by Nella Tyler
Now, my hair was still red, but flowing and healthy, I had trimmed down to a figure I was pleased with, I made peace with my freckles, and I invested in contacts. Yet, no matter what I did, I couldn’t shake the stigma, the image of that tormented child that my sister never seemed to be able to see.
So, after I threw my trash away, I headed to the bathroom. I heard my phone buzz as I reached the stall.
WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?! The text from Michelle read.
I snickered and texted back, You know what they say about payback…before I walked into the stall, silencing my phone.
Chapter 11
Tim
Squeak! Shuffle…shuffle…squeak!
“Goddammit!” I muttered, angrily thrusting my chair from side to side, trying to find a comfortable position to sit in. I groaned and leaned back in the shitty chair, which had absolutely no give, trying to ignore the scream of my back.
I had been here for forty-five minutes, bumming their Wi-Fi connection in exchange for a rather bland, wholesale coffee. Growing up, I knew there must be something better than this provincial excuse for a café, but now that I knew there was better, the experience was even more torturous.
Still, at least this sorry excuse for a coffee shop had some fucking internet. That was more than I could say for my father’s stone-age lack of technology and instant coffee.
The longer I stayed in this small town black hole, the harder it was for me to understand how I could have possibly come out of this backwards sinkhole and become successful. This town and the people in it literally repelled technology. The only saving grace was that this hole in the wall did, in fact, have Wi-Fi and not dialup like the last time I had been here.
When I was a kid, there had been nothing. It was lucky if there was a current magazine in this coffee shop, but now, despite the chairs – and the sorry excuse for coffee – it had reared full-steam ahead into the future…and still managed to stay about a decade behind in the times.
I sighed and shook my head, trying to ignore the loud chatting of the local gossip queens who had to sit right behind me while I tried to focus on my work.
This was a town where life continued to stand still, and I felt ensnared in its ignorance, choking and sputtering for freedom while it drowned me with incompetence. Still, there was work that needed to be done and so, I pressed on. I started to get into a rhythm and the world around me faded from my view.
Finally, I was able to escape the confines of this town’s technological depravity and actually made some headway on the software problem that was plaguing our current client.
However, the blissful return to the world I loved and succeeded in didn’t last long. Eventually, I felt a finger poke into the top of my shoulder. I ignored it, but when I felt it again, I heard a loud Southern voice yell to me.
“Excuse me, Sir!”
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath trying like hell not to show my frustration. By the time I turned around, I was beaming. “Hello,” I exclaimed, eyeing the elderly couple standing behind me. Somewhere in the recesses of my mind, I knew that I should know exactly who they were. They had aged since I saw them last, that was for sure. Yet, something told me even if they looked exactly the same, I would be having the same problem putting a name to their face.
“Hi. You’re Tim Meck, right? Your father is Phil Meck?” the woman asked.
“Yes, ma’am,” I answered, allowing my deplorable Southern drawl to escape as I spoke to her. “How can I help you?”
“We wanted to thank you,” the elder gentleman spoke up. “You might not remember us, but a few years ago, there was a fire that destroyed our house and a good portion of our farm. It was right after your momma died, God rest her soul. And, you sent us money and helped to arrange for the town to rebuild our house. Now, it’s even better than it was. We wanted to thank you, but you never came back and so, when we saw you sittin’ here, we knew we had to say somethin’.”
I grinned, remembering exactly who this woman and her husband were. Mrs. Hadline was a schoolteacher. She had introduced me to computers. When I was in elementary and middle school, she had taught me everything she knew about them. Her husband was now back in the times slightly due to his age, but in his prime, he could’ve been what I was now, had he left this one-horse town for real work.
Like he said, a few weeks after I left, following my mother’s passing, I received word that their house had burned down and I knew I had to do something. I sure as hell wasn’t going to return to the town, but I did need to help, so I sent a check with instructions about rebuilding the house.
It wasn’t the first, nor the last, time I had given money to the town in hopes of helping it rise above the pig sludge that seemed to drive the economy, but it was personal. I wasn’t simply giving to help the town; I was giving to help a couple who had given all they could to help me follow my passion and become the man I had the potential to become.
Therefore, I was happy to help and felt bad for not recognizing them right away.
“Well, thank you. I’m glad you did,” I replied, genuinely pleased to see them. “I always hoped they did right by you.”
“We couldn’t have imagined we’d ever have something like this. It’s a ranch, which is fine because we’re getting on in years and were getting to the point where the upstairs was becoming useless anyway,” Mrs. Hadline replied.
“It’s perfect!” Mr. Hadline interjected.
“Well, if you ever need anything else, please let me know,” I replied, almost hoping that I could do more for them, knowing that I could never express how much they, likely unknowingly had done for me.
“Oh Lord, no,” Mrs. Hadline insisted. “We already could never repay you for what you’ve done. You are truly a blessing.”
“Thank you. I’m happy I could help you.”
“How’s your father?” Mr. Hadline asked.
“Better,” I answered, not wanting to have my father be the highlight of our conversation. “The doctor said he’ll be home in a few days.”
