Marin

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Dr. Grouch wasn’t so grouchy anymore. A change came over him the night after Kinsley’s program and he was … nice to me. Really nice. He was actually considerate of my schedule and asked before he did anything. There were several times in the weeks that followed where he wanted my opinion on things. The man shocked me. It was so bad that at one point I only stared at him.

“What?”

I rubbed my eyes for a second. “What’s happened to you?”

“What do you mean?”

It was out of my mouth before I thought about it. “You’ve changed. Dr. Grouch has disappeared.”

“Dr. Grouch? I’m not a grouch.”

I slapped a hand over my mouth and sputtered with laughter.

“You think I’m grouchy?”

Pulling my hand away, I announced, “Paging Dr. Grouch. Dr. Grouch to the heart center,” in a formal tone. Then I bent over at the waist and laughed even harder at my little joke.

When my chortling subsided, I realized he wasn’t laughing. In fact, he hadn’t found any of this as funny as I had. I straightened back up to see he was more than a little irritated.

“I’m happy you find what I deal with on a daily basis as comical. And that when I have to tell a family their loved one has died, and I’m a little grouchy as you put it, you can find it easy to make fun of. Why don’t you try putting yourself in someone else’s shoes for a change, Marin? Maybe you wouldn’t be so quick to ridicule.”

“I wasn’t ridiculing you.”

“Sure sounded like it to me.”

“And I wasn’t making light of what you do. I was referring to the way you usually act around your kids.”

“Yeah, well, sometimes it’s a little difficult to shed what happens at work the very minute I walk through the door. Damn, you’re a ball buster. Has anyone ever told you that?”

I backed up a step because someone had. My ex-boyfriend, Damien. He used to tell me that a lot but I always thought he was a pussy. He used to whine all the time. Like even when he got something as minor as a paper cut. One time he stubbed his big toe on the table leg and for a minute I thought he was going to cry. That’s being a pussy, isn’t it? Maybe I should’ve felt more sorry for him, but I told him to man up and quit acting like a baby. Now I felt kind of bad about it.

“I apologize for being disrespectful of your profession. I shouldn’t have said that.”

He sliced his head up and down once, and then turned around and left the room. I watched his retreat with increasing regret and guilt over what transpired. If only he hadn’t made that remark about his work. I knew it bothered him sometimes. But that didn’t erase my belief he didn’t spend enough time with his kids. They watched the door, especially Kinsley, every day for him to walk in. And when he did, some days he’d just briefly acknowledge them and take off for his stupid office. I should’ve kept my mouth shut. Things were going so well, with him being nice and I had to go and ruin it.

Since it was getting late, I decided to go to bed. I could watch TV on my iPad if I wanted or maybe I’d read instead. Or I could work on the article I’d started about what happened to me in my dream job, but words that used to flow seemed to have dried up on this topic. Maybe the timing wasn’t right. There were a few books I had that, that I’d been waiting to dig into so that should keep me plenty occupied. And I could also write in my journal. When I got upstairs, I checked on Kinsley, and she was sound asleep, so I moved on to Aaron’s room. But I stopped when I saw the doctor standing over his crib. I was getting ready to move on, but I heard him mumbling something. He was too far away for me to understand what he was staying, so I went to my room. He always acted so strange around that boy. I couldn’t figure it out. No use in asking him why either. Like he’d tell me anyway. In most cases, he wasn’t very forthcoming about things.

In the morning, the kids were cranky. Everyone was in a bad mood. I had a headache, Aaron was fussy, and Kinsley wasn’t eating her breakfast. She was always agreeable about most things and it was unusual for her not to eat.

“I don’t want this,” she whined as I placed the fruit in front of her. When I set her scrambled egg and toast down, which she always gobbled up, she said the same thing.

I felt her forehead and it was warm. “Hmm, do you feel okay?”

She shrugged. She wasn’t a sickly girl, and in the months I’d been here, she hadn’t been sick a day.

“Let’s ask your daddy.” I figured that would be the best thing.

I ran downstairs to where he was working out, something I never did, and holy Jesus. The man was running on the treadmill without a shirt, sweat streaming down him, and he was ripped and … hot. How did I not know this? I’d been living under the same roof with him for how long now? Four months? And I had no idea this body existed under those scrubs he sometimes wore, or that stiff shirt and tie he wore to work. Christ almighty, why did I ever come down here? Now I’d have this image burned into my brain forever.

