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YOU KEPT ME WAITING
Medicine Man by Charlotte OC
Saturdays are my favorite. It’s the one day of the week where I can wake up and not think about work. As I pad past Noelle’s room, I see she’s already up and practicing her violin. The sound filters from her room, down the hallway, and into the kitchen where I sit at the island eating leftover pizza from last night. Somehow the classical music she’s playing makes it feel like I’m eating a gourmet meal.
Staring across the living room through the glass patio doors, I look at the mountain preserve our house backs up to. Through the view fence I can see the sagebrush that still flourishes even in the middle of a dry summer; a deep green against the rich browns of the mountain terrain.
“Is that from last night?” Noelle asks as she pads into the kitchen, passing by me on her way to the refrigerator.
“Don’t judge,” I admonish, taking a bite. “Here, look at your Aunt Beth trying to parasail.” I shove the phone at her.
Noelle takes it and laughs. “She looks like she’s constipated.” We both laugh.
“She’s been torturing me with honeymoon pictures for the last two weeks,” I complain, laying the phone back down.
“When will they be back?”
“Tomorrow.”
Noelle sifts through the refrigerator and sighs when she doesn’t find what she’s looking for. Her brown ponytail sways across her back as she lifts herself up on one of the barstools, helping herself to a piece of my cold pizza.
“Do you want to go toBerdena’s?” I ask, feeling guilty that I’m not much of a cook and rely on eating out most of the time.
“Can’t. I’m giving a lesson today,” she says.
“You know, this work thing is getting in the way of our quality time,” I pout.
“Itwouldbe work if I were getting paid for it.” She takes a bite. “School requires it, but I really like working with the kids. They don’t have access to music programs, so it’s really cool to see how excited they are when we come.”
My phone vibrates again on the island and I’m reluctant to pick it up because I don’t want to see another photo of Beth eating a Dole whip or drinking something fruity from a coconut. When I pick it up, it’s a number I don’t recognize.
Unknown: I’m in the area. I can stop by.
I stare at the phone confused, thinking this must be a wrong number, so I text back.
Me: Wrong number.
Unknown: I need to measure.
Setting the phone back on the table Noelle asks, “Who is it?”
“I think it’s Laura’s dad coming to measure the rooms for the flooring,” I say. The language barrier is a bit of an issue both ways.
“Oh, thank God, because I swear, if you fall and break your neck on that tile, I’m not changing your diapers,” Noelle teases, slipping her feet into a pair of random flip flops lying near the front door.
“Change my diapers?” I swivel around in the kitchen stool. “What are you talking about?” I leave the phone upside down on the counter.
“Because you’ll break a hip and can’t get to the toilet,” she explains.
“Well, thanks. I see how much you love me,” I tease, as she retreats towards the garage. “I changedyourdiapers!” I yell after her, and she waves me off.
Peeking around the corner, she points at me. “No parties, and no boys,” she teases, grabbing her violin case from the table by the door.
“Aw, but, Mom, I won’t be the popular girl at school if I don’t let him go all the way,” I say, sarcastically as she leaves through the garage door.
Looking over at the cracked tile in the kitchen, I scoff.She won’t change my diapers.I shake my head. It’s a good thing I have a healthy 401K to pay for my elderly care.Someoneis changing my diapers, no matter what.
The doorbell rings and I know it’s not Noelle, so it must be Marius. As I get up to answer the door, through the double frosted panes I can see a shadow that is definitely not Marius. Tall and lean with a halo of hair that I have sunk my fingers into and know exactly how it feels, Adrian stands on my front porch with his feet apart and hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans as he waits for me to answer.
