7. Chapter 6
Chapter 6
Seb
When I wake up the morning after Kyrie’s party, Rollie has already left for work; the spot next to me in our bed is cool to the touch. He was asleep when I got home. I tried not to wake him when I crawled into bed next to him after scrubbing away the lingering traces of Steven’s scent.
Rollie didn’t wake fully, but he threw an arm and a leg over me, snuggling into me like I used to do with my clutchmates when we were younger and migrated into the same bed after bad dreams.
This morning, half asleep, I want to roll into Rollie’s space and bury my nose in his pillows to inhale his sweet omega scent. Instead, I get up and trudge into the kitchen for coffee. Rollie left some in the pot for me. It’s still warm.
There’s a note next to my mug and I skim it as I sip my lukewarm coffee. I don’t bother with creamer or sugar. Too much effort, even though I prefer it sweet. I don’t deserve nice things after last night.
The note is simple and to the point: Call Bram about the zoo job today! We can talk about the mate/insurance fraud thing and getting our HRT side effects sorted over dinner. You promised after Kyrie’s party!
Fuck. A promise is a promise and I can’t have another night like last night. The siren song of the sea calling me toward the void kept replaying in my sleep. I’m afraid of what I might do if I don’t find a way to block it out.
I’ve lost track of how many times before this week my brother has offered to help me get hired at the zoo with him, but I couldn’t accept before. It is easier to parrot the same lines about exploitation that the elders caw about to warn young shifters against taking jobs in the static world.
Bram can’t argue against their wisdom and experience with statics the way he would if I told him the truth; I shouldn’t be anyone’s idea of who shifters are. I’m a disaster and the only thing I can be relied on to do with any consistency is being a fuckup. Better not to pretend I can be anything more.
Better to self-medicate with sex and booze. Except getting drunk only ever makes my intrusive thoughts louder and meaner. Not to mention the choices I made while drunk scared the people who care about me.
Heck, I scared myself the one time I parked at the top of an overlook near the coast with a full bottle and stared down into the waves until the contents of that bottle were sloshing in my belly. The drop into the waves seemed like a peaceful way out. A hazy slide into oblivion.
I called Rollie that night. To tell him I loved him so he’d know when I was gone. The keys were in the cupholder when I dialed. I’m not sure what I said, but it hurts too much to ask him to relive what he calls the worst night of his life. Whatever I said, it was enough for him to realize what I didn’t fully understand at the time. I called him because I needed help that I didn’t know how to ask for.
Rollie texted my brother to call 911 while he calmly kept me talking and everything else about that night is a blur. I might never recall the details of how I went from the driver’s seat to being back under my parent’s roof for the better part of a year while I figured out sobriety and dealt with the fallout of the DUI conviction from that night. Moments stand out in startling clarity.
I recall the ocean brine and the roar of the waves crashing into the rocks. The triumphant high of finally jamming the key into the ignition. The engine rumbling under me as I put the car in gear and rolled toward the wooden barrier that wouldn’t have stopped me from following through with my plan.
My ragged breathing echoed in the car as I told Rollie I was scared it would be cold. I remember begging him to tell me he’d forgive me while I nerved myself up to embrace the void that still lurks at the back of my head, a constant companion.
Rollie’s voice telling me to hold on a little longer. Flashing lights and rough, urgent hands pulling me out of the driver’s seat before I could do what I went to that remote overlook to do. I know from the reports that the police arrived before the ambulance. At the time, it was a haze of chaos and noise. It all added to the disorientation of waking up in the hospital with my righteously indignant family around me, my car impounded, and a court summons for driving under the influence.
I just know the only place I ever intended to drive that night was straight through the rickety wooden barrier in front of my parked car and into the ocean. Marin once told me he should do just that. Claimed he’d be doing the world a favor by ridding it of me as he swerved toward the guardrails separating the highway traffic from the bay. That night was the closest I’ve come to finishing the job for him. Not even Rollie knows that part. Rollie, who somehow cares about me and doesn’t deserve to have that care thrown back in his face. If I can’t take the job for myself, I have to do it for Rollie. To fix the medication situation if nothing else.
I call my brother.
“Hey, Seb, what’s up?” Bram answers, out of breath, just before his phone kicks me over to voicemail. In the background, Kyrie and Leighton are squabbling and Myra is complaining about her oatmeal.
