by Tracy Ewens
“Hey. Are you… everything okay with your dad?” she asked.
“Yeah, why?” He adjusted his backpack and appeared to stand a little taller, as if the mention of his father was juvenile for a guy who saw himself on the cusp of chest hair.
“I was wondering because… are you hurt?”
He checked himself out. “Nope. I’m good,” he said and winked at Bri. Ella closed her eyes as Bri turned, laughing.
Leaning on the counter, attempting to appear casual and hoping to God this wasn’t some sort of runaway situation, Ella started again.
“So, what brings you by the ER in the middle of the afternoon?”
“I thought we could talk.”
She nodded as if it was the most natural thing in the world that a child she met only a week ago wanted to “talk.” His face was serious. He sported worn-out Vans and sparkling dark green eyes bigger than his father’s, now that she noticed the details. “Great. Are you… wanting to volunteer at the hospital? Did seeing your dad in here stir the need to help others?”
The pause was familiar, Ella realized. Bri and Vienna had the same vacuous look anytime Ella told a joke. Jokes were not her strength, neither was casual.
“No.” She sensed he wanted to add, “Why the hell would anyone want to work in a hospital?”, but the kid had manners. She could tell the first time she met him. “I have”—he leaned closer in confidence—“some more questions for you. You know, I need advice.”
Ella tried not to look surprised or amused because he was serious. She remembered being a teenager. Everything was serious back then before she grew up and realized she hadn’t even scratched the surface of that descriptor. But Mason was a joyous thirteen and obviously believed he’d found the inside scoop on the females he’d recently discovered.
“Oh, sure.” Yep, she was a physician who readily agreed to talk girls with a teenager in the middle of her shift. If she ever decided to go back to San Francisco, it was unlikely they’d take her at this point. She was not only soft but connecting now with people who weren’t even her patients. Ella didn’t care. She liked Mason and wanted to help. “Let’s go sit down, so we have some privacy.”
Once in the back corner of the waiting area, Mason slid off his backpack and placed it on a chair. He took his phone out of his back pocket and put it in the front of his backpack. He seemed like a man getting ready for an important meeting who did not want to be disturbed. He sat and Ella took the seat next to him, conscious that she would have to leave if anyone came through the sliding doors. For the first time since she’d moved to Petaluma, she hoped for a slow afternoon.
“I’m assuming this is about ‘she’?”
Mason nodded and pulled a pack of gum from his front pocket. He folded a piece into his mouth and offered the pack to Ella. She took one, did the same, and extended her hand for his wrapper. After throwing their trash away, she sat back down without a word and waited.
“I’m sitting in class today. We have Spanish and Math together, but this was Spanish. We had to get in these groups to go over a story we read in Spanish. Total pain in the… total pain.”
Ella nodded. The gum was good, Big Red. She hadn’t had gum in a long time, let alone gum with sugar. She assumed all kids these days chewed sugar-free gum. Not that she knew a lot about kids apart from how their insides worked. She returned her attention to Mason.
“The teacher picks four people as capitáns.” He caught her eyes to make certain she was following him. “That’s Spanish for captains.”
Ella’s expression widened in interest. “I figured.”
“So, she gets picked as a capitán of one group because Senora Blakely loves her. But that has nothing to do with my question. She picks Eden first, that’s her best friend.”
“Understandable.”
“Right, but here’s where it gets weird. She bumps Eden and they both look at me. When I look up she looks away, but Eden is checking me out like that guy who wanted to see in Dad’s camper a couple of years ago when we were crossing the border after camping in Mexico. Suspicious, you know?”
Ella laughed, but Mason shot her a look that nothing, absolutely nothing he was saying was funny. She cleared her throat.
“Then they both do that thing I hate where girls laugh like you’re the stupidest idiot in the room. She didn’t pick me. Josie picked me and then we kicked their asses, I mean their… bottoms”—he rolled his eyes—“with our reading and review, but that’s not the point either. Can you help me out here?”
