Chapter Eight
brEANNA
TOSSING HALF-EATEN sandwiches and old fruit into the trash can, I curse Ricky under my breath.
He’s one of my vet techs who brings shit-loads of food every Monday morning to keep in the breakroom fridge to graze on through the week.
He calls it meal prepping, or whatever. What he doesn’t eat gets left when he goes home on Friday and stinks up the fridge until I throw it away.
He also likes to fancy himself a ‘fitness buff’ because he goes to the gym a few times a week. After growing up with military and ranch men, I know what buff looks like, and he ain’t it.
Grabbing one of my Diet Dr. Peppers from the top shelf, it’s cold in my hand as I crack it open and walk back to my office. I usually spend Sundays going over my books and checking supplies since I don’t have the budget for an assistant. Or an accounting person. Yet.
I also can’t afford to pay either of my vet techs or my one lone vet to take the on-call phone over the weekend, not yet anyway.
On-call salaries are nearly double on the weekends, and I’m about a year away from that luxury.
So I usually end up sleeping on the cot in my office on the weekends to be close to the patients.
Curling my leg under me in my office chair, I set my can of liquid breakfast next to my keyboard and start checking off supplies to add to my shopping list. I order most of my supplies from town in Claremore to support local businesses, all the others I order online to be delivered.
A key in the front door down the hall disrupts my focus as the door is closed and the bolt pushed back into place. “Morning!” Leslie yells from the front waiting area.
It’s her weekend to help with the boarded animals during the day. “Morning!” I yell back. “I’m in here.”
She chuckles and her boots clomp on the floor in the hall. “Where else would you be?”
Not looking away from my monitor, I smile. “You say that like I don’t have a life.”
In my periphery, I see her lean against the door, her arms crossed over her chest. “You don’t have a life.
” Leslie’s been with me from day one, she graduated from the veterinary program at Oklahoma State University just as construction for the hospital was wrapping up.
She was the best in her class, and I swooped her up.
Knowing I would need another vet on-site for those times I would be out of the office, I promised her I would help her pay for her large animal surgeon’s certification, which is a step beyond the doctorate of veterinary medicine.
It’s not cheap, but Dad helped me pay for all of my school. Because of him, I don’t have hundreds of thousands of dollars in school loans to pay, unlike most of my friends. It’s a trade-off, things might be tight now, but not forever.
Grabbing my pen to add to my list for Chuck’s Feed Store in town, I laugh and point it at her. “Ha! I’m not saying I’m Superwoman, but keep in mind that you’ve never seen us in the same room together.”
“Pfft! You’ve got the Superwoman work ethic, but you sure as shit don’t leave any room for a life outside of these walls.” She holds her hands up to indicate the walls of the hospital.
Setting my pen down, I lean back in my chair as I grab my soda and swivel to face her. “So? How’d it go?”
She shrugs her shoulder, her dark brown ponytail sliding off her shoulder. “I’ve had better.”
Leslie had a date last night with a woman she’s been flirting with at the QuikTrip a few miles down the road.
Usually, when her date goes well, she comes in here looking like death warmed over from being up all night, but today looks like she had plenty of sleep and got up in time to get ready for work.
I don’t care how she looks when she comes in on the weekends; she’s damn good at her job and I need someone who cares about this hospital as much as me.
My face falls with my shoulders. “Aww. I thought the chemistry was hot between you?” It’s all I’ve heard about for the past two weeks.
Rolling her green eyes, which give her an exotic look set in her perfect olive-toned skin, something I envy all the time, she pushes off the doorframe and goes to the desk to grab the clipboard with the list of animals in the boarding area.
“Well, apparently, she just recently discovered she ‘might’,” she holds up air quotes with the clipboard in her hand, “be gay.” She sticks her tongue out and pretends to gag.
“Oh.” I scrunch my face in disappointment. “Bummer.”
Turning toward me, she leans her jean’s clad hip against the desk. Her scrub top has pictures of Woody from Toy Story swinging a lasso all over it. Leslie has a very active dating life, so I get to hear all her stories.
