Nearing September

by Amber Thielman

I remembered all the times my sister had shown that exact same pride in her schoolwork to our parents as she sported that satisfied, charming smile.

  “In that case maybe we should walk down the block and get some ice cream,” I suggested. Kids liked ice cream, right? I was an adult, and I still loved the crap out of the stuff.

  “Not me,” Sam said, and I felt a stab of disappointment, but I pushed it aside before I could ponder it for too long. “My stomach is hurting, and I need to call Richard, anyway.”

  “Can we still go?” Piper asked, flashing her brown eyes at me. There was no way I could deny her. I was a sucker for the puppy dog look women gave me, especially when it came from a kid who had me wrapped around her finger.

  “I think we can manage that,” I said. “Maybe we can even get double scoops.”

  Sam

  I watched Nick and Piper walk out the door, hand in hand. Nick seemed better with Piper than I was—not that that was saying much; I couldn’t tell someone the difference between taking care of a kid and taking care of a dog. Emily had told me for years that every woman had a natural maternal instinct for raising their own children, but I doubted it. I was the woman who couldn't keep a cactus alive. Thank God I seemed okay with taking the reins, even if it surprised the hell out of me.

  Dumping the plate of stale chips into the garbage, I pulled out my cell phone to check for any missed calls. Still, even now, there was nothing from Richard. I felt a pang of anger and hurt, but I refused to let it get to me. Maybe he was busy. Maybe he was waiting for me to call him. Hell, maybe my phone was broken.

  “Dick,” I muttered, and dialed Tasha's number. If I was confident that anyone back home missed me, it was Tasha.

  “There's my lesbian lover,” Tasha said into the phone. “Thanks for leaving me hanging, asshole.”

  “Sorry,” I said. I made my way up to the bedroom to gather clothes for a shower. I could still feel the dried saltwater on my skin, and it made me feel itchy and uncomfortable. “It was hectic and busy today,” I said. “Well, that and I almost died.”

  “What?” Tasha shrieked, and I had to hold the phone away from my ear to keep from going deaf. “Are you okay?”

  “I'm all right,” I said. “But that's not the best part.”

  “Okay—” Tasha said hesitantly. “Details?”

  “I saw Nick half naked!” The words slipped out of my mouth before I could stop them, and I clapped a hand over my lips, flushing.

  “Well,” Tasha said slowly. “He's a guy, so—don't they usually make it a habit of walking around with minimal clothes?”

  “You're missing the point.” I sat down on the edge of Nick's bed, careful to listen for the front door if he and Piper were back early. “I saw him half naked, Tash.”

  “Oh, no. Not half naked.”

  “You’re missing the point.” I rubbed my face with one hand and sighed. “I saw him half naked, and I liked it.”

  “Wait. You liked it?” Tasha asked. “How much did you like it?”

  “Let's just say that the Seattle heat was nothing compared to what was happening—ahem—down there.”

  “Oh, God, I,” Tasha said, and I imagined my friend shaking her head with a hand over her face. “This is no good. You can't fall for Nick!”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa.” I kicked off my slippers and fell back against the pillow, laughing. “Who said I was falling for Nick? The guy looks good without a shirt. That's where the attraction stops.”

  “It always starts like that,” Tasha said. In the background, I could hear Nirvana playing. She must have been at the club, probably working. For a moment I was homesick and wanted to cry.

  “Nothing is starting,” I said instead. “I promise. But it's not against the law to look.”

  “Okay, okay,” Tasha said. “Just do me one favor.”

  “What?”

  “Take a picture and send it to me next time.”

  I laughed. “I have to take a shower. Call me tomorrow.” I hung up the phone and plugged it into the charger, debating whether to call Richard. No, I wouldn't. I had to let him come to me. A relationship was a two-way street, and I was tired of being the only one behind the wheel.

  Nick

  It was ten in the morning, and I was bored out of my mind. I had assumed that becoming the guardian of a seven-year-old child would be difficult, trying, and intense every second of every day, but with Piper in school for most hours, not even I could keep myself entertained.