Ella chewed her gum and tried to think and act cool at the same time. Mason had somehow marked her as an authority, and she didn’t want to let him down. Considering she was a newbie in the connect-and-be-human department, the pressure was on. “By she, you mean the girl, right? She is the one who broke eye contact, not the friend.”
“Yeah.”
“What is she’s name?”
“Chloe,” he whispered as if it was top secret. “But I don’t like to use her name in case someone is around, ya know?”
“Understood. That’s a beautiful name though.”
“I know.” His eyes went a little fuzzy and Ella felt she’d been given a gift—a glimpse into a young man that her thirteen-year-old self would have been reluctant around too.
“Okay, so she picks her friend first and then they bump shoulders and look at you?”
“Yeah.”
“And then she looks away. Does she smile first?”
“I can’t remember. I mean not a real smile because I remember those, maybe a little smile. She wasn’t giving me the death stare. That’s something, right?”
“Yes. Good sign. So how many more students did she pick for her group?”
“Three. All the groups had five, so she had three more picks.”
“Did she pick all girls?”
He nodded.
“Oh, I like her.”
“That’s good? All girls is good?”
“I think so. If she’d picked another boy in the class after the whole bump and little smile, then I’d say she’s a game player.”
“So all girls means?” he asked, leaning on his knees now.
“She’s not ready for boys yet, so she stuck with her girls.”
“Not ready, what does not ready mean? She’s not allowed to talk to me?”
“She’s your age?”
“Yes.”
“She’s young. I’ll bet she’s a good student. She’s focused on herself right now, and her friends.”
He nodded, popped his gum.
“I’m guessing that’s why you like her. I bet she’s not all about the makeup and Instagram. She’s smart and so are you.”
“Wow, you’re good.”
Ella leaned back and crossed her clogs in front of her. There was something about Mason that demanded fun. “I try,” she said.
“So, what should I do?”
“Be her friend. Don’t go all goo-goo eyes on her. See past all of that and get to know her. Girls love being seen for more than their pretty parts. Some of them are never recognized for more than their hair or their legs. That’s why they get trapped when they’re older. They think it’s all they have to offer.”
The look on his face reminded her of a cartoon character. Stunned and blinking.
“What if I don’t know how to be her friend, or she doesn’t want to be my friend?”
“Oh, she does. Breaking eye contact and the little smile are dead giveaways.”
“They are?”
Ella nodded. She wasn’t lying. She’d spent a whole semester on body language and diagnosis. In most cases, looking away meant “denial of the symptoms.” It wasn’t a reach to assume Chloe’s little teenage heart was going a mile a minute.
“Do girls know they’re strange?”
She nodded again, this time popping her gum before remembering she was at work. Ella uncrossed her legs and sat up.
“I need to get back to work, Mason. I think you’re on the right track, but you
should bring the crush part down a notch. Talk to her like a person first. Ask her a question or her opinion. Something simple, and don’t wink. No winking, understand?”
He stood, and Ella fought the urge to pat him on the head or ruffle his hair. The kid was cute. It was flattering that he’d rode his bike all the way from school to ask her advice, but she realized he didn’t see himself as a cute kid and tried to respect that.
“What’s wrong with winking?” A deep, smoky-around-the-edges voice asked from behind Ella. A smile pulled at her lips before she could stop it, and Mason noticed. He glanced between her and the door, as if not understanding why a woman would be smiling at his dad. Ella steadied her expression; she couldn’t explain it either.
She turned to find Boyd leaning against the opening to the empty waiting area. He raised his brow. “Winking is out, huh? Is there a manual you could provide us guys, Doctor?”
His presence seemed to take up all the space between the hard chairs and magazines. When she was alone with Mason, she felt fun and confident in her advice. Now it was as if the walls were somehow closer. There was a hint of annoyance in his expression, as if she’d knocked on his door unannounced or “pissed on his parade,” as Bri often said. She took the gum out of her mouth and threw it in the trash.
