Now That You Mention It
Page 53
My mother, who’d been silent until now, whirled on Teeny Fletcher. “You better get an attitude adjustment, and fast, Louanne Peckins,” she snarled. Uh-oh. Using Teeny’s original name. I couldn’t help a smile.
“It was an accid—”
“Shut it,” Mom said. “I’ve had enough of your snipin’ and whinin’ all these years. Touch my daughter again, and I’ll punch you in the gawddamn throat.”
My mouth dropped open.
“And I’ll kick you,” added Poe. “Come on, Nora. You need a hot shower and clean clothes.”
And thus, surrounded by women I loved, I was escorted to my car.
Who knew falling off a dock would be, in some ways, the happiest moment of my life?
* * *
Seven hours later, we were having a rollicking good time up on the top deck of the houseboat. Roseline, Mom, Poe, Donna Krazinski, Xiaowen and Gloria—our little United Nations of womanhood, all of us eating and laughing and talking. I told them about the fun run—Xiaowen and I had come up with a name, Go Far, Be Strong, and Bob Dobbins had signed off on it. Donna thought it was a great idea. Even Mom said she’d help, and Poe only grumbled a little when I asked if she’d run.
“I’m not an exercise freak like you,” she said.
“I run four times a week. I’m hardly a freak.”
“No, you are,” Xiaowen said. “You’re right, Poe, but I need someone to run with, so you have to do it, or Serena Williams here will leave us in the dust.”
“Serena’s a tennis player,” Poe said.
“Do you think she can’t also run?”
“Good point.”
I was on call tonight, so Poe and I were drinking seltzer and cranberry juice—everyone else was having mojitos, made with my very own mint.
Mrs. K was a hoot, something I hadn’t known, and she got my mom to tell stories of horrible hotel guests—the man who got locked out of his room with a sock on his penis, the couple who insisted on doing it with the door propped open, the lady who got so drunk she threw up in the bathtub, then climbed in there to sleep.
Rosie and Poe were hitting it off—Rosie was telling Poe about a birth where the baby’s hand popped out first, like a little victory fist, and how she had to reach into the mother’s vagina with both hands to turn the baby’s head so he’d come out without breaking his shoulder. Poe looked suitably awestruck (and nauseous). Good old Roseline—there was no better birth control than gruesome tales from Labor and Delivery.
Audrey had replied to my text earlier—she was doing something with her mom, and she was so sorry not to be able to make it. I just about could hear the wistfulness in her words. She’d have had a great time with us, I thought, trying to squash my not-so-sweet thoughts about her mother and Teeny. But yeah, it might serve her to be around women who were a little nicer than those two.
“So I met someone,” Gloria announced as we sat down to eat. “A man who has a job, doesn’t live with his grandmother, is good-looking, age appropriate and wants children.”
“A unicorn?” I asked, and we all laughed.
“Where’d you meet?” Xiaowen asked.
“When I went back to Boston to see my family last time. He was wearing a green-and-gray rugby shirt—”
“No!” Xiaowen said.
“Dump him,” I said.
The rest of them looked confused. “What are you guys talking about?” Poe asked.
“He’s a Slytherin,” I explained. “Green and silver are the Slytherin colors.”
“You’re such a dork,” Poe said.
“That didn’t occur to me,” Gloria said, “since I’ve only read Harry Potter twice, like a normal person. Anyway, we were standing in line at Starbucks, the one by the ferries, you know? And the line was like, fifteen people long, so we got to talking, and he was really cute, and maybe I gave him my number.”
“Invite him out here,” I said. “So we can observe, advise and pass judgment.”
“No way,” Gloria said. “He doesn’t get to know where I live for at least a month. I didn’t even tell him my last name.”
“Why’s that, dear?” Donna asked.
“The last guy I dated ended up stalking me,” she said, waving her hand. “Nothing too bad, but you know, getting up to pee at 3:00 a.m. and seeing him standing on the sidewalk, looking up at my window? No, thank you.”
There was that cold, strong snake of fear sliding down my spine again. I cleared my throat. “What happened? I mean, how’d you get rid of him?”
“I called the police, my four brothers and my dad. You don’t want to mess around with that shit. Sorry for my language.”
“Totally justified,” Donna said. “Men are pigs. Well, many men are pigs. I’ve heard some aren’t.”
“So will you see Slytherin again?” Poe asked.