  Across from my recliner, sitting on the couch with the laptop in her lap, Sam was frowning at the computer screen. She looked deep in thought; her forehead was crinkling like it did when she was off in her own little world. With her focus so intent, it had been a joke trying to make small talk with her, but I didn’t know how else to entertain myself.

  “So,” I said, running my fingers over the stubble on my chin. I needed a shave. Badly. “You contacted your professors?”

  “Yes, Nick,” she said. She didn't look up. She barely wavered. “I already told you that.”

  “That's great.” I watched her eyes travel over the screen of her laptop while she cradled a mug of coffee in her free hand. She had her legs tucked beneath her and a homemade quilt thrown over her lap. She finally looked content, not so stressed out and tense. I knew her well—when she was doing something productive, all was right in the world, even if that meant something as shitty as homework.

  On the coffee table near my propped-up feet, my cell phone rang. I reached for it and looked at the screen, grinning.

  “Oh, hey,” I said, trying to get Sam's attention. “It's my agent. I wonder what kind of gig he got me.” I pressed the answer button and then switched the speaker mode on. I wasn't sure why I was straining to impress her, but it was impossible not to try. I might not have been some arrogant big-shot surgeon, but I could be cool. “Paul, my man!” I said into the phone. “I'm so glad you called.” Across the room, Sam barely glanced up from her computer screen, but I knew better. She had to be listening—right?

  “Nick?” Paul said. “I got a call from Hank this morning. He told me you flaked on your modeling audition, and when they called to check up on you, you said—and I quote—I do what I want. What in spittin’ hell does that even mean?”

  Oops.

  “Well. It means exactly that,” I said. I turned slightly to the side, humiliated, punching down the volume on my phone. Silence greeted me on the other end of the line, and that's when I knew I was in deep shit.

  “You are an arrogant sonofabitch, and I will make sure you never make it in Hollywood!” Paul shouted. I winced, fumbling for the speaker button on my phone. Across the living room, Sam had lifted her head from the screen and was now staring at me, wide-eyed. I couldn’t tell if she looked more horrified or amused.

  “I already told you, Paul, it wasn't my faul—” There was a click, and the line went dead. I stared at the phone, flabbergasted. Across the room, a smile twitched on Sam's lips. I barely had my mouth open before she burst into laughter, her body shaking as the laughs rumbled through her bones.

  “Oh, come on!” she cried through a fit of giggles. “If you don't laugh it just seems mean.”

  Sam

  I knew I should have felt bad, but I didn't. When I thought back to the day Nick had totaled my car, it only made me angry, and I wanted to throw this in his face and dancing around. During that time, he had seen the whole situation as hysterical. Now the tables had turned, and it was taking a lot for me to hold it in.

  “'I do what I want'?” I quoted, trying to cease my giggles. “Did you really say that to someone?”

  “I was stressed out, okay? My sister had just died.” He dropped the phone onto the table, looking bummed. “The guy was a dick, anyway.” Still shaking my head, I closed my computer and set it aside, sick of homework already. I was lucky that my professors had been so understanding of the situation—they'd agreed to email me the assignments which I could do online until the end of the semester. For that, an en
tire weight seemed to have been lifted from my shoulders. If I was forced to be in Seattle, I was determined to live life as close to normal as possible.

  “So, what now?” I asked. “I think your agent just fired you.”

  “He works for me,” Nick said, but something in his tone was uncertain. I watched him roll his eyes to the ceiling and sigh. “I don't know what to do now,” he admitted. “Maybe I can sell my body on the street corner.”

  “Eh,” I said. “You could try. Can I film it and put it on YouTube?”

  “I'll be naked.”

  “That's okay.” I shut my mouth abruptly, realizing how bad that sounded once it was out. Nick, I was irritated to see, was grinning at me, enjoying my obvious discomfort. “I meant that's okay; I'll pass,” I said quickly. “You might break the camera.” As if to humiliate me more, he shrugged and lifted his T-shirt, peering down at his six-pack.

  “Maybe,” he agreed, and I felt my face catch on fire. “Or I'll make us rich.”