“No manual. Simply friendly advice. Most men can’t pull off winking without it being sleazy. It’s a bit like women in four-inch heels. Hard to manage without practice. My opinion, of course.”
Boyd’s left eye barely closed, it was a nanosecond of a blink followed by an almost imperceptible upturn of his lip. “Got it,” he said and pushed off the wall to join them.
Heat rushed up her back and she exhaled. “Okay, well, that was a good wink.”
“Show off,” Mason said as his dad stood next to him.
Boyd shrugged as Ella tried not to laugh. There was something about watching the two of them. Joy and yearning stirred in the same familiar part of her chest and she was like a kid, nose pressed to the window, wondering if she could join in.
Boyd tried like hell not to picture her in four-inch heels, but he’d been around long enough to know that the male brain wanted what it wanted. The image, while well worth the awkward pause, was thankfully fleeting.
“Mase, thoughts on why you’re hanging out with Dr. Walters when you’re supposed to be at baseball practice?”
“Emergency. Couldn’t be helped. I texted you.”
“Yes, you did. But I didn’t see it until your coach called wondering where you were.”
“He never even plays me. I don’t know why I’m on the team,” he said mostly to Ella.
Boyd was thrown by the three-way dynamic.
“I think my coach thinks because my dad is big, I’m going to hit like a growth spurt or something. Yeah, not going to happen.” Mason pulled on his backpack and Ella stacked the magazines between two chairs, but Boyd saw the smile she was attempting to cover. Time to go, some sane part of his brain demanded.
“Okay, well the doctor—”
“Her name is Ella. She said I could call her that.”
Boyd raised his brow in the scolding tone of the father he often thought he should be, but the kid was so funny most of the time Boyd had a hard time holding onto stern. “No, she’s Dr. Walters to you because you’re thirteen and she’s—”
“Old. I know.”
“Er… Old-er. Thank you very much.” She bumped him.
They both laughed, and something twisted in Boyd’s chest. It was a feeling he didn’t recognize. Pride and longing mixed together maybe. Watching Mason with her somehow accentuated the one thing missing in his son’s life. The piece no number of camping trips or late-night popcorn meetings could erase. Boyd felt an irrational urge to pull Mason toward him, away from an energy that seemed the perfect fit for a rarely acknowledged void. Having a mom on a limited basis was all Mason knew, and Boyd wanted to protect him from the wanting more he saw in his eyes. There was no sense in wanting more. They had been fine as they were.
Stupid reaction, he knew, but there it was clamoring in his chest. She was so relaxed with him and most importantly, she spoke to him like a person, an equal. Boyd had learned early in the parenting game that was rare among adults. There was often a need to treat kids like little toys or puppies in training. He didn’t raise Mason that way and sometimes, like when he wanted control, it backfired. There were moments Boyd knew raising him as a little soldier would have been easier, but watching his son turn into his own man was worth the work.
Mason would go on, live past Boyd, and that filled him with pride. But his job wasn’t done yet. If he was honest, it never would be, so their structure, their life needed to stay intact. That meant Dr. Walters had to stay where she was—there was no room.
“Okay, party’s over. Please say goodbye to Dr. Walt”—Mason tilted his head—“Fine. Please say goodbye and thank you to Ella. Then throw your bike in the back of the truck. We’ll get Chinese on the way home. You have a history test tomorrow.”
“Don’t you have to work?”
“I do not. I’ll be spending extra time with my runaway son tonight. You and me, kid. Cuddling. Maybe after you study, we’ll put on our footie pajamas and watch some Disney movies.”
Mason cringed. “You’re so weird.”
“True statement. Get going.”
Mason said his goodbyes and disappeared behind the sliding doors of the ER.
Ella followed behind, no doubt needing to get back to work. She stopped suddenly midstride and faced Boyd.
Christ, Aspen was right, she was beautiful. No makeup that he noticed, and she wore clogs. How the hell was any woman beautiful in clogs? It seemed unfair to the entire unsuspecting male population.
