Chapter 23
Sydney
“Thank you for coming in on such short notice, Mr. Humphries. We had a cancelation for next Thursday, so we can add you to the operating room schedule to have your gallbladder removed then.”
The man before me looks both grateful and gaunt. This poor thirty-year-old has probably aged ten years in the last six months. He’s had ongoing pain in his upper abdomen, requiring multiple visits to the emergency room. While the CT scan and ultrasound results have never shown any issues with the gallbladder, we discussed possible removal at his last ER visit. I know both he and the ER providers are frustrated he continues to return in pain, with still no concrete answers in sight.
The last time I evaluated him, his symptoms had resolved with medication, and he was anxious to go home. He asked if he could give it more thought before going under the knife. Understandable since we have no clear indication it is his gallbladder. Yet, imaging isn’t a foolproof science. He may not have an infected gallbladder or evidence of gallstones on testing, but his pain is always located in the same location of his right upper quadrant. If we remove the gallbladder and his pain, nausea, and decreased appetite finally improve, we have our answer.
“The surgery will be performed laparoscopically. Several small incisions will be made, and a long tube with a tiny camera at the end will be advanced through one of the openings. This camera sends a video of the inside of the abdomen to a computer screen. This allows me to visualize and take out the gallbladder using small surgical tools. It’s much less invasive than an open surgery. The entire procedure usually lasts less than two hours.”
“Will I be awake?”
“No. We perform the procedure under general anesthesia. You’ll be asleep and pain free.”
“What does the recovery look like? For my job.”
“Most patients are home within twenty-four-hours versus an open surgery, where you’d have to stay in hospital for anywhere from three days to a week. And your recovery time with that would be longer. With laparoscopic surgery, you can resume normal, non-strenuous activities in about three days. It’ll be longer if you have a manual job.”
“No. I sit at a desk most of the day. I hate to sound like a wimp, but my body has been through the wringer over the last six months. And I’ve lost a lot of weight. Haven’t tolerated the gym. Will there be much pain associated with the surgery?”
“You are no wimp. You’ve had a really difficult time. It can be hard on the mind as well as the body when we don’t have the answers needed to help you heal,” I try to reassure him. “Typically, the pain is minimal. Your abdomen may be sore. The small incision sites may be as well. Occasionally, patients complain about shoulder pain for the first day or two. This is usually caused by gas left in your abdomen during the operation.”
“Oh. That doesn’t sound any worse than what I’ve been through already.”
“Exactly. And while I do have to review the list of risks associated with the surgery, they are very low versus an open procedure. There is a risk of bleeding, infection, blood clots, injury to the bile duct that carries bile from the gallbladder to the small intestine, liver injury, numbness at the incision site, and hernia. And as with all surgeries requiring general anesthesia, there’s the very rare chance of heart problems, stroke, or death.”
He shakes his head, as most patients do, after hearing the list of possibilities that I legally have to provide.
I stand and make my way around my desk. “It sounds daunting, but we do these procedures all the time.”
“I know. But hearing it out loud is different than reading it.” He chuckles nervously.
“I understand. But I want you to be fully informed. If you get home and have any reservations or additional questions arise, please don’t hesitate to call me. My nurse will be in with you shortly to have you sign some consent forms, review getting your pre-operative lab work as well as what to expect the day of surgery. I’m hopeful this will take care of your recurrent abdominal pain.”
“Oh, I sure hope so, Dr. Cunningham. Thank you for calling me in. I feel I’m in the best possible hands to get this finally taken care of.”
As I walk from the patient exam room back to my office, I cover my mouth to stifle a heavy yawn.
“Don’t do that. It’s contagious, I tell you.” Dr. Weston mimics my yawn in overdramatic style. “Not sleeping well?”
“Not really. Just have a lot going on.” I point to my head.
He nods in understanding. “Syd, you probably should consider taking some time off. I don’t think you’ve taken any real time in, well…”
My wedding is what he’s trying to avoid saying.
“It’s been so busy lately. It’s hard to contemplate time off.”
Broadie shakes his head and laughs. “Don’t turn into me. I barely remember my thirties for working all of the time. Which wouldn’t be a big deal, except I missed out on so much with my girls.”
“Not a problem,” I sing song, trying to cover for how much this fact has been doing a number on me lately.
He moves into my office and drops into the chair facing me. “But kids or no kids, you need to stop working so hard you miss out on living. You and a girlfriend pack your bags and come stay at my resort in Jamaica. Heck, if your friends can’t coordinate the time off, come down and spend it with Poppy. She’d love to show you around the place.”
I nibble on my lower lip, considering his words. The last few months since Matteo started coming back around have been stressful. And as much as I’ve enjoyed having him bring the physical pleasure I’ve sorely missed, it’s doing a number on my heart. If the other night has proven anything, it’s that there is no way I can do casual hookups with my ex-husband. Husband. Oh, whatever.