  “There is no us,” I said. “There’s you, and there's me, and then there's Piper.”

  “—living together.”

  “—staying together until we come up with a better solution.” I glared at him, wondering how he got such a kick out of pushing my buttons.

  “One-bedroom apartments in Seattle are fucking sky high for rent,” he said.

  “That's fine. I'll get a studio.”

  “Or—you could just stay here.” I watched him lean forward, supporting his elbows on my thighs as he stared at me. I wasn't sure why I felt so frustrated with that answer, but I refused to let it rile me up.

  “I'm sure your blonde would love that,” I said. “What's its name? Lilly?”

  “Her name is Lindsay. And Lindsay doesn't care. She's chill.”

  “Are you talking about the same girl who snuck into the house and stared at me while I slept?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he said. “That one.”

  “Read up on female emotions, Nick.” I got to my feet and rolled my eyes at him. “You need it.”

  Nick

  I hated that Sam was probably right—Lindsay wouldn't be happy with my living with her. She would be furious, and I'd likely get hit for even suggesting it. Part of me wanted to break up with Lindsay once and for all—I was getting bored of her drama and insecurities. She was not my type—she had never been. But she was a woman, and I was a man, and she gave me sex. Therefore, I’d kept her around. I wasn't an asshole—I wasn't using her. Lindsay was just as thrilled with unlimited sex as I had been. But now, after a few months, I seemed to want more from her—and that didn’t include physical body parts. I wasn't sure how much longer I could do the whole emotional angst thing with her.

  “Uncle Nick, help me with this word?” Hunched over the kitchen table, Piper was doing her homework while I drank juice and munched on pretzels. I rinsed my cup in the sink and wiped my mouth.

  “Alright,” I said, peering over her shoulder. “Five plus what equals seven?”

  “Hmmm. This one?”

  I smiled and took a seat at the table across from her. “You get your smarts from your mother,” I said. “She loved school.” The grin on Piper's face melted, and all at once I wanted to take back what I'd just said.

  “I miss her a lot,” she said quietly.

  “I know, babe,” I said. “I miss her, too. And it’s going to be hard for a long time, but it will get easier. I promise.” I knew that the pain Piper felt for her mother would always be more than what I felt for my sister—it was inevitable. She had lost a parent—there was no replacing that. I knew that she was doing her best to hold it together, even if that meant getting the tears out before she fell asleep at night, which I had heard happen the last few times. When I heard her cry in the dark, my heart broke a little bit more each time. And Piper wasn't the only one trying to hide her sorrow—twice I'd heard Sam sobbing into her pillow, too. I was the man here, so I knew I had to be strong, even when I wanted to huddle up between the two girls and bawl my own eyes out.

  “Uncle Nick?” Piper said, pulling me out of my funk. “Do you think Aunt Sam likes it here?” I glanced over at her, surprised, wondering what kind of question that was for a seven-year-old to think up.

  “I don't know,” I said with a small shrug. I had decided the day I signed the guardianship papers that I would always be honest with the kid, no matter what. She was old enough to hear the truth, even if it wasn't the best. Emily, I knew, had kept nothing from her. “I hope so,” I said. “But it's hard to say. I know she had a lot to lose in Miami, and it’s been a huge adjustment, you know?”

  “Yeah.” Piper put her pencil down and stared at her workbook, not reading, just seeing. Those pitiful, chocolate brown eyes made my heart fill with angst. “I hope she stays,” she said finally. “I keep thinking that she’s going to get upset and leave us.”

  “What makes you think that's a possibility?” I asked. This conversation was so surreal—no seven-year-old should have been pondering things so profoundly, but I shouldn't have been surprised. She was Emily's daughter.

  “I don’t know,” Piper said, and for a moment I thought she would drop it. “She just doesn't seem happy here.”

  “Well, Pipes, you lost your mom, but she also lost her best friend—this is going to take some getting used to for all of us, you know?”

  “Yeah. I know.” Piper sighed. “She was different in Miami. She was fun and nice and happy. She never yelled. You guys fight all of the time, though.”

