“It’s okay, Mom. We are going to have a blast planning the reception.” Penny reached over and covered Mom’s hand with her own.
Tears welled up in Mom’s eyes as she reached over and patted Penny’s hand. “That sounds nice,” she said.
My cell went off, and I straightened. I glanced down to see the hospital’s number flash on the screen. Sighing, I took one last sip of my iced tea and stood.
“Well, I gotta head out. Duty calls,” I said as I grabbed my phone from the table, winked at Penny, and patted Mom’s shoulder as I walked past. “Congrats, Penny. I’m really happy for you two.”
Penny mouthed thank you, and I threw out a final wave before I slipped around the corner and headed out the front door. Once I was in my pickup, I started down the familiar route to the hospital. It was one I’d driven time and time again.
As much as I loved my life—saving people was my passion—I was getting tired of my lonely drives, my quiet house, and the looks Mom gave me when dating came up. She was worried about my mental health, stating that someone who saw what I did everyday shouldn’t be left alone.
And for so long, I’d brushed off her comments. Until, her words began to ring true.
I pulled into the parking ramp at the hospital and headed to my parking spot. We didn’t have assigned spots, but it was an unspoken rule that I parked in the far-left spot of the employee level.
Just as I turned the wheel to slide into my spot, my foot slammed on the brakes. A white Corolla was parked there. A woman wearing Looney Tunes scrubs, with her long, wavy hair pulled back into a ponytail, slammed the driver’s side door. The lights flashed as she held up her key fob.
I stood there, stunned, as she pulled her purse strap up onto her shoulder and took a deep breath. I watched her begin to walk away, and I scrambled to climb out of the cab of my truck and hurry over to her.
“Um, that’s my spot,” I said. Her bright blue eyes met mine, and every thought in my head fell out. Like a literal hole opened up under me, and all of my ability to reason slipped into the black abyss.
“Your spot?” she asked.
I waved to her car. “My spot,” I managed, like an ape-man who could only repeat what he heard.
The woman leaned to peek around me as I was blocking her view of the parking place. Then she straightened and met my gaze head on. “I don’t see your name on it.” She flicked her ponytail. “Are these assigned spots?”
Heat permeated my cheeks. “Um, no. They aren’t. But it’s, like, an unwritten rule.” I pointed to the red convertible next to us. “This is Dr. Daniel’s spot. That’s Dr. Crawley. That over there is Nurse Blackwood.” Then my hand shifted to her car. “And this is my spot. Dr. McKnight.”
She quirked her eyebrow as she flicked her gaze from me to her car. “Well, Dr. McKnight, as much as I respect tradition, maybe it’s time to shake things up.” She patted the hood of my truck. “Sometimes it’s best to adapt to change rather than fight it.” She gave me a curt nod and then turned and headed through the sliding doors, disappearing into the hospital.
I watched her leave. I wanted to call her back, but a part of me could only stand there as a dopey smile spread across my lips.
Adapt to change? I chuckled as I climbed into my truck and headed to the top of the parking ramp, where my truck was going to bake in the sun. Any other day, I would have been annoyed. But not today.
Today, I had a feeling that the transformation that was about to happen was something I could get on board with.
A change was brewing in my life, and for the first time in a long time, I felt excited.