Page 41 of Man Cave

“I’m Theo James and I’m a doctor.”

The kids stared at me or stared off into space.

“Anyone got a mom or a dad who’s a doctor?” I asked.

Three kids’ hands shot up.

“Anyone been to the doctor?”

Pretty much everyone’s hand went up.

I glanced over all the little heads and saw Mallory in the back where I left her in her cute fucking school sweatshirt. She made a funny face and tipped her head back and forth. Either she was having a seizure or giving me a reminder to make it fun.

“Everyone’s been to the doctor. Good. You don’t have to always see a doctor when you’re sick. It’s important to go to see a doctor to make sure you’re healthy and stay that way. To get shots you need so you don’t get a communicable disease.”

Mallory’s eyes went wide and stared at me like I was insane. Or an idiot. I was speaking as if I was at a conference full of boring trauma surgeons who found joy in a splenectomy at three a.m.

I just told a roomful of little kids about shots. Communicable diseases.

Clearly, I was the smartest idiot around. Mallory was right. Iwasserious. I glanced at Mac, who was only shaking his head in clear disappointment.

Holy shit. I had a stick up my ass.

I left Denver and moved to Hunter Valley so I didn’t turn into–or any more into–one of my boring, monotonous colleagues who didn’t engage with anyone on a real, personal level. I was standing here, in a roomful of fucking kids, because of the decision to escape and now I was behaving exactly like the person I didn’t want to be.

Lighten up, James! Get your shit together. People have feelings! They want fun. Excitement. Joy.

I could be fun. I could be fucking fun all day long.

I glanced at Mac again. The fucker. No way was he and his stickers were going to be more likable than me. I was the cool doctor. I, Theo James, was cool.

And competitive.

Not only did trauma surgeons not like to lose–because that meant a patient died–but I also had three brothers, one a professional hockey player whose job was to always win.

Mac and his stickers were going down.

I pulled the imaginary stick out of my ass and tossed it aside.

“Who here has farted?” I said, my voice carrying across the big room.

Kids giggled and some covered their faces with their hands. Parents and teachers around the room gasped and stared at me wide eyed. Yup, I just went there.

A few hands went up, all boys.

“Come on,” I said, moving my hand in a circle. I pointed at Mac. “I bet the fire chief farts.”

His mouth dropped open and his ears turned red. He couldn’t lie. Not to a roomful of kids.

“That’s my dad and he farts all the time!” A kid toward the back called out, one that looked a hell of a lot like a miniature version of Mac.

Mac gave his son a dad look, then offered me a thumbs up as his answer.

“See?” I asked, then turned back to the kids. “Now don’t be shy. Who here has farted?”

Some kid actually farted. Everyone laughed. I couldn’t help but smile.

“The kid in the blue shirt just gave everyone an example of how amazing the human body is.”

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