3. Miles
CHAPTER 3
MILES
I was pleasantly buzzed when Brian showed up, late and red-faced with snow in his hair. He grabbed the stool next to mine and peered up at the TV.
“Hey. What’s the score?”
I smiled. “Game’s just starting.”
“You wouldn’t believe the traffic out there. Oh, hey—” He waved for the barkeep. “I’ll have my usual. And one for him.”
The barkeep drew Brian’s pilsner, and a pale ale for me. Brian took a long swig and let out an ahh. I chuckled.
“Long day?”
“The longest. Or, no. Work wasn’t bad. Nothing but hernias, a nice, easy board. But then I get off, and I hit the worst traffic, and this moron in front of me is honking his horn. And I don’t mean one honk to vent his frustration. Every time we’d inch forward, he’d do it again — I mean a long honk. Ba-aa-aa-aaaaaa .”
“Is that a duck or a car horn?”
Brian just shrugged. He slurped some more lager. “How about you? How’s the new partner?”
I drained half my ale and closed my eyes as my head spun. “Don’t ask.”
“He can’t be that bad.”
“She. And she is. I’d put her right up with… remember Dr. Baby?”
We both groaned at that, and Brian crossed himself.
“What do they say, speak of the devil? I swear, if you’ve summoned her?—”
“Didn’t she move to Chicago?”
“She could’ve moved to the moon, and it’d still be too close.” Brian shuddered. “That high, creepy voice…”
I grabbed for some chips to soak up the ale. Dr. Baby had been the bane of Brian’s residency. Her real name had been Kowalski, or something like that, but she’d had a penchant for baby talk, deployed to talk down to folks. To talk down to Brian, when she felt he’d screwed up. Which, according to him, she did all the time.
“She can’t be that bad,” said Brian. “Can oo hand me that scawpel? Or is that too much to ask?”
“She’s not mean or arrogant. And she talks normal. It’s just, she— she…” I ate a chip, trying to think how to put it. “She’s bouncy.”
Brian choked on his drink. “What, like the opening credits on Baywatch? ”
“No. Not like that. I mean she’s all… ugh. She’s all rainbows and unicorns. This total creampuff. Like, okay, we get called out for this frequent flyer, this lifelong drunk past hope or help. This guy doesn’t want help. He just wants to drink. Which, fine, it’s his life. What can you do? So he’s lost a boot and passed out in the park, four toes gone black before it’s called in. And Miss Sunshine’s fine all through the call. Points his puke-hole away from her without me having to tell her. But the second we’re done, she’s practically crying — isn’t there anything else we can do? Can’t we get him in rehab? A shelter somewhere? And I’m all… what are we? Social workers?” I let out a ragged breath and reached for my ale. My stomach felt sour. “Shit, I just heard myself.”
Brian’s lip curled. “No, I hear what you’re saying. I get certain patients, they’ve waited so long that it’s too late to help them, and I’m cutting into them just to stave off the end. Sometimes I get in, and I can’t even do that. All I can do is sigh and close up. I hate them sometimes, for putting me through that.”
We sat for a minute staring into our drinks. Had I been like Sophie, first starting out? Convinced I could save them all, however far gone? I pinched my lips together. No, I had not . I’d gone in eyes open, as far as anyone did.
“She’s too soft,” I said. “This job’ll destroy her.”
“It’s her first day. She’ll toughen up.”
“Like that intern you had, got sick in a patient?”
“He wasn’t my intern. And, no. Not like him. He washed out because he was an idiot, not because he got sick. She’s not an idiot, is she?”
She wasn’t, that I could see, but I wasn’t ready to drop it. “Jury’s still out on that. She wears sparkly shoes.”
Brian laughed. “On the job?”
“No, of course not. But I saw her bag in the change room, and her shoes sticking out. They were sparkly and pink, like a little kid’s shoes.”
Brian finished his drink and waved for another. I’d slowed down on mine. I had an early shift.
“She’s too happy,” I said. “Too… I don’t know. She’s never been through anything. She’s too na?ve. The shit we see in this job, no way she can take it. No way she lasts even three months. I feel bad for her, more than anything else.”
We sat sipping slowly and watching the game, and every so often, I’d remember some little tidbit, some further proof of Sophie’s unfitness. She was nervous, a fidgeter. She hummed while she worked. She wore strawberry lip balm like a fifth-grader. The whole bus smelled like strawberries by the end of our shift.
