Page 14 of The Doctor's Surprise Family

The kid who’d kicked the ball had come up to the window, and now he knocked, and he mouthed asorry. Claire smiled,no worries, and wiped up her soup. I shot the kid the OK sign and he jogged off.

“You think you’ll want kids someday?”

Claire looked up. “What?”

“Kids.”

“Oh.” She watched the boy kick the ball back to his friends. “Probably someday. Yeah, I think so. But not till I’m settled, with a house and a yard. Kids need a yard, or they kick balls into windows.”

“Sir? You okay? Can I take your order?”

I realized I’d zoned out watching the empty park, grinning a big, stupid, faraway grin. “Sorry,” I said. “Meatball sub combo. What’s your soup of the day?”

“Veggie medley, or you can sub fries if you want.”

“Nah, the soup’s fine. And a root beer. Thanks.”

My meal came out quick, and I sat and ate it. I scrolled my phone while I did, only half seeing it. It’d been a mistake coming here, sitting at our old table, eating the same sub I’d split so often with Claire. The taste and the smell made it feel like no time had passed. Like my four years in Munich had been a dream. There’d been times it had felt like one, working the trauma ward,patients lifted in from the worst kinds of war zones. Running on no sleep and high-octane panic, pushing down everything butright now. What now?It was like that sometimes, an endlesswhat now— bleeding that wouldn’t stop. What was my next move? Blood pressure dropping. What next? Organs shutting down. Cold setting in. What next? Too late. I set my sub down half-eaten.

“Should I wrap that up for you?”

“Nah, that’s okay.” My voice had gone rough, and I finished my root beer. “Guess my eyes were just bigger than my stomach.”

I headed out of the diner, but I wasn’t ready to go home. I had nothing there waiting but my bed and my suitcase, not even a book. I’d finished mine on the plane. I figured I’d swing by Smart’s Reads for another, but when I got there, I saw Claire in the window. Or rather, I saw a head of dark hair, and I flashed back to us at the bus stop.

“What are you reading?” Claire tilted my book, trying to check out the title. I tilted it back before she made me drop it.

“Just some Western.The Time it Never Rained.”

“Didn’t they make a movie of that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. If you saw it, don’t spoil me.”

“How could I spoil you? It’s all in the title. It never rained. That’s the story. The end.”

I laughed, because from what I’d read, she was kind of right. I laughed in real life too, back in the present, and a guy walking by skirted wide to avoid me. The big, ugly guy laughing alone in the street. Not a good look. I moved on, embarrassed. It had been a mistake renting a place near my old one, ground zerofor memories, both fond and unwelcome. Maybe I shouldn’t have come here at all. I should’ve listened to Marco, my buddy in Munich:Why would you waste your leave hanging around Memphis? It’s not like your family’s there, or most of your friends. If it was me, I’d hit up Vegas.

I could still go, I guessed, hop a quick flight to Vegas. But once I got there, what would I do? Gamble? I’d lose, then I’d be broke with six weeks to kill, and I’d sit in my room with nothing to do. I could do that fine here, and a lot cheaper.

I headed out past the bookshop and past the bars where the students went, out where the streets were less familiar. I walked a long time stuck inwhat nowmode, just my next step, then which way at the corner. Wait for the light to turn. Walk. Wait some more. Right foot, left foot, breathe in through the nose. Life was less complicated, lived in the moment. No past, no future. Right foot, left foot.

I came to a park in a nice neighborhood, trees and tall swing sets. A big shiny slide. No one was around, so I sat on the slide, right on the end of it where the metal was warm. I listened to the wind playing songs in the leaves and the uneven splash of a fountain nearby. The day was a cool one, but the grass still smelled warm. The earth still smelled fertile, busy with growth. I closed my eyes and breathed deep of it and tried to feel… something. Whatever I was supposed to feel, being back home.

I was still sitting there breathing when a dog barked nearby. It burst out of the trees to the west of the park and came bounding toward me, its tongue hanging out. I stuck my hands up.

“Whoa, there. Easy, boy.”

The dog barked again, not a mean bark. Pure joy. It jumped up on me with its paws on my knees, and slurped on my hand when I pushed it away.

“Hey, now. Behave.” I eased the dog off my lap. He was a big boy, a golden retriever, a lot like the one I’d met at Claire’s parents. I mussed his big ears and scratched under his scruff, and he leaned into me, enjoying the attention.

“You here with somebody?” I cast about for his owner. The dog thrust his nose up into my crotch. “Go on, get out of there. You know that’s bad manners.”

“Buster?” Her voice floated out from the trees, and at first I was sure it was like at the bookshop — a head of black hair, and I saw Claire. But the dog, wasn’t Claire’s dog also called Buster? And wasn’t that her stepping into the light? Her smile slowly fading as her eyes locked with mine, as the color drained out of her familiar, shocked face?

“Sorry,” I called, not knowing what else to say. I gave Buster a push. “Go on to your mama.”

Buster didn’t listen. He nosed up on my pocket. He was smelling my pretzels, I guessed, from the plane.

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