by Tasha Ivey
When she goes completely silent, I lose all attempts at seriousness, laughing so hard I nearly roll right out of the swing.
“Look, folks, he’s gorgeous, successful, and a comedian,” she chuckles. “I’ll text you all the details. Oh, and my parents’ address. I really appreciate you agreeing to come with me.”
“Send me your address, and I’ll even pick you up.”
“I’d love that. I’ll talk to you soon, m’kay?”
“Bye, Kyler.”
I punch the red button and lean back into the swing, kicking one leg up across the wide bench seat and using the other to gently rock myself. Thinking about our conversation, it’s hard not to smile. She’s incredibly insecure and way too understanding for her own good, but she’s also honest and kind. She doesn’t seem at all like one of the women that I usually date, and maybe it’s because she’s still quite young and naïve, but then again, maybe that kind of innocence is what I’ve been missing.
“So she finally called,” Sawyer says before pushing the door open to join me on the porch. Damn screen doors. I never even thought about it.
“You heard all that, huh?”
He nudges my foot until my leg falls off the seat, and he takes its place. “Yep. You told her that you like her. You’re going out with her again to ‘make it up to her’—and I can only imagine what that could mean. Do you? Honestly like her?”
“Sure. Why?”
“Sure?” He shakes his head. “Yeah, well, I bet she doesn’t last a week. I know how you work.”
I screw up my face and cut my eyes at him. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“You don’t stick with a woman long enough to know if you truly like her or not. It’s not like it’s any big secret. Or that there’s anything wrong with it. Just how you are.”
Why does everyone act like I’m banging some different chick every night? “Well, just to prove you wrong, let’s revisit this conversation in a few weeks. I bet I’m still seeing Kyler then.”
Sawyer swats at the moth fluttering around his head, narrowly missing my ear. “Okay, then. A hundred bucks says you don’t bring Kyler as a date to my wedding.”
Hell, I’ll work most of the time during the next few weeks, so that’ll be four or five dates at the most. How hard could that be? “You have yourself a deal.”
I’M JUST COMING out of a patient room, thinking it’s my last one for the day, when Ella smacks a manila file folder into my chest.
“New patient. He’s actually Dr. Bradshaw’s patient, but his clinic is closed today. I just put him in room six. Low-grade temp, and mom says he’s been coughing for a couple of days. I heard him; it sounds painful.”
“We’ve had a few cases like this over the last few days. Gotta love ragweed. I’ll let you know if they’ll need anything called into the pharmacy.”
I turn toward the end of the hall, about to skim the previous illness sheet, but a tapping finger on my shoulder nearly scares the life out of me.
“Ms. Avery! I didn’t realize you were behind me. I’ve already given Ella your file, so you’re all set to check out. Was there something else you needed?”
The forty-something woman is quite a sight to behold in her skintight black top, her breasts nearly to the point of being squeezed right out of her much-too-small bra like a busted can of biscuit dough. Not forgetting to mention, of course, that her jeans are riding low enough to see the very top of her raspberry lace thong when she turns around, which she was sure to do three times while I was with her in the exam room. I knew this one would be trouble, so I made Ella come in to “assist” in the exam.
“Well, we didn’t get the chance to talk before with your nurse hanging around.” She winks, which loses all of its value when the fourteen coats of mascara causes most of her lashes to stick together. Which makes her flinch. Which makes me practically jab the pen in my pocket into my leg to keep from laughing. “I want to give you something.”
Yeah, I’ll bet she does. But I can’t say that, so I simply raise my eyebrows instead.
She looks from side to side, making sure that no one is watching, and reaches into her shirt, low into the tight crevice between her breasts. Between two fingers, a folded slip of lavender paper emerges, and she tucks it into the breast pocket of my white lab coat.
“It’s my cell number,” she whispers, stretching up on her toes to get closer to my ear. “You know, in case you ever want some company.”
