ADRIENNE
“Are you all right?”
“Just a kick in the gut,” I tell Penny, the nursing supervisor of Mercy West’s pediatric clinic. “I’ll be fine.”
“I should have sent Mary in there with you. She could have held the little demon down.”
I chuckle lightly. My last patient of the day is one of my favorites. He’s an intelligent little seven-year-old boy with a bright smile and a bad reputation. He hates inoculations and the doctors and nurses in the clinic loathe giving them to him. Every year without fail he kicks someone straight in the gut, and this year I’m the lucky one.
“He’s a strong one, but I’ll survive.”
I finish my last patient chart and hand it to Penny for filing.
“Dr. Hodges, do you have any idea when they’re going to finally transition us to a fully digitized record keeping system?”
“Dr. Hart has a meeting with the hospital to discuss it next week.”
“Discuss it?” she says, unconvinced.
“It’s a budget issue.” I sigh. “In this economy, the hospital has to be careful about any non-budgeted spending. It has to make sense.”
“Sure, I understand.”
Penny sounds disappointed and I totally understand why. I admittedly feel the same way. The “changes” they promised me were coming when I was selected for a residency in the pediatric department of Mercy West Family Medicine differ greatly from what’s actually come to fruition.
I’m in no position to question the system, though. I am a resident who is hoping for a permanent spot with the hospital, preferably here at the clinic. So I keep my head down, I work long hours and pray that I am making a difference for all the little patients that I see.
I check the time on my phone and then slide it in my purse. I’m actually going to make it home early for once in three months. My fiancé, Troy, is going to be so excited to have dinner at a normal hour. We don’t technically live together but he spends a great deal of time at my apartment because we both work in New York City but he lives across the river in New Jersey, so it’s just easier for him to stay over my place a couple of nights a week.
“You have plans with that sweet fiancé of yours tonight?”
“Yeah, I’m going to cook him my famous chili but with vegetarian ingredients.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever had chili. It’s not something I grew up eating.”
“Well, most folks use ground beef, but I’m going to use the plant-based burger crumbles in mine. It’s still delicious and will have a sort of smokey flavor to it.”
“Aww, sounds yummy. I’m sure he’ll love that.”
“Yeah, he’s been so understanding about my work hours lately that it’s the least I can do.”
“I can’t imagine how hard it must be to be a resident here and also be in a relationship with someone.”
“I will not lie, there are definitely tough days, but I’m very committed to my work and to my relationship. Sometimes I have to compromise or make a hard decision about one over the other, but it all seems to work out in the end. Troy is a very understanding partner and most of all he’s my best friend.”
Penny sighs. “Maybe that’s why I’m still single. That’s a hard combination to find.”
“No, Penny, you’re only single because your Mr. Perfect has yet to reveal himself. He’s coming.”
“From your lips to God’s ears.” She chuckles.
“Trust me, I thought after my last relationship that I’d never find the right man, but falling in love with Troy has changed everything. I’m a genuine believer.”
“How did you meet him again?” she asks wistfully. “And what do I need to do to meet his doppelgänger? Join a new church? Get on a dating website? Sacrifice my first-born child?”
“I didn’t really have a strategy.” I smile. “I guess I was just lucky. We have a mutual friend who introduced us. He thought we’d be perfect together, and he was right.”
“You are so lucky. It’s hard out here for us single girls. Trust me when I tell you should hold on to that one you’ve got.”
I nod in agreement. “I will.”
Penny turns toward the file folder cabinet and says,“Have a good night with your Mr. Perfect. I don’t work for the next three days, so I’ll see you on my next day on.”
“Thanks, Penny. Good night.”
“Good night.”
I dash to the supermarket to pick up the fresh ingredients I need to make my chili. I don’t have time to soak the beans overnight like I normally would, so I settle for canned beans instead. Troy won’t know the difference. It’s all about the seasonings, anyway.
I decide to use my time in the store to check in on my mom. She’s been a widower for four years now, and I worry about her sometimes. She’s still quite young and could easily date again, but she’s just not motivated to meet anyone new. Even in death, she’s completely faithful to my father. In some ways, it’s a moving tribute of her commitment to him.
