Page 4 of Role Play
“You don’t like your job.You told me.”
My daughter’s stark honesty catches me off guard sometimes. At this age, the world is very black and white. She either likes something, or she doesn’t. She’s far too young to understand that while I don’t love my job, it’s the only way I’ve been able to stay afloat. I’m making more now than I would ever have as a lawyer. “But Daddy gets paid. That’s the difference.”
Surprisingly, she’s satisfied with that answer. Normally, Dakota’s a dog with a bone, following up everything I say with a “how come?”
“Go get your backpack from your cubby. I’ll be right there to tell Ms. Mazer I’m taking you home for the day.”
I linger in the doorway, watching Dakota skip down the hallway—clean, dry, and happy. I wait until I see her disappear into the pre-K class on the left. Kirsten approaches behind me, holding out the plastic bag of Dakota’s wet clothes.
“So, Ms. Mazer, huh?” I ask.
Kirsten raises her brows. “I guess in her books, princesses should work.”
I laugh. “I mean, Cinderella as the only princess with a job…. That can’t be right, can it?” We both squint our eyes as we rack our brains.
“Snow White took care of all those dwarves, I suppose?” Kirsten twists her lips, also stumped.
“I think they more so took care of her. And the animals did most of her chores.”
She nods slowly. “Right. Well, this is rather disturbing, Forrest. I need to go home to do some Disney research, because I can’t have Belle disrespected like that.”
I smile. “Ah,Beauty and the Beastfan, hm?”
“All of the Disney princess movies, really. Only the originals though. These remakes are giving me severe anxiety.” We share in an awkward chuckle, and then it’s time to address the elephant in the room. In my experience, head-on is the best way to approach it.
“Kirsten, about earlier, you seem really nice and I know ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ is a lame excuse, but I know I’d be a disappointment. My job has me working all hours of the night. Outside of that, my daughter is really all I have time for. My circumstances are too messed up right now. You deserve a guy who can focus on you.”
She rolls her eyes but pairs it with a soft smile. “Honest, hot, and clearly communicates. Now you’re just not playing fair.”
My gaze drops to the pattern of rainbow squares on the floor as I suck in my lips. After letting out a deep exhale, I add, “I hope you’re not upset.”
“Of course not. Probably stupid and uncomfortable of me to ask you out?—”
“It wasn’t.” I show her an earnest smile to put her at ease. “I’m flattered. And in any other circumstance, I probably would’ve beat you to it and asked you out first.”
“Out of plain curiosity, what circumstances? I mean, are you in the medical field, by chance?”
“No.” I shoot her a puzzled look. “Why do you ask?”
“You said your job has you working all hours of the night. And you’re dressed like a doctor off duty.” She gestures to my ensemble which is for an upscale Manhattan wedding next week with one of my regulars, Celeste. I was getting alterations completed when I got the call from Wesley. I flew out of the shop, not bothering to change. “Maybe you’re too modest to refer to yourself as ‘Doctor Forrest.’”
“Are you kidding? If I graduated from med school and passed my licensing exams, I’d even make Koda call me ‘Doctor.’ Rite of passage. But no, I’m not that intellectually inclined.” That’s somewhat of a lie. I did graduate from Columbia Law, I just never sat for the bar.
She relaxes her shoulders as she laughs. “So, what do you do?”
“Consulting,” I say absentmindedly as Dakota reemerges from her classroom with her bright pink backpack secured around her shoulders. Ms. Mazer appears behind Koda and spots me from down the hall.
“Mr. Hawkins,” she calls out while curling her pointer finger.
“I’m being summoned. I should go,” I say in a hurry.
“Nice to meet you, Forrest.”
“You too.”
I’m about halfway down the hallway when I stop in my tracks and hustle back to the nurse’s office. The door is still open, so I peek my head through. Kirsten, who was headed back to her desk, stops and turns around at my unexpected intrusion.
“Mulan,” I say, a little out of breath. “She survived basic training in the midst of war. Soldier is a job, right?”
