That wave of unease tumbled me like a newbie surfer.
Molly grinned. “Ben told me.”
“I’m confused,” Betsy interjected. “How would Ben know how Nicole’s date went?”
“From Drew.” Molly’s eyes held mine captive, probing their depths to gauge my reaction.
“And Drew would know because…” Jocelyn let the sentence dangle.
I finally broke Molly’s gaze. “Because the date ended up being with him.” My eyes landed on each of my friends. “But you all can wipe those looks off your faces. You’d have better odds of logging companies implementing reforestation in the Amazon than Drew and me ever developing romantic feelings for each other.”
Case closed.
The end. Or so I hoped.
4
Drew
I’d learned early on in medical school to utilize any spare minute I could find. Waiting at the DMV to renew my license? Perfect for studying flash cards on infant diseases. Waiting for a movie to begin in the theater? Time to review my notes from the guest lecturer from John Hopkins. Now those spare moments looked more like grabbing a power bar between patients or shooting off a text to my sister to remind her to take her prenatal vitamins.
I sat in my Suburban, windows down, and glanced at the digital clock on the dashboard. Ten minutes before practice began. Eric tossed the football to Owen in the field across the street. A kid and his mom walked along the green from the opposite side.
I lifted my phone from the cup holder and held it up in front of me so face recognition could unlock the screen. The hospital discouraged us from giving out our personal numbers—stressed those boundaries for legal and ethical reasons as well as to establish healthy limits for their residents. But sometimes a patient would enter the exam room that needed a little extra assurance and care. A pregnant teen alone, scared. No support from the father or her parents. Or the single mother with dark circles under her eyes, worried about her son or daughter but also wondering how she’ll pay the medical bills.
Occasionally, when I met a patient like that, I’d write my number on a pad and slip the paper into their palm with the reassurance that they could call me day or night. Most never did, but sometimes I’d get a text or voicemail with a concern that I could easily respond to and assuage their fears.
Such a text sat in my messenger app. I tapped the white speech bubble icon and read the few short sentences again. Nothing to be too concerned over, and I was glad I could put this mother’s current fears to rest.
A car slowly passed on my side, red brake light glowing. The smaller white backup lights followed a second later. Parallel parking? Most people would drive around the block until they found an easier parking spot.
I tapped out a response on my phone, glancing up every other word, hoping the driver of the electric car knew how to wedge the small vehicle into the bookended space. With precision, the back fender angled closer to me. Then the lights went off and the front end eased forward.
Something about the car tickled at my memory…
The passenger side back door swung open, and out popped a familiar face. Similar to her mother, Sierra Applegate had a slightly square jaw and a knowing glint to her eyes. I hadn’t spent a lot of time with her, but she struck me as someone a bit too serious for only having experienced eight years of life. The times I’d been in her presence, I’d expected her to prattle on about new mods on Minecraft or her favorite YouTuber. Instead, I’d gotten an exposé on the dangers the kelp forests off our shores faced and a rundown on how to capture an opponent’s king with the minimum number of plays in chess.
Nicole stepped out on the driver’s side, a phone pressed to her ear.
Then again, maybe I shouldn’t have been so surprised, given who Sierra’s mom was. Someone needed to teach both mother and daughter how to loosen up, live a little, and have some fun. Maybe football could do that for Sierra, but what would it take for Nicole to stop playing at Atlas and remove the weight of the world from her shoulders?
Nicole bent down and reached into the car, then the trunk popped open a few inches. She came around the back.
“Hold on a second, Mama.” She pulled the phone away from her ear to talk to Sierra. “Do you have your mouthguard?”
I’d originally rolled the windows down to catch a nice breeze, but this was a nice bonus.
Sierra spread her lips to reveal a black guard protecting her teeth.
Nicole nodded once. “Okay, go ahead to the field and meet your team, and I’ll be there in a minute with your pads.”
Sierra looked both ways before sprinting across the street and making a beeline to Eric on the field. I should probably head over there myself…in a minute.
I pressed send on my text as Nicole lifted her trunk open and set her phone on the lip.
“All right, Mama. I’m back.”
“How many times have I told you not to call me that?” a voice scolded over the speaker. “My identity isn’t wrapped up in a role, and I’d appreciate it if you’d call me by the name on my birth certificate.”
