Page 41 of The Bitter Rival

“Oh, that. Stupid accident. Just being careless. I’ve been distracted,” I reassure.

“You sure you don’t need to see a doctor?” He winks, the smile returning to his face.

“I’ll be fine. Just need to get off of it later. It’s the least of my worries.”

“Hmmm. What else is bothering you?”

I find myself grabbing the chair beside him and lowering down into it before I realize I’ve done it. “I’m still struggling with my focus. I’m getting there. I’ve recruited some help to get it worked out. I don’t want to go back to my old behavior,” I respond, still feeling a little self-conscious about my explosive rant in front of this kind man.

“Do you mind my asking what you do for fun?”

“Fun?” I’m taken aback by his line of questioning. “I don’t understand.”

“That’s kind of what I figured. I did the same thing for years. Only concentrating on one thing. Life’s too short. I think you’ll find once you make room for things that bring you joy outside of the operating room, the rest may improve. If it doesn’t, you’ll be none the worse for wear.”

I feel the corner of my mouth curl a bit.I should be paying him for this appointment instead of the other way around. “Thank you. You’re probably right. I have been trying to work out, meditate… but it’s all with an end goal in mind. Nothing for the joy of it.” I give him a full smile before continuing. “Now, let me see that hand.”

Returning to my office after wishing Mr. Hansen well, I recline back in my desk chair and shake my head at the unexpected lift in my mood. Shifting my focus out of my window, I take in the many trees that dot the hospital grounds. Maple trees, Bradford Pears, and Crepe Myrtles are planted along the walkways, with tall pines growing along the small pond to the far corner of the complex. Many of their leaves have already begun to turn the rich colors of fall. Some decorate the manicured lawn below while others rustle in the breeze in transition, awaiting their turn to tumble. A lone maple leaf, deep purple in hue, dangles precariously in the wind on a tree nearest my vantage point. Will it hold on a while longer or make it’s decent? Will it end up carried away on an adventure of a lifetime or swept into a trash bin? I can feel a lump lodged in my throat as the leaf suddenly feels like a metaphor for my life.

Staring out at the scene in front of me, Mr. Hansen’s words haunt me. “Don’t end up old and alone like me.”

CHAPTERTWENTY

Sebastian

Rolling over in bed, I stare at the clock. It’s 10:30 a.m. The last consult of the evening ended up in the operating room until 3:00 a.m. I haven’t had a call shift run that late in a long time. At least the cases yesterday were straightforward, and everything went smoothly for a change.

I already feel I’ve made the right move speaking with Kendal. She was quiet and contemplative as I laid out my concerns. I know I can be a little too cerebral for some people, but sheisa neurologist. If anyone can handle my concerns for my overcrowded brain and poor focus, it’s Kendal.

Pushing up onto my elbows, I consider the week ahead. She’s ordered some tests as a routine screening portion of my evaluation and has given me some books to look at to consider limiting my stressors. I need to delve deeper into meditation. Still surprised I went there with her, I laid it all out regarding my fears of letting someone into my life. Kendal’s words about opening up to a relationship have carried with me since our appointment. She felt I should consider seeing a counselor to address my underlying issues with commitment, particularly in light of my poor role models. Not sure I’m interested in adding psychotherapy to my routine.

I was shocked that an uber professional like herself would’ve tossed her career focus to the side in place of a committed relationship. She immediately corrected me, saying it wasn’t an either-or scenario. That this could actually improve my focus, having my stress levels under better control. I’d buy this if there were any guarantees in life about women. But after witnessing the tumultuous lifestyle shared by my parents, I didn’t want to risk inviting more chaos into my life in my attempts to diminish my tension-filled existence.

There was a point I considered this was self-serving on Kendal’s part, as the gleam in her eye and the tight hug I received upon entering her office instantly had me on guard. Yet, once I sat down and noticed the giant rock on her hand, I discovered I was being both egotistical and paranoid. For all intents and purposes, married life has only improved her career. Not that I’m considering a trip to the altar, but it appears to have served her well.

Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I rub my left knee instinctively. It’s still incredibly sore. There’ve been too many long hours on my feet on the harsh tiles of the hospital floor in the last few days. I need to ice it this morning before heading out for the day.

Luckily, I have nowhere to be until this afternoon when I head to the lake to join Grace’s birthday celebration.What the hell do you get a one-year-old for a birthday gift?I guess I’ll just head to the toy store and see if someone can assist me. Knowing Nick and Kat, that child wants for nothing. They’re incredible parents, and she’s one lucky little girl to have them.

Having taken twice as long to make it from my bedroom to my kitchen as usual, I pour a cup of congratulatory coffee for arriving in one piece. Shaking my head, I take a sip of the rich Columbian brew and look about my home. It’s silent. The space is beautiful but often wasted by the lack of inhabitants. The far wall of the great room houses a stone fireplace that steals your attention as you walk in. Taking another tentative sip of the hot liquid, my eyes flick over to the glass wall at the back of the den. It’s comprised of a collapsible set of sliding glass doors that open up onto a luxurious heated pool and jacuzzi. The pool surround is a light-colored flagstone that draws your eye to the deep blue water in the center. A small door opens to the left of the jacuzzi that allows for changing and managing wet towels, and an expansive, well-manicured lawn sits at the rear. It’s not lost on me how incredibly blessed I am. I’ve worked hard for this life, but is it really living when a home designed for memory-making sits empty much of the day?Empty… now there’s a word.

Forcing my thoughts away from the negative, I make the longer-than-usual trip back toward my bedroom to shower and change. I’ll elevate my leg and read a little after I get cleaned up, and pick up a gift for Grace on the way to Nick’s. As I reach the shower, a thought comes to mind. Maybe I should stop by the vineyard on the way and pick up a few bottles for the party. I’m not interested in a run-in with Sam or my parents, but given it’s a Saturday, it’s unlikely either of them would be there.

Standing under the rush of hot water, I feel my shoulders begin to relax. I can kick back with a good glass of wine in an Adirondack chair with Nick and his family and enjoy his lake view for the evening. No more stress. It’s going to be a good evening.

Isabella

“How’s it look?” I ask, knowing full well Austin only has eyes for the sugary confection and not the appearance of this Supergirl birthday cake I’ve created for little Grace. She’s been a fighter since she appeared in this world as a preemie, and her nickname, Super G, suits her.

“It looks good, Mom.”

“You’re the artist in the family, but it didn’t turn out half bad, huh?” I smack the top of his hand as he reaches out to pinch off a piece of sweet buttercream from the bottom edge of the red, blue, and yellow cake. “Here,” I say as I hand him a small container that houses the remains of the icing I used in making the smash cake Grace will get all to herself.

“Thanks, Mom,” he says as he carries the bowl to his room.

“We’re going to have to leave here in about an hour, Austin. Please don’t get covered in paint before we go.”Or frosting for that matter, I think to myself. Grabbing the white cake box from the table, I carefully slide the cake inside before doing the same with the smaller one. Now that the project is complete, I lick the sweet frosting from my fingertips before wiping my hands on my kitchen towel. Placing my purse with the directions to Nick and Kat’s home by the cakes, I head to the bedroom to change. It’s about an hour’s drive, according to Katarina. They couldn’t have picked a more beautiful day. She said the party was just close friends and family, nothing too big. I’m so grateful she invited Austin and me to join them. We don’t get to share much social time with anyone outside my extended family.

“Hey.” Popping my head into Austin’s room on the way to my own, I say, “Why don’t you grab a few things you want to take with you and put them in your backpack? They live on the lake, and you might find something you’d like to sketch while you’re there.”

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