I stand perfectly still, trying to decide if I should shoot her down gently or run the hell out of there. I have to be so damn careful about my reputation in this town that I don’t know if I can afford to piss her off. Being the chairperson of the town’s business leadership committee, she knows way too many people that could ruin what I have here.
Before she backs away, she plants a kiss just under my jawline, lingering a moment before stepping away with a little extra sway to her hips. “Just think about it.”
She spins on a spiked heel and sashays around the corner toward the exit. I slump against the wall, finally able to breathe. I guess I should be flattered with all of these women throwing themselves against me. Quite literally. But damn, I never imagined such a thing happening to me. Married women, no less. At least this one is divorced.
I’ve even considered buying a fake wedding band to slip onto my finger when one of them comes in, but I think, for some, that would only fuel the fire. I don’t get it.
A fit of coughing snaps me out of my thoughts. Ella was right, it does sound painful. Deep and raspy. I flip the file open, revealing the patient’s information. He’s a seven year old asthmatic that was 6 weeks premature. Chronic respiratory infections. Allergic to…everything.
His name? Simon Jenson.
It has to be the very same one.
I knock twice before turning the knob, and Simon’s face brightens and then falls. I’m not sure what that’s about.
“Hey, buddy. Doesn’t sound like you’re feeling too well.”
His mom has her back to me, too wrapped up in her phone call to notice I’ve entered. Simon cuts his eyes at her and crooks a finger, gesturing for me to come closer. When I do, he grabs my lapel and pulls me closer.
“Don’t mention the necklace. I haven’t given it to her yet.”
I nod and wink. “Our secret.” I straighten, sliding my stethoscope off my neck. “So how long have you had this cough?”
“Two and a half days. I already know it’s bronchitis because I get it all the time. I just need some azithromycin, and it’s probably best if I get a prescription of Guaifenesin to get rid of the mucus.”
I chuckle. The kid must be in a doctor’s office as often as I am. “Are you trying to take my job? I better do an exam anyway, or they might not pay me.” I hold my stethoscope to his chest. “Take a deep breath. Good. And now let me listen to your back. One more deep breath.” Yeah, he’s definitely wheezy.
“Sorry about that. I didn’t even hear you come in,” his mom explains, dropping her phone into her glossy black purse. “I’m Simon’s mom. Devyn Rion-Jenson. I appreciate you seeing him so quickly.”
“I’m glad you brought him in.” Just as he starts another round of coughing, I look over at her, the name not sinking in until I see her face.
Wait…Devyn Rion.
No freaking way.
She has the exact same bright hazel eyes and long chestnut hair that I remember, except now her eyes look tired and her once board-straight hair is styled into soft curls. Her gentle curves fill out her charcoal pencil skirt, just like they used to in her skintight, distressed jeans. After all these years, I’d hoped that time would’ve played the cruelest of jokes on her. That it would strip the beauty away that caused me to trip over my own feet on more than one occasion.
Needless to say, time has only been kind to her, but it’s also helped me. She clearly doesn’t’ remember me. Or the fact that I once vomited on her perfectly pristine cheerleading shoes.
“So, uh…” Simo
n finally speaks up, breaking the odd silence. “Do I get a prescription or what?”
“Simon!” Devyn admonishes. “Don’t be rude.”
She turns to me and starts to speak, but her eyes immediately fall to the floor after she looks at me. Maybe she does remember.
“Of course, you do. And I’ll even throw in a few lollipops, if your mom doesn’t mind.”
He jumps off the exam table. “She doesn’t.”
I point him toward the candy dish on the counter, and I scribble some notes in his file. “Mrs. Jenson-Rion, would you like us to call in the prescriptions or would you like to take them with you?”
“You can call them into Foster’s,” she answers, her eyes finally glancing in my direction. They skim from my eyes to my neck to the floor in a swift motion. “Well, we’ll be on our way. Thanks, again.”
“Thanks for the suckers, Dr. Hoover,” Simon says around the sour apple candy.
The green ones are my favorite, too.
