Three
TINY
Itwirl a little piece of heaven around my fork, slide it in my mouth, and close my eyes to savor it. There's nothing like a helping of freshly made anchovy pasta. Pasta cooked al dente, mixed with anchovy and Roma tomato pasta sauce, and topped with a little arugula and Romano cheese. It's a simple, authentic, Italian dish that makes my mouth water and almost brings tears to my eyes.
My name is Ariana Carter, known to close friends and family as Tiny, and exclusively to my father as baby girl. Enjoying good food is almost like a spiritual experience for me. In another life, I would have been a food critic, traveling the world trying dishes from all over, and then writing about what or what didn't make the dish special. Too bad I can't write.
Instead I have a much different career that thankfully doesn't involve the written word. I make a great living as a registered ER nurse at Pennsylvania Memorial Hospital. It's a meaningful career which impacts lives, pays well, and luckily for me is in demand all over the world.
Today I'm out for a late lunch with my ex, Doctor Bill Rappaport, at one of my favorite Italian restaurants–Trattoria. A small place under the radar with fresh ingredients and superior customer service. I asked him here because I need a favor, not because I'm trying to rekindle anything between us, because that would be absolute insanity on my part.
Bill definitely doesn't want to be in a relationship. In fact, I'm not even really sure what Bill wants. We rarely went on actual dates, he hardly ever called, he didn't want people at the hospital to know we were dating, and we never even had sex. He doesn't even know that I'm a twenty-five year old virgin, because the subject didn't even come up. Frankly, I'm not sure that the man even ever liked me, and the whole relationship has me second-guessing myself at every turn. It was a complete confidence crusher.
"I think it's safe to say that you like the pasta," he says with a fair amount of snark to his comment. Reminding me yet again of another one of his unfavorable traits. Making passive aggressive comments about my relationship with food.
"What's that supposed to mean?" I challenge. "Don't you like your meal?"
"I don't even know. I was too busy staring at you eat yours."
I quickly remember what I'm here for, and it's not to get into some sort of pissing match with Bill about what I eat or the way that I eat. I really could give two shits about what he thinks. Those days are thankfully over. I roll my eyes and then look away from him for a moment wiping the corner of my mouth with my napkin.
Don't kick him in the shin under the table. Remember why you're here.
"I didn't mean anything by it, babe. It's just the cardiologist in me. You wouldn't understand."
Another thing about Bill I don't like. I know, the list is kind of long. Always throwing up the fact that he's a doctor and I'm a nurse in a derogatory way. As if I took the "easy" way out. As if I'm lesser than him. Never mind that nurses do all the heavy lifting in every hospital all over the world, and the doctors get paid twice as much as us to "supervise" the work that we do. Work in my opinion that they should be doing too.
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure that I already know what you meant by it. Let's drop it," I say. "That's not what I asked you here for."
"This meeting isn't about us?" he asks as if he can't believe I would want something from him other than pursuing a reconciliation. As if I'd ever do that.
"No, Bill." I sigh.
"Oh, I thought you might have been a little lonely tonight. Maybe wanted some company." He grins. "I know you typically spend the Friday nights that you're not working curled up with one of those dirty books of yours."
"What are you my grandma? They're called romance novels and no, this isn't about a booty call. I asked you here to talk about your sister's agency."
It's time I get to the point of this dinner, because he's getting on my nerves and I really need to dine and dash anyway. I promised to be home by at least seven.
"The agency?"
"Yeah, I'm thinking about applying for a traveling nurse assignment."
Bill raises one of his eyebrows. "Really?"
"Yes, really."
"You're going to leave your dad to ramble around in that house by himself?"
Another dig at the fact that I still live at home with my father. Something I've never felt I had to explain to anyone until I started messing around with Bill, but now have begun to question myself. Not because I don't think a woman in her twenties can't live with her parents, but because my house is actually a difficult place for me to live in.
Every corner.
Every closet.
Every hallway.
Every picture on the wall reminds me of my mom and makes me extremely nostalgic and terribly sad. I miss her in a way that must be different for my father. While he chooses to live deep in a life full of constant memories and reminders of her, those same memories are crushing me. I feel like I am literally being smothered by all of the reminders of my mother in this house. That's why I'm looking for a traveling nurse placement. I need to get out of there before I suffocate.
