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9
If it wasn’t for Liam and Josie, my life would suck even more than it does now. I accepted the job, but not without conditions. I’m never out of town and I start after Amelie’s at school. Talisa picks Amelie up every day, however, I’ve gotten into the habit of taking her and it’s not something I care to stop.
I have never hated my profession, until now. It’s not the patients or the work, it’s the demand. There aren’t enough of us to go around, and those of us who are around, are already spread thinly. We are pulled in every which direction, with a mountain of work waiting for us. Being here makes me miss my private practice even more, and even though I love practicing medicine, this isn’t where I want to be.
Which means while Aubrey and I are trying to reconcile, or I’m trying to make things as perfect as possible for her while she continues to send me hot and cold messages, I’m encouraging her to think about heading back to Beaumont. Where she works is dangerous, riddled with situations I don’t want her to be in. At night, I worry about her safety, about when she’ll be home, or worse, whether she’ll even come home.
And when she is here, she’s absent or aloof, especially when something terrible has happened at the clinic. I get it, losing a patient really knocks the wind out of you, even though you always tell yourself not to get attached. It’s hard not to, though, when you know you’re fighting a losing battle even though you’ve told your patient’s loved ones you’ll do everything you can. Most of the incidents that rock her to her core have to do with young women, mostly around Amelie’s age. Those nights, Aubrey comes home and cries for hours. Angry, hot tears, and a verbal barrage of words thrown at me because I’m there. I’m her punching bag. Not because I deserve it. Aubrey has amazing parents who guided, nurtured, and taught her everything she needed to know to survive. The young women Aubrey treats are naïve, lost children of circumstance, whether it’s because their parents have passed away or they simply can’t take care of them. By the time they make it to Aubrey or any of the other staff, it’s usually too late. Disease riddles their bodies, making it impossible to treat. The ones the staff can catch early, those are the success stories. Those are the nights when Aubrey comes home happy and smiling.
I miss that smile. I miss seeing the corner of her lips crinkle or her eyes widening with happiness. Now when she does smile at Amelie or me or Mack when she’s on the phone with him, it’s short lived. This tour she signed up for, the place she wants to live, is draining the life out of her and she’s too stubborn to recognize it. If I bring it up, I’m harping. Sometimes, that’s all I do—harp. I can’t help it.
As soon as I walk into the house, I inhale cinnamon, garlic, and turmeric and sigh. One of the best things about Talisa being Amelie’s caretaker is the magnificent food she makes for dinner. I go into the kitchen, set my bag on the chair, and make my way over to the stove to breathe in the Cape Malay curry. It’s one of my favorite dishes. Talisa likes to spoil me.
“Wash,” she says as she shoos me away from the stew. I love having her around, she keeps our house in order and us well fed. Honestly, I’d like for her to come and live with Mack and me in Beaumont when I go back, but I need her to stay with Amelie.
I do as she says and then stop in Amelie’s room to check on her. I find her at her desk. It’s a small wooden desk Talisa found on the side of the road. She repaired it, painted it white, and added flowers for decorations. Amelie’s head is down, and her shoulders are shaking.
“Amelie, what’s wrong?” I step in and place my hand on her shoulder. “Why are you crying?”
“Because I missed Rachael and Ebony’s birthday parties and now, they don’t want to be my friends.” The last part comes out in a sob and my heart breaks for her. She hasn’t had the easiest time making friends at her school and really only plays with Jacoba’s daughter, Hanneli. But even Hanneli has her long-time friends who aren’t that interested in Amelie. It makes sense though, most of the Doctors Without Borders families are in a place for six months to a year, so why get attached.
I sit on the edge of her bed and run my fingers over the fringe on the bedspread Talisa gave Amelie. It’s different shades of reds, oranges, and pinks, and reminds me of the sunset. “Do you want to talk about it?”
She shakes her head and turns to face me, hair covering her face. Tears trickle down her cheeks and she wipes them roughly. “I want you to tell their parents that they have to be friends with me.”
I shake my head slowly. “Friendships don’t work that way, Amelie. They don’t have to be friends with you if they don’t want to. I’m sure if you were in Beaumont, things would be different, but you’re not there and they’re ten years old.”
“They’re eleven,” she says.
Semantics.
“It doesn’t matter. I’m not telling their parents they have to be friends with you.”
“You’re so mean.”
“I’m fully aware,” I tell her, which only angers her more. Man, I love the little girl attitude. “Is there anything else bothering you?”
She nods and does another swipe across her face. “I’m sad.”
“I can see that. Would a hug make things better?”
Amelie shakes her head. “I miss Mack.”
“Me too, sweetie. So much.”
“Make him come here.”
“I can’t do that. Mack’s at an important stage in high school. If he moved here, it would ruin his chances of going to college.”
“He doesn’t need to go to college. He can sell stuff on the corner like the other kids.”
There’s a lot to be said about living in a small-town, especially one that prides itself on taking care of their neighbors. Beaumont doesn’t have an issue with homeless people since the town pooled its resources and bought the hotel on the outskirts of town. If someone needs a place to stay, there is always room, and someone always has odd jobs available if they need money. Leave Beaumont and it’s a different story, much like every other town or city’s story. There aren’t enough jobs, housing is outrageously overpriced, and the cost of living is through the roof. Our economy is slowly forcing people onto the streets. What Amelie sees are people on the streets, selling their goods in hopes of putting a meal on their table at night.
“Mack needs to finish high school and go to college. The same will be said for you.”
Amelie groans. “I hate school.” She comes over and falls into me. I have no choice but to catch her before she dramatically slides to the ground. I pick her up and sit her on my knee.
“What else is going on?”