“Oh, and I think her mom packed her lunch.”
Brian laughed. “ What? ”
“She drew a heart on the bag, and XOXO.”
“Maybe she has a boyfriend. You think of that?”
“No way. No boyfriend.”
“How do you know?”
“Because at the end of her shift, she never looked at her phone. She got it out of her locker and stuck it straight in her bag. If she had a boyfriend, she’d have checked her texts.”
Brian cocked a brow. “You noticed all that?”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “What does that mean?”
He smirked. “It means, I came in and the game was just starting. And now, look at that.” He nodded at the TV. “That’s the end of first period. Forty-five minutes. You’ve been talking about Sophie this entire time.”
“No, I have not.”
“You fully have.” Brian waved for the bartender. “Hey, you heard, right?”
The bartender grimaced and turned away. I squinted up at the TV, the fans in the stands. The game was half over, like Brian said. Now he fixed me with an appraising look.
“I think you like her.”
“I think you’re drunk.”
“ I think you’re drunker, and you’re obsessed.”
I rolled my eyes and pushed my drink away. “You complained just as much about Dr. Baby. Is this you confessing you had a crush?”
“You bite your tongue.”
“I don’t like Sophie. She’s annoying, is all.”
Brian’s smirk widened. “But she’s cute, right?”
I leaned my elbows on the bar and buried my face in my hands. “I don’t know. Maybe. If that’s your type.”
“Well, what does she look like?”
I bit my tongue for real. She looked… she looked hot. But I couldn’t tell Brian that, or even imply it. He’d never quit teasing if he thought I had a crush. Which I didn’t. I was a grown-ass man. I could meet a cute girl and not lose my shit. Work with her, even. Piss her off. Watch her blush. She got mad like a cartoon, pink-cheeked, flint-eyed. A couple of puffs of steam out her ears, and she’d be… goddamn adorable, is what she’d be.
“Maybe I am drunk.”
“You had what, three beers?” Brian jogged my elbow. “C’mon, what’s she like?”
“Short,” I said. “Blonde. Baby-blue eyes.”
Brian whistled obnoxiously. “ Baby -blue, even.”
“What? They are. They’re sort of pale blue. And I guess, yeah, she’s curvy. She’s sort of cute. But she’s my partner, and like I said, she’s the worst.”
Brian waved for the bartender and ordered a water. I got one too, though I wasn’t driving. I lived close enough I could walk home from here. It’d been a while since I’d drunk at all, and my buzz had dulled into a low-grade headache.
“You should introduce us,” said Brian.
“What, you and Sophie?”
“I mean, you don’t want her. I like cute blondes. Plus, she’s a medic. We’d have something in common.”
I scowled at Brian. My mouth tasted sour. “Leave her alone,” I said.
“Someone’s possessive.”
I was tired of his teasing. No, I was just tired. It’d been a long day, and I’d hit my limit. I stood up. “It’s not that. It’s just, it’d be awkward. My best friend, my partner… don’t go there, okay?”
Brian sighed. “I get it. Don’t cross the streams.” He looked sad for a moment, and I felt bad. His divorce was still fresh, but his ex had moved on. She’d moved on, I thought, before they’d split up. While he was still hoping they might patch things up.
“I should go,” I said. “I have to be up at five for work.”
“Me too,” said Brian. “I stick around, I’ll just drink, and I’ll end up depressed. Drinks Friday though, yeah?”
“Yeah. See you then.”
I zipped up my coat and headed out of the bar, and the cold winter air hit me full in the face. I breathed it in deep and my headache eased back. Then I thought about Sophie, and it surged up full-force. Everything I’d said about her was true: she was peppy. Wide-eyed. Green as new grass. I wasn’t into her. That was insane. But the thought of her with Brian, the two of them dating, kissing in the parking lot after their shifts… no. No. Just, no . I didn’t need that. Not because I’d be jealous, but because it’d be awkward. She’d show up for bowling or after-work drinks, and that would be ruined. I’d lose my best friend.
I laughed and my breath plumed out, white with the cold. I wasn’t jealous of Brian. I was jealous of Sophie. Of her potential to steal my best friend.
“A crush. Yeah, right.” I chuckled again. As if that would happen, me and Pollyanna. We’d no more fit than chalk and cheese.