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-Nash to Zip
NASH
“Did you get all their names?” I asked curiously.
Zip shrugged, letting me know that she didn’t retain a single one.
Honestly, I was surprised.
With her synesthesia, I was sure that she’d get them easier.
But I supposed that was how it went with her. She never did what I expected her to. Or reacted like I thought she should.
Like today.
She should’ve said a big, resounding ‘hell no’ to me. Yet, she’d agreed. Which helped me out and was in direct opposition of what I normally expected her to do when it came to me.
“Do you want me to tell you again?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I won’t remember them.”
I didn’t bother arguing.
She marched to the beat of her own drum.
“Have a seat,” I ordered.
Zip sat, and I took the seat next to her.
My mother wasted no time as she launched right into the conversation I knew she was dying to have.
“What do you do, Zip?” my mother asked.
I looked over at Zip, waiting for her to answer, but she was staring at my mother with a soft smile on her face. Almost as if she’d enjoyed hearing my mother ask the question but had no intention of actually answering it.
“Zip owns the new circus off of Beltway,” I answered. “With her family. She’s helps run it, as well as performs in it.”
“Oh, that’s cool!” my mother lied.
She didn’t think it was cool.
My mom didn’t think anyone who wasn’t a doctor was cool.
And not just any doctor would do. Only a doctor in the medical profession. Not a dentist. Or a psychologist. An actual medical doctor was the only acceptable doctor.
Before Mom could say anything, though, my mother’s sister walked up and asked her a question. Which then turned into everyone listening about the new additions they were putting on a mansion that probably didn’t need the extra space.
“Your mother’s voice makes me think of cupcakes,” she whispered. “Espresso ones, though. Not a regular white cupcake.”
I looked over at her with a raised brow. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” she nodded.
“What about me?” I asked. “What do you think of when you hear me talk?”
She paused, and I knew that what she was about to say was very unflattering. “Tacos.”
I blinked. “What?”
“Tacos,” she said.
“Why?” I asked curiously.
She was already shrugging her shoulder and dismissing me, her gaze once again going to my mother, who was still talking to my aunt about a house addition.
“It’s like walking into a bakery.” Zip sighed.
She really was crazy.
“When I think about a bakery, I think about sweet things,” I said. “Now I’ve never actually tried an espresso cupcake but, just sayin’, it sounds disgusting.”
“It’s not,” she replied, narrowing her eyes at me. “Stop talking.”
Grinning, I leaned back in my chair and listened to everyone put in their two cents on what they thought should be the color of their new addition.
“Green,” Zip said to everyone. “Definitely green.”
My aunt looked thoughtful, then nodded. “I could see that working out splendidly. Nataline Carnes two houses down from us did her addition in blue, and it looks so gaudy compared to her white house.”
“Why green?” I asked Zip.
She narrowed her eyes at me. “Stop interrupting.”
“Answer and I’ll think about it,” I offered.
She rolled her eyes, then went back to looking at my mother. But she did give her ‘why’ while staying faced away from me.
“Because the color of all of the letters of ‘addition’ are mishmashed into the color green for me,” she answered.
“Do you enjoy working at the circus?” Dad asked, tired of the talk about additions and colors, and who had a better house.
“I don’t dislike it,” Zip said, her eyes going less dreamy now that my mother wasn’t talking. “It’s a job.”
Dad frowned. “Then why do you do it?”
Zip didn’t bother to answer him, her eyes once again going to my mom when she started talking again.
I nearly laughed out loud.
“She does it because she has to,” I said. “Her family owns it.”
“Ahh,” Dad said. “That’s unfortunate.”
“That’s also the way of life,” I shrugged. “Kind of why we’re all doctors. Family pressure and all that jazz.”
Dad narrowed his eyes at me.
I didn’t break our gazes.
It was no secret that I hated every bit of medical school. I’d only gone because it was expected of me—and to not look like a dumbass when all things medical was all my family talked about. But the moment I had something better, more lucrative, to give myself—i.e. NASCAR—I’d split.
Though, to appease my parents, I’d made sure to complete at least the schooling portion of my medical degree.
“I wouldn’t be a doctor ever,” Zip said, inadvertently coming to my rescue. “They’re great and all, but there are so many more careers out there that are more lucrative, gratifying, and fulfilling. Like his job, for example.” She pointed at me with a hook of her thumb. “He’s out there granting last wishes for dying children. You just did that last week, yes?”
