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ONE
LACEY
Ten yearsin the medical field, and I’m still not used to getting shit on me.
“I’m so sorry.” Archie Greenburg’s mother looks at me, horror-stricken. Her eyes dart to my cheek, then my forehead, and I let out a tiny huff. “He’s had no problems with diarrhea. Especially not the explosive kind,” she says.
“Really? Interesting.” I grab a paper towel and wipe the fecal matter off my skin, counting down the seconds until I can shower and disinfect every inch of my body. I offer her a strained but understanding smile. Infant bowel movements are, unfortunately, part of a pediatrician’s resume. “Don’t worry about it. It happens all the time.”
“All the time?” she repeats, and I don’t think I’ve made her feel better.
“Yeah. It’s no big deal.” I stand and wash my hands in the small sink to the left of the examination table. I lather my arms up to my elbows and scrub until my skin turns red. “The good news is Archie is doing great. He’s in the ninety-nine percentiles in height and weight. No developmental delays, and, as of today, he’s up to date on all of his immunizations. You’ve got a healthy baby, Linna. We’ll see him soon for his nine-month checkup.”
“Are you sure?” She collects Archie in her arms and holds him close. I watch as she fixes the blanket around his torso and gives him a kiss on his nose. “We’ve been worried about him. He screams so much, and I don’t think we’ve slept through the night since he’s been born.”
I glance at the young woman over my shoulder. I notice the bags under her eyes and her pale, sunken cheeks. There’s dried spit up on her neck, and her hair sits in a tangled knot on top of her head. My smile eases into one of respect, of awe and admiration for tackling the difficult role of motherhood.
“Linna,” I say gently. “You’re not doing anything wrong. Infants approximate a sleep schedule similar to adults anywhere from three months old to a year. He’s not behind; he’s just taking his time. When I see you again, I’m sure Archie will be a totally different baby.”
“Thank you, Dr. Daniels.” She breathes out a sigh of relief and stands. “There’s a reason you’re the best pediatrician in the D.C. area. Why people put their names on the waitlist for your practice months before their baby is born. You’re so good at what you do. Thank you for taking care of us. Thank you for looking at me like I’m a human and not someone who’s trying their best but coming up short.”
“Hang on.” I rip off a paper towel and dry my hands. I lift my chin toward the colorful sign tacked on the wall. “What’s number three?”
Linna dips her head and recites the line I make all the parents I work with say when they’re in the building. “No self-deprecating. I’m doing an amazing job as a parent.”
“And you are. But don’t forget to take some time for yourself too, Linna. Your health is just as important as Archie’s.”
“You’re right.” She nods and buckles her baby in his stroller. “We’ll see you in three months?”
“Shay and Lindsey will get an appointment on the books for you,” I say.
“I’m sorry again about the…” she gestures to my face, and I laugh.
“Shit happens. Means he’s doing just fine.”
I usher her out of the room and wave off her second apology. I pull off my coat and walk down the hall to my office, slipping inside the private bathroom and locking the door.
Before I have a chance to hop in the shower and douse myself in blazing hot water, my phone rings in my back pocket. I answer and put it on speakerphone.
“Hey, Mags,” I say, and I unlace my sneakers. “What’s up?”
“Two questions for you,” my best friend says, sounding out of breath. She must be heading out of the hospital next door where she works as a neurosurgeon, huffing and puffing as she climbs up the steep incline of the parking garage. “Are you coming to dinner tonight?”
“Yeah. I wouldn’t miss our weekly tradition.” I shimmy my scrubs down my legs and kick away the dirty cotton. I pull off my top and bra, dropping the clothes in the sink with two scoops of laundry detergent. “What’s the second question?”
“Are you coming to Shawn’s game on Sunday?” she asks. “Maven is bringing some friends for her birthday, so instead of sitting in the front row like normal, we’re doing a suite. It’s going to be a surprise.”
I grin. “You’re giving me a chance to embarrass my niece while eating unlimited food in a heated room? I’m in.”
“Okay, good. We can talk about it more tonight. Aiden is all sentimental about his only daughter turning eighteen. He teared up last night when he asked Shawn if he could put us in a suite, Lace.”
“That’s because I’m not convinced Aiden is real, Mags. No male is that kind-hearted and genuinely nice. Are we sure he’s not a serial killer?” I ask.
“You’d think after a year and a half of dating, I’d know if he was a serial killer.”
“Not true. Look at Ted Bundy. That dude fooled people foryears.” I turn on the shower and put my hair in a bun. “Aiden could be fooling you, too.”
“Can we not compare the love of my life—who is absolutely wonderful, by the way—to someone who used meat cleavers on people? And where the heck are you? Is that a shower?”