“Hi, mommy.”
“Hey, sweetie.”
“What are you doing?”
“Oh, I’m trying to replicate a recipe I pulled out of my women’s magazine.”
“What is it?”
“Nothing you would want. It’s for marinated lamb chops.”
“But you already make a great grilled lamb chop.”
“You and your father loved them grilled and practically burnt, but I never did. Just trying to see if I can prepare them a different way.”
“Hmm, I didn’t realize that you didn’t like your chops that way.”
“Not a big deal. I’m not that picky about my food.”
Huh.
“Right.”
“So where are you, sweetie?”
“I’m in the market picking up some things for dinner. I’m cooking tonight too.”
“Oh, that’s nice. What’s on the menu?”
“Vegetarian chili.”
“That sounds interesting. I’m sure Troy will like that.”
While I am making this dish, hoping Troy will enjoy it, I realize that there’s something about my mom’s comment that rubs me the wrong way.
“Well, sure, he probably will like it, but that’s not the only reason I’m making it. What’s more important is that it’s the healthier option.”
“Of course, dear. You’re right. I heard many people lose weight on those vegetarian diets.”
I roll my eyes.
“That’s not why either, mom.”
My mother changes the subject because I get touchy when she alludes to some sort of problem with my weight. I am built very much like my stocky paternal grandmother and not at all like my mother’s waif thin side of the family. A fact I’ve accepted long ago, but one she never lets me forget.
“Listen, sweetie, your cousin wanted me to double check that you can attend her bridal shower.”
“Of course I can,” I say with an attitude. “I already told her that I was coming.”
My first cousin Cecily is the biggest pain in the ass since she got engaged. She is a classic Bridezilla, wanting to control every single part of the planning of her wedding. I have told her on three different occasions through text messages I was confirmed for her shower, but that isn’t good enough for her. Now she’s getting the moms involved. Our mothers are twin sisters and very close, but Cecily and I couldn’t be more different. In fact, we barely tolerate each other.
“Don’t get so frustrated with her, Adrienne. The date of the shower is right around the corner and you work a lot. She just wants to make sure that all of her family is there. When you finally start planning your big day, you’ll see how much of a monumental task the planning is.”
My mom places a slight emphasis on the word finally, because in her opinion Troy and I should have planned our wedding a long time ago. Cecily and her fiancé got engaged after us and will be married before us, and she never let me forget that either. I don’t think my mom is necessarily embarrassed by it, but she is definitely concerned, especially with my track record with men being what it is.
“I hear you, mom. I will call her so that there is no doubt that I’m confirmed, okay?”
“Perfect. I’m sure she’d love to hear from you.”
I seriously doubt that.
“Do you need anything while I’m at the store, mom?”
“No, hun’, I’m just going to get back to my chops, then maybe watch an old movie.”
“Are you watching anything I might like?”
“I think I’m going to watch Bye Bye Birdie. I haven’t seen that musical in years.”
“Oh, that’s a good one. I love the old musicals.”
“Me too.”
“Alright, talk to you later, mom.”
“Bye, sweetie.”
When I pull up in front of my place, I can see my tabby cat, Mittens, sitting in my home office windowsill, which is weird. She normally only goes inside that room when I have to put her away because someone with allergies has come over but maybe she’s sitting there because she senses that I’m coming home. Cats are smart like that.
The house is dark and quiet when I enter, and Mittens doesn’t greet me at the door as expected because the office door is closed. She must have gotten herself stuck in there unless Troy placed her purposely inside.
I sit my bags down on the counter, slide off my khaki trench coat and work shoes, and open my bedroom door to look for Troy and ask him why he’s put my cat on a timeout. Does he do this all the time when he’s home alone with her? If so, the two of us are going to have a long talk.
“Troy, why did you–”
Then, like a skidding car that’s hit a brick wall, I stop dead in my tracks.
My face painfully mushed up against the glass.
Eyes wide open.