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All good.
Liar.
Have you killed my nephews yet? Fed them too many of the wrong drugs? Poisoned them with your cooking?
A picture drops into the text stream of two small toddlers asleep in a double buggy.
Just out walking the little shits. They were awake all last night.
Then:
You think medicine is hard now. Wait until you’ve got children.
I laugh. I haven’t even got a boyfriend.
Then the phone rings in my hand. Oh God, I hope Tod’s not ringing to chat about the ER.
“Hey, Pudding, I hear from ice cube number one that we’re going to meet your new man.” His deep voice curls into my ear.
I close my eyes. Of course. This is not just Javier’s wedding. It’s an introduction to the whole Thurman family. Why did I think I could invite some hapless guy into that? And I wish he wouldn’t call me Pudding.
“Don’t call Momice cube number one.”
He laughs. “She’s a robot. And I know you play your cards close to your chest, sis, but you need to fill me in. You don’t want me meeting this guy for the first time and challenging him to pistols at dawn at a wedding.”
Oh shit. Now he’s in Seattle and I don’t get to see him that often, I keep forgetting what a big brother he is, how he stepped into the role of being an understanding and invested parent for the rest of us.
“Are you bringing a gun on the flight with you?” I say sweetly.
“I want to know if I’m going to have to give him a warning to treat my sister right.”
“It’s a surprise.” It’s the best I can come up with.
Silence. “Seriously? You’re telling menothingabout this guy?”
“Tod. For once, cut the bossy big brother act. Just chill. You’ll meet him when you meet him.”
“Okay, but …”
“No buts. Just …” A sharp wail of a distressed child cuts through the background.
“The call of the Valkyrie!” Tod shouts in my ear.
“You’ve killed them, haven’t you? Pushed them into the street without looking.”
“They’re good, sis. Better go.” Another wail joins the first. “Okay, I’ll let you off the hook, but he better be an amazing guy, that’s all I’m saying. No one deserves better than my Pudding.” And he rings off.
Holy shit. Did I dodge a bullet?
I dodged a bullet.
Later in bed that night, my eyes stray to the illuminated numbers on the clock beside my bed: 2 a.m. In the dim light, I can make out the shape of the blinds covering the window. Three hours until the start of my shift. The apartment is quiet apart from the faint sound of the steady drip from the showerhead, and the cars on the road making a distinctivethud thudas they go over the manhole cover outside the building.
I punch my pillow again and turn over to find the cold bit for my hot head. I can’t stand up to my mother, and I can’t pluck up the courage to ask Fabian. But whatever, I’m done giving myself a hard time. I have to bite the bullet and do one or the other, and I’m going to talk to Fabian because Liss is right: It doesn’t have to be this big thing, and out of all the people I know, he gives me the impression he’d understand how I’ve fucked all this up and would play along. I just need to engineer an opportunity to talk to him.
7
Fabian
