“So, your parents want you to fly to Boston with whatever of your shit you can carry, and wait for the rest?” She tipped my head a little to the left and made a sweeping gesture with her scissors at the lop-eared rabbit sprawled in the dog bed tucked between the fridge and the wall. “Just you and Murph in a pile of blankets on the floor in an unfurnished apartment?”
“They want me to stay in a hotel. Hire movers and have them come in and pack everything and ship it across the country. Probably want me to let them unpack it all for me, too.”
“Oh, thehorror,” she teased, “to have someone domanual laborfor you.” Her hazel eyes narrowed, and she tapped the tip of my nose with the end of her comb. “Rich people problems, bro.”
“No, that’s not what I—”
Her snort and pinched lips gave her humor away, and I rolled my eyes.
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. You want to do it yourself. Weird, but okay, you do you.”
“I don’t want people I don’t know pawing through my things. Iwantto pack myself. Use it as a chance to purge and donate so I’m not dragging extra baggage with me.” Not to mention, I liked the idea of drivingcross-country, just me and Murph and twenty-some-odd hours to clear our heads.
“And youdon’twant to slum it in a hotel for a few days waiting for the movers,” Maura supplied with a smirk.
“All the moving will already be stressful enough for Murph. A hotel would only add to it. Not to mention, it’s a stupid waste when I canmove myself.” My nose scrunched when she trimmed a bit of hair off at the front and it tickled on its tumble down my face. “I just haven’t had the time.”
Maura’s expression turned thoughtful—eyes narrowed, lips pursed, cheeks puffed out—while she tugged down two locks of hair to check the length. When she was satisfied they were even, she combed it back away from my face.
“There’s a simple solution to all of this, you know, but you won’t like it.” She dipped her head so we were eye to eye. “Resume’s full. Residency has been offered and accepted. So, drop the volunteering until you’re settled in Boston.”
“Maura—”
“Your apartment isn’t that big, and you don’t have that much shit. Just stop stuffing your calendar so full, and let me help, and we’ll have you ready to go with plenty of time to spare. And you don’t even have to do it all at once, either. Little by little, Z.”
She made an excellent point, but she was right: I didn’t like her solution. I spent as much time as possible volunteering at the animal shelter walking dogs or taking them on outings or socializing new arrivals. They were always appreciative of the attention, and reminded me time and again why, in my opinion, animals were better than people.
“But Ilikevolunteering. Thefraternitywas for padding my resume, but the shelter was always more for me.”
She tapped my nose with her comb again. “God, you’re such a goody-two-shoes. How are you even real?” She tossed the comb and scissors onto the counter and grabbed the hair dryer to blow the last bits of loose hair from my neck and the cape. Once that was done, she undid the snaps at the back of the cape and swung it free.
“You only have a few free weeks before your residency starts, Zeke. Why are you wasting them stressing about a self-created issue instead of letting loose? No classes, no homework, no finals, no grueling hours at the clinic, and no real obligations. So.” She slapped a palm on either side of my face and squished. “Have some fun for once. Zero expectations.”
I pulled free of her grip. “I happen to find volunteering plenty fun. Who wouldn’t want to snuggle all the dogs and cats? We even had an escaped goat that animal control brought in last week.”
She groaned and scrubbed her hands over her face. “Zeke,” she whined, drawing the single syllable out longer than should have been humanly possible. “That’snotthe kind of fun I mean, and you know it.” Her hands dropped and she leveled a meaningful look at me. “I meanfun,” she said with a suggestive wiggle of her eyebrows.
“I don’t have time for that kind of fun. Besides, I’m too stressed for that.”
“We’re talking in circles now,” she huffed, throwing her hands up. “Your lack of time is artificial, and you’re always stressedbecauseyou don’t have fun. You’re a perpetual wet blanket. I love you, man, but sometimes I just want to shake you until you find some sense.”
“I mean, I burn off stress at the pool, too,” I muttered.
“Boy, you need stress relief that isn’t a pool. Unless you’re skinny dipping with a hottie and doing thingsotherthan swimming.”
At my disgusted look, she cackled so loud that Murph sat bolt upright in his bed. One ear flopped, inside-out, across the top of his head, and he thumped his back feet in irritation at having his nap cut short.
“That’s unsanitary,” I said to Maura, then dangled a hand down to invite the rabbit over for scratches. “And would get me banned from the gym pool. And probably the whole gym. And maybe arrested for indecent exposure.”
“Ugh,” she huffed, “how am I even friends with someone so lame?”
I scooped Murph up off the floor and held him to my face to rub my nose against his.
“You were swayed by the bunny.”
She fixed his ear and scrubbed her fingertips over the top of his head. “That must be it.”
She spun away to grab the broom from where it was propped against the wall. While she swept up the hair trimmings, I stayed perched on the stool until she shooed me out of the way.
