After a brief pause, she asks, “God, what am I going to do with him?”
“Clara, I don’t think you have to do anything. He’s a good kid. And this Sam sounds like he was just repeating what he heard. He’s likely harmless.”
“I just mean in general,” she whispers, but the vulnerability in her voice is deafening. “He’s growing up, and I’m left to worry about him on my own. I’m left to raise him alone.”
“You’re not alone,” I say without hesitation.
Silence stretches between us, and I stare out the only window in my office, thinking of a simpler era. When we were young and didn’t have a care in the world other than what movie we’d see that weekend or whose house we’d eat dinner at.
I think of a time when Clara and I would drive to the high school football field and jump the fence. It was one of the few rules she broke, but we just did it to lie on the fifty-yard line and watch the stars. She liked the night sky.
It was our happy place.
I could put her at ease simply by pointing out constellations, but her current situation isn’t a simple fix. There’s not a fix at all. Sometimes, only the ticking clock can heal you. I know this firsthand, and I want to give her the time she needs.
I have to. It’s what I wanted all those years ago, even though I didn’t always know it. People tried to help. Give me advice. Push me to continue with my routine. Said this and that would help me deal with my loss. It all sounded great, and people meant well, but it didn’t always help. It was easier said than done.
“Thanks, Dax,” she says.
“Call me anytime, Clara. I may not always answer on the first ring, but I’ll damn sure call back.” I check the time just as Patty calls my office phone. “My appointment’s here, but I’ll see you and Jacob tomorrow night.”
“I’ll have the wine.”
“And I’ll bring my charming personality.”
She giggles before hanging up, and the sound stays with me, echoing in my head as I log out of my computer.
I open the door to find Ed hustling past a frantic Tinsley, not listening to her pleas to wait. He’s hardheaded like that, so I’d expect nothing less.
“I’m ready, Doc. Hope you are too.” He leads the way to an exam room like he runs the place.
I take the iPad from Tinsley and enter the room. She follows soon after with a blood pressure kit.
Even though he’s only been here one other time, Ed knows the drill, so he sits on the edge of the bed and holds his arm out.
“Ed, how are you?” I glance at his record on the iPad as Tinsley wraps the cuff around his bicep.
“As fine as a hooker’s bosom.”
I chuckle. “And does this hooker remind you to take your medicine as directed? Eat your proper meals? Exercise daily?”
“Careful, Doc. That’s my wife you’re speaking about.” He winks.
Once Tinsley’s finished measuring his blood pressure, I return the iPad to her and go over Ed’s diet with him, encouraging him to clean it up. Otherwise, all the medicine in the world won’t help him.
“Doc, do you know how old I am?” Ed scratches his bearded chin. “I’m so old the Dead Sea was just sick when I was a kid.”
I grin.
“When it’s my time to go, I’ll put a smile on my face and go. Until then, I’m going to enjoy my bacon and grease and cheese.”
I tilt my head toward him. “It’s the filthy foods that made you come see me so soon. Do you remember that you insisted on coming after three months? It’s only been one.”
He grunts.
“Your wife mentioned to Tinsley that you’ve been feeling dizzy and that you’ve had some aches and pains in your chest.”
“Of course, I’m not feeling great, Doc. All day, every day, I sit in a room that’s made for a person in a straitjacket with Rita guffawing about the news and the Facebook. And what is Prime? Something to do with the Amazon Rainforest?”
“Not exactly.” I cross my arms. “It’s an online retailer. You can buy your groceries, toiletries, anything you like, and they deliver it right to your door.”
His eyes widen. “No kidding? That’s why Rita has a stack of boxes up to the sky coming to us every week?”
I pat his shoulder. “Now, back to that diet of yours.”
He groans.
The best I can do is encourage Ed to make better food choices and stay consistent with his light exercise every week. For the next ten minutes, I explain to him why this is necessary and beneficial.
In any case, I’ll still secretly advise his wife to lay off the butter when she cooks for him when I see her around town—the benefit of being a doctor in a small town.
“That all, Doc?” Ed coughs into his handkerchief.
“Unless you have any updates on your granddaughter and her school play?”
His eyes light up, a proud grandpa. “She got the part of a daisy. No lines or solo, but she says it’s the best part. Says she’s important to the play because they need a colorful background.” His shoulders move up and down as he chuckles.
I imagine him in the front row on opening night, clapping louder than anyone else.
“Last night, she asked me for twenty dollars. I said, twenty dollars and you’d be good? Because I’m good for nothing.” He nudges me. “How’s that for a punchline, huh?”
“One of your best.”
“Thanks for humoring an old man, Doc.” He shakes my hand, and I show him out the way he came in.
Like last time, Rita meets him at the counter, placing her hand on his upper arm.
After they take off, I switch gears to see my next patient. I have ten more this afternoon, and surprisingly, I’m not called to see anyone else.
By six o’clock, I’m finished for the day and start winding down,
