Page 2 of Justus
“Greatjob!” I high five the seven year old boy who is still learning to walk with hisprosthesis.
“Itdoesn’t hurt as much as it used to.” He grins up at me. Why can’t all mypatients be as hard working and resilient as the children?
“Youwere brave and worked through the pain.” I give him a quick hug. “I told youthat you could do it.”
Hismother smiles as he walks back to her with a pronounced limp. “Now can I have acandy bar?”
Laughing,she turns to me as he heads down the hall to the vending machine. “Thank you.”
“He’llmeet with the amputee therapist next time. He’s doing great. I’d love to makesome of my adult patients watch him. They could learn a thing or two.”
Hismother laughs. “I’ll bet the men are the worst.”
“Ohyes, you’d think I was killing them.”
Myphone buzzes in my pocket, so I excuse myself to answer. “Sade! About damntime. I’ve been trying to get in touch with you.”
“Ihave a job.” Of course my brother doesn’t understand. He’s never worked a dayin his life.
“Right,anyway, are you still coming for Mom’s birthday?”
“Yeah,I’ll be there. How is she?”
Hesighs. “It’s not looking too good. The doctors say her heart is just too weak.They’re giving her a year, Sade. Right now, though, she’s up and around,excited about next week. And you’d better bring your boyfriend with you. It’sall she can talk about. What’s his name again?”
“I’llbe there, Doug. I’m at work. Got to go.” I end the call and slump into my deskchair.
Inever should’ve told Mom I was seeing someone. She was diagnosed five years agowith congestive heart failure and has only continued to decline. The doctorshave done all they can.
Herbiggest concern when it comes to me is that I’m not married. In the past, I’veshrugged it off since I’m just not the marrying type. But once she got sick, Ididn’t want her to worry about me, so I told her I was seeing someone.
Now,I’m screwed.
Aftermy last patient of the day, I decide a drink is in order. Ayda, my best friend,answers her phone with a laugh. “Hey girl, what’s up?”
“Justleaving work and I need a drink.”
“Getyour ass over here. I have wine.”
“Onmy way.”
Aydaand I have been friends for over five years, ever since she was assigned to meas a patient. After suffering severe chemical burns, she was left with scars onher face and one side of her body. I helped her get some range of motion back,and we hit it off. She’s more introverted than I am, but she’s also one of thestrongest, most compassionate people I’ve ever met.
Wehaven’t spent as much time together lately since she moved in with herboyfriend, Dare, so I’m glad to hang out with her tonight. I’ve painted myselfinto a corner with the whole fake boyfriend situation, so I’m hoping she’llhave some advice.
Ieven went so far as to call a few male escort companies, but they want way moremoney than I can afford. Yeah, I was that desperate.
Thereare multiple cars parked outside Ayda and Dare’s place, so I’m not surprised tosee all the guys hanging out on the porch. “Sadist!” a familiar voice calls asI approach, and I swallow a groan.
JustusAlexander. Tall, with a mop of blond curls and a boyish smile that reveals adimple most women would love to kiss. Not me, of course. The man is undeniablysexy, but he drives me insane. Ever since he found out Ayda was going to try toset us up, he’s been relentless, flirting and teasing me. A group of women fromwork dragged me to his strip club a few months ago for a bachelorette party,and I might have flipped him in the junk when he thrust it near my face. Sincethat day, he’s called me Sadist.
Hehops down the front steps to meet me like a sugared up rabbit. “I wasn’texpecting you, but I can clear my schedule.”
“I’mnot here to see you, dumbass.” He follows me up the steps and into the house,the guys’ laughter trailing behind us.
Hishand falls to his chest, feigning offense. “You wound me.” His smile widens.“But don’t worry, I’m still willing to go halfsies on an orgasm.”
BeforeI can respond, Ayda emerges from the kitchen and plants a palm on his chest.“Nope, out, out, out. Living room is for girl talk only at the moment.”