“Good! Good.”
“Yeah…he was extremely lucky.”
“Indeed,” Mrs. Hadline replied. “Well, we only wanted to say thanks. Perhaps we’ll see you around, and if you need a home cooked meal, you know our door is always open. We’ll let you get back to work.”
“It was great to see you. I’m glad to know you’re doing well,” I replied as they both turned toward the door. As they walked away, I sat back in the chair, ignoring the squeak and thought about exactly how long it’s been since I had a conversation that didn’t have an underlying need or want.
They had simply gone out of their way to say thank you. There was nothing about the conversation that insinuated there were more favors to be asked or opinions to be won over. There were no alliances or underhanded schemes. They were genuinely being friendly, thankful. Somewhere, buried deep inside, I knew that I missed conversations like that.
However, I buried that feeling like a murdered body, stuffing it down into the recess of my mind, trying to forget it entirely. This was not the life I wanted to live. That couple, out of anyone in this town, would surely understand that and thus, I refused to allow their kindness to poison my way of thinking.
I was a businessman. I enjoyed the finer things in life, most of which this town had never even heard of.
Yet, after deciding this, I turned back to my computer screen and knew for certain that I wasn’t going to be able to get any more work done here. So, I closed my laptop, threw my cold coffee in the trash, and headed back to my father’s house.
Once I got back, I looked around and realized that I didn’t want to go to the hospital. I couldn’t stomach another hour of silent judgment and deep-seated disappointment that had culminated for decades.
Usually, I could cast a blind eye to his castigation, but today, I was already branded with inner-turmoil. I didn’t need my father’s disapproval to have a chance to weigh in, for I feared, to my disgust, it might destroy
me.
Therefore, I settled for a far less harrowing task. I searched through my contacts and found an old number that I never dialed, but could never dare to delete. After all these years, I wasn’t even sure it was still right. However, short of visiting him like I did when we were kids, this was the easiest way I could think of to reach Hayden.
He answered on the third ring, indicating I had reached what was once his father’s hardware store. For whatever reason, it was taking me a little while to come to terms with the idea that it was actually Hayden’s store now.
We had talked about it when we were kids, how he wanted to take it over. I had always teased him about not having bigger aspirations, while he told me I must be smoking some good shit if I thought I was going to pull off my plan.
Yet, in the end, I suppose we both did what we were destined to do – exactly what we said we were going to do.
“Dude…really? Do you answer your phone like that all the time?”
It took a minute for Hayden to piece the voice to the name. When he did though, he laughed. “Wow! You’re calling me? Are you in jail?”
“No…wait, you don’t have my number?”
He chuckled. “I’m still waiting for you to text it to me, like you said you would when I gave you mine.”
“Yeah, well, whatever. I’m calling you now, ain’t…aren’t I?” Oh God! I thought hoping I wasn’t sunk back into this life deeper than I thought.
“Hey, buddy,” Hayden said, choosing to ignore my slip of the tongue.
“Hi. I know it’s a little late for fishing today but I was wondering if you still wanted to go have a beer with me?”
“Dude, when have I ever turned down throwin’ a few back?” I cringed at the saying again. “Meet you in a half hour?”
“Sure,” I answered and hung up.
I changed my clothes and got ready to go out. I didn’t dress as I normally would. In fact, for me, I dressed down, but I knew full-well that I would still be the best dressed person there.
Hayden was already at the bar when I got there, nursing a beer. I sat down and ordered a drink.
“Hey, how’s your old man doing?”
“He’s fine,” I answered, wishing I felt a little guiltier for wanting people to stop asking me about him. I was tired of having to explain the situation, like everyone in town didn’t already know.
“That’s great. I’m glad to hear it. He’s a tough old man. He’ll pull through.”
“The toughest,” I grumbled, tipping the beer back against my lips and practically downing it in only a few slugs.
I watched the enthusiastic light in Hayden’s eyes douse slightly as I spoke. Although, instead of judgment, I knew he was plagued with recognition. “Are you guys still at it? Damn, Tim. When will enough be enough?”
I allowed my shoulders to raise and fall with indifference as I contemplated ordering a few shots. If we were going to have this conversation, beer wasn’t going to assuage me. I needed something far stronger if I was going to maintain my sanity. “Ask him. I don’t know. He’s never cared too much for me.”
“I don’t think that’s it. I think he loves you; I just think you’re too damn different…or the same. I don’t know. But let me tell ya something, I wish you would bury whatever hatchet you and your father keep digging up, for good, cause when he’s gone—”
“Yeah, I know, Hayden,” I interrupted, feeling a spike of anger course through me. I lowered my voice as I continued. “Trust me, if there was a fucking hatchet, I would have thrown into the mud and laughed as it sank, but there’s nothing. Nothing ever happened…
“We were just, never close. He and I never saw anything the same way and no matter what I do, he acts like it isn’t good enough.” I thought about what that might mean and scowled. “Hell, maybe I’m the hatchet. I’m obviously some big disappointment.”
