Eva appeared with Maddy, and there was no evidence of the little girl’s teething trouble. She was all dimples and dark curls in her hot pink watermelon swimsuit. Still, Eva stayed focused on her daughter after lobbing a distracted smile my way. Call her precious offspring a “monster” one time ... I sighed. There was a secret code to adult friendship I couldn’t break. The occasional chat session didn’t make us friends, though they were my only opportunity for interaction mid-day. The moms hung together at the pool, and I didn’t qualify for that clique.
My eyes blurred as I stared into the blue water of the pool, tuning out the kids splashing. My life was fine. Fine.
I loved being an RN. There was something magical about bringing new life into the world, and I had a key role every day. Working in labor and delivery had its tragic and heartbreaking moments too, but most of my fellow nurses were rock stars, and I worked with great obstetricians and midwives. We were skilled at keeping each other’s spirits up.
On the other hand, my personal life was nonexistent. Between my odd work hours and moving away from home after graduation to work for Sacred Heart in Tacoma, I’d left my old circle of nursing and high school friends behind.
I found it difficult to make new friends after finishing nursing school. Most other women were at work or with their own families when I was available. It was hard to forge new connections when I had to turn down most evening plans due to my work schedule. Combining that with my natural shyness, I’d gotten used to my own company.
Parents lounged around the pool, chatting quietly. Eva was talking animatedly to another woman a few loungers down. I shuddered. I hated small talk. Mostly because I absolutely sucked at it. I loved books, and I loved my job. Those two things were usually all I could think to talk about, which got really uncomfortable, really fast.
Luckily, Virginia’s latest romance held me in thrall and I wasn’t reduced to lurking on the fringes of the mom group. The fantasy of meeting and falling for a gruff software genius on a temp job as a quality assurance code tester appealed. A hero groveling through embedded code comments and error messages built just for the heroine? Swoon. No one was out there thinking twice about me, much less building something to show how much they cared.
I’d learned the hard way to avoid sharing my taste in books in casual social situations. No one had cared about what I was reading growing up, my parents just liked that I was quiet. Discovering my mother’s stash of Susan Elizabeth Phillips had been a gateway drug at thirteen. As an adult, every time I spoke up about reading romance, I wished I’d stayed silent. Sadly, avoiding the sneers meant avoiding talking about my favorite books. It added to the appeal of online reader communities like I’d found following Virginia Rothman on Twitter. There, unapologetic squeeing about favorite romance novels was the norm.
When the sun started dropping behind the buildings and most of the families had gone home, I gathered my towel and e-reader and went back to my place. I’d left my phone charging, and I smiled at the texts from family.
Nick: Happy birthday, sis!
Vanessa: Lunch is on me soon. Happy birthday!
Typical. Messages from my younger brother and next oldest sister, but crickets from my parents and Jennifer. The middle child struggle was real.
I glanced at the clock. It was time to start cooking if I was going to replicate Virginia’s post. I gathered my ground turkey, ginger, cilantro, and other ingredients from the fridge, then pretended like I knew what I was doing in my tiny kitchen. The fresh ginger smelled amazing and made me feel like a real cook. With some soft rock in the background and a glass of wine at my elbow, I decided this cooking thing wasn’t so bad.
I took another sip of wine for courage, then dug into the patty mixture with my hands. Ugh. Grilled cheese was a staple in my diet for a reason. Nothing could convince me the ground turkey texture was as soothing as play dough as I squished the meat, ginger, and sesame oil between my fingers. If I didn’t think about the fat clinging to my fingers too much, it was fine. My patties were round-ish. Success. I washed my hands and prepared the stove.
Before sitting down to eat, I took a picture of the finished product. The burgers were a little dark, but with the lettuce and bun it was hard to see that part, and the aroma of ginger was making my mouth water. I found Virginia’s recipe thread, deciding to add my own creation. Gina would be proud. Ish. She’d grumble on our next shift that posting was too easy and wasn’t the same as interacting with people in real life. Much to my dismay life, like Twitter, lacked an edit button.
@VirginiaRothman You inspired me and it was delicious. Also, thanks for the lovely afternoon reading Temporary Love. I adored Claire and Rafe!
Every post felt a little less scary, though I still reread my words twice before committing. Convinced there was no way Virginia would respond, I washed my dishes and cleaned up the kitchen before settling back down with my book and a glass of wine.
My phone buzzed with a notification, and my pulse picked up at the alert. Expecting another simple like, with a jolt I realized Virginia had actually responded to my post. A grin spread across my face. Nerd alert. My parents routinely ignored my texts. Heck, they’d forgotten my birthday. I couldn’t stop my squee over her note.
@TamraRN So glad you liked them both. Happy birthday! Hope it was a great one.
Gah! Not
