by Emerson Rose
“Okay now?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Do you want to finish your food?”
“No, I’m full. Let’s go to work.” Her body relaxed the second she saw the alarm system finish its safety check, and now she’s all smiles. I wish I could provide her with that sense of security just by being her daddy, but her demons are bigger than my reassurance.
I put her down and watch her race up the winding staircase to the second floor. “Pick out some things to play with today, and we will take them with us,” I call after her and take out my phone to call my nurse, Carly.
“Hey, it’s me. I’m running a few minutes behind today. My nanny is sick, and I had to send her to the hospital, so Tori’s coming to work with me.”
“Your five-year-old?” she asks like I’ve lost my mind, and maybe I have.
“Yeah, it was an emergency, and I don’t have a choice. We’re going to have to figure it out as we go.”
“You mean I’ll have to figure it out as I go. You’re going to be in surgery until noon, and in case you’ve forgotten, you have to see all of Bill’s patients in the office this afternoon.”
Carly is the only person in my life who talks to me like that. She tells me how it is and doesn’t sugarcoat shit. She’s my right hand, and I couldn’t do my job without her help, and, as annoying as it is, she knows it.
“What do you suggest I do?” There, the ball’s in your court, Carly, have at it. I’m interested in hearing what exactly she thinks I can do about this.
“Can’t you call a temp service and have them send somebody over until your regular girl is back?”
I snort. Typical answer from a woman with no children whose only focus in life is her career. “First of all, Zion is a sixty-five-year-old woman, not some teenybopper who stops by to entertain Tori for a couple of hours. She’s like her mother, and I’m not leaving my daughter with some last-minute stranger. She’s coming with me so round up the nurses and see which one of them wants to earn ninety dollars an hour hanging out with my kid today instead of bedding patients. That shouldn’t be too hard.”
“Ninety dollars an hour? Is that what you pay your office nurses? Because if it is, I want a damn raise.”
“No, that’s what I pay my nanny. And before you ask to switch jobs, the answer is no. I’ve been through a hundred personal nurses, and I can’t stand any of them, so you’re stuck with the job.”
“Oh no, I’m not nanny material, but damn, I think I’m in the wrong business if they get paid that well.”
“Tori is the most important thing in my life, and you get what you pay for.” She’s quiet for a moment while she takes it in. I’m not a man who shows his emotions, and we don’t talk about our personal lives much. She’s probably surprised.
“That’s true, you’re right. I’ll have someone ready when you get here.”
“You’re already at the clinic?”
“I had some work to catch up on.”
I check my watch. “At 5:00 a.m.?”
“Yes, at 5:00 a.m. or at midnight. Whenever I have free time, I’m here making your life easy, boss.”
I chuckle at that. If anybody’s the boss, it’s her. “All right then, back to work. I’ll see you in a few.”
We hang up, and I find Tori in her closet with no fewer than six outfits already on the floor and her hair in total turmoil. “Can’t decide what to wear?”
“Zion gets my clothes,” she says ripping a blue sundress off over her head.
“What’s wrong with that one?”
She rolls her eyes. “It itches.”
I hold up another. “How about this one?”
“Nope, too hot.”
I need to try another tactic. “What’s your favorite thing to wear?”
Her eyes light up like the sun. “My butterfly swimsuit!” she yells.
“Okay, hold on. I mean what’s your favorite outfit?”
She wrinkles her nose and thinks for a minute, and then she marches to her dresser and whips out a pair of purple leggings and a t-shirt that says Who Shot JR? What the hell? “Where did you get that shirt?” I ask taking it from her. I remember these things from the seventies and eighties when Dallas was all the rage on TV.
“Zion, we watch Dallas on TV.”
“You do?” I had no idea anyone still watched that old show. It’s been such a long time, I have no idea if it’s even appropriate for a five-year-old.
“Uh-huh.” She takes the shirt and pants to her bed, and I follow to help her dress.
“Have you decided what you want to take to work today?”