“Sorry, you sound busy. I can call another time.” I’m an idiot for forgetting he’s busy in the mornings these days. Obviously, my brother doesn’t have time for my trivial bullshit when his kids need him.
“No, it’s fine. Ty’s just getting Myra out the door, and the twins are playing in their feathers, so it’s a little chaotic, but I can talk. How are you?”
Terrible; worse now that I’m listening in on your perfect life. I ignore the question that doesn’t have any good answers. “Rollie mentioned you two talked about the zoo needing more raven shifters?”
“We do! Are you interested? It would be fabulous if we could work together, Seb! Once this little one lets me shift again, we could all carpool. Actually, hang on, I bet Ty would bring you in to meet with Felix. Let me call and see if they can squeeze you in for an interview.”
“Today?” I all but squawk at his eagerness. I’m not ready. There are probably still flakes of jizz in my hair and everything.
“Sure, why not?” Bram asks, and he has a point. I can’t come up with a valid reason to put it off.
“Um, don’t these things take time?”
“They do—usually. But I have an in with the boss and I happen to know they are down all three of us ravens this week, so if you can start ASAP, I bet the job would be yours by the end of the morning. You’ll love it, Seb, all the attention, people pointing out your pretty feathers. I promise it’s fun, and if the crowds get to be too much, there are perches where you can be less in the thick of things, make them hunt for a glimpse of you, ya know?”
That’s…way too much. Bram is too much. But my inner raven likes the idea of being the subject of a live action ‘Where’s Waldo’ for a bunch of admiring strangers. Besides, I’m doing this for Rollie. So he can get on the correct dose of omega HRT instead of my DIY approach, giving him headaches and making him moody. “Okay.”
“Awesome! Just a second.” Bram muffles the receiver, but I still hear him calling to his mate. “Ty, can you bring my brother to the zoo with you after you drop off Myra? Yes, Seb. Obviously not Cory. I’m going to get him an interview with Felix.”
Ty’s reply is too soft for me to hear.
“No, I know. I’ll call as soon as I hang up, but he’s going to say yes.”
“Of course I’m sure. Here, I’ll call right now.” Bram’s voice gets louder as he addresses me again. “Seb? You still there?”
“Yes.” I can’t help but be amused at my brother’s unbridled enthusiasm. He’s too sweet for me to stay jealous that he’s got everything I want. I can ache for those things without begrudging him for having his doting mate and adorable children.
“Ty says he’ll be right over. I’ll call you back if the plan changes. Do you have a suit?”
“Yeah.” I grimace. I had to get a suit to appear in court for my DUI conviction. That’s an entire downward spiral I’d rather not dwell on. “I’ll go change. Thanks, Bram.”
“Anytime, Seb. I love you, bro.”
“Yeah, love you too. Tell the kids hi for me.”
“I will! Oh, shitake mushrooms, Leighton, honey, those curtains aren’t strong enough to hold a cub…” There’s an ominous creak followed by a loud crash. My muscles tense and my heart leaps to my throat at the implied threat to my nibling’s safety.
The miserable toddler wail that comes over the line in the next heartbeat doesn’t allay my fears, but it’s better than total silence. The next few words are faint as Bram goes to comfort his child. “It’s okay, baby, Daddy’s got you. You’re alright.” Leighton’s ongoing sniffling sobs imply otherwise. Bram yells to me. “Sorry, Seb, they’re fine, but I’ve got to let you go. Good luck!”
“Bye, tell the brats Uncle Seb loves them.” I raise my voice to be heard. Then I hang up; I doubt Bram’s close enough to his phone to do it himself. Hopefully he follows through on calling his boss, but even if he doesn’t, Ty can still bring me to the administrator’s office to fill out an application.
Ty picks me up before I have time to blow up Rollie’s phone with nervous texts about everything, from how sorry I am about last night to how nervous I am about applying to work at the zoo. I want to talk to him. To make sure we’re okay, but I have less than fifteen minutes to dress up for a potential interview, so there’s no time for everything we need to discuss. I scrawl a message at the bottom of Rollie’s note that I called Bram and reaffirming our promise to talk tonight.
