“Like I said,” Staci butts in, “this from the guy who let a woman he’s been seeing for two months throw him out of his own home.” She smirks at Brooks, then picks up her water bottle and stands. “I don’t think you’re qualified to give romantic advice.”
She waves us off and disappears into the crowd of white coats and multi-colored scrubs. The cafeteria is buzzing with light chatter and clicking of trays. Brooks pushes his own tray aside. “She’s right, you know. I’m not qualified. Hell, I haven’t even told her Kelly moved out a few days ago.”
“What?” I almost choke on my coffee.
“Kelly moved her stuff out of my house.”
“And you’re still living with Staci, why?”
He shrugs, and a mischievous grin spreads across his face, his brown eyes darkening to almost black. He resembles a deranged scientist. “I like messing with her.”
My eyes widen in question.
“You know—using up the hot water, leaving dirty dishes everywhere, playing loud music.”
“You’re a child.”
“And I never want to grow up.”
“That, ladies and gentlemen”—I wave around sarcastically—“is your cardiothoracic surgeon at your service.”
“Listen, when she stops giving me shit about my lifestyle and turning the nurses against me, then I’ll move out of her place.”
“Whatever. I have grown-up work to do. Let me know if I need to pick you up from school later.” I snort.
He rolls his eyes as I walk away. Pulling my phone out, I text Clara to come out for drinks as I head to my office to prepare for the afternoon.
We could all use a night out to unwind.
To be part of the world like normal people, when our lives are anything but.
A night when I can just be Dax.
Eleven
Clara
Dax: Drinks tonight? Staci and Brooks are going. Bring Sienna too, if you want.
I really want to go. I need a good group of friends, even if they’re all doctors, who are a little intimidating, if I’m honest.
Me: If someone will watch Jacob, yes. But you have to keep the doctor talk to a minimum. Us simpletons don’t know what uncontrolled hypertension is. If you must, call it high blood pressure like the rest of us.
I add an emoji to lighten my tone, to which Dax immediately responds.
Dax: Fine. *Eye roll*
I set my phone on the sink in the bathroom and peel my sweaty clothes off my body. My jog was short but worthwhile, making me feel rejuvenated and light. There’s something extra special about running through our cozy neighborhood, waving to people sitting on their porches. Some even clapped and cheered me on like I was completing a marathon.
It was motivating, and I ran even faster.
Ready to wash the grime off me, I turn the shower on, but instead of water coming out, the showerhead falls, barely missing my head.
“Shit.” Shrieking, I jump back as the sound of metal against the ceramic tub echoes in my small bathroom.
I inspect the hole in the wall above it, my breaths labored. Where the hell is the pipe? It must’ve broken off and fallen back inside the wall. “What on earth…”
Exhaling in frustration, I grab my phone.
Me: Actually, I’ll be busy fixing my shower later. It almost just killed me.
After a few minutes of studying the hole, my phone rings.
“You didn’t have to call, Dax.”
“Are you okay? What happened?” I can barely hear him with the overhead speaker in the background and sporadic beeping noises. He must be at the hospital instead of the clinic.
“I’m fine. The showerhead just fell off. I’ll be watching YouTube videos all night, then attempting to fix it.”
There’s a sound of a door closing on his end, followed by silence. “I’ll do it.”
“No, you’re busy with work and a social life. I’ll be okay.”
“You don’t know the difference between a Phillips-head and a flat-head. How about you come to drinks with us, and I fix your shower after? This way, we both get social lives.”
My body sags with relief and gratitude for Dax and his handy ways.
After another friendly plea from him, I accept his offer before he has to hang up.
I check the clock on my phone to make sure I have time to run to the store before I need to pick Jacob up from school.
Although it’s hard to admit, I could use a break from being a single mom.
A single working mom.
I accepted and started a job as a part-time photographer for Sidney’s magazine. It’s an exciting opportunity, one that’s had me bouncing with a little extra energy this week. Sidney has been accommodating, and even though I just started a couple days ago, I can tell I’m really going to love it.
But I’m still getting used to juggling it all.
I shower downstairs, letting the hot water soothe my aching muscles. Once I’m dressed, I grab my grocery list from the kitchen and run to the store before I pick up Jacob, calling my mom on the way to see if she can babysit tonight.
“Shoot,” I mutter when she doesn’t answer.
At the store, I push my cart, grabbing what I need off the shelves like I’m on Guy’s Grocery Games—limited on time. After I set a personal record for shopping, I drive to the school, coming to a stop behind a black truck in the pickup line. A few faculty members oversee the process and guide the children to their vehicles. While I wait, I call my dad, and he tells me he’s away on a fishing trip. Since he retired, he’s been fishing a lot, so I’m not surprised.
I inch forward in line, then rest my head on my seat, sighing. I have to cancel on Dax.
Before I have the chance to grab my phone, the truck in front of me drives away. I move forward, and through my window, I watch Jacob bounce off the bench he was sitting on, then hop in the car.
“I wish I had half your energy, bud.” I glance at him in the rearview mirror as he puts his seatbelt on.
“Can I go to Luke’s tonight? He said he’d show me his Minecraft toy. Miss Sidney got a Creeper made to look just like him.”
“How cool.”
“I really want to see it. And then Luke said I can sleep over, if that’s okay with you.”
“Actually…” That might work out perfectly.
“Luke gave me this note to give you saying it’s okay, and Miss Sidney’s number is on it too for you to call her.”
“I think I like this kid,” I say as I head toward the house.
“He’s so cool.”
A few minutes later, we pull into our driveway, and he’s out of the car by the time I open my door, shoving a torn piece of paper in my direction. “Okay, okay, let me see that.”
On the paper is scribbled, “Can Jacob come over tonight? My mom and dad said it’s okay.” At the bottom, Luke signed his name in an attempt at cursive, and I smile at the nostalgia of it. They don’t teach it anymore, and it makes me wonder where he saw that.
“Can I go, Mom? Can I go?”
“I have to check with Sidney first.” I muss up his shaggy hair and make a mental note to schedule an appointment for a haircut. According to his school’s monthly newsletter, fall pictures are coming up.