I carry his file up to Ella’s desk and hang around the office while Devyn pays for the visit. Ella follows them to the exit, locking the door behind them after Simon throws a quick wave at me.
I watch through the window. Watch her walk across the empty parking lot. Watch her pause to pat Simon’s back during another coughing fit. Watch her get into that black sports car and drive away.
“Uh oh.” Ella shakes her head and laughs at me. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you staring at that woman like you’re a lost puppy. I thought you actually wanted to win Sawyer’s bet.”
“And I will. I just know her. We went to school together.”
“Oh, yeah? High school or col—Whoa! Did she kiss you?” Ella takes a few steps to close the distance between us, grabbing my chin and tilting it back.
“Of course not. Why?”
She pulls a tiny makeup compact from her drawer and holds the mirror up in my face. I see absolutely nothing that would cause any…oh.
On my neck, just below my jawline, there’s a perfect print of two full coral lips. The very same color that Ms. Avery was wearing. “Damn.”
“I can’t believe you were—.”
“Oh, relax, El,” Stan interrupts as he shuffles into the office. “I saw Linda Avery corner him. And believe me, Dalton looked just as stunned as you do right now.”
She shakes her head so hard that her dark bob swirls around to slap her in the face. “Impossible. I was with him the whole time during that exam, and I followed her back out to the waiting room.”
“I guess she snuck back into the hallway as soon as the phone rang. I just happened to have my office door open enough to see her sneaking by, so I peeked out to see what was going on. You handled yourself way better than I would have, Dalton.”
“You’re telling me that she came onto you? Right in that hallway?” Ella stands and points out the door. “And I didn’t get to see it?”
I throw my head back and sigh. “Gee. Thanks. First, I’m playing my patients, and now you’re upset that you didn’t see one of them maul me in the hallway?”
“Well, I was more upset when I was thinking it was the woman you were all googly eyed over just now.”
I snicker, rolling my eyes at Ella. “Yeah, like she would’ve ever paid me a minute of attention. She never has. But that does explain why she was looking at me funny. I thought she recognized me. But of course she didn’t.”
“Resentment doesn’t look good on you, you know. You don’t have the legs for it.”
Stan and I both scrunch up our faces and look at each other, wondering where Ella is planning on going with this euphemism. Because you never can really tell. Last week, we were talking about this older couple that comes in frequently. They are constantly bickering and grumbling at each other, but then you’ll see them do sweet things like holding doors open for each other and holding hands. Ella started talking about mixing cinnamon into eggs and milk for french toast.
I still haven’t figured that one out.
I’m waiting for her explanation when my dodged bullet comes in the form of my ringing cell phone. “Hey,” I answer, waving at Ella and Stan before disappearing into my office and nudging the door closed with my foot.
“Hey, yourself. Are you still working?” Kyler has called me the last couple of evenings to talk. We still haven’t made an attempt at another date yet; although, I’m supposed to be her date for her parents’ anniversary party tomorrow afternoon. I’m not sure if I really count that as an actual date or not.
“I am. I just have an hour or so of paperwork to do, and then I’m headed to the gym. What about you? What do you have going on tonight?”
I hear a rhythmic tapping through the phone’s speaker. A sound I’ve learned is Kyler’s nervous habit of drumming her pencil on the table. “Homework and frozen pizza. Sounds exciting, right?”
“Glad those days are long over for me.” I sink into my chair and kick my feet up on my desk. “By the way, I saw, uh…”
I begin to tell her that I saw Simon today, but being the genius I am, I now realize that Devyn Rion is Kyler’s sister.
Oh, shit.
The one person that knows some incredibly embarrassing things about me. The one person that witnessed the torment I endured my entire high school career. The one person I secretly pined after, no matter what she thought about me.
I can’t let Kyler know that I know Devyn. I doubt it would take much thought before Devyn realizes that I’m the guy her friends called “Fairy Boy.”
“Who did you see?”
