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When I hear movement behind me, I snap my eyes open. I hear the shuffle of feet. There’s definitely someone behind me.
“What?” I bark.Can’t a guy get a moment to himself around here?
“Sorry, Doctor Landry. I don’t mean to interrupt.” It’s Maria. I know her timid tone.
I sigh and swivel to face her.
Maria relays a message about a patient in treatment room three. I nod, take a note, then do my best to focus back on the X-ray. I study the fracture for another minute, then click over to the patient’s chart. It takes every bit of self-discipline I have to start typing up instructions for him, rather than whip out my phone and text Maddison.
If she’s in Hopkins, she won’t want to hear from me.
What is she doing with him right now?
My shoulders feel tense, and my neck aches. I reach back and rub it, then hit print.
When my phone rings a second time, I wonder again if it’s Maddison.
Is this what the rest of my life is going to be like? Will I always be on the edge of my seat, jumping when a call or text comes in, hoping it’s her?
Once again, I’m disappointed. It’s not her. It’s my father.
As a rule, I don’t take personal calls at work. However, my dad is the one exception. Ever since he got sick, I do my best to pick up whenever he calls.
“Hey, Pop. Everything okay?”
“Better than usual, actually. Your mother’s all excited about some game night you’ve started, up there in Stillwell. She’s been going on about it all day, ever since she saw the post on that social media page she follows, Stillwell Neighbors.”
Game night…
What’s he talking about?
My heart sinks.
He means the Friday Night Checkers Club.
How long will it go on, now that Maddison’s getting her life back on track? She’ll jet off to California again any day now, I’m sure of it. This movie deal of hers sounds big. It’s what she wanted. Checkers was a bridge, to help her through a rough patch. Now that her rough patch is smoothing out, she won’t need the bridge anymore.
I don’t want to run the club without her.
I’ll have to let people know it’s off. It’s too late to cancel this week’s meeting, though.
My father goes on, his voice with that tremor he’s had since he came down with Parkinson’s. “We’re thinking of taking the train down Friday morning. I know it’s short notice. Think we could stay with you for the weekend? Your mother’s bugged me for years about having a game night, and I never put it together. She’s tickled pink that you’ve started this.”
“Dad, it’s not worth traveling all the way here, just for one silly hour and a half of board games.”
My father laughs.
Man, it feels good to hear him laugh. He hasn’t much, since he got sick.
“Try telling your mother that, son. Like I said, she’s been talking about this all morning. Already looked up the train tickets and everything, and called the cat sitter. I told her not to put anything in stone until I had a word with you. What do you think?”
What do I think?
I think my life’s in the toilet. I think I miss Maddison already, and she’s not even gone yet. I think looking at a checkerboard is going to make me feel this weird, sad feeling, maybe for the rest of my life.
I had a chance with Maddison when we were both eighteen. She was not only my first love. She is the love of my life. I get that now. I really get that.
I messed up and now it’s too late, and I think I just want to be in a bad mood for the next twenty-five years.