Ty is presenting masc today, his style is just as whimsical as ever no matter how he’s presenting. Today he’s wearing a mustard yellow blazer with teal accents and a duck print on a teal pocket square along with his usual gruffly unreadable expression. I’m sure Bram loved the ducks. I smile to myself at how perfect the grumpy bear’s sweeter side is for my brother. Maybe someday I can be the sort of shifter who gets to have that kind of picture perfect life.
Ty and I make small talk about the kids and the party and my brother with ease. When we reach the Willowdale zoo where Ty and Bram met, Ty walks me to the main office where an efficient squirrel shifter with a baby napping in a Moses basket beside their desk greets me. I try not to react to the baby’s presence. I can handle this.
The newborn makes my heart ache with longing I can’t entirely ignore. There’s something so sweet and pure about the scent of a baby. I’m not looking forward to Bram’s upcoming birth. Having everything I want, but can never have shoved in my face again. Loving another tiny little shifter I can only ever hold for a few hours at a time before I have to hand them back.
“Hey, Pat, this is my brother-in-law, Seb. Bram called about getting him set up in the raven habitat?” Ty nudges me forward.
“That’s right, pleased to meet you, Seb.” Pat smiles at me, rising to offer a handshake. I oblige them.
“Happy to be here.” I paste on a smile.
“Oh, yes, slight change of plans since we spoke. Felix is actually dealing with a minor plumbing emergency in the polar pavilion, so he can’t meet with you right now. But Jolene handles the woodlands shifters and she can meet with you to go over the new hire orientation with you once you and I get your paperwork signed.”
“New hire?” I repeat, not quite connecting the dots.
“That is why you’re here, right?” Pat shoots a puzzled frown between me and Ty.
“Yes. Sorry. I just thought I needed to interview, or fill out an application…” Or else Bram isn’t exaggerating about just how desperate they are to hire a temporary replacement raven shifter for my brother’s clutch leave.
Pat waves away my concerns. “You’re going to be filling in for your brother in Ty’s habitat for the weekdays shift, right? Since the two of them vouch for you, I don’t see where we’d have any issues.”
“Um, I should probably disclose that I’ve got a record.” I mumble the admission toward my toes. It’s been an issue in the past. One of the many reasons I’ve mostly given up applying for jobs outside Four Corners and the safety net of our all-shifter community.
“Oh?” Pat quirks a brow at me, pausing in the middle of sliding the papers across their desk.
“Yeah. DUI. I’ve been sober since,” I explain.
“Oh, well, that’s not an issue for us. As long as you have reliable transportation for the duration of your contract?” Pat finishes sliding the papers in front of me.
“I do. So, it’s temporary?” My heart sinks. For a second there, it felt like I was actually valuable to someone.
“To start.” Pat nods and taps the papers. “I’ve got a parental leave replacement contract drawn up for you to sign today. If you want to stay on after Bram’s parental leave, we can discuss terms for a new contract before this one expires; how does that sound?”
“It sounds good.” I force out the words. I’ll have access to the medical coverage Rollie and I both need. I hope. Do they offer that to temp workers? Better ask. “Um, what about benefits? Bram mentioned medical coverage?”
“Yes.” Pat nods. “We offer full health coverage for shifters and their immediate families. That includes access to our staff physicians, all of whom are board specialized in shifter medicine. I’ll email you all the details once you fill out your contact information.”
“So, it will cover me and my mate?” I check, glancing at Ty in the hopes of conveying a warning to him not to give away my plans. His gruff expression reveals nothing.
“That’s right. We cover mates and any dependent children,” Pat says, smiling fondly down at the baby beside their desk.
“When can I sign up?” I ask.
“Right now, Ty, want to grab a coffee while Seb and I handle the contract? Then you can take him to meet Jolene outside your habitat.” The coffee is an obvious pretext to give me privacy with my paperwork.
“Sure. Are there any honey crullers today?” Ty goes along with it.
“There are, help yourself.” Pat points toward a break room. Ty shrugs out of his colorful blazer, draping it over one arm as he sweeps into the breakroom.
I draw up a chair within arm’s reach of the napping squirrel shifter baby to fill out the paperwork. When I get to the insurance form, I write in Rollie’s information under the line for my mate. If only that could be true. The bitter irony that I’m committing the same type of insurance fraud I once cautioned Bram against for our sister’s shoulder surgery isn’t lost on me.