“Miss Ellie, my iPad, my blanket, and my crayons.”
“Who’s Miss Ellie?”
“She’s J.R.’s mama and the family ma… matri…” she’s struggling with a word, but I don’t know what it is until she sounds it out a little more.
“Matriarch?” I say not expecting to be right.
“Yes! That’s it, matriarch,” she says the word slowly.
“Do you know what that is, babe?”
“Yup, Zion told me it’s the most important person in the family.”
“That’s right. How are you going to take Miss Ellie to work with us?”
“She’s in my bag.”
“Is she a doll?” Surely, they don’t still make Dallas dolls.
Tori giggles. “No, she’s an elephant.”
“Ah, I see, how silly of me.”
She tugs the shirt over her head further messing up her hair. “Daddy, are you the matriarch of us?”
“That I am.” I smile at her and take a brush off her end table to start working out the tangles. She loves it when Zion brushes her hair. Me? Not so much.
“I can do it.” She takes the brush after I pull too hard for her liking once too many times.
“Come and sit on my bed while I shower and get ready, so we aren’t late.”
“Okay.” She grabs her brush while I get her toothbrush, and we walk down the hall to my bedroom. She climbs up on my bed and switches on the television while she finishes brushing her hair.
“Don’t move, okay? I don’t want to worry about you while I shower.”
She smiles an I got this smile and bats her eyelashes. When did she learn how to do that? I shake my head in disbelief. My five-year-old daughter is a Dallas loving, safety conscious, independent woman.
This is going to be one very interesting day.
Sometimes life throws you a curveball.
3
Sasha
“I think I’ll just leave my nose crooked.”
Twyla looks at me like I’ve lost my ever-loving mind. “What is it with you and this doctor? Now think about this, woman. You’re thinking about leaving that nose of yours looking like a big black avocado with one side caved in because you’re afraid to talk to some man? What kind of shit is that?”
I push out my lip and lean closer to the bathroom mirror frowning at my nose. “You think it looks like an avocado?”
“Yeah, don’t you?”
I turn my head to the left and then the right. “Yeah, I guess it’s pretty bruised and fat.”
“Bruised and fat forever if you don’t take your head out of your ass, girl.”
“Okay, okay, I’ll go. Seeing him again is better than listening to you tell me how ugly I am for the rest of my life.”
She shrugs pursing her lips together silently agreeing to do just that if I don’t get my nose fixed.
“He’s so arrogant, I can’t stand him. Like yeah, we know you’re a fancy surgeon, and you have a lot of money, and you’re smart and hot, but you don’t need to jam it down your patients’ throats.”
“He’s hot? You never mentioned that before, how hot?” She lowers her feet to the ground from the top of my toilet where she’s perched.
“I don’t know, hot.” I try to act uninterested, but the truth is he’s undeniably good looking, and I can’t stop obsessing and fantasizing about him. He may be a jerk, but he’s a jerk with thick
, dark hair, perfect lips, and a rock-hard body. He’ll never know about all the dirty things we’ve done together in my head.
“On a scale of one to smoking-hot ten, where does he fall?”
I sigh and go back into my bedroom. I don’t want to tell her he’s a twelve, but knowing Twyla, she’ll drag it out of me. She follows and crawls into bed next to me with excited eyes.
“Don’t you have your own bed across the hall to sleep in?”
“Oh yeah, girl, but it’s way more exciting in here. He’s a ten, isn’t he?” She flops down on her back and stares at the ceiling with stars in her eyes. “How’d you get so lucky?”
“I don’t exactly consider flying through the window of my Jeep lucky.”
“Not even if you end up with a sexy, fine plastic surgeon? Think about it, Sash. He’s rich and single and gorgeous, and he can give you a little nip/tuck whenever you’re feeling saggy. My God, you’ve hit the jackpot, woman!” She pulls the white sheet up tight under her chin smiling like a lunatic.
