Page 108 of Ten Day Affair
"Come inside if you have time."
He follows behind, pulling out a stool at the bar.
I put more ice in my juice, not because I need it, but because I need something to do with my hands. "When do you start?"
"Two weeks."
"Hope you like corn fields and snow." I force a smile.
"I ordered a parka from L.L. Bean last night, even though it probably won't snow for another few months." He grins that easy Kip grin.
"A parka," I raise my eyebrows.
"Figured if I'm going to freeze my ass off, might as well look professional doing it."
"Yeah. Parkas scream professional."
The ocean breeze drifts through the open windows, carrying the scent of salt and seaweed. In a few weeks, Kip will be smelling car exhaust and whatever Indianapolis smells like.
"What about you?" He tugs at his earlobe, that nervous habit of his.
The question I've been avoiding. "I don't know, Kip. I'm not as decisive as you."
"Have you applied anywhere yet?"
"I've narrowed it down to two places. Grady Memorial in Atlanta, or maybe MUSC in Charleston."
"Grady's good. It's trauma-heavy, which I know you'd kill. You'd like it there." He pushes his glasses up his nose. "MUSC too, but Charleston's expensive as hell."
"Yeah, I know. I've been spoiled not having to pay rent here. Atlanta's not cheap, either. I'm going to feel that."
The conversation stalls. We both know we're talking around the real stuff, how everything changed after that board meeting, how our entire program got gutted, how we're all scattering like debris after a storm.
Kip doesn't push for details about Cole. He's not Arden. He doesn't dig into feelings and complicated relationships. He just shows up with bad jokes and makes me smile when I need it most.
"Need help carrying anything to your car? Boxes,furniture, that ridiculous collection of medical journals you refuse to throw away?"
"I know all of the boxes everywhere say a different tale, but I haven't started packing yet."
"Sam." His voice gets that gentle tone he uses with scared patients.
I know. I know I need to pack and apply and move on and stop standing at my windows looking for someone who's already gone.
"I will. Soon. Once I decide on where I'll have more of a sense of realness that I am moving."
"Don't ghost me when you leave, okay? I know how you get."
"I don't ghost people."
He gives me a look. "You absolutely ghost people. Remember when you switched your whole schedule sophomore year to avoid running into what's-his-name from orthopedics?"
"That was different."
"Sure it was. Text me when you figure out where you're going. I'll send you care packages. Probably cookies from my grandmother." He puts his helmet back on as he walks out the door.
He kick-starts the Vespa. "Take care of yourself, Sam. Really."
The engine sputters to life, and he's gone down the driveway before I can say goodbye properly.
