Page 22 of Falling into Place
“Oh, and get this,” Brooks added. “They’re making me get a personal stylist to dress me. It’s Carly Porter, remember her?”
Coach had been Brooks’s basketball coach, but he’d also taught World History, so he’d know some students even if they weren’t on his roster.
Coach glanced up, squinting. “Porter ... Porter ... She the one who’s a congresswoman now?”
“That’s Jane Porter. She was a year above me. Carly was Sasha’s friend.”
“Oh. Well, no, then. Don’t remember her.”
“Well, even if you did, I’d tell you to forget it. She’s completely different than she was in high school. I thought she was sweet and shy, but now she has no problem telling me what I’m doing wrong. I mean, I’m not opposed to dressing a little better, I guess, but I want to be comfortable, too, you know?” He gestured at Coach. “You get to wear that around all the time, so you get it.”
“Don’t you wear scrubs all day?”
“Yeah, but I’m not supposed to wear them outside the hospital. I literally don’t think I’ve ever seen you in anything else, no matter the location.”
“Well, why would I? I wasn’t trying to impress anyone. I’d already locked Linda down by the time I got the job at the school. Wouldn’t have mattered, though,” he said, a gleam in his eye. “It wasn’t my fashion sense that caught her eye.”
“What was it?”
“According to her, it was my charm, manners, and this dimple right here.”
“Well, that’s fucking adorable.”
“Watch your mouth.”
“Sorry, sir,” Brooks said with a good-natured eye roll. Coach had dropped F-bombs all day during basketball practices. “Got any advice for me? As a man who’s been married forty-five years?”
“Nope,” Coach said. “Still don’t know what I’m doing. But I can tell you one thing: I’m sure as hell going to enjoy watching you try to figure this out.”
Three days later, Brooks sat at the nursing station, where he’d made a pit stop to call the radiologist who’d paged him with a stat CT result. A headache throbbed at his temple, probably because he’d been at the hospital since three in the morning. His overnight days were supposed to be over now that he was an attending, but sometimes he had trouble managing his patients from a distance. So when his fellow had called with a question about a new admit, he’d dragged his ass in. Yes, he probably could have talked things over with the trainee on the phone, but he wouldn’t have been able to go back to sleep anyway. He liked to lay eyes on new patients himself to make sure nothing felt off.
He’d just ended the call when his phone buzzed with a text message. He leaned his hip against the counter and unlocked it again.
Carly:I should have bought the gingham shirt. Why did I let you say no?
Brooks:should I know what that is
Carly:The blue checkered one?
Brooks:the plaid one?
Carly:Not plaid. Gingham.
Brooks:it’s 7am and this is what you’re thinking about?
Carly:Sasha’s gonna kill me for dressing you in something so boring for your photos. If you don’t find a wife she’ll bring it back to this very moment and blame me.
Brooks:relax
Brooks:tell her it’s my fault
Carly:Obviously it IS your fault. What do you have against patterns?
Brooks:i like simplicity
Carly:Your complex medical degree says otherwise.
Brooks:maybe that’s why. everything is so complicated here. i say words like atelectasis and dexmedetomidine and refractory hypoxemia and i know what they all mean. when i get home my brain shuts off