“How’s the wound?”
Boyd held up his hand.
“Impressive stitching. I’ll bet there’s barely a scar in a couple of months,” she said, more playful than he remembered her the last time they’d met. Mason. Kids had a way of loosening the grown-up out of people.
Their eyes met and he reminded himself that he didn’t do this. The allure of women and the promise floating in their eyes didn’t sway him in the least. For a split second, something flashed in her eyes and he’d have bet money she was struggling with the same pull, the same need to step closer, but insistent they stay right on their respective sides.
“I’m sorry about him,” Boyd said, bringing the subject back to Mason. This was about Mason.
“No, you’re not.”
He laughed. “That’s probably true. I hope he didn’t take up too much of your time.”
“He didn’t. I enjoyed talking with him and he gave me a piece of Big Red. Quite an incentive.”
“He doesn’t part with that easily. More advice? Is that what he was here for?”
Ella nodded and Boyd ran a hand across his beard. The kid was one raging hormone, which Boyd could normally counter by getting him outdoors, but things had shifted lately and his teenage mind was a little more intricate.
“He’s got it bad.” Boyd might have imagined the jump in Ella’s chest when he said that, but something happened.
“I can see that. Well, I hope my advice helped. You’re right though. I do need to get back. Please thank him for me.”
“For what?”
“Hanging out with him is doing wonders for my ‘connecting with people’ effort.”
“You need to work on that? Connecting?”
“I’ve been informed lately that I’m… closed off. So, let Mason know the friendship is mutually beneficial.”
“I wouldn’t call it a—” Boyd stopped before he said something mean and selfish. He and his son were not an island. Boyd knew that, but sometimes he needed to remind himself. “I’ll let him know.”
“Thanks. Well, back to work.”
Women enjoyed this, he decided. Once a man thought he had it all figured out, she changed, opened another door, and all hell broke loose. He tilted his head in goodbye. Ella Walters was a n
ice person, he’d admit that. The fact that he’d thought about her since the first time she’d stitched up his hand, her heart set on a bagel sandwich, was like the lemon in Shamo Sunset. It needed to be kept under control.
Ella thought they had left, so when the doors opened again, she stood, expecting a patient. Mason sauntered toward the nurses’ station. “Dad said you’re working on connecting, so I thought I’d give you a hug.” Before Ella could say anything, he wrapped his arms around her waist. It was immediately clear that this was a child who was hugged and often. He squeezed.
“Are you going to hug me back?” he asked, looking up at her.
She patted him on the back and waited for the release.
“That’s not a hug.”
“Are you telling me I’m hugging incorrectly?”
“Nah, it’s not wrong, it’s just not a real hug. You have to get into it more if you’re gonna make the other person feel better. Come on, hug it out.”
Ella crouched a little and wrapped her arms around him. He was smaller than she’d thought under the bulk of his sweatshirt and backpack. She squeezed and in that simple gesture, the teacher became the student.
“Better?” Ella asked, letting him go and standing to her full height.
Mason shrugged. “It needs work.”
“That’s what I keep telling her,” Bri said from the nurses’ station.
Mason turned. Ella could tell he was going to wink but resisted. Instead, he smiled. He’d had braces, perfect teeth, she noticed. While he and Bri chatted, Ella wondered what it was like to raise a child alone. Did Boyd take his son to all his orthodontist appointments or did he have help? Did Mason’s mom live in town? He’d mentioned her, so Ella knew Boyd wasn’t a widower. Why was she even thinking about this? Was it possible to form a friendship around one piece of advice she hadn’t meant to give? She supposed stranger things happened—people connected all the time under the unpredictable wand of circumstance.
“Are you going to Butter and Egg Days next weekend?” Mason asked.
Ella nodded as he backed toward the door.
“I’ll be there, and I think she is going too. I’ll work on the friend advice and maybe we can do some recon surveillance next week.”