“He’s a dick. I don’t care how much money he has or how many boob jobs or tummy tucks he can give me, I don’t like him.”
“You will. Mark my words. You’re going to fall in love so hard he’s going to admit you for a love concussion.”
“A love concussion?” I frown and turn onto my side to take hold of her chin and move her face, so she’s looking at me. I look into her eyes—one and then the other. “Are you stoned or something? How many romance novels have you read this week? I swear to God, I’m going to burn your library card if you don’t get your head out of the clouds.”
“You’ll see, just wait.” She looks so smug and self-assured; I let myself dream her dream for a second before wiping it clean out of my mind.
“Whatever. Are you sleeping in here with me tonight or what? We have to be up at 5:00 a.m. tomorrow to make it to the clinic by 5:45 a.m.”
“Oh no, I can’t sleep if you’re over there moaning and groaning about your doctor. I’ll leave you with your fantasies.” She hops out of bed and skips toward my door. I throw a pillow at her back, and she screeches and laughs when it hits her.
“I do not fantasize about him!” I yell.
“Okay, sure, whatever!” she yells back before closing her door. I turn out my light with a huff and a wince. I keep forgetting how sensitive my face is, and every time I do, I pay with pain.
I get up and go back to the bathroom and take two pain pills. After checking that my alarm is set for the crack of dawn, I lie down and think about the stack of bills on my dresser. When thoughts of Dr. Sullivan start to creep back in, I switch my train of thought to the fact that I have no vacation time or paid time off at Macy’s to cover me while I’m off. But even that stressful thought can’t keep him out of my head. The only thing that saves me is the pain medication when it kicks in, and I slip into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Sometimes sleep is the best medicine.
4
Xander
Every nurse who works in the clinic greets us when we enter. I can’t tell if they are genuinely interested in my daughter, or if they are all vying for the ninety dollars an hour they could make taking care of her today. Either way, Tori is getting plenty of attention, and that’s a good thing.
Tori has only visited the clinic a handful of times and never when I’ve been working. The nurses know her through photographs on my desk and one-sided conversations when I’m going to be late, and I need to tell her goodnight. I don’t believe in mixing business with my personal life. I keep to myself, and they do the same—it’s an unspoken rule.
“Tori, I have to go see my first patient before surgery. Kiss me.”
She wiggles free from Megan, my front desk manager, and jumps into my arms. “You gonna make somebody pretty, Daddy?”
“Yep, that’s my job, and your job today is to be very good for… Who’s in charge of Tori today?”
“That’s me,” Sophia says stepping forward. Sophia is a young, beautiful brunette from Miami who moved out here when she graduated from college. She’s organized, doesn’t curse, is single, and always talking about having kids someday. Perfect.
“Okay, she had breakfast about an hour ago, and she brought some things to do in the pink princess backpack.”
Tori cups her hand around my ear and whispers. “Daddy, is she safe?” Something about those four words guts me. This poor kid shouldn’t be worrying about her safety in her father’s clinic, but then again, she doesn’t even feel safe in her own home thanks to her fucking mother.
“Yes, baby, don’t worry. Sophia will be with you all the time, and everyone else works here with Daddy every day. I assure you they’re all safe friends.”
“Okay. I love you.”
“Love you, too. Off you go and listen to Sophia.”
“I will,” she says taking hold of Sophia’s hand and walking away toward the break room.
I take a deep breath and blow it out before changing into scrubs. I feel off today not having had my morning run or coffee. I’m also worried about Zion’s health and wondering what the hell I’m going to do for the rest of the week without her. I’m the only one in the office this week. I can’t take any time off, but I also can’t keep bringing her with me.
By the time I walk into the pre-op room where my first patient on the surgery schedule today is waiting for me, I have forgotten who I’m seeing. It takes my brain a few seconds to catch up with my eyes, and then I remember. The sexy Ms. Rivers is sitting on the exam table wearing a hospital gown and looking mildly dopey.