“Yeeaaah, half-way through dinner, she decides to tell me she’s not sure if she’s gay, bi, or just experimenting.” She lifts her voice to a childlike tone and bobs her head as she says it with a nasally laugh, and then follows up with another eye roll.
“So, lack of experience is bad?” I slurp another sip of my soda and pull my foot up to set it on the edge of my chair in front of the leg I’m sitting on.
Leslie’s gorgeous, and men flirt with her all the time. Her hourglass figure, long legs, and big boobs never fail to get men falling all over themselves, but she always waves them away.
She crosses her arms over her chest, holding the clipboard against her.
“I date to have fun, not to be some kind of compass for travelers who don’t know which road to take.
I like it when women already know what they want.
If I’d known I was supposed to tip the scales to help her with her sexual ambivalence, I wouldn’t have wasted a Saturday night. ”
Almost snorting my soda through my nose, I set the can down and cough through the fizzing bubbles burning the back of my throat and making my eyes water as I laugh. “God, you sound like a man.”
She laughs as she smacks my back while I cough. When I finish and swipe the back of my hand across my chin to wipe off a drop of soda, she clicks her tongue and winks. “Sexual autonomy and a good ‘ol fashioned good time is not limited to a penis.”
I’m always giving her a hard time about how her habits and comments remind me of a man. She always laughs and tells me it’s just her confidence shining through because she knows what she wants.
Giving her a thumbs-up, I wipe the moisture from under my eyes and clear my throat. “I’ll just keep living vicariously through you.”
I didn’t date much when I was still in school, there just wasn’t time, and I kept telling myself I didn’t have time for men, but in all honesty, every time I dated, I just wasn’t into it. But in the past few years, I’ve only dated two men.
The first guy I met through my friend Stefanie about four years ago.
She was my dorm mate through undergrad, and my support in the early days when Kinley couldn’t come see me.
We shared an apartment when I started my residency and she got into grad school.
He was a fourth-year surgery student she met during her residency at the University of Oklahoma.
He was nice, a little full of himself, but we went on a few dates, and just to get it out of the way, I slept with him. It was over quickly, he didn’t make me come, and I ghosted him after I went home frustrated and holding back tears.
Because even after almost seven years, I still felt like I was cheating.
The second guy, Clay, I met when the hospital first started construction.
He was one of the contractors who were on site every time I stopped by, and he flirted with me shamelessly.
What finally got my attention wasn’t how attractive and fit he was; it was his sweetness.
Under the rough edges, the muscle, his gruffness with the men on site, he was always a sweet gentleman.
He was patient with me when I moved at a snail’s pace and made everything we did about pleasing me. If I weren’t so fucked up in the head, I would have latched onto him and not let go.
We dated casually, at my insistence, for about six months before he asked for more. He told me he was in love with me and wanted to take the next step and move in together. I liked him, a lot, but I didn’t love him. God, I wanted to. He was a damn good man, but I just couldn’t make myself love him.
I’ve only truly loved once before, and I haven’t felt that again.
But even if I could have made myself love Clay, he wouldn’t feel the same if he knew I would never give him children. ‘It’s highly unlikely you’ll ever carry to term.’ No man wants a woman he can’t start a family with.
Since we broke up last year, he’s called me twice. I missed him at first, and I tried to see if things could work. We went on a few dates, I spent the night at his place, but I just couldn’t make myself feel the same way he did. We haven’t spoken in about eight months.
So, until I can get my heart and head on the same page, I told Leslie I would be happy with hearing about her dating life.
Leslie looks at the clipboard and starts ticking off duties, lifting her finger with each one. “Sooooo, ICU patient is stable, stats look good. Bandages on patient in stall three are fresh and wrapped. Aaaand, it looks like all I need to do right now is feed everyone.”
“Yep,” I say and pop the p. “Hey, don’t forget that I’m having dinner with my family this afternoon. I should be back by five, but if I’m not, it won’t be long after. Is that okay?”
“Sure. No worries.” She cocks her eyebrow as she looks at me. “I’ll call us square if you’ll bring me a plate of whatever mouthwatering goodness your sisters cook up today.”
Clicking my tongue with a wink, I point my finger at her like I’m pointing a gun. “Deal.”