  “Oh, honey, we're not fighting,” I said. “We just bicker. And argue. We've done that since we were kids—your age, in fact. But we must have done something right, because to this day, we're still friends.”

  “That's good” Piper shrugged, bored with the conversation now. “Just be a nice friend to her, then,” she added. “Get her flowers maybe. Richard used to get her flowers. She’d always show mommy and they’d smile really big. Maybe if she has flowers, she’ll stay here with us.”

  Sam

  “What are your plans after graduation?”

  “Med school,” I said. “I'd like to try to get into Yale, but we'll see what happens.” I flashed the doctor my best smile and clasped my hands together. I wasn't sure why I was so nervous—I was qualified. It had just been so long since I'd had to interview.

  “What field?” Dr. Furlough asked. “Or do you know yet?”

  “I'm a trauma fan,” I said, and I noticed the doctor smile briefly when I said that. “I just can't decide between an ER physician or a surgeon.”

  “You'll have plenty of time to decide during school.” He smiled kindly at me, and for the first time since I had been in Seattle, I felt right at home. Hospitals always did that—they were a haven for me, a place where I understood what happened moment by moment, a place where like-minded individuals came together to do what many people could not do: help people. I had taken a chance walking in with my resume in hand and my shoulders back. I'd had no idea if they were hiring, especially not for my position as an emergency room nurse. As soon as I'd tracked down the attending physician, handed him my application, and in one quick breath told him I’d had to transfer from Miami to Seattle, he had given me a chance. Today, luck was on my side.

  “Your resume is impressive, Ms. Carson,” Dr. Furlough said, his eyes scanning again over the paperwork. “And if you worked under Dr. Richard Haynes back in Miami, I know you're a good employee.”

  “Dr. Haynes was—well, is—my mentor,” I said, thinking briefly of Richard. Seeing his face in my head made me angry—angry that he still hadn’t bothered to call, text, or get a hold of me. “I learned so much working with him.”

  “Tell me why you moved to Seattle.” The doctor leaned back in his chair, adjusting the glasses that sat propped on his nose. “It seems to me that you had a pretty respectable medical career happening in Miami. You worked under one of the best cardiothoracic surgeons in the country. Why are you leaving it all behind?”

  I swallowed and lo
oked down at my hands. “Let's just say, I'm trying to make a good life out of a tough situation,” I said. The doctor smiled, content with my answer.

  “Well, there's an answer if I've ever heard one,” he said. I liked this doctor. Some doctors back home had been arrogant pricks with a God-complex—Richard included. I had hated it, but I’d never complained. As a nurse, you were lucky even to be treated like a human. Therefore, if you were mentored by one of the best surgeons around, you kept your mouth shut and your head high.

  “I feel like I would be an excellent asset to this hospital,” I said. “Medicine is my passion. It always has been.”

  “I believe you would be, too,” the doctor said. “I’m going to pass your resume on to HR, and they’ll check your references. If everything checks out, are you able to start as soon as next week?”

  “Absolutely.” I stood and shook hands with Dr. Furlough, feeling enthusiastic for the first time since I'd been in Seattle. I loved working—I always had. It kept me busy and prevented me from wallowing in my own self-pity. With a job, I wouldn't feel so bad about the move. Maybe things would finally start to look up.

  I took the bus back to Nick's apartment, making a mental note to save up money for a used car. In the bigger cities, sometimes it wasn't even necessary to own a vehicle, but I wanted one, anyway. With my own car to drive, I would feel less trapped. I’d never been much of a people-person despite my love for the medical field. It was, I was sure, just one strange mystery of the universe.

  Piper was still off at school when I got back to the apartment. I found Nick kicked back in his recliner napping when I came through the front door. His eyelids fluttered open when I closed it behind me, and he woke with a start, surprised.

  “How did it go?” he asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. I plopped myself down on the couch, still buzzing with happiness.

  “I think I got the job,” I said, and was pleased when he grinned. He looked legitimately happy for me, even impressed. I couldn’t recall the last time Richard had given me a look like that.