“Good morning, Sasha, how are you feeling today? Ready to get beautiful?” She narrows her eyes at me like I’ve insulted her even though I haven’t.
“I’m ready to be able to breathe through my nose again if that’s what you mean.”
God, this woman is so grouchy and defensive. I’ve always felt I have a good bedside manner so it can’t be that. Whatever it is, I’m stuck with fixing her nose, so we are going to have to make the best of this. I go about checking over her chart and see that she’s been given a mild sedative already to prepare her for surgery. She should be in and out, but she looks like she’s ready for a fight, not an operation. I sit down, so she’s looking down at me.
“Sasha, I’m sensing that we may have gotten off on the wrong foot somewhere along the way. I’d like to start over if you don’t mind.”
She makes a little noise that would have been a tiny puff of air coming from her nose if it weren’t blocked by broken bone and warped cartilage. “Can we just get this over with? I just want to go home and get back to my life.”
“Sure, what is it that you do?” She tilts her head to the side and looks at me like I have two heads.
“Why do you care?”
Usually, I don’t care, but Sasha interests me. She’s my challenge in a world where there are none anymore. “I thought we could get to know each other a little, that’s all.”
“I sell shoes at Macy’s. It’s nothing glamorous.”
“I love Macy’s. How long have you worked there?” Small talk bores me but not small talk with Sasha.
“Seven years.”
“Do you like it?”
“Stuffing feet into shoes for eight hours a day? Yeah sure, it’s a blast.”
“Why do you do it if you don’t like it?”
“Because I have bills to pay.”
“Isn’t there something else you would like to try?” She doesn’t answer, and when I look up, I can tell the drugs are starting to hit her. I stand and help her put her feet on the gurney. “That medication is starting to kick in, so you should lie down.”
“Okay.”
That’s the most agreeable she’s ever been with me. I take it as a sign of progress. “How are you feeling?”
“Relaxed.”
“Good, that’s exactly how you should feel. So, you didn’t answer my question. Is there something else you’d like to do instead of selling shoes?”
She surprises me by rea
ching up and cupping my cheek with her hand. I know it’s the drugs, but the simple act of affection feels like so much more. Her hand is soft and warm, and I find myself wishing she would never take it away.
“I want somebody to love me,” she says in a slurry voice.
“Now wouldn’t that be the greatest occupation? Being loved?” I have no idea where that came from. I’m hardly poetic and usually straightforward when speaking to my patients before surgery.
“Yeah. Oh, you could be the love doctor.” She giggles, and her hand drops from my face. I miss it immediately, and I’d pay money to hear her laugh again, but she’s on her way to la-la land, and we need to get her to surgery.
There’s a knock at the door right before it opens a crack. “Dr. Sullivan, we’re ready in the OR,” Carly says, and suddenly I feel warm little arms circling my legs.
“Daddy, are you gonna make this lady pretty?” Fuck, how the hell did Tori slip in here? Carly opens the door with wide eyes, and her mouth hanging open.
“Oh my God, Xander, I’m so sorry. I don’t know where Sophia is, but I will have a word…”
Sophia pushes her way into the small room and picks up Tori. “Honey, you can’t run away from me like that, okay? We have to stay in the break room.” She turns her attention to me. “I am so sorry, she’s quick. I couldn’t catch her.”
“You have a baby?” Sasha says from behind me.
“I apologize, Sasha. Yes, my daughter came to work with me today. She’s just leaving.” My eyes dart from Sophia to the door and back indicating she needs to get her ass out of the pre-op room stat.
“No, no, no, I love kids,” Sasha says dragging out the word love. “Please, can she stay?”
Tori’s head pops up, and she cranes her neck trying to see Sasha as Sophia carries her out of the room. My God, this is a fucking circus, I can’t believe how unprofessional the last few minutes have become. “I’m Tori, that’s short for Victoria cuz I don’t like bein’ called Vicky. My daddy’s gonna make you pretty, Sasha,” she yells as Sophia carries her down the hall.
