12. It’s Just Paint
Chapter twelve
It’s Just Paint
Stanley
The next day…
It feels like everyone is moving forward but me.
Edward has a child now, and Drake’s mostly gone back to his old self.
He’s been grumpy and out of sorts for the past week before going back to his jovial nature, making him unpredictable.
I never know what kind of day I’m going to have with his rollercoastering emotions.
What he hasn’t stopped doing is flirting with almost every loved one who shows up to the emergency room.
If I had to make an informed guess, it feels like he’s doubling down and trying way too hard.
But he’s an adult man and I’m not his parent.
If he wants to keep going down this road and continue to make himself miserable, that’s his choice.
I just wish I didn’t have to hear about it every time he gets his heart broken.
But where does that leave me? I can’t remember the last time I went on a date or even talked to anyone in my age range, outside of the hospital staff. And even then, I don’t want to date anyone at work. That always makes things more complicated than they need to be.
The majority of my free time is spent campaigning for funding, taking care of hospital paperwork, and dealing with insurance forms to ensure my patients aren’t being bled dry.
“You have a new patient in room 412,” one of the nurses says to me in passing. I almost don’t hear her, being lost in my thoughts.
“Thank you. Could you help me take some vitals?”
The nurse looks stunned that I’m even asking. Is she new here? I don’t recognize her.
I quickly glance at her name tag. “Richards.”
“I’m just supposed to be doing autoclave and sterilization.”
“Well, time to try something new. You have to start somewhere, right?”
What the hell am I doing?
She follows me like a lamb being led to the lion’s den, her hands empty of the usual things a nurse would bring with them to a new patient’s room. Which is fine; I plan on doing all of the talking just so she can observe.
Thankfully, the meeting is only a few minutes, getting a name, making a cursory examination, and making a few mental notes on what could be ailing them. It’s best to let a new patient get settled in before I start poking and prodding at them.
Maybe things don’t have to be as complicated as I make them out to be.
“What time do you get off shift later?” I ask quietly under my breath. “There’s a new deli I’ve been meaning to try and I’d like the company.”
Her face and neck flush red. This is already going poorly.
“Uh, are you asking me out on a date?”
“Not at all. You’re new here. We could invite a few of the other nurses, make an afternoon of it. My treat.”
Good save, loser.
“I do have a break around 1:30.” She idly twists her fingers together. Cute.
“Great, I’ll see you then.”
Despite the smile on my face as I release her from her “duty,” my heart sinks into the bottom of my chest. Maybe that was a little too try-hard. God knows I don’t know if I’m able to try that out again. I should have dated more in my younger years, that’s for sure.
“Hey, are you free tomorrow morning?” Ed knocks on my office door and pokes his head in.
“Depends.”
“I’m going to need some help changing out my home gym into Alex’s room.”
Look at him moving forward with his life.
“So moving some stuff?”
“Possibly painting a couple of walls and installing a bed. Shouldn’t take more than a couple hours to get it done.”
I glance out the window. The sun’s shining pretty bright. It shouldn’t take too long for the paint to dry in this weather.
“Pizza and beer?” I ask. I don’t intend on working for free.
“Absolutely. I don’t expect you to do all this for free.”
I chuckle under my breath.
“Just as long as you finally introduce me to your son. I could use some youth in my life.”
“How’s the funding going?”
“Same as always. Poorly. Once you hit a certain age, people stop caring about you.” I loosen my tie and kick my feet up on my desk. “No one ever thinks they’re going to need this kind of care until it happens to them.”
Ed steps in and closes the door behind him. His expression twists into something else unreadable.
“I was going to wait until tomorrow, but I want to ask you and Drake something important.”
“It’s not babysitting duty, is it?!”
“Kind... of...?” Ed runs a hand over his head. “I was going to ask if you two could be his godfathers.”
Okay, that’s not the kind of news I was expecting.
“I...um...” I don’t think I’ve ever been left so speechless before in my life.
“You don’t have to say yes. I know all of this is last minute, but I know that if something were to happen to me, you guys would have my back. You’d do right by Alexander.”
“Ed, I’m flattered you’d ask. How could I say no?”
“Good.” He shoves his hands into his pockets. “Because you were starting to look like a sad sack in that chair and I needed to remind you somehow that you’re not as alone as you think you are.”
I’m that transparent, huh?
“I can always rely on you for one thing, Ed, and that’s taking a kindhearted gesture and tarnishing it with your humor.”
The next day…
“This isn’t the color I would have chosen.”
“Then it’s a good thing it’s not in your house, Drake. Now can you please tape around the light sockets and stop complaining?”
Listening to these two bicker over painting a child’s bedroom wasn’t how I wanted to spend my Saturday.
My expectations were set high: that this would be a fun time to catch up, sit back with some pizza, and get something accomplished, all while learning more about Alexander.
Instead, his father and Drake can’t go five minutes without having something new to complain about.
“Hey, Ed, why don’t you go check on your kid and see if he needs a snack or water or something?” I suggest. Anything to stop this yelling from getting out of hand.
He stares at me for a few seconds before he tosses his paintbrush into the empty pan and storms off.
“Good riddance,” Drake mutters under his breath. I slap a dry paintbrush against the back of his head.
“What’s your problem?! We came here to help him out, not question every decision he’s made in interior design.”
“Who paints their son’s room light green?!” Drake rubs the sore spot on his head, staring down at the soggy roller in his hand.
“One, why is that a problem, and two, who cares!? If that’s what Ed wants, then we give him what he wants. Alex picked out this color.”
“Because a four-year-old knows what he’s talking about.”
I swear to God, I’m going to pour this can of paint down this man’s throat.
“Ed is trying to make this place feel welcoming to his son,” I seethe quietly through gritted teeth. “Which means getting his input. Why should his son feel like a stranger in the place that’s going to be his new home? Why the hell does that make you so upset?”
Drake pouts and slaps the roller on the wall to fill in an empty spot, wet paint running down and flowing over the socket.
“Goddammit!”
I reach over and grab the roller from his hands and quickly thumb away the wet paint before it can do too much damage.
“Tape. Them. Weren’t you listening?”
Drake has that far-off look in his eyes before he grabs the roll of blue tape and rips off a piece with his teeth.
“I swear, I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately. One day, you’re fine, the next, you’re like a rhino in a museum of glass. Something’s up with you, Drake.”
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing. And honestly, I’m tired of you acting like it is... How’s that patient of yours doing anyway?”
“Which patient?” He adjusts the tape around the socket, trying to get the edges straight.
“The one you prescribed the codeine for.”
He pauses in his movements for a split second before ripping another piece.
“Fine. Doing better. You want a beer? I’m going to go grab a beer.”
He tosses the roll of tape into my lap and leaves without another word, leaving me to finish up the task he started.
I don’t think I like what’s happening to Drake, but getting him to talk about it is going to be like pulling teeth. If he wants to keep it his business, fine, but he doesn’t have to take it out on the rest of us.