Thursday

Why in the hell would someone think it’s a good idea to tease a damn crocodile? That’s the third animal wound this week.

“Austin, did you finish up that file?” Clara shouts over from the main desk.

“Yeah, just a minute.” I click submit on the report and sign out for the night.

“Want me to walk you home?” I ask Clara. “Evidently, there are wild crocs all over the place right now.”

She laughs and rolls her eyes. “Thanks for the offer, but Derek’s coming to pick me up. We’re heading down to movie night in the square.”

“Ah, what are they puttin’ up on the screen tonight?” I ask her.

“Top Gun … again,” she replies, sounding unenthused.

“Don’t hate on the Top Gun, missy. That’s a golden movie.”

“It’s not a favorite of mine, and yet, I know every darn word.”

“Well, you should consider yourself lucky,” I tell her.

“I’ll try to remember that as I force myself to stay awake.” She drops a folder into one of the filing cabinets and leans over to the computer to close out whatever she was doing. “So, what are you up to tonight?”

My choices are slim. I could go solo to the movie. I could head to the bar and drink too much, or I could go home, drink too much, and pass out safely on my couch. Tough choice. I’ll go with option C.

“I’m just heading home for the night. I’ve got the morning shift tomorrow.”

“Austin,” Clara says with a grimace. “Let me set you up with my girlfriend. She lives in the next town over, so it isn’t too far away.”

“Stop worrying about setting me up with someone. I don’t need some chick in my life who’s going to nag at me for everything I do. I’m happy being nag-free.”

“Suit yourself, but I think you’re missing out.”

“Darlin’, I can assure you, I ain’t missing out on nothin’.”

“Well, have a nice night. Don’t do anything dumb.”

Dumb. Pftt. She acts like she knows me so damn well. Actually, she does know me well, but still. I don’t just do dumb shit every night, not as far as she knows, anyway.

I head into the locker room to pull a Mr. Rogers. I wonder how many people thought about what reason he had for changing his shoes every time he walked into his house. It always boggled my mind until I started working here at the hospital. There’s something about having work clothes and non-work clothes that separate my life into two equal halves.

After changing out of my scrubs and slipping on a pair of jeans, boots, and a tee, I’m out the door before anyone can stop me with another patient’s chart. If I don’t leave when I’m supposed to, I’ll never get out of here.

The streets are lit up bright tonight with the farmer’s moon stretching across the sky. It’s nights like this that make me want to drink. The damn moon makes me feel so small down here when I think about the rest of my world being up there somewhere. Fuck you, moon. Stop staring at me. I don’t need your judgmental glare.

I walk on past Dickle’s, hearing the guys at the bar holler at the TV. I stop for a minute to glance inside, checking out who’s sitting down the line across from the taps, but it’s no one I feel like chatting up tonight. My couch is still sounding like a better companion.

“Austin, is that you?” Yup. Wrong choice. I should have gone into the bar. I know that voice. “Austin Trace, don’t you go pretending like you can’t hear me.”

I roll my eyes and turn around. “Kelli, fancy seeing you here in front of Dickle’s. Meeting someone?”

“Don’t be snarky with me, Austin. You know who I’m meeting.” Oh, sweet Kelli and her ten pounds of caked on makeup. It blends nicely under the moonlight, but not so much during the day. It’s funny, though, those things never bugged me when we were together. I didn’t notice how hard she tried to make herself look like someone else.

“Right, right. How is the old man?” Yeah, my twenty-four-year-old ex-girlfriend left me for a fifty-year-old rich man, but she doesn’t think anyone calls her a gold digger behind her back, so it’s fine. We weren’t together long, just long enough to make me question all women because of the way she ended things.

“He’s not old, Austin. Knock it off.”

“He’s old enough to be your pops, ain’t he?”

She sweeps her shoulder-length blonde hair behind her shoulder. “I think I just realized why I stopped trying to stay in touch with you.”

“Was it because you were banging old saggy balls?”

She grunts and stomps her boot into the pavement. “Good night, Austin.”

“Good night, Kelli,” I say with a dinky wave. Thank God I dodged a bullet with that one. The women in this town need money, not a man. It’s like the only damn thing they have eyes for, which I can’t understand. While our country has spent decades fighting for women’s rights, this town has remained ambivalent at best about women getting jobs. They’re bred to cook, clean, and raise kids. It’s not that there’s anything wrong with being a stay-at-home mom, but I know some women around here who actually want options. I guess it’s an expectation more than a desire, which is just sad. Clara is one of the few women I know who walk past the other “normal” women as they point their noses toward the sky and whisper about her like she’s committed a crime. Clara wanted to become a nurse, so she did. I’m still betting that someday the other women will get tired of relying on their men, and either do something else or wish they could summon the courage to do so.

The coyotes are hollering tonight as I head down my quiet street, probably because the one neighbor I have is gone for the next few weeks, so it’s dark as hell. I just don’t like to leave my lights on when I’m gone. It invites idiots down here to party in the field behind my house.

I light up my cell phone to watch for wild animals as I let myself inside. I hit the lights, kick my shoes off, and head for the fridge.

“Don’t move, Waldo, it’s okay. It’s just me. I’m not breaking and entering. I don’t want you to get nervous or nothin’.” This big, fat dog is hard-pressed to even raise an eyelid at night when I come home. He must have gotten bored with the same old greeting each day. Plus, I think he’s more of a morning man.

The icy cold beer feels good as it nestles into my palm, but the millisecond before my ass hits the couch, my damn phone starts to ring. I see the hospital’s number light up and cuss out every obscenity I know.

“Austin,” I answer.

“Austin, it’s Daisy. Someone set off a firework down at the square and we’ve got a room full of people with burns. No one is coding, but I need your help. You think you could come back down?”

“Yeah.” I look down at my beer and snarl. I was so close. “I’ll be right down.”

It’s not even June. Why the hell are people playing with fireworks already?