“You may be right. I really appreciate the offer. Can I think about it? The time off would be nice. My friend, Genni, might be able to tag along. I need to check her schedule. But I’d love to spend some time with Poppy while we’re there if she’s free.”
“She’d love that. My girl is long overdue for a girls’ trip. She did a few with my daughters, right after we got married, but the girls have become quite busy. You remember how it was in your twenties? Taking on the world around your busy social calendar.” He chuckles.
I give a halfhearted giggle. Thinking back, it appears I treated my twenties similarly to my thirties. Except then I worked at medical school, residency, and my fellowship while most people my age were traveling, going to nightclubs, and trying to find Mr. or Mrs. Right. “I wasn’t much different back then. You know how medical school was. It required hard work and dedication. There wasn’t much room in my life for social things.” Well, besides the events my parents demanded I attend.
Broadie pushes up from the chair. “Yes, I could see that with you. I wasn’t too different. Just try to find a way to enjoy life a little, Syd. Take it from this old guy. You blink, and you could miss it.” He flashes me a dimpled grin before returning to his office.
He’s right. I don’t have to have all of the answers right now. Whether I contact a new lawyer and end this farce of a marriage, decide to use a sperm donor and have a child before I regret missing the chance, or simply marking something off of my bucket list, I need to return to the living. The work will always be here.
Perhaps a short trip to Jamaica could be the perfect way to relax and clear my head. Consider what I really want out of life. Somewhere far away from my parents’ influence and Matteo’s interference.
Matteo . God, that man has been playing on repeat since the other night. He hadn’t attempted to sleep with me. Only focused on... what had he said? Taking care of me properly.
I bite the inside of my cheek to stifle a moan at the memory of the unexpected events of that night. It was probably best he hadn’t pushed for more, given I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing letting him back into my life.
It seemed easier to put my force field back in place before he could do or say anything else to get my hopes up. We were itching a scratch. More like a two-year history of hives , but whatever. I need to stop wishing for a miracle. Some way to excuse his past behavior and give me the green light to have more. Because it’s reckless, and I know it.
Looking down at my phone, the Italian translator app next to the language learning one comes in to view. Matteo had muttered a few Italian things to me in the throes of passion. A laugh rumbles to the surface. Think if I had stopped what we were doing long enough to ask him “how do you spell that?” he would’ve minded?
Bzzz. Bzzz.
Glancing down at the phone screen, I notice Genni’s name and grin.
“Hello.”
“Hey, Syd. What are you doing tonight?”
“Not a darn thing. Why, what did you have in mind?”
I can hear rustling on the phone line before she continues speaking. “I am heading out for the day and didn’t have any plans for dinner. Thought I would check and see if you and any of the girls were available.”
Looking at my watch, I realize it is close to quitting time. Where had the day gone? “Sure, I’d love that. Where would you like to meet?”
“I’d love a pizza. Want to meet at Mellow Mushroom? Say seven?”
“Works for me.”
“Great. I’ll reach out to the girls on the way home and see if either of them is free. If you get there before I do, order me a margarita.”
I giggle. “You do the same.”
Two hours later, I walk into Mellow Mushroom in the far west end of Richmond. It’s honestly my favorite place to grab pizza in the area. It has a young, eclectic vibe with copper ceilings and colorful lighting throughout. The bar is in a U shape with central glass shelving in the center, housing the various liquor bottles. During the day, it allows sunlight to illuminate the spirits, and the purple lighting along each shelf lights the space at night with a festive ambiance.
There’s rectangular booth style seating along the opposite wall to the bar and centrally, round tables housed inside of makeshift wine barrels seat up to eight.
“Hi. I’m meeting some friends for dinner. I’m a little early—”
“Sydney, over here!” Genni yells from the bar.
“It appears the party started without you.” The young hostess laughs.
Moving in their direction, I climb onto a barstool between Genni and Carol Ann.
“What took you so long? Heck, I have enough kids to qualify to run a daycare and made it here faster than you.”
“Maybe it’s because you have that many you raced over to the bar so fast,” Pepper goads.
“Damn straight.” Carol Ann lifts her bright red drink in the air in salute before taking a sip.
A short stocky woman who appears to be in her early thirties heads in our direction, her arms waving overhead like she’s trying to land a plane. “Carol Ann! How the heck are ya? I haven’t seen you in so long.”
“I’m good. Enjoying a grown up break with the girls.” She takes a long sip from her cocktail. I don’t miss the fact she hasn’t asked this woman how she’s been.
A gentleman approaches the stranger. “Dear, our table is ready.”
“Oh, okay. Carol Ann, let me know when you’re free. It’s been way too long. Byeeee.” She walks away with her husband, and we simultaneously turn to Carol Ann.
“I will absolutely not be doing that.”
