33 Xavier
33
XAVIER
W ELL, IF IT isn’t the threat to feminism,” Jesse said as I walked into Donna’s.
Mike and Chris were cracking up. I ignored them and sat down.
I hadn’t seen them since I got back from California over a month ago, so they’d been waiting a while to use that joke.
It was Sunday, Christmas Eve, at seven in the morning. I’d just gotten off the graveyard shift at the ER. I was going into the clinic from eight to noon to wrap up a few things before the holiday and then I was running from there to another ER shift from one to nine. Normally I’d get to go home and sleep for a bit, but someone had called out, and covering for them meant I’d get paid time and a half for the holiday. It was too much money to pass up. Every shift was one part of an airline ticket. That’s how I lived my life now, in flier miles.
Mike handed me a menu. “Where you been at, man?”
“It’s a long story,” I mumbled. “I’ve been working seven days.”
“The volunteer stuff?” Chris asked.
I looked at the menu. “No. I’ve been picking up shifts at the ER.”
“For what?” Mike said.
“The money. So I can see Samantha.”
I set the menu down and rubbed my eyes.
I was exhausted.
Mike looked me over. “Dude… you look like shit.”
“I feel like shit,” I admitted.
“How long are you gonna have to keep this up?” Mike asked.
“Forever?” I said.
“Until she moves back?” Jesse said.
“She’s not moving back,” I said.
“So how’s that gonna work?” Chris asked.
“I’m going to see her as much as I can. She’s going to come here when she can.”
Jesse was studying me. “And then what?”
“I don’t know.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose.
I had never been more tired in my life. Not when I was in veterinary school and working two jobs, never. And I’d never been this happy and miserable simultaneously.
Being this far away from Samantha was brutal. It was like starving, all the time. Getting a taste of something every few weeks and never getting full and then going back to starving again.
We weren’t together for Thanksgiving. I wasn’t with anyone. I worked at the ER for the overtime. I wouldn’t see her for Christmas tomorrow either. But she was coming out the day after that and then we’d get to spend the week at the cabin with everyone, so at least I had that payoff to look forward to. But after that? Who knew. The financial situation wasn’t great. For either of us.
I wasn’t in this alone, we shared the cost of seeing each other. She bought her own ticket for the cabin trip, but that was all she could afford for the next few months. She was paying on a home equity loan for house repairs now and she wasn’t in any better shape to pay for travel than I was—and only I could pick up side jobs and overtime. Her work didn’t offer OT and she took care of her mom. It had to be me to bridge the gap.
“Damn,” Jesse said. “I don’t know how you’re doing it. I’d hate it if I couldn’t see my girl for a month.”
“What day’s Samantha flying in?” Chris asked.
“The twenty-sixth.”
“I hope the weather holds up,” Jesse said. “We’re supposed to get dumped on. They said sixteen inches or something.”
Mike waved him off. “Eh, that’s tomorrow. Should be cleaned up by Tuesday.”
“Glad it’s happening on Christmas,” Jesse said. “So nobody has to drive in it.”
“I have to drive in it,” Chris and I said in unison.
He was a pharmacist, and I had the ER shift. I dreaded the commute tomorrow.
Jesse nodded at me. “Hey, I know you don’t like to talk about it, but I saw your dad the other day.”
I was about to tell him I didn’t care, but he put his hand up.
“Dude’s getting audited.”
I scoffed. “I know. My mom mentioned it.”
Mike pulled his face back. “Diana? When’d you talk to her?”
“She called me. It’s a long story,” I said.
Jesse was grinning. “That fucker is so screwed. Remember how he used to brag that he didn’t ever file his taxes?”
“Karma,” Chris said.
The corner of my lip went up.
“That asshole’s having the year he deserves,” Mike said. “Finally.” He laughed. “Mom said his profile popped up on Facebook and she clicked it just to see, and he was bitching and moaning about junk mail and campaign texts.”
“Imagine not knowing how to unsubscribe,” Jesse said. “Idiot.”
Normally hearing about my parents was the last thing I wanted, but this actually made my day.
I ordered. When Janessa was jotting down what the guys wanted, I opened up Instagram and went to Murkle’s Mustard. I got so little time to do anything these days, I hadn’t seen what Samatha was up to online. She told me a bit about it, but I hadn’t seen her work with my own eyes.
The last Murkle’s post was a graphic with a mustard bottle wrapped in a red bow. It read,
You know what they want for Christmas? Probably not a mustard gift basket, but let’s be honest, you’ve had worse ideas.
The caption said to check out the link in their bio. It took me to the gift basket on the Murkle’s website with the words SOLD OUT under it.
I smiled. She was so good at this.
She told me they’d had two thousand of these and that the CEO didn’t expect to sell them all. She’d had to push him for higher inventory and she’d been right.
I was so proud of her.
She was right when she said once that to do her job you had to “get” people. I couldn’t conceive of a world in which I’d be able to convince someone to buy a mustard gift basket.
“You still been lifting, right?” Mike said, handing his sister his menu.
“A little at home. I don’t have time for the gym,” I said.
“You don’t wanna lose those gains,” he said.
Ha.
