Chapter 11
THE HOSPITAL CAFETERIA buzzed with the sounds of orders being placed, chairs scraping under and out from bistro tables, and muffled conversations.
Thankful for the floor-to-ceiling windows that allowed sunrays to stream through the area, Solomon set his tray down on a round table.
His colleague Ben did the same, flipping his chair around to straddle it while he watched Solomon eat the dismal meal off today’s lunch menu.
It wasn’t the cafeteria’s fault Solomon had been born into a family that employed an abundance of spices with every dish.
“If you don’t like it, why do you still eat here?” Ben waved his hand toward the food Solomon pushed around his plate. “You are back at your outpatient clinic this afternoon anyway. Grab something on your way.”
“Because I sometimes enjoy the company.”
Ben raised his glass of cranberry juice in a toast.
“And because I’m lazy,” Solomon added with a smirk.
Ben nodded in agreement. “Traffic has been killer lately. So many new residents, without the roads to handle them.”
“Or the restaurant staff to manage all the orders.”
“Agreed. So we eat here.”
“And what eating plan is it for you this time?” Solomon lifted his glass to his lips. For an experienced surgeon, Ben was fickle with his eating habits. Every month he seemed to experiment with a new diet.
“I’m back to intermittent fasting. I guess.”
“You guess?” Solomon shoved a forkful of pale broccoli into his mouth.
“The menu didn’t have any options worthy enough to tempt me, and I’m trying to cut back on fast food.”
Solomon swallowed. “What happened to Paleo?”
“Janene did.” Ben ran a hand over his dirty-blond locks. “She said buying cold-pressed everything and all the Whole Foods groceries were disrupting our budget.”
Solomon chuckled. “Maybe you wouldn’t have to worry about that if you just sealed the deal . . . or terminated it.”
“Relationships are not contracts, bro.”
“Yeah, but they shouldn’t be treated so flippantly either.
” Solomon turned his attention to the rubbery chicken breast on his plate.
Boy, those were some self-righteous words he was giving his friend, considering his conversation with Kenya the other day.
But in his defense, that initial date with Kenya was months ago, and he’d essentially ended things before they went further.
And now he offered a safe in-between. For what, his paltry ankle therapy tips that wouldn’t be too different from what his colleague—her actual physical therapist—would say? Yeah, what a hypocrite.
He should probably call this whole thing off. He made a mental note to talk to Kenya after her next physical therapy session. He focused back on his friend’s flailing relationship. “You guys have been dating for how long, sharing how much?”
“Don’t remind me.” Ben winced.
“Well, maybe someone should remind your old-man self that it’s time to settle down. Or time to let her go.”
“Ouch.” Ben reared his head back, stretching out his arms and back. “That’s something coming from you. I can’t even remember the last time you mentioned a significant other.”
“If I did have one, you wouldn’t know anyway.” Solomon scoffed.
Ben crossed his arms over the top of his chair. “To keep things private, right?”
“To avoid conversations like this.” Solomon took a bite of bland chicken. Where were the ground crayfish, pepper, and palm oil when he needed them?
Solomon continued chewing, hoping his pause would shift the conversation—well, the one that he started.
But that didn’t seem to help the direction of his thoughts or the slight anticipation he felt thinking of that petite firecracker of a woman.
In just a week he’d found himself looking forward to being in the same room with her.
Kenya’s presence had broken up the mundane as he worked his way toward his certification.
Not to mention the way she made him smile, easier to do around her than with most. And that was amid her dealing with an injury.
“So much for being private.”
Solomon refocused on Ben, his eyebrows raised over a smirk. “What are you talking about, man?”
“I’m seeing a look that I don’t think I’ve seen before. Is there something—or really someone—you are not telling me about?”
“Neither.”
“I’m not convinced. Especially since you still haven’t given me details about what happened at the reception.” Ben huffed. “My love life can be put on full display but not yours?”
“I have no love life besides my family, whom I love.”
Solomon took one last bite of his meal, ignoring the fruit salad and roll. “And it’s too easy to comment on yours because you overshare.” He stood, triggering Ben to do the same. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way. You bring entertainment into my life.”
“Glad I could be of service,” Ben mumbled.
“And to show my gratitude”—Solomon dropped off his plate at the tray return—“your next food-plan experiment of a diet is on me.”
