Page 30 of Paging Dr. Summers

“I have to listen to something,” he replied playfully.

“For that snarky comment, you have to eat one of my cookies and tell me if they’re good enough to take to all our neighbors.” I opened the tin and offered him one. “I know you don’t do dessert, but a bite ortwo won’t hurt. Well, at least I hope not. I’m an amateur baker. But Dr. McDreamy seemed to like them.”

Logan looked over the tin to peer at me. His knitted brow seemed to imply I’d ruffled his feathers.

“You gave Dr. Everett a nickname?”

“Not to his face.” I giggled. “Do you want one? What do you think of the Stethoscope Wizard or Dr. Heal-Me-Quick? Wait, that sounded like an X-rated film ... or a questionable medical drama. How about Dr. McCure?”

He rolled his eyes and grabbed a cookie.

“What? You don’t like any of those?”

“Let’s just stick with Logan.”

“I like Logan.” Unfortunately, I was starting to like him too much.

“THIS IS FOR ALL OF you out there who feel trapped in an emotional prison, uncertain of how to escape, or perhaps too afraid to try because you’ve become comfortably numb.” Brooke’s captivating voice resonated through my AirPods as I ran along the lakeshore in the cool evening air Tuesday night, in a futile attempt to distance myself from thoughts of her.

Listening to her latest podcast episode was a terrible choice if my goal was to forget her.

Hell, I hardly knew what I really wanted anymore. My desires shifted with the wind. One second, I yearned to see Brooke, to bask in her presence. The next, I berated myself for craving her company so desperately. I’d purposely stayed away from her the last couple of days. But it wasn’t just her company I wanted, and that was where my true dilemma lay.

“As strange as it may seem, prisons can feel safe,” Brooke continued. “Our minds and hearts are designed to protect us, often building barriers to shield us from pain, even to our detriment. These mental barriers create a sanctuary, giving us a sense of control when things feel chaotic. However, they also prevent us from fully experiencing our lives. We must find a balance between self-protection and the vulnerability needed to feel and process our pain.”

Once again, I felt as if she were speaking directly to me. Perhapsthis time, she truly was. I wouldn’t put it past her to tailor a podcast episode toward me, knowing that I might listen to it.

Part of me wished I had never told her that. The way her face lit up when I had made me want to pull her to me and share in her light and kiss her until I wanted to smile again. Then I heard Erica say, “You really are going to be one of those guys. I can’t believe it.”

I couldn’t believe it either, but I wouldn’t act on those thoughts and feelings. At least that was what I kept telling myself.

“I’ve always found it helps to share your pain. It doesn’t seem as scary then. Hurt out loud. Scream if you have to.” She laughed that melodious laugh of hers. “Just let it out so it doesn’t keep you comfortably numb. Because as pacifying as it may be, remember you’re only numbing the pain, and no anesthetic lasts forever. The pain will still be waiting for you. It’s best to meet it on your terms. I love you, my friends, wherever you are. Now, I think it’s only fitting that we listen to the classic ‘Comfortably Numb’ by none other than Pink Floyd, the British rock band that ...”

Brooke went on to talk about the band. While it was interesting, my thoughts kept drifting back to her wise words. How was she so damn smart and so damn crazy at the same time? I laughed to myself, recalling all her strange questions and how she would say whatever she was thinking with zero filter.

But once again, she was right. I was keeping myself numb. Numb to facing what a life without Erica looked like. Numb to admitting that maybe life with Erica hadn’t been as perfect as I’d made it out to be—that there were problems we should have addressed. Numb to my attraction to Brooke.

I wished, like the song’s title, there was comfort in it, but I felt anything but comfortable living in this detached state. It wasn’t me, but I felt so lost. Unless I was with Brooke—but feeling alive around her only caused me further angst and guilt, which made me hold back when I was with her. But even then, she broke through my defenses.

Once I reached my house I stopped running, removed my AirPods, and took a moment to catch my breath. My gaze shifted to the tranquility of the lake, its gentle waves lapping against the shoreline. The sky was ablaze with vibrant shades of pink and orange, providinga stunning landscape. The kind I remembered from my childhood. I waded into the water up to my calves, feeling the cold seep through my shoes, cooling me off.

“What are you doing?” Eden called.

I turned to find her walking my way. “Just thinking.”

She waded out with me and nudged me with her hip. “What about?”

“Life, I guess. Remember when Mom brought us out here after Dad died, we all waded out into the lake, and she said,‘Things have changed, but it doesn’t mean life won’t be good. It will just be a different good’? She was right, but it’s a lot easier to believe that when you’re a kid. I wonder why that is?”

“Probably because we were naive.” Eden laughed a subdued laugh.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just Sophie is talking to Luca. And ... it’s still hard to hear him be so happy without us. Well, without me. Of course he misses Sophie like crazy, but he’s off adventuring withher.” Eden’s voice changed pitch. “They’re on a layover on their way to Milan for a dance competition. One we were supposed to compete in together. I hope they trip and fall, or he drops her. Does that sound petty?”

“Nah. I wish much worse for them.” I put my arm around Eden, and she turned into me, shaking. “Hey, you’re going to have a different good.”

“I want to believe that,” Eden cried. “Sometimes I even do.”

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