Just then, my cell phone buzzed. It was the clinic.
“Hey, Doc,” said Timmy, the nurse on duty (one of the men who wasn’t a pig). “Come on down! We’ve got a teenage girl with acute abdominal pain.”
“I’m on my way,” I said. “Ladies, I’m so sorry. I have to go to the clinic. Don’t wait for me. Mom, can you handle grilling the fish?”
“Your mother is an expert griller,” Donna said. “And I’ll help just in case.”
“Let us know when you’ll be back,” Gloria said, pouring herself more wine.
“We’ll try not to burn this place to the ground,” Xiaowen added. “No promises.”
I pulled out onto Spruce Brook Road, a little sorry to be leaving, a little excited to practice emergency medicine. The strep throat swabs on the Robinson twins yesterday didn’t really get the heart pumping (though the kids were super cute). And this would be right up my alley—abdominal pain. Given her age, appendicitis was possible. We’d have to ship her to Portland for that, and if I suspected an abscess or a rupture, I’d be going with her. Could also be pelvic inflammatory disease.
I got to the clinic in under ten minutes, went in and started washing my hands. Timmy came through the swinging doors from the exam area. “Sorry to call you in on a Saturday night,” he said.
“No worries,” I said. “What have we got?”
“The patient says she knows you. Audrey Fletcher? She’s here with her father and her grandmother, too.”
Audrey? Shit. I frowned and rinsed my hands, then pulled on my white doctor’s coat and went through the door.
Audrey was the only patient here, lying on the hospital bed in a little ball, changed into a johnny coat. Sullivan sat by her side, looking ten years older, rubbing her back. Teeny was fluttering about like an irritable moth. “When will the doctor get here?” she demanded just as I came in.
“I’m here,” I said, going to Audrey’s side. “Hey, kiddo. Not feeling so hot?”
“Pretty bad,” she whispered. Her knees were drawn up, and her eyes were wet. I patted her leg.
“Oh, wonderful. Isn’t there another doctor?” Teeny said.
“Mom, be quiet.” Sullivan looked at me, lines slashing his face with worry. “She started having a stomachache about an hour ago.”
I glanced at the computer screen where Tim had entered her vitals and chief complaint. Everything was normal except for a slightly elevated BP and pulse, which was normal for someone in pain.
“It was an accid—”
“Shut it,” Mom said. “I’ve had enough of your snipin’ and whinin’ all these years. Touch my daughter again, and I’ll punch you in the gawddamn throat.”
My mouth dropped open.
“And I’ll kick you,” added Poe. “Come on, Nora. You need a hot shower and clean clothes.”
And thus, surrounded by women I loved, I was escorted to my car.
Who knew falling off a dock would be, in some ways, the happiest moment of my life?
* * *
Seven hours later, we were having a rollicking good time up on the top deck of the houseboat. Roseline, Mom, Poe, Donna Krazinski, Xiaowen and Gloria—our little United Nations of womanhood, all of us eating and laughing and talking. I told them about the fun run—Xiaowen and I had come up with a name, Go Far, Be Strong, and Bob Dobbins had signed off on it. Donna thought it was a great idea. Even Mom said she’d help, and Poe only grumbled a little when I asked if she’d run.
“I’m not an exercise freak like you,” she said.
“I run four times a week. I’m hardly a freak.”
“No, you are,” Xiaowen said. “You’re right, Poe, but I need someone to run with, so you have to do it, or Serena Williams here will leave us in the dust.”
“Serena’s a tennis player,” Poe said.
“Do you think she can’t also run?”
“Good point.”
I was on call tonight, so Poe and I were drinking seltzer and cranberry juice—everyone else was having mojitos, made with my very own mint.
Mrs. K was a hoot, something I hadn’t known, and she got my mom to tell stories of horrible hotel guests—the man who got locked out of his room with a sock on his penis, the couple who insisted on doing it with the door propped open, the lady who got so drunk she threw up in the bathtub, then climbed in there to sleep.
Rosie and Poe were hitting it off—Rosie was telling Poe about a birth where the baby’s hand popped out first, like a little victory fist, and how she had to reach into the mother’s vagina with both hands to turn the baby’s head so he’d come out without breaking his shoulder. Poe looked suitably awestruck (and nauseous). Good old Roseline—there was no better birth control than gruesome tales from Labor and Delivery.