“No, you’re not. How could you possibly be a disappointment?” he asked, and I honestly believed that he was being genuine.
“I never did what he wanted me to do. I tore out of here the first chance I got and never looked back.” I took another long slug of my beer, finishing it and starting another. “But you know as well as I do that our issues started long before graduation day.”
“Hmmm…” Hayden answered, but didn’t say anything more, giving me the idea that perhaps he was holding something back. Still, when he took it upon himself to change the subject, at least slightly, I didn’t object.
“So, who’s his doctor?” Hayden asked, glancing my way and adding an explanation. “Momma wanted to make sure I asked.”
“Jenna Barnes,” I replied, watching him stop mid-drink.
“No shit?” he asked, peering directly at me.
“No shit,” I assured with a confirming shake of my head.
“You know, she’s single,” he offered as his lips curled into a wicked grin.
“She’s a doctor. That makes sense,” I told him, trying not to engage in the game he was attempting to play.
“Yeah, but she’s hot.”
I laughed out loud, remembering the freckle-faced kid from high school. “The years have certainly been good to her. I’ll give her that.” Hell, I was willing to give her more than that, but that was none of Hayden’s business.
“Bullshit. Even for your city-boy ass, she is hot.”
Again, I raised and lowered my shoulders with a nonchalant attitude. “Sure,” I agreed. “But if you’ve got a hard-on for her, why don’t you ask her out?”
“’Cause, she isn’t my type, and besides, I’m enjoying the bachelor lifestyle.”
“You live in your mother’s house and you own a hardware store. You keep saying that for too many more years and people ‘round here might start to wonder.”
Hayden chuckled. “Dick,” he muttered, before taking another swig of his drink.
After that, the conversation turned more towards catching up personally, but for some reason, I couldn’t get the thought of Jenna Barnes out of my head. She was gorgeous and after such a transformation from high school, there was no way she was oblivious to it, but still, the same thought still boggled my mind.
Why the hell had she turned me down?
Chapter 12
Jenna
When the alarm clock went off the next morning, I was tired. The week had definitely taken its toll on me and the hour I had spent brushing all of the glitter out of my hair before I went back to the hospital had severely cut into my sleep.
Yet, in all fairness, anything I did outside of working and eating shaved off the few precious moments of sleep I had before my next shift. Even my sparsely placed days off blurred together, making my life seem like one continual rat-race.
Still, I loved my job and therefore was more than happy to sacrifice a social life, sleep and a sure knowledge of exactly what day it was for my passion.
After all, I didn’t become a doctor because I thought it was going to be simple.
Still, while dragging myself out of bed, wishing I had spent another night on Michelle’s couch, my feet felt like lead and my body ached with resounding exhaustion. I slunk to the kitchen, made myself coffee, prayed that it was extra-strong, and prepared my bowl of cereal.
While I watched my sitcom, I laughed and started to come alive a little more, finally realizing that missing my morning routine to catch up on a few more minutes of sleep wouldn’t have been worth it. After all, I thoroughly enjoy my routine.
When my show was over, I ran to the bathroom, exchanged my towel for scrubs, and threw my hair into a bun before rushing out the door. I felt like I was always rushing but again, I’d known that was the life I chose when I decided to become a physician. My sister and others who were not in the medical profession couldn’t possibly understand.
Of course, it was difficult, with long days and sights that will stay with me until the day I die, but there were also the most rewarding experiences I could ever imagine. I loved the fact that I was able to save people’s lives on a daily ba
sis. I had always enjoyed helping people, however, becoming a doctor had taken that idealistic, almost adolescent joy and turned it into a daily reality.
I didn’t expect anyone to understand. I knew this was something that I was meant to do, so I had to take the good with the bad – and to be honest, no matter what happened, I couldn’t actually say that anything in my life was all that bad!
On my way to the hospital, I focused on the good things in my life, my accomplishments, and everything that I was blessed with.
So what if I don’t have a boyfriend, I found myself thinking. I have enough trouble spending time with Kassie and Michelle.
However, as much as I hated to admit it, Michelle’s comments the other day about me going out and meeting someone bothered me. I knew it shouldn’t. Life was too hectic right now for any kind of meaningful relationship and I was too old for one-night stands. I had learned that six months ago.
Therefore, until my life calmed down, I resolved that there was nothing that was going to convince me that I needed any kind of companionship.
“Good morning!” I called to Dr. Pierce as I walked into the break room, where I found him draining the rest of his coffee.
“Good morning, Jenna!” he answered in a manner that made me wonder if he had too much coffee. He grinned in a warm manner. “How was your day off? You mentioned you were going to your sister’s house?”
“Yes. We had fun. My niece put some sparkles in my hair, that I still haven’t gotten out. You should’ve seen it.” I chuckled and to my surprise, he laughed as I imagined he was visualizing my story.
“You should’ve had her do it again. We’d make it thematic. Everyone come in with a different color. Really freak the patients out.” His eyebrows rose and fell in a teasing manner.
“Oh God,” I responded, thinking about it. “How was your day yesterday? Did you play golf?”