He pulled out his earbuds and huffed, “Yeah?”

“I, uh, erm,” and I licked my bone-dry lips.

“What is it, Marin?” Impatience tinged his voice.

He waited for me to say something. Anything.

“Yeah. Uh, Kinsley. Yeah, Kinsley is, um, acting hot … I mean weird.”

“Which is it? Hot or weird?” He was obviously annoyed with me.

“Both. I was wondering if you could take a look at hot. I mean her.” Pull it together, you idiot. My hungry eyes roamed over his delicious torso. Wait! He was an old man. How could he look this good? Men my age rarely looked like this. I was so consumed with lusty thoughts of him, I didn’t realize he’d gotten off the treadmill and passed me.

“You going to just stand there or are you coming?”

Jeez, get your head out of your ass, Marin.

“Right, yeah, coming.” He was halfway up the stairs, so I jogged up behind him, ogling his ass, and was huffing by the time I got to the kitchen.

He gave me one of those looks and said, “You should be in better shape than that, as young as you are. It’s not good for your heart, you know.”

“I do know. I’m not exactly an idiot. Time is a factor, or you probably hadn’t figured that out.”

“You can use the treadmill. Take the kids down there.”

“Yeah, and that’s so easy.” Snarkiness ruled my comment.

“You don’t want to wake up one day with occluded arteries. Oh, wait, you wouldn’t wake up at all if they were occluded.”

“Gee, what a lovely thought.”

“Just telling you what happens when you don’t take care of yourself.”

“Let’s focus on Kinsley, shall we?”

He turned to check out his daughter. “What’s up polka dot? Not feeling so good?”

She scowled at him and I wanted to laugh. He looked at me and said, “Kids can be difficult.”

“Aren’t you a doctor?”

“I’m a cardiologist, not a pediatrician.”

What the hell was that supposed to mean? Didn’t he go to medical school? Didn’t they teach him about the human body? Wasn’t Kinsley a human? The way I figured she operated the same was as he did.

“That makes zero sense. She’s a human.”

He laughed. He fucking laughed at me. “Why is that funny?”

“She’s a child. I was trained on hearts, not kids.”

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. You went to medical school and didn’t learn a thing about the human body, only about a heart.”

“No, that’s not what I said.”

“Is too.”

“Is not.”

He was so frustrating. “Stop it. What did you learn?”

“Hearts.”

“Then you got screwed.”

He stepped back like I slapped him. “I went to Harvard Medical School. I hardly think I got screwed.”

“If you can’t tell whether Kinsley is sick, I believe you did.”

He clamped his teeth together so hard I heard them click. “Marin, all I’m saying is I didn’t study childhood illnesses.”

“Can you at least tell if she’s got a sore throat? Like check in there or something? Don’t you have a little black bag with one of those lights in it like real doctors have? Or one of those ear lights?”

He glared at me before leaving the room. I knew he went to his office and I had seen that little black bag of his in there. I’m not sure what was in it or if he actually used it. But it all seemed odd to me. I always figured you went to medical school and then got some kind of doctor training and then went to a specialty school. Guess I was wrong. He was special and just went to heart school.

Out he came toting that little black bag. He set it on the kitchen table and pulled out one of those things with a light on the end.

“Polka dot, open up so Daddy can see down your throat.”

She did. All he said was, “Hmm. Her throat is fairly red. Does it hurt, polka dot?”

She gave him her usual shrug.

“Did you take her temperature?” he asked me.

“No, but I will.” I ran upstairs and got the thermometer. Then I ran back down and stuck it in her ear. Seconds later it beeped. “One hundred. Not too high, but no wonder she’s cranky.”

“She’s probably coming down with a cold,” he said.

“She hasn’t been coughing nor has she been congested.”

“It could be the early stages. My thoughts are to keep an eye on her. Check her temperature every so often. If it gets above a hundred and one, call the doctor.”

“Okay.” At least he went to a school that trained him in more than just hearts.

So much for my plans for the day. The local library was having a kids’ day and I was going to take them there. But now, that was out. We would hang around here until she was better.

Dr. West was right. Kinsley ended up with a mild cold. By the next day, she developed a slight cough and runny nose. Nothing really bad, but enough to make her feel puny. After that initial day, she actually perked up. Aaron never got sick, thank God. And Dr. West even called during the day and the next to check up on the kids.