now I know why the girls all have problems with you.”

  Now I’m confused, is this good or bad?

  Looking at my perplexed expression, she laughs, “It’s cold out here.” With a flirty wink she then says, “Next time, I’ll invite you in.”

  Chapter 10 – The Rules of Dating

  Getting moved to the Orthopedic Trauma Service rotation turns out to be good timing since I’m now caught, as they say, “hook, line, and sinker,” into Mariana. I’m still trying to keep in shape—and of course working at the hospital at least sixty-five hours a week—but every available free moment is now taken up by Mariana. She makes me hire a cleaning lady, since I’m never going to do it and she won’t stay in my filthy apartment. I’ve also learned that she’s never on time for anything, can spend an hour on her hair, changes her clothes three
times before she finally decides what she wants to wear, and expects me to make dinner reservations since she doesn’t like to wait in line. If I don’t compliment her on how she looks, or text her at least twice a day, she loses it on me. After seeing her for a few months I think I can write a Mariana rulebook, though no other guy is ever going to go out with her, so there really is no need.

  Spending at least half of my day in the operating room, I find that surgery gives me the same focus I get when competing in sports. When I play hockey, in MMA completions, and now in the OR, the world around me narrows and I find I have laser focus. My mind is so focused on the task at hand I have no idea about time or any activity outside of what I’m doing. This has become problematic in my relationship with Mariana, since she doesn’t like to be left waiting around. I’m now getting really good at texting her before surgery, telling her what OR I will be in so she can find out when I get out. If I forget and show up late, there’s holy hell to pay.

  When we both have a weekend off, we fly to New York City to visit Dave and Melissa—sleeping on an air mattress in their small Brooklyn living room.

  After a fun day of taking in the sights and eating ethnic food, Melissa pulls me aside and says, “I can’t believe that out of all the women out there, you’ve chosen the most high maintenance, demanding woman in the world.”

  I just laugh, “Yeah, I know, but isn’t she amazing.”

  She looks at me horrified, “What alien has taken over your brain?”

  After going out for six months, Mariana moves in with me. I’m glad I have a two-bedroom since she moves all my things out of the bigger master bedroom closet, moving me to the spare bedroom closet. She also takes over the master bathroom with all her products. My undergrad roommate, Mike, comes for a visit and can only shake his head as he tells me, “Nate, you’re totally whipped.”

  Living with Mariana is not easy. She has a number of bazaar Brazilian rules. Really, I have no idea if they’re Brazilian rules, but she has a unique way of doing things and it’s just not worth an argument—going against the tide. She also has a propensity for losing her keys, getting lost, and forgetting to do basic things like fill up her car with gas. All of which ends in calls to me to fix the problem. Regardless, Mariana brings such joy into my life, and frankly the sex is so hot I’m a happy man.

  Chapter 11 – Jacksonville

  My third year of sports and arthroscopy rotation in Florida comes in the middle of winter. Before leaving for three months, Mariana and I take a two-week vacation to Brazil. Mariana is not happy about me being in Jacksonville. Trying to make it up to her, I text her first thing every morning, then follow up by calling her on the way to work, and again every night on my way home. Before I left she was having problems with her car, so I let her use my Jeep while I lease a car in Jacksonville. Also, I’m still paying my half for our apartment. None of this seems to please Mariana, She still wants me to pay for her to fly back and forth to Jacksonville every other week. I’m already stretched after our expensive vacation, paying my share on two apartments, and leasing a car. I tell her I can’t do it.

  Even so, I’m enjoying Jacksonville’s warm winter weather. It’s nice not to have to battle the weather, and with this sports and arthroscopy rotation, I think I’ve found my calling. After I finish my residency, maybe Mariana and I can move someplace warmer. After a month of being away from Mariana I bite the bullet and buy her a plane ticket to visit me on the anniversary of our first date. Putting anything on my credit card when I know I don’t have the cash to pay it off kills me, but I figure this is an emergency. Juggling my schedule around so that I work twelve days straight before and after her visit, I look forward to seeing Mariana. We spend most of her three-day visit in bed having great sex.

  As I start my fourth year, with less than two years remaining on my residency, the real issue comes to a head. She’s wondering if we’re going to get married and have kids. This whole line of thought is kind of shocking since none of her siblings are married even though they’re all living with their significant others. All my plans include Mariana, though I don’t feel ready to get engaged. My life just doesn’t have the time for a wedding and I can’t even think about kids, even though I know at some point I’d like to be a dad. For a week we have explosive fights, in which she’s explosive and I just tip toe around hoping I don’t get impaled by any of her shrapnel.

  When Mariana finally calms down enough so that we can have a reasonable conversation I tell her the truth, she’s part of my long-term plan, I just don’t want to get married until I’m done with my residency.

