Page 47 of Love Limits

The texts were from an unknown number, though, and Ash maybe peeked at the texts as they shut it off.

Unknown: Hey Ash, it’s Maj from OKCupid.

Unknown: Just texting to see if we’re still on for tomorrow night.

Unknown: Looking forward to it!

Ash slipped their phone back into their pocket and sighed.

They were sure that Maj, a name which brought up only the vaguest recollections of a photo, was a great person. They just weren’t feeling it. After a string of crappy dates, the only thing they looked forward to now was telling Zhong about them.

Mr. Isling said something and Ash looked up. “Can you say that again?”

“I was asking if it was bad news.”

“No, just my next date.”

“That bad? Can’t you cancel? Tell them you have to wash your hair.”

Ash laughed. They appreciated the humor, though with curly hair, a full wash was an evening’s adventure. “I’m sure they’re nice. I’m just not sure how many boring dates I can go on.” They checked the pulse oximeter and blood pressure readings automatically and added them to Mr. Isling’s chart. Then they turned over his hand for the finger prick.

“Oh, come on! I was expecting a lot more from you when you formed your Disastrous Dating Club.”

Ash had thought it was amusing enough to share the title, and now Mr. Isling was constantly badgering them for details. After Maj, they didn’t have any more lined up, though. They needed a break.

Mr. Isling flipped his palm over for the glucose reading. “I was expecting at least some weekly entertainment out of this. Think of your poor bedridden elders.”

“My poor bedridden elders need to get some sleep. You’re my last patient of the day.”

“Tell me how your date went first.”

Ash’s mind immediately filled with last night. Sitting on the floor and playing board games with Zhong. Zhong putting up their photo as his wallpaper. Zhong cuddling them while they sucked their paci. But of course, that wasn’t a real date. Just pretend.

“Um…” they tried to think of something to share about the official date they’d had a few days before. “Oh, it was another nurse, actually. She seemed nice, but she just moved here from Italy so she didn’t speak a lot of English. We had some trouble communicating, even with my app.”

That was putting it lightly. She hadn’t understood most of the words on Ash’s profile… like the ones that explained their kinks. Trying to sort it all out in the cafe when the woman was struggling with English vocabulary and Ash was trying to speech read without the usual grammar and pronunciation clues was beyond frustrating, and she kept forgetting to look at them. They’d quickly switched over to Live Transcribe, but that was even worse with her accent.

It was annoying as fuck, but it made for some good stories afterward. “She was trying to say something about the weather, maybe that it was sunny? And my transcription app thought that she was saying that she liked to kill bunnies. That was, like, the first thing she told me.”

Mr. Isling gave his slow, rattling laugh. “Good thing you’re not a bunny.”

“I know, right? I learned something about Italian, though. She kept saying ‘nothing, I like the city,’ or ‘I work at the hospital, nothing,’ and I was sure she had to be saying something else. I finally had her check my phone and… she was really saying nothing. I guess nothing means something else like anyway in Italian, but it took us forever to figure it out.”

They’d realized after the date that they could have actually had the app translate directly from Italian to English, but it wasn’t like things were going anywhere.

As soon as they’d finished their cup of tea, they’d politely thanked her for the date and then Skyped Zhong from their car in the parking lot.

It was definitely a disastrous date for the record books and Zhong had cracked up. That was a much better ending to their evening.

“Well, nothing, maybe your next date will be better.”

“Maybe,” Ash agreed lightly. They weren’t holding out hope, though.

They gave Mr. Isling the little cup of pills and watched as he swallowed them down. “Need anything else? Want me to turn off the lights on the way out?”

“Leave ‘em on. Gotta watch my shows, don’t I? You go on out with them young folks, find yourself a pretty lady.”

Ash shook their head, smiling. Mr. Isling rarely watched TV; he was just pretending to act like an old coot. He was more likely to read the tattered copy of Leaves of Grass that rested beside the bed and have the orderly turn off his light in half an hour.