He seemed so adamant about not coming to this party yesterday, though, so I wonder what changed his mind so quickly. It’s not like he has to say yes to everything his coach says.
“You could have brought the little squirt,” Nathan chimes in, scratching Radish’s bulbous head as he wags his tail by our feet. “I miss his face.”
“Somehow, I don’t think that would be a good idea.” Evan points to Bennett, who’s now pumping his fist to the music on the dance floor, the tip of the banana bouncing up and down as he dances beside Sam. “That’s going to givemenightmares, let alone my kid.”
I stare down at my diabetes app on my phone, having stepped outside the party for a few moments to cool off.
It’s exhausting, sometimes, and even though some days I’ll forget I have it—regular glucose monitoring and insulin injections have become part of my daily routine—the constant headaches, shakiness and dizziness when I’ve let myself slip remind me that I’m dealing with a very real and possibly life-threatening condition if not monitored correctly.
I was twelve when I was diagnosed. One minute, I was sitting in class writing notes, and the next, I was on the floor with everyone huddled around me, my vision blurry and body weak. It was that day that I got told at the hospital that my pancreas had decided to check out.
What a little bitch.
Food keeps people happy, especially me, and I’ve always had a sweet tooth, so it sucks that I now have to think about everything that goes into my mouth. But if this is what I need to do to live, then I’ll have to do it. I have no choice.
With thoughts of my potential upcoming trip running through my mind, I read over the application email confirmation from the company I applied through late last night while snuggled up on the couch. I’d decided to bite the bullet and do it after having a brief look for jobs, and seeing nothing that interested me. All that's left to do now is wait for them to get back to me to confirm my space, and pay my deposit.
Six months of travelling. It’s going to be amazing, but there’s something stirring inside of me that feels… weird. I tell myself I’m going to discover what I want to do with the rest of my life on this trip. That I’m going to have an epiphany one day in the middle of Calgary.
But what if I don’t?
What if it’s all just a waste of time and money?
What if I come back to life afterwards and everything is exactly the same, and I’m right back where I started, wondering where I belong?
Just as I’m placing my insulin pen back in my shoulder bag, the back door of The Salty Dog opens, and Evan steps out into the summer breeze. But once he spots me, his lips—that I find myself looking at for a little too long—part. “I didn’t know you were out here. Sorry.”
“It’s fine. I'm just getting some air.” I take another deep breath and push myself off the barrier, making room for him. He joins me, ensuring there’s enough distance between us before he slings his arms over the metal and linkshis fingers together, his tense gaze focused on the parking lot in front of us, like he’s thinking hard.
“You feeling okay?” Evan peeks at my CGM on my arm, before he averts his eyes.
“I’m fine. I just prefer to give myself insulin where it’s quiet. Are you missing Leo?” I ask, taking note of his solemn expression.
“Yes,” he says, turning to me, drawing in a breath and releasing it a few moments later. A shadow passes through his eyes, silent and sharp as they latch onto me, and after they drop down, he scowls and says, “Look, Leo likes you, but you’re leaving in a couple of months, maybe sooner, so it might be a good idea to remind him that you’re only temporary.”
I blink. “Right.”
“Just because my kid is getting attached to you, doesn’t mean I will.”
I level him a hard look, eyebrows pulled together, my jaw tight. Is he actually serious?
What an ass. But do I really expect any less?
“I don’t have to do this, you know? I love hanging out with your son, he’s great, but putting up with this”—I gesture to him—“makes it extremely difficult to enjoy it. I gave you the benefit of the doubt, but is this what you’re going to do all summer? Remind me how temporary this is and how indifferent you feel towards me?” Scoffing, I move past him, back towards the door. “I think you needto go and find someone you trust to look after Leo, Evan, because it’s clearly not me.”
I’m aware he doesn’t want a nanny, but the bottom line is that he needs one. I’m here, willing, and looking forward to spending time with his son, but he’s ruining it for all of us.
“Flo, wait,” Evan murmurs as I re-enter the bar, where the party is still in full swing. “Flo, just listen to me.”
“Sorry,” I say sarcastically, pointing to my ears. “It’s so loud in here! I can’t hear you!”
Evan’s face morphs into defeat, and his eyebrows collapse as he pinches the bridge of his nose and swears under his breath. “Will you please come outside?”
“Why?” My shoulders straighten. “So you can tell me how you can’t wait to get rid of me? How you would rather hire anyone over me? I wish you and Leo good luck finding another nanny, Evan, because I can’t do this with you all summer. I just left one shitty job, so it’ll be no skin off my back to leave another.”
He glances down at my arm, and I see his fingers flex by his side, as if he’s debating wrapping them around my wrist. But he doesn’t, dragging his bottom lip into his mouth instead.
“If you won’t come outside…” His eyes dart to the back door we’ve left open, before they land on a closed door beside us, and he jostles the doorknob. A small supply closet opens, revealing mops and brooms. “Will you at least talk to me somewhere where we can actually hear each other?”