I sleep in Rollie’s bed, share his home, and most of our meals. From the outside looking in, it would be hard for an insurance company to prove anything except that I’m a shitty mate with all my infidelity. That’s not untrue. I would be a shitty mate.
Still, for as long as it takes to get Rollie the care he needs, it might be best to keep up appearances. I’ll just have to be more discreet. Or maybe stop fucking around. That’s a small price to pay for Rollie’s health. I sign my lies with a flourish and follow meekly after Ty to go do the job my brother loves.
It’s not so bad; being admired in my feathers by a bunch of noisy tourists isn’t nearly as exciting as being admired by alphas at a bar or club, but it’s still a nice little ego boost. I try to ignore all the children running around outside the plexiglass.
The work could be worse. Bram was right that it’s nice to be admired in my feathers. All I really have to do is sit around and preen for an admiring crowd. Ty even offers me some of the choicer bits and berries he forages from the enrichment toy another of the keepers delivers to the habitat a little before noon. I suspect that Bram asked Ty to be extra nice to me.
That, or my brother and his mate are both trying to lure me into liking this job. Which is fair, considering my past issues with sticking to anything for more than a couple of months. It’s only the first day, but it already feels like this might be different.
Jolene is nice enough, if a bit busy and distracted. By my lunch break, she has my parking pass and security badge taped to the locker I’m using in the changing area. I hesitate before dialing the number for the zoo’s shifter health clinic that she scribbled on the back of her card and handed to me during our whirlwind orientation this morning. It doesn’t feel quite real to be able to call and schedule this appointment. My palms are sweaty and I crumple the little square of stiff paper in my fist.
I remind myself that I’m doing this for Rollie. Bram, incorrigible gossip that he is, says that Dr. Martinez can fix just about anything that’s wrong with a shifter. Even help avian omegas with creep sire a child. It’s not the same as bearing a clutch of my own, but it’s something. Even if the thought of it makes me sort of shudder.
There’s a typical pre-recorded message, and then I take a deep steadying breath as I punch in the extension for zoo staff to reach scheduling. It’s too surreal to think that Rollie and I might actually get to see a shifter specialist who can sort out our HRT. I hate asking for help, but this isn’t for me, it’s for Rollie, so I hold the line as it rings and rings.
My mind wanders back to Bram’s gossip about how this doctor helped his boss, Felix, and his trans alpha mate have their kids. What would be like to sire a clutch? Panic grips my chest at the thought. I don’t like the idea of being disconnected from my clutch like that. It’s not how I ever pictured having a family. For years, I planned to carry my babies under my heart, like my brother. Bram is so happy and round and glowing and I want what he has with a visceral yearning.
The idea of knocking up some omega who gets to have everything I wanted with my child is… too much. It makes my insides feel squirmy. I’m not an alpha. I don’t want to be an alpha or have an alpha body. Even if it means I could have a clutch of my own some day. It wouldn’t be the same. Would it?
For the briefest moment, I can picture Rollie round with a litter of my kits and, okay, I might be alright with that. Except Rollie doesn’t have heats. He was born a beta, and while we haven’t discussed his exact anatomy, male betas generally don’t have a womb, so no amount of HRT is going to give him a fertile heat.
I know he’s got some static human anatomy instead of a cloaca and that’s not what I’m used to. It’s possible I could be wrong, but as far as I know, Rollie carrying a pregnancy is impossible. The only omega I’d even consider going on the wrong hormones to impregnate isn’t an option, so it’s a moot point.
How is the phone still ringing? Jolene said I should be able to get right through on this extension. Then again, it is lunchtime. I flatten the crumpled card against my thigh and try to calm my unsteady breathing before I go into a full on panic. I huff out an aggravated sound that would definitely be a scolding squawk if I was in my feathers. So of course that’s when someone picks up on the other end.
“Willowdale employee health, Terry speaking.” The voice on the other end sounds bored with a thin veneer of customer service chipperness.
“Hi, um, I’m a new temporary hire, but I was told that my mate and I could book appointments regarding medication prescribing and testing for creep?” I wince at how tentative and rambling I sound. My voice pitches up at the end in a plaintive whine. If I have to smell like an alpha, why can’t I also have their seemingly unending confidence to go with it?
At least I didn’t stumble over calling Rollie my mate. The lie trips from my tongue far too easily, a seductive glimpse of a life I gave up on wanting when the alpha I gave all of my firsts to turned his back on me.