“Ha.” Pepper snorts. “Why not?”
“Trust me, on the rare chance I get time away from my husband and kids, I won’t be spending it listening to that mind-numbing chatterbox going on and on. She’s so full of herself she could strut sitting down.”
“She can’t be that bad.” Genni laughs.
“Oh no? Why don’t I go introduce the two of you? She’ll pull your scrawny ass into a seat between her and Jethro and proceed to talk until your ears bleed. All the while, he’ll be accidentally letting his leg rub up against yours under the table.” Carol Ann lets her tongue drop out of her mouth in a gagging motion. “I mean, I’m busier than a moth in a mitten. The last place I want to spend my free time is with Bitsy Michaels.”
Pepper takes a sip of her cocktail, giving me a knowing glance. This girl. There’s just no explaining Carol Ann to anyone. You have to experience her in all her glory to understand our unconventional southern belle.
“This one time, I was waiting at a cub scout meetin’ for ’lil Skeeter to come out, and Bitsy told me about the time when she’d been abducted by aliens.” She smacks her hand on the table. “I’d love to know how long it took ’em to drop her ass right back here on earth.” Carol Ann takes a sip of her hurricane. “She missed her calling. She could be making ten times what Jethro probably gets paid if she went to work for the CIA. Who’d need water boarding with her around?”
I cover my mouth and chuckle, hoping I’m never on the sharp end of her tongue. “Carol Ann!”
“It’s the truth. Bitsy’s the reason they have to put instructions on shampoo bottles.”
The bartender comes over with my margarita as if he’s been babysitting it special for me until I arrived. “Ladies, I have it on good authority your table is ready. Can I carry any of your drinks for you?”
Carol Ann pipes up, “Why yes, Henley. You can. And I’ll tip you double if you watch my ass the whole way there.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’d be happy to oblige.” He actually bows, extending an arm for her to walk in front of him.
I spew my margarita back into the glass. Genni rubs my back, so accustomed to this by now, it’s almost a reflex.
“Henley, could you make my sweet friend a fresh margarita for the table?” Genni asks. “I think she forgot who she was sitting with for half a second.”
“You got it.” He winks. Placing Carol Ann’s drink down on the table, he pulls out her chair for her.
“I love a place with good service.” She slowly sits down, crossing her legs. “Something tells me you give good—”
“So is everyone getting pizza?” Pepper interjects before pretending to wipe her brow with her sleeve.
We quickly look over the menu, trying to contain our giggles, and order our dinner items before the overly flirtatious young bartender can escape.
“Just how many drinks did y’all have before I got here?”
“One,” Genni says. “I think Carol Ann is feeling a little frisky tonight.”
“I miss the days where a man could get my engine going without it needing a jump start halfway through the trip,” Carol Ann laments.
Pepper cocks her head in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“Well, most of the time Skeeter comes barking up my tree, I’m too tired to care. I just hope he’ll roll off me once the deed is done, so he doesn’t smother me to death. But the one time I’m in the mood for a lap around the track, and he gets a flat halfway through.”
“Oh, no.” Pepper’s hand flies over her mouth. Her voice drops to the predictable low tone she uses when she’s saying something unladylike. “Does he need Viagra?”
Carol Ann places her drink down in front of her with an uncharacteristically serious expression on her face. Tapping her chin, she proceeds. “How to answer. If he wants to get the job done, probably. But then I risk him wanting to put in extra hours at the track, if you know what I’m saying. The sex isn’t good enough that I’d suddenly be signing up for more, just because his willy is working a little better.”
“Oh, god. Is this what I have to look forward to?” Pepper asks with a look of fright on her face.
“No. Not all men have erectile dysfunction,” I share. The waiter deposits my fresh drink in front of me and my cheeks flare pink, wondering how much of that he was privy to. I quickly glance in Carol Ann’s direction, ensuring she has no further words of wisdom to share. I’d honestly like to finish this one without aspirating on it. “There are plenty of men in their forties who can make a woman forget her own name.” I sip.
Suddenly, all eyes are on me as Carol Ann’s finger whips in my direction. “You got laid!”
Startled, I blurt, “What? No.” I’m well aware my response is not convincing. But it’s hard to think on the fly with this crew. It’s like they all trained at Law & Order SVU with detective Olivia Benson.
“Do you think I just fell off the turnip truck? That’s a load of hogwash, and you know it.”
I shake my head, more at being called out by my uninhibited friend than at her goofy slang. See what I mean? They missed their calling. They could be in New York City solving crimes and booking pervs. Instead, they’re interrogating me in a yuppie pizza restaurant in Short Pump, Virginia.
“I’d bet my last cornbread crumb that’s a lie.”
