I was still a bit defensive about Carly, but that was because it wasn’t really about me. It was about her and how I would raise her. Otherwise, it was simple.
When you’re eighteen, you care what everyone thinks of you. When people get to thirty, they start to stop caring what people think about them. By the time most people get to sixty, it has finally dawned on them that no one was really thinking about them at all, most people being far too focused on their own lives and concerns. I was just ahead of the curve.
“Nerd,” Kimberly said, suddenly waking.
The pain killers they were giving her were effective but also played merry hell with her sleep schedule, at least half of them also contained a sedative. The prevailing theory being that it is better if the patient can sleep thought the worst of the pain. “And this is news?” I asked, nearly tossing aside the brief so I could take her hand. “No, just a friendly reminder,” Kim said, trying for a smile. “Guess who’s getting released today,” I sang, my spirits irrepressible.
“Uncle Pete made parole?” “I meant you, smartass,” I teased. “Oh, happy day,” Kim dead paned.
“I knew you would be thrilled.” “Do you think I could take some of these groovy pain-killers home with me?” she joked. “I think they might insist,” I told her. “Can we —”
“Don’t you dare. Of course, we can afford it. I’ll sell blood if I have to,” I insisted. “Yours, I hope.” “Suggestion noted.” After waiting for another hour, Kim was released, and I drove us home. As though the fates were offering an olive branch, there was a prime parking space right in front of the building. Getting Kim inside was easy, and she went straight for the bedroom.
“I have to go get Carly. Mom will be here soon,” I said. “Her plane landed a half-hour ago, and she’s already in a cab.”
“Is the wedding today?” Kim asked, looking up, confused. “Tomorrow, though, I think that might be off.” “Too bad, you really liked Ann,” my sister said, pulling her covers up to her chin. “How did —” She laughed a little. “Carly told me. Doesn’t miss much that kid.” “I guess not,” I said, closing the curtains so Kim could sleep. I was early getting to the school, not having to leave from work. Though to be honest, I was not entirely sure I had a job anymore. I tried not to think about it too hard or what it might mean for the future. The worst-case scenario was I could go back into private practice. It would mean building from the ground up, but I had already done it once before. As I got near the school gates, I saw Ann standing in front of them with an open box of cupcakes. I couldn’t quite tell from the distance, but they looked like they had been homemade.
I had thought a lot about how we parted last, finding no earthly justification for acting like I had. I had been an asshole, and I knew it. I hadn’t been avoiding the office so much as her, not sure I could look her in the eye. But there Ann was, and I had to face it. Especially considering the trouble she had gone to.
“Hi,” Ann said when I got out of the car.
“Hey,” I said, trying to play it cool.
I really wasn’t sure how I felt about her. I had been wrong in blowing up but still felt a bit like I was being judged. The truce cupcakes were a nice touch, though. “Truce cakes?” I asked, pointing to the box.
“Yeah,” she said, with a touch of nervous laughter.
I decided to at least hear her out. She messed up, but so did I, and there was plenty of blame to go around. Besides which Ann had gone to a lot of trouble.
Leaving my car parked where it was, getting Carly’s car seat out of the back, we loaded the kids into Ann’s car in the lot.
“Where to?” I asked, as Drew read to Carly in the back.
“There is a park a few blocks away.” I hadn’t expected L.A. to have much in the way of parks, imaging all smog and urban sprawl. It wasn’t the first time I had been wrong. Finding a nice spot near a duck pond, the kids contented themselves with reading on the grass as we sat on a bench and ate the truce cakes, which were amazing. “I never really thought it would happen, you know?”
“What’s that?” I asked, trying to stay neutral.
“That a guy like you would actually be interested in me. I wasn’t sure if you were just doing it because I’m basically your boss, and I keep saying fake to remind myself that none of this is real. No matter how much I might want it to be.”