“Sure,” Terry clacks away on a keyboard. “I just need your name and date of birth, as well as your mate’s information.”
I relay the information and Terry makes a tsking sound.
“Hm, it looks like you’re not in the system yet. Have you received the medical coverage paperwork yet?” Terry asks.
“Um, maybe? I filled out a whole stack of paperwork this morning.” I rack my memory for the specific paperwork.
Pat confirmed everything Bram told me about being eligible for healthcare through the zoo clinic. It still seems too good to be true, but Pat cited something about the zoo’s mandate prioritizing shifter health. So that means even temporary workers are fully covered. Maybe I’d have believed in that earnest altruism in another lifetime, but I just skimmed the paperwork that the squirrel shifter pushed in front of me and started filling in the details on autopilot, taking the good for as long as it lasts and worrying about how to handle it ending when that hammer falls.
“Ah, that would do it. In case no one mentioned, our health policy here is…” Distantly, I’m aware of Terry reciting some practiced spiel about all the many and wonderful benefits of becoming part of the Willowdale family of shifters.
Terry clears his throat on the phone, drawing my attention back to the call. “Are you still there?”
“Yes, sorry. I, uh, could you repeat the question?”
Terry sighs. “I’m sure you’ve had a ton of policy thrown at you all day during orientation, so I’ll keep it simple for now. For any urgent health concerns, I can put you on our cancelation list for an appointment. But if you just filed the paperwork, it can take up to a week for your information to be put into the system to schedule a regular appointment and to issue health cards good for any facility that offers shifter healthcare. If we call you with a cancelation at the zoo clinic in the meantime, as long as your mate is listed on your personnel file, the only thing you both need to bring to your appointment is your employee badge as proof of coverage. Any relevant medical records are also helpful.”
“Oh, uh. I guess we should just wait for the cards to arrive once we get processed, then?”
“Not at all. Before you convince yourself it’s not a priority, uncontrolled or poorly managed creep is considered urgent by our shifter specialists, so you and your mate are going on the cancelation list. Is there anything else I can help you with today?”
“Um, no, I guess not?”
“Great, in that case, we’ll call when we have an appointment for you. Dr. Martinez tries to keep wait times for creep related care under a month.”
I hang up, waiting for another month isn’t that bad. Hope that Terry might call back soon is warring with the worry that this temp job isn’t actually going to last that long. How could it last when I always fuck up every good thing?
The irrational urge to destroy that stubborn kernel of budding hope floods through me, driving me to just shove the shiny new employee badge into the locker that smells like my brother. Slam it closed, walk right out of the zoo. It would be so easy to go find some bottle to crawl into the bottom of, or failing that, a stranger to fuck all the emotions out of me until everyone can see me the way I do—nothing but used up garbage.
I stand there, leaning against the thin metal door until it creaks under my human weight. I draw in a deep steadying breath and my lungs fill up with Ty’s concerned scent and Bram’s sweet pineapple warmth. If I walk off this job, it would hurt them. And it would hurt Rollie.
I toss my phone into the locker. The low battery indicator is flashing as it drops below ten percent, so that will be dead by the end of my shift. That’s what I get for not tossing the faulty charging cable that only works at just the right angle. Oh well. I shove my crumpled clothes on top of it, nudge the door shut and shift. Good thing Ty has an extra car charger for after work.
The emotions are different in my feathers. Clearer. My raven knows what it needs, what matters with a decisive simplicity my human side could never match. I ache for my flock.
I hop my way across the concrete floor of the employees only area, through the annoying plastic flaps that cover the bear-sized doorway even though there’s an open window near the eaves with perches on either side for the ravens to use now that my brother and his workmates are a permanent part of Ty’s habitat here.
I don’t feel like flying. It’s too much effort. Too lonely to fly when no one else here has the wings to join me, too desolate to call for a flock that won’t call back. Instead, I strut my way across the packed dirt of Ty’s well-worn path to his favorite napping den and flap noisily up onto his shoulder. Despite his furry bulk, I’m careful to be gentle with my talons as I tuck my beak into his fur to doze in the shady den through the afternoon heat.
Ty isn’t my clutchmate, but the big bear alpha still smells like family. He only snuffles and nudges his nose against my tailfeathers when I snuggle next to him in the artificial cave. It’s his territory. I shouldn’t feel so safe invading an alpha bear’s space while he sleeps. But Ty smells of Bram, and the overpowering alpha musk of him drowns out the wrongness of my own scent for a little while.