Ben grunted and placed his cup on the counter. “For that to happen, you actually have to come hang out with me and the guys. When was the last time you went out? And no, the reception doesn’t count and especially since you left early to rescue that damsel in distress.”
Solomon shot a look so quickly Ben laughed.
“Yeah, got ya.”
Solomon ignored him and pumped a dollop of hand sanitizer into his hands. Ben walked past it, but Solomon grabbed the bottle and forcefully pumped some drops onto Ben’s hands as well.
He rolled his eyes. “Thanks, Mom.”
“Don’t mention it.” Solomon grinned and clasped Ben’s shoulder.
“I feel like you’ve been so stressed out the past few months,” Ben continued.
“Have you forgotten the test that I have coming up?”
His friend shrugged. “You’ll pass that easy. Stop putting so much pressure on yourself.”
Solomon shook his head. That was hard to do when he felt the pressure from so many others. “Okay, so what do you have in mind? Do you wanna go check out a restaurant or catch a movie?”
Ben’s laugh rang out. “I see. Just like you to change the subject when things get too personal.”
Solomon raised his hands. “You’re the one talking about getting out. And no, I’m not trying to share all the reasons why I’m stressed. It is par for the course as a child of immigrants.”
Ben scoffed. “Dude, what are you talking about? It’s par for the course for the profession we’re in. That’s why I’m on all these food experiments. And working out. Gives me a distraction from the intensity here.”
“Touché,” Solomon acquiesced. “But now that my parents are in town, my free time is not as free as usual, and I’m going to have to spend a portion of that planning for my parents’ vow renewal.”
Ben whistled, digging his hands into the pockets of his scrubs. “Can you be any more boring? Planning a party for your parents?”
Solomon laughed. “Have you ever been to a Nigerian party?”
“No, but I’ll go if you invite me.”
“We’ll see if my sister will let me add you to the invite list.”
Ben side-eyed him as they stopped in front of the elevator. “You’re saying that like it’s not gonna happen.”
Solomon clasped his shoulder. “Because it’s probably not gonna happen.”
Ben shook his head with a chuckle.
At the elevator’s ding, Solomon waved at the exiting nurses.
He hit the button for the rehabilitation floor to get his things before heading to the Optima Clinic for his outpatient hours.
“Actually, none of it would be happening if I didn’t work something out with an event planner.
She’s going to be a huge help. Really vibrant and creative.
Perfect match for my parents.” He cleared his throat.
Glanced at his watch. Smoothed out a nonexistent wrinkle in his shirt.
Ben leaned against the elevator wall as it started its journey up. “Work something out, huh? You’re interested in her. I can see it all over you.”
“Man, you can’t see anything.” Solomon scoffed. “Can you just tell me what you’re planning for the next time you hang out so we can get back to our shifts and I can get away from this conversation?”
Ben smirked at Solomon’s dodge. “Hey, you’re not doing me any favors.
I’m just trying to alleviate your stress level.
” The door opened and Solomon stepped out, relieved.
Ben placed his hand on the door to keep it open.
“Let’s shake on it. That way I have an excuse to get out of the apartment on my day off because my girlfriend thinks you’re a good influence on me.
Then maybe our conversations will be a little more fun on future lunch breaks. ”
Solomon chuckled. The elevator dinged as they slapped, clasped, and shook each other’s hands.
“You are as corny as you were when I first met you,” Solomon said as Ben stepped back so the doors could close.
“But corny still gets the girls!”
SHAKE HER HAND, give your plan, get a second chance. Shake hand (no, that’s too formal), give plan (Kenya, you do have a plan, right?), hopefully get a second chance.
Kenya mentally repeated the words, letting the rhythm settle her breathing as she arrived at the office.
She caught up with Dedra and then scooted to her desk to hide her foot before others arrived to look at her with pity.
No doubt, many of them were aware of her nasty fall and her failure during her presentation last week.
At least she had managed to get all of the contents of her stomach into the trash can.
She wouldn’t have wanted to put any more stress on the cleaning crew.
But maybe she could salvage that presentation with a dazzling new one. Please, God. Shake hand—no, stand first, with confidence. Even though you have a boot. Because you’ve got this. Yes, stand. No ankle can stop you. You’re a Stewart. Stand. Give a dazzling plan, and—
“Kenya! There you are.” Her boss blew into her office.