I watch Genni’s face and shoulders relax as she transforms into the loving, big sisterly type required to coax more information from me. It’s their bad cop, good cop routine. Genni’s such a clever clogs, almost deceivingly so. She can charm your secrets out of you with her reassuring kindness, and you don’t even know what hit you. “What happened then? You know you can tell us anything. We listen, and we don’t judge.” She gives Carol Ann a warning glare.
Pepper laughs. “Oh my gosh, Genni. Your booktok is showing.”
Carol Ann leans in my direction. Her face a mask of seriousness. She only needs a flashlight, and I’ll start sweating like a murder suspect without an alibi. “Will you two hush! I need to know what this little hussy is hiding.”
Good grief. “So, I might’ve finally enjoyed a little action without my B.O.B.”
The server thankfully arrives with our dinner, providing a much-needed distraction from Carol Ann’s cross-examination. My eyes bounce from one platter to another, compiling a list of items for my Mellow Mushroom bucket list to try on my next visit. I’d grappled with trying the great white pizza this time, with mozzarella, provolone, feta cheese, and tomatoes on an olive oil and garlic base. But I decided at the last minute to stick with my tried and true, the Kosmic Karma. It has a red sauce covered with spinach, tomatoes, mozzarella, a swirl of pesto sauce. I’m practically drooling over my plate. “This looks so good.”
“Don’t think for a second you’re going to divert our attention to the food and away from your little action, ” Genni proclaims before digging in to her meat lovers house special.
“Okay, okay.” My cheeks heat. “So it was a really weird day and night. I came home from work needing to change my mood, only to get scared shitless when my oddball neighbor came to my backdoor holding a cat.”
“Oh, my gosh, Syd. That dude is a freak.” Genni bends her pizza slice in half before taking a bite. She looks across the table at Pepper and Carol Ann. “I picked her up one night, and he was planting flowers in the front yard wearing a helmet with a light on it.”
“I think he’s a night owl,” I say before nearly groaning in pleasure as the rich blend of tomatoes, herbs, and pesto hit my tongue.
Carol Ann swallows her bite of Funky Q chicken pizza. “He sounds as sharp as a mashed potato.”
Genni reaches over to pat my back, and I raise my hand, signaling I’m good. Carol Ann caught me between bites this time.
“So how did you get from the freak with the cat at your backdoor to—” Pepper gasps before dropping her volume again. “No way.” She covers her mouth with her hand as if in shock. “You got a little action from the mashed potato?”
Now I’m choking.
“Nice, Pepper. Is Carol Ann contagious?”
Carol Ann chuckles around a bite of food.
“No! After he left, Matteo was suddenly on my doorstep.”
Pepper dabs at her mouth. “Boy, that was an odd night.”
I shrug my shoulders, trying to downplay the rest of this conversation so I can enjoy my food and not get a lecture. “One thing led to another and…”
“Wait a gosh darn minute.” Carol Ann slaps the table, making me and all of the cutlery bounce. “That story’s got more holes than Skeeter’s fishing net.”
Genni leans in and whispers, “I thought you said you didn’t get laid.”
“I didn’t, exactly.” My gaze connects with hers before bouncing to each of my table mates like I’m at a ping-pong tournament. I verify the server isn’t anywhere near before trying to mouth “he ate me out.”
“Oh. My. God. He did that and didn’t want to do the deed afterward?” Carol Ann screeches.
I cover my face, mortified.
“Well, I’ll be doggone. And here I keep telling Skeeter to save his money. Why waste money on our anniversary when all I really want is for him to take the kids so I can have a nap. But hell on a cracker, I should’ve asked for that.”
Pepper nods, her eyes wide as they flick from Carol Ann back to me.
“How did that happen?” Genni asks.
“Boy, and I thought it’d been a long time since I’d gotten any.” Carol Ann lets out an exasperated huff. “You see, Genni, when a man kisses a girl…” she points her finger down to her lap.
Genni rolls her eyes. She looks around us quickly before dropping her tone. “No, how pray tell did you let your ex-husband go down on you?” Uh, I don’t even have the strength to explain he’s actually not an ex.
I put my pizza down, my appetite no longer what it was moments ago. “I don’t even know. One minute I was yelling at him, accusing him of following me, the next he had me pinned against the wall.” I don’t miss Pepper’s audible gulp before she picks up a laminated drink menu from the table and starts to fan herself with it. “By the time he was between my legs, I didn’t have the willpower to tell him to stop.”
“Geez. Who would?” Pepper agrees.
“But hot Italian tongue induced orgasm or not, nothing has changed. Right?” Carol Ann asks, her expression stoic.
My face falls. “No.” Nothing except I’m struggling even more to deal with the tornado of emotions I feel whenever I think of him.
Genni places her hand over mind. “Please be careful, Syd. I’m worried this could cause a major setback. It’s taken so long for you to want to get back out there. If he can’t commit to you, I’d walk away.”
Carol Ann shakes her head. “Hell with that noise. This is no walking matter. You need to run!”