“Oh, uh, Simon. He was in the clinic with a cough today. I also met your sister, Devyn. She seems…nice.” That last word hung in my throat for a second, even my mouth didn’t want to let out that outright lie.
“She mentioned he was coughing yesterday, but honestly it happens at least once a month. He’s always so sick.” She pauses for a moment. “And Devyn isn’t a bad person, Dalton. I know she might come across a little bitchy, but she really has a lot on her plate right now.”
“She actually didn’t say much, and she thanked me. I didn’t think anything of it. Promise.” I was too wrapped up in high school again to think anything of it.
“I’m glad. Sometimes, she’s a little short with people, and they get the wrong idea. She’s had it rough over the last few years, so it’s just her way of coping.”
Yeah, she’s had it rough. You can’t escape karma.
“Ooh,” she sighs. “You’ll get to see her again tomorrow at the party. I’m sure you’ll see how sweet she really is. And Simon will be excited to see you, too. He’s fascinated with medical procedures and blood and…ugh…other equally disgusting things. You two will be quite a pair.”
“I can’t wait.” I so can.
“Me either.”
No, really. I can wait. I’m beginning to think the hospital needs me tomorrow. “I’ll be there to pick you up a little after three. That should put us there right before it starts.”
“It means a lot that you’re coming with me, you know.”
She’s going to owe me. Big. “It’s my pleasure, Kyler. I’ll see you soon.”
“Okay, goodnight. And I’ll try not to be a nervous, blabbering idiot tomorrow.”
Yeah. Me, too.
“WOW. YOU CLEAN up nice.” Kyler steps onto the front porch, pulling the heavy wooden door closed behind her, but my attention is caught by the curtains moving in the window. “Oh, don’t mind her. That’s just my roommate checking you out. And just so you know, I think a white dress shirt with rolled up sleeves is incredibly sexy.”
I can feel that “aw-shucks” smile of mine making itself known. “Thanks. And you look gorgeous, as always. That dress is stunning on you.”
Her look is a sharp contrast to how she usually looks, though. She’s typically in worn jeans and a soft t-shirt. Today, she’s wearing a classic-style party dress with a fitted bodice complete with a thin matching belt and full skirt that reaches just below her knees. The deep periwinkle blue is s
oftened by an unbuttoned baby pink sweater with tiny fabric flowers sewn along the front.
Usually, her hair is thrown back into a messy low ponytail, but today, she’s wearing it down. Soft honey-blonde curls cascade down to the middle of her back, and the front is pulled back with a small jeweled hair pin.
She looks even younger somehow. Innocent and demure, despite the fact that she told me my shirt is sexy. It’s a lethal combination. The deviant inside of me wants to desecrate that innocent façade—because I know for a fact it’s only a front—and take her to her parents’ party all mussed and wrinkled from rolling around in my backseat.
However, the part of me that I tend to ignore the most—my brain…in my actual head—makes me wonder what I’m doing with her. She is quite a bit younger. Not just in age, but her actions show it, too. She likes to go to house parties and clubs and drinking with her friends. She likes staying up late and sleeping until noon. She’s going to graduate college soon, but she still has no idea what she’s going to do with her degree. She’s a waitress and a babysitter.
But still…I can’t help but thinking she may be a great balance for me. I take myself way too seriously. I’m obsessed with success. A fun day, to me, is a busy one at the hospital. I actually like to pay my bills as soon as they come in the mail, and I get a little excited when it’s time to balance my checkbook. I prefer to read medical journals instead of the latest thriller. I’m boring and set in my ways and responsible to a fault.
I think this is why I don’t date anyone for long. They don’t fit very neatly into my life. I don’t know if there’s any woman who could ever understand my need for routine and control. And I can feel their judgmental stares as soon as I allow them to see pieces of the real me.
Kyler may get there eventually, too. But she’s younger and more carefree than those I usually date, so there’s a chance that it won’t bother her as much. There’s a chance that she’ll accept me for who I am.
If her sister doesn’t realize who I am and fill Kyler’s head with who I used to be.