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Then realizing I haven’t bitched out a certain roommate yet, I grab my phone and hash out a quick text.
Gigi – You’re dead.
Mel – Don’t know what you’re talking about.
God, she’s the worst liar.
With a groan, I sit up in bed and swivel around until my feet are firmly on the ground, pushing into my oversized bunny slippers. Realizing today is going to be sponsored by caffeine, I get up and trudge down the hallway before making my way into the kitchen and searching for a mug.
As I get into a fight with the coffee machine, I turn on a little background music before finally making the stupid thing work. With my mug firmly in my hand, I scoop my Kindle off the counter and flop down onto the couch, opening up some book about a secret society reverse harem called Boys of Winter.
Bringing my mug to my lips, I take a sip, and the scalding liquid instantly burns my tongue and throat. My eyes widen in horror, and I throw myself off the couch, trying not to spill it all over myself. “Holy mother of sweet baby Jesus,” I shriek before rushing to the kitchen.
Heading straight for the sink, I turn on the tap and shove my head right under the cold water with my tongue hanging out, desperately trying to soothe the wicked burn.
Holy crap. That sucked, like really fucking bad. It was like drinking molten lava fresh out of the volcano. Though one thing is for sure, Mel and I need to invest in a new coffee machine.
When my throat stops burning, I head back to the couch and pick up my discarded Kindle, finding myself consumed by the pages until I forget the world around me.
When there are no more pages, I toss up the pros and cons of starting the second book in the series and putting my mind at ease after that wicked cliffhanger, but I figure I should probably do a few house chores first.
Cranking up the music, I start by cleaning the apartment and singing along as I go. The apartment starts looking like a fucking landlord’s wet dream when I decide it’s the best idea to master the art of baking today.
After destroying the kitchen, I hover by the oven, waiting for the timer to go off, and the second it does, I all but dive into it to pull out my cake. After waiting no less than three seconds for it to cool, I cut myself a hefty slice before promptly throwing the whole thing in the trash.
What the hell is wrong with me? It shouldn’t be this hard to follow a packet mix. Toddlers could do a better job than me. Hell, this is what takeout is for.
Hearing the keys jingling in the front door, I turn and look up just in time to watch Mel walk through the door, and I go to offer her a smile when I remember this whole Sean situation is her fault. My smile turns into a glare, and she bursts into laughter as she dumps dinner on the kitchen counter. “He called, didn’t he?”
“Yes,” I grumble as I get up to help her dish it out.
She holds my stare, her brows bouncing with anticipation. “And?” she prompts.
“And now I’m going dirt bike riding on Saturday.”
“Oh shit,” she laughs, doubling over and slapping her thigh, unable to reel it in. “That’s hilarious.”
“It’s not even a little bit hilarious,” I mutter under my breath as I take my dinner back to the couch and get comfortable, trying to put the whole dirt bike riding thing to the back of my head. “How was work?”
“Not great,” she says, trying to hold it together, but when she looks across at me, she breaks and tears start welling in her eyes. “We lost one of our kids. He’s been battling leukemia for a few years and his little body decided it was time.”
“Shit,” I sigh, putting my plate down and pulling Mel into my arms. She folds into me, her face in the curve of my neck as she lets it all out. Unfortunately, death is just a part of the job. One really shitty part, but it’s something we all have to deal with. Each of us handles it differently. Some are able to switch off, but Mel feels it right down in her soul. Those little dudes in the pediatric ward are often there for so long, they become her family, and when the worst happens, she feels it all, which is one of the reasons I love her so much.
The first patient I lost was traumatic. I’d been covering a shift in the cancer ward, which was hard enough as it is. Her name was Kristina and she was a mother of three little boys. I’ll never forget them. She had been fighting breast cancer and after going into remission a few years before, it came back with a vengeance. It just happened that I was there on her final day. She passed with her boys in her arms and her husband by her side. Still to this day, the memory tears my heart to shreds.