We stay like that for a long time. I only stir from my cozy perch when the keeper I’ve heard about in all my brother’s work stories brings some sort of enrichment toy that looks like a large plastic barrel for Ty to play with and I flap my way up to the nearest perch with a good view of the crowd. My nap again, and the time in my feathers settles the edgy need to run away from my own skin. At least for now.
The announcement warning the zoo visitors that we’re closing soon startles me out of my roost when it sounds over the zoo PA system. I fluff out my feathers with a disgruntled squawk and preen them irritably. Ty, who was snoozing below me before the announcement, snorts in amusement and I croak at him.
He rises up on his rear legs and uses the trunk of the tree I’m perched on to scratch his back. I flex my claws into the bark. A distant part of me recalls my brother mentioning some ridiculous territorial dispute over this tree when the pair started dating and how that somehow translated into feelings for Ty. My brother is welcome to his weird interpretation of how flirting works.
I stretch my wings and prepare to glide into the changing area to shift out of my feathers for the drive home. If I go now, I can probably avoid shifting in front of my brother’s mate. It’s one thing to touch Ty’s bear, it’s another to shift together, alone in an enclosed space.
Ty apparently had the same thought, because he doesn’t come lumbering through the plastic flaps until I’ve shut my locker and opened the exterior door to leave. The bear sits on his haunches in front of his locker and waits patiently for me to shut the door behind me before shifting. Shifter senses mean I can hear him rummaging through his things to get dressed.
“Wait right there and I’ll drive us home. Bram insists that you and Rollie are joining us for dinner to celebrate your first day,” Ty says, knowing I’ll hear him through the door vents
“Cool. Sounds good,” I mumble back, suppressing a groan.
Bram is terrible at minding his own business. I’ve basically given up on expecting him not to meddle. Dinner to grill me about my first day at the zoo is tame compared to all but emotionally strong arming me into taking the job though. For all that he has boundary issues, I love Bram. And he’s gotten better just by virtue of constantly being busy managing his kids’ schedules. My human side is grumpy at being roped into an evening surrounded by his happy family.
My inner raven preens in delight at being included in the flock. At the chance to dote on my niblings and maybe take to my feathers with other ravens for a while. I haven’t spent nearly enough time on the wing lately. Maybe that’s part of why everything has felt so out of control.
Sure, that’s the problem; I’m not shifting enough. It’s not that I’ve cut my dose by another third to make sure Rollie gets the right amount of hormones, since the conversion from avian to mammalian shifter dosing is different for this formulation.
“Ready?” Ty asks as he steps through the door, his blazer in place despite the heat of the day.
“Yeah, can’t wait,” I agree. And if I meant it to be snarky, I fall short, landing somewhere between earnest and eager.
“Good, we have a few things to pick up on the way first.” Ty gestures for me to lead the way toward the employee exit.
The motion set his layers of bangles to clacking on his wrist. The mismatched collection is very clearly made up of gifts from my brother, but Ty wears them daily and smiles sweetly when he notices me looking at the gaudy collection large enough to rival my own. Or the one I’ve decked Rollie in for years. I swallow down how it makes me feel to acknowledge that Rollie and Ty both dress like they’re mated to raven shifters in that sense.
I arch a brow and just barely bite back a snarky comment about him wearing my brother’s heart on his sleeve. Just because I want to be able to claim Rollie with that same openness is no reason to take out my mood on Ty. With how kind Ty is being, that would be a poor way to repay him.
Ty seems to read my face anyway, but he only glances pointedly at the shiny rings on my fingers, each a gift from Rollie or one of my sibs. The hodgepodge of pins on my faded denim jacket is made up mostly of gifts from Rollie too. Priceless treasures, the lot of them. Okay. Point conceded. Raven shifter stereotypes might have a basis in reality, and Rollie might share that same impulse to collect treasures and share them with his loved ones.
I try not to think too hard about the collection of pretties on Rollie’s bedside table. Or the way I never see him leave the house without one of my gifts displayed. It’s too painful to think about the day when he finds a mate and stops wearing my affection so openly. At least that habit will make it easier to sell our little deception long enough to get the medication we both need sorted out.