Audrey had replied to my text earlier—she was doing something with her mom, and she was so sorry not to be able to make it. I just about could hear the wistfulness in her words. She’d have had a great time with us, I thought, trying to squash my not-so-sweet thoughts about her mother and Teeny. But yeah, it might serve her to be around women who were a little nicer than those two.
“So I met someone,” Gloria announced as we sat down to eat. “A man who has a job, doesn’t live with his grandmother, is good-looking, age appropriate and wants children.”
“A unicorn?” I asked, and we all laughed.
“Where’d you meet?” Xiaowen asked.
“When I went back to Boston to see my family last time. He was wearing a green-and-gray rugby shirt—”
“No!” Xiaowen said.
“Dump him,” I said.
The rest of them looked confused. “What are you guys talking about?” Poe asked.
“He’s a Slytherin,” I explained. “Green and silver are the Slytherin colors.”
“You’re such a dork,” Poe said.
“That didn’t occur to me,” Gloria said, “since I’ve only read Harry Potter twice, like a normal person. Anyway, we were standing in line at Starbucks, the one by the ferries, you know? And the line was like, fifteen people long, so we got to talking, and he was really cute, and maybe I gave him my number.”
“Invite him out here,” I said. “So we can observe, advise and pass judgment.”
“No way,” Gloria said. “He doesn’t get to know where I live for at least a month. I didn’t even tell him my last name.”
“Why’s that, dear?” Donna asked.
“The last guy I dated ended up stalking me,” she said, waving her hand. “Nothing too bad, but you know, getting up to pee at 3:00 a.m. and seeing him standing on the sidewalk, looking up at my window? No, thank you.”
There was that cold, strong snake of fear sliding down my spine again. I cleared my throat. “What happened? I mean, how’d you get rid of him?”
“I called the police, my four brothers and my dad. You don’t want to mess around with that shit. Sorry for my language.”
“Totally justified,” Donna said. “Men are pigs. Well, many men are pigs. I’ve heard some aren’t.”
“So will you see Slytherin again?” Poe asked.
Just then, my cell phone buzzed. It was the clinic.
“Hey, Doc,” said Timmy, the nurse on duty (one of the men who wasn’t a pig). “Come on down! We’ve got a teenage girl with acute abdominal pain.”
“I’m on my way,” I said. “Ladies, I’m so sorry. I have to go to the clinic. Don’t wait for me. Mom, can you handle grilling the fish?”
“Your mother is an expert griller,” Donna said. “And I’ll help just in case.”
“Let us know when you’ll be back,” Gloria said, pouring herself more wine.
“We’ll try not to burn this place to the ground,” Xiaowen added. “No promises.”
I pulled out onto Spruce Brook Road, a little sorry to be leaving, a little excited to practice emergency medicine. The strep throat swabs on the Robinson twins yesterday didn’t really get the heart pumping (though the kids were super cute). And this would be right up my alley—abdominal pain. Given her age, appendicitis was possible. We’d have to ship her to Portland for that, and if I suspected an abscess or a rupture, I’d be going with her. Could also be pelvic inflammatory disease.
I got to the clinic in under ten minutes, went in and started washing my hands. Timmy came through the swinging doors from the exam area. “Sorry to call you in on a Saturday night,” he said.
“No worries,” I said. “What have we got?”
“The patient says she knows you. Audrey Fletcher? She’s here with her father and her grandmother, too.”
Audrey? Shit. I frowned and rinsed my hands, then pulled on my white doctor’s coat and went through the door.
Audrey was the only patient here, lying on the hospital bed in a little ball, changed into a johnny coat. Sullivan sat by her side, looking ten years older, rubbing her back. Teeny was fluttering about like an irritable moth. “When will the doctor get here?” she demanded just as I came in.
“I’m here,” I said, going to Audrey’s side. “Hey, kiddo. Not feeling so hot?”
“Pretty bad,” she whispered. Her knees were drawn up, and her eyes were wet. I patted her leg.
“Oh, wonderful. Isn’t there another doctor?” Teeny said.
“Mom, be quiet.” Sullivan looked at me, lines slashing his face with worry. “She started having a stomachache about an hour ago.”
I glanced at the computer screen where Tim had entered her vitals and chief complaint. Everything was normal except for a slightly elevated BP and pulse, which was normal for someone in pain.