I needed to run a business, make enough to see my girlfriend, and somehow maintain my upper body strength. I’d be lucky if I got five hours of sleep a night at this point.
We ate and I had to leave before everyone else to make it to the clinic by opening time. I was in the office checking lab results when Maggie tapped on the door.
“What’s up?” I said, not looking over at her.
“There’s someone here to see you.”
“Who?” I said, talking to my screen.
Tina popped up over her shoulder. “Don’t be mad.”
I raised my head and looked back and forth between them. “Why would I be mad?”
Maggie licked her lips. “We had an idea.”
“A good idea,” Tina said quickly.
Usually when these two had a “good idea” it involved something like me dressing up as a giant Chihuahua to hand out candy in the local summer parade.
“I think it’s going to be a win-win for everyone,” Maggie said. “And we really want you to consider it.”
Tina was nodding emphatically.
“What did you do?” I said slowly.
“Just… go meet him,” Maggie begged. “Please.”
I swiveled to face them. “I’m going to need more information.”
“He’ll tell you everything,” Maggie said. “Just talk to him.”
Tina gave me prayer hands.
I looked at the two of them for another long moment. Then I got up and went to see who was waiting for me.
I don’t know what I’d been expecting, but the man on the bench by the reception desk was not it. He stood when he saw me, a hat in his hand.
He had to be at least eighty.
He wore suspenders and had a head full of wild gray hair and bushy gray eyebrows.
“Dr. Rush?” he said, putting out a hand. “I’m Dr. Hank.”
I shook it, still not knowing what was going on.
“I was hoping I could have a moment of your time,” he said.
I glanced back at Maggie and Tina. They were peeking around the corner watching us.
I nodded to room three. “Please.”
I followed him into the exam room and closed the door.
He sat slowly like his knees hurt and set his hat on the chair next to him.
“You’re probably wondering what I’m doing here,” he said, after I’d taken my seat. “Did the ladies tell you anything?”
“They did not.”
He chuckled a little. “They’re a pair.” He shook his head. “I’ll cut right to it then. I would like to come work for you.”
I stared at him.
He put a hand up. “I know, I’m old. Hear me out. I’ve got fifty-five years of vetting under my belt. I owned my own clinics for most of that. I know how hard those first few years can be and I think I can help.”
“I’m sorry—Hank? I’ve explained this to them, I can’t afford another doctor—”
“I’ll work for free.”
I blinked at him.
“You’ll work for free,” I said slowly.
“I don’t need the money. What I need is people. Socialization. I need something to look forward to every day. Something to get me up and out of bed, keep me moving.”
“You can volunteer,” I said, shaking my head. “There’s plenty of rescues that will take you.”
“But they don’t have them,” he said, pointing at the door. “Before the ladies came to work for you, they worked for me.”
I straightened. “Dr. Brekken?”
“That’s me.”
Dr. Hank Brekken. I knew him—of him. He’d retired, sold his practice. I’d hired Maggie and Tina as a pair two months after his clinic shuttered two years ago.
“I just want to work with my people again,” he said. “I want to see my friends. They take care of me—I’m sure you know. They like to feed you.”
I let out a dry laugh. “Yes. They do. Why close the practice if you weren’t ready to retire?” I asked.
He sighed. “Well, the long answer is my business partner was ready to retire. I was slowing down, and it was getting harder to be on my feet that much. My knees aren’t as young as they used to be. The short answer is my wife was dying. Cancer. I wanted to spend as much time with her as I could.”
“Oh. I’m sorry,” I said.
He nodded. “She passed away four months ago. I don’t have any kids, and my family’s gone. I’m trying to stay busy. It’s easy to just let yourself go when something like this happens and… well. Anyhow. That’s where I’m at. I ran into Maggie last week and she mentioned you might have something for me. Figured I should give it a shot.”
I studied him. “I don’t feel right not paying you.”
He shrugged. “Pay me enough for the tank of gas to get here, then, if it makes you feel better. But I really don’t need it. My house is paid off, and I’ve got plenty in my savings, more than I’ll ever spend. Heck, I’d pay you. Coming here is cheaper than a gym.”
I let a breath out through my nose. “What kind of schedule are you looking for?”
“Something easy. Every other day maybe, just to give me a chance to recover from the day before. I go to church Sundays, so I’d prefer to be off then, but I could help out in a pinch.”
“So two, three days a week?”
“That would be perfect. And much appreciated.”
I sat back and looked at him. This was the answer to so many of my problems. I could take an extra day off to stay longer in California without having to close the office while I was gone. I could sleep on days I picked up graveyard shifts instead of running from one job to the next. Take a sick day without canceling on patients, double up the number of animals we could see on the days we both worked… It felt like an act of God that he was sitting here. I still couldn’t quit the ER, but at least this would improve my current quality of life.
I couldn’t see how I could say no. So I didn’t. “Welcome to the team.”
We shook on it.
When we went out to tell Maggie and Tina, they started screaming and ran to hug him. Then they started hugging me .
My phone rang and saved me. It was Samantha. I wriggled out of the PDA and swiped to answer.
“Hey—”
“Xavier…”
I froze. She was crying. “What’s wrong?”
Everyone stopped talking and looked at me.
“It’s my grandma. She didn’t wake up this morning. She died.”