  After meeting with my advisor to discuss my interest in sports medicine and arthroscopy, we decide that as a fourth year I should do another rotation in Jacksonville. Of course this choice causes lots of issues with Mariana. Biting the bullet, I ask my dad for money so I can buy an engagement ring. It’s a year earlier then what I was planning, but I’m all in if it will make Mariana happy. Not wanting to be leaning on my parents anymore, I don’t have any cash and I don’t want to put a ring on my credit card. My parents are really supportive. My mom actually comes through, sending me my grandmother’s diamond engagement ring. A couple of days after talking to my parents, I get a call.

  “What absolutely shockingly stupid thing are you about to do now?” my sister’s voice booms at me.

  “What?” is all I manage to say in response.

  “Mom just called me and said you’re asking that insane women you live with to marry you. Please, tell me this isn’t so.”

  “Call me when you’re rational,” I respond back to Jamie.

  “You don’t get to hang up on me, Nate. This is my future sister-in-law you’re talking about, my future nieces and nephews. Why would you want to marry that insane women?”

  “Frankly, you’re the one that sounds insane. Anyway, I love her, she makes me happy.”

  “Nate, she’s difficult, always playing control games, and not much of a partner, besides you have nothing in common. Name one thing you do together?”

  “We enjoy each other’s company.”

  “Please don’t tell me you’re asking her to marry you just so she stops throwing tantrums.”

  “Jamie, she’s my future. Get used to it if you want to stay in my life.”

  We end the call on a difficult note. Why is Jamie being such a jerk? After that bazaar conversation, I lie in bed awake. It finally hit’s me that Jamie just doesn’t understand. I love Mariana, I want her to be happy, and I want to be with her.

  Before I head off to Jacksonville again, Mariana and I take a one-week vacation to the Virgin Islands. I get to run and swim on the beach every day. Mariana joins me on a boat as I scuba dive. For dinner, we go to a romantic restaurant, between courses I take her for a walk on the beach at sunset where I propose, even going down on one knee. Lucky for me, she accepts. Giving her my grandmother’s two-carat diamond ring, I tell her she can choose any setting she wants. On our second to last day, I make a point of doing what she likes. Ordering a half-day spa session for her in the morning, then I take her shopping in the afternoon where we visit jewelry stores, eventually finding a setting Mariana likes.

  Chapter 12 – Dear John

  The rotation in Jacksonville is much easier this time since I already know the drill. After I get back Mariana and I enjoy a fun summer hanging with friends. All seems to be well until I come home from work late one night and see a sheet from a prescription pad on the kitchen counter with Mariana’s engagement ring on top. The note says:

  Dear Nate,

  I love you, but love isn’t enough. I thought it would be easiest if I left quietly. I’ve taken a job in Atlanta. Good luck with your life.

  Mariana

  Standing in my kitchen, I think I’m in shock. We’ve been together almost three years. No conversation; all I get is a Dear John letter. Why? What went wrong? What didn’t I do?

  Walking around our apartment like a zombie, she’s taken what she wanted and left what she d
idn’t want, which includes me. Some of her toiletries and clothes are still in the closet and in the bathroom. Our bed, the bed I bought is gone. While her old crappy bed remains in the guest room. The couch I paid for --that she chose-- is gone, while the chair she bought --that I’ve always hated-- remains. Most of the stuff in the kitchen is gone, though she left me the fancy coffee maker she had to have. Then again, she never could figure out how to use it. Wandering from room to room, I open up closets and drawers cataloging what’s left of my life.

  Calling her phone, I get moved directly into voicemail, which doesn’t stop me from blowing up her phone with texts. I start off with; What happened? and move to; Why did you leave? And end up with: Please come home.

  Checking Facebook I see she hasn’t blocked me from her page, as I scroll through her history, our history. Not even having the energy to be angry, I sit down on the floor, holding the engagement ring between my thumb and finger, and cry. I think it’s the first time I’ve cried since elementary school.

  ***

  Inevitably, a few days after she leaves I run into one of her friends. She gives me an uncomfortable hello. The only thing I can think of saying is, “Do you know if Mariana got to Atlanta safely?”

  “Yeah, we’ve been texting. She’s getting settled in.”

  I guess her phone’s working. Having a million questions to ask, I don’t know how to formulate any of them. Not wanting to be pathetic all I can manage is to shake my head and say, “I’ll see you around.”

  I’ve been avoiding calls from friends and family, just texting back things like; Really busy.

  At some point, the sadness moves to anger. I’ve become a holy terror at MMA.

  Melissa calls me, “When were you going to tell me that Mariana left?”

  “How’d you hear?”