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Chapter One
Evelyn
I hate it when he’s this stubborn. Reminds me of myself.
“I am a doctor, honey. And I’m telling you, it’s just a touch of indigestion, I’ll be fine,” he adds, gently hammering his chest with a fist for effect.
It’s the second appointment I’ve made for my dad to see a doctor this week.
The second time I know he won’t go either.
He used to get regular check-ups from fellow doctors at the clinic he was a partner in.
Until he sold his share in the business, dad was a successful family physician. Some bad investments and a lawsuit with his health insurer saw the end of his early retirement real quick.
He’s still a doctor but only works a few days a week at his old clinic. It’s enough for him to keep us both and the house, but not a lot left over.
And after that whole business with the insurance company, he wouldn’t even insure his car if it wasn’t the law.
But I’m not gonna start him off on that, not this morning.
I’m running late anyway but I’m also worried more than ever for him. He’s been looking worn out lately but since losing so much of his retirement fund he’s become a broken man.
Bitter almost.
He looks terrible too. I’m not a doctor, not yet anyway. But I do know when someone ought to go see one and dad’s pallor is enough to scare me enough to plead with him one last time.
Dad’s always been a regular-sized guy, eating right and all that. But health isn’t always what’s on show on the outside.
“After my interview today, we’re going to a doctor, okay,” I tell him, trying to take charge if he won’t. He draws breath to argue his point, but winces in pain again, getting paler.
After I ask him if he’s okay for the millionth time in two days he stabs a nod.
“Alright, sweetie. Maybe just a check-up. I’ll go do it to prove there’s nothing wrong,” he says, forcing a smile but I can see some concern in his eyes finally.
There’s one doctor I wished we could both see right now, but I know that’s not gonna happen.
Dr. Mark Love.
While dad still kept his subscriptions to various medical journals, I would sneak away every copy with Dr. Love in it before he could see it.
I don’t know why, but whenever my dad sees Mark Love he loses his cool in a way that’s scary.
He hates the man with a passion for some reason.
Me? I don’t exactly feel that way at all. Quite the opposite.
The man’s a living god and I would gladly die in front of him so he could bring me back to life.
Okay, maybe not that extreme, but I’d do an awful lot to see him out of his scrubs.
Pity medical journals are mostly just static headshots of doctors in white coats.
But my, he does fill out a white coat and then some.
Knowing how much it upsets my dad, I’ve kept every issue back that had Dr. Love in it or on the cover. He’s very photogenic.
Dark hair and even darker eyes, bright with intelligence though. Never brooding. Not for the camera anyway.
His look is like a question. An invitation. Or maybe that’s just what I see when I look at him.
I saw an interview with him on the news once too. Same look, same perfect hair, and teeth, but for once I got to see more than just his headshot in a white coat.
If I didn’t recognize him before my dad screamed at the TV to shut it off I might have thought they were interviewing a linebacker.
The man’s huge as well as handsome.
Did I mention he’s intelligent too? And very photogenic.
Aside from being the inspiration for me to want to study medicine myself someday (dad’s dead against that), Mark Love has been the subject of more than one steamy dream too.
I’m sure he’s better in real life, but my god those dreams…
It’s so hard to focus after having one and there’s always such a sense of loss when I wake up.
I dunno, it sounds stupid but in my dreams, it feels like we’re meant to be together. Like we already exist as husband and wife in some alternate universe.
Not that I’d dare breathe a word of that to my dad. I blame his missing issues on the mailman, secretly treasuring them and tracing my fingers over Dr. Love’s lips as I try to keep them from between my legs.
Anyway. Today’s not about Dr. Mark Love and my bizarre fantasies involving him. I’ve got a job interview then a Q and A session with a college panel, convincing them I’ve got what it takes to study medicine after dropping out of college the first time around.
I’ve finished the bridging courses, passed with flying colors. It’s more a matter of formality.
