Page 22 of Doctor One Night

Carly puts her hand on mine. “You’re an amazing scientist and daughter. I know your mom is so proud of you.”

I nod, as the familiar surge of determination rises in me. “I can’t bring her back, but if my work saves even one person, it’ll be worth it.”

Carly doesn’t say anything for a moment, just lets me sit with my thoughts as I take another bite of the noodles.

The flavors filling the place are rich and comforting, like home cooking, reminding me of the way the aromas of my mother’s cooking filled the house. This gives new meaning to the phrase “comfort food.”

We sit in comfortable silence for a while, just enjoying the food and the warmth of the restaurant. Moments like these remind me how important it is to have someone like Carly in my life—someone who understands, who doesn’t push too hard but knows when to be there. She’s a good friend, and I’m lucky to have her.

I start to tell her about the letter I got from my father last week, but I don't have the energy to go into all of that with her right now. I'm still not sure what I am going to do about it. My instinct is to do nothing, but with only one surviving parent and no siblings, there is a tiny part of me that wants to see if there is even a tiny connection there before he is gone, too.

Maybe we can choose our families. Carly is my family—I don't need to reach out to a man who abandoned me for over fifteen years, who only reaches out because he knows his time is limited and he some guilt he wants to assuage.

As we finish our meal, a sense of peace settles over me. The day might have been exhausting, but this moment, this connection with Carly, makes it all worth it. I’m grateful to have a friend that lets me bring my mom up and have a piece of her here with us.

We pay the bill and head out into the evening, the cool air a refreshing change from the warmth of the restaurant. As we walk back to the car, we lock arms. Finishing up a successful, full day together, even if we spent it shopping, brings me a deep sense of satisfaction.

7:42 pm

The water is still warm after a long bath. The scent of lavender and eucalyptus fill the bathroom as I sink deeper into the tub. It’s been a full day. Shopping with Carly, trying on dress after dress, and then dinner that left me both physically full and emotionally spent… I’ve had enough extrovert activities to fill an entire month for me.

Now, in the quiet of my house, I can finally let the tension melt away.The Epsom salts soothe my tired muscles, and I close my eyes, letting the soft flicker of the candle and the calming fragrance of essential oils wash over me. This is my sanctuary, the one place where I can shut out the world and just be.

I stay there for a while, soaking in the silence until the water starts to cool. Reluctantly, I sit up, reaching for the towel I’ve draped over the side of the tub. The air is cooler than the water, and a slight shiver runs through me as I step out and wrap the towel around myself.

Just as I’m about to blow out the candles, there’s a knock on the door.

I freeze, my heart skipping a beat. It’s Saturday night, and I’m not expecting anyone. Who would be stopping by at this hour? For a moment, I consider ignoring it, but the knock comes again, a little more insistent this time.

Quickly, I slip into my robe, tying it tightly around my waist as I head toward the door. My wet hair drips onto the floor, leaving a trail behind me, but I barely notice. My mind is racing, trying to figure out who it could be.

I press my eye to the peephole, squinting to get a better look at the figure standing on the other side. When I see who it is, my breath catches in my throat.

It’s him.

I only recognize him because of the commercials for his used car business—the same ones that play during late-night TV, with his face plastered all over them. The man standing at my door, the one I haven’t seen in person since I was barely a teenager, is my father.

My hands shake as I back away from the door, my mind reeling. What is he doing here? At this hour? I’ll give him one thing, he sure has gotten persistent. That would have been helpful when I was a kid.

Another knock, this one softer, almost hesitant.

I swallow hard, the knot in my stomach tightening as I try to make sense of what’s happening. My father—this stranger—standing at my door on a Saturday night.

I don’t know what to do, what to say. A thousand thoughts race through my mind, but I can’t seem to focus on any of them. All I know is that everything I thought I’d buried, everything I thought I’d moved on from, is suddenly right in front of me, waiting on the other side of that door.

But I need to know why he’s here before I call the cops.

EIGHT

Hunter

Monday, May 20

UAB Hospital

5:08 pm

It’s been a day that feels twice as long as the hours say it’s been. Finishing my last appointment for the day, a routine post-op check-up that went smoother than expected when my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out and see a message from Frankie.

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