Patients,
Please take note as to what can happen to you when you don't listen to the fixer of the grin, DDS. Brynn. If it can happen to our very own hygienist, it could most definitely happen to you. Now, doesn't she look silly?
Beneath the warning is a long list of do's and don'ts.Douse your fingers to pry off flip-lids.Do notuse your teeth.Douse a nut-cracker to pry open nut shells.Do notuse your teeth. The do-side of the list makes the whole thing redundant and irritating, but that’s Ross for you.
I'm happy to be pulling into the parking lot just as Brenda and Ross back into their adjacent spots. They’re more blatant about going to lunch together lately, leaving at the same time in the same direction, and returning to the office the same way. Why not just take the same car?
One thing that drives Ross crazy is when people park their cars facing the sun. I have spent close to twenty years of my life parking away from the sun, more for Ross than for myself. I don't mind climbing into a sundrenched car that momentarily feels like a sauna, especially when I can kick on the air conditioner and drop the temperature in seconds flat.
So, while Ross and Brenda carefully back their vehicles into the far end of the lot, I pull in hot, fully facing the sun and yank the parking brake with a flourish.
I climb out of the car with a wide grin on my face. Brenda and Ross stare at me and then the car, dumbfounded.
"A rental?" Ross squeaks. His shoulders drop in disappointment. "Ashley, Iknewyou were going to wreck the Camry before I took it over. Brenda wanted to buy it for her son."
I’m about to tell him I didn’t wreck the Camry and that this isnota rental, but I can’t ignore that final comment. I turn to Brenda.
"How old is your son?" I ask because I know Brenda's much younger than I am.
Brenda looks caught. She glances at Ross before looking back at me. “He’s just twelve, but we were thinking it would be a good car for him when he starts learning to drive."
I recognize that“we”all too well.
"Wewere thinking?” I repeat. “Or is that just Ross doing the thinking for you? Because he's really good at that, thinking for two, you know. So long as you let him, that is, which I did for far too many years. But I'm done doing that now."
I lift the key fob over my shoulder and give it a click. The car lets out an adorable high-pitched beep, letting me know it's locked.
Inside, I walk right past the sign in the foyer and go straight into Ross's office. First order of business is to remove the yearbook photo from theBrynn’s Beautiesboard. Next, I remove the professional photo they used of Ross in his white coat with his cocked head and overly confident grin.
Ross had a lot of nerve printing that horrible yearbook picture of me, considering how terrible his seventh-grade photo is. I shove the pushpin into the top and step back to give it a good look. Acne to the hilt, a hack job of a bowl cut, and oversized teeth that he had yet to grow into.
I flip open the folder once more, snatch my two-week written notice form, and place it squarely on top of his desk. Because the thought strikes me, I reach for the tape roll, tear off a strip, and fold it into a loop. Then I retrieve the horrible picture I removed from the staff board and tape it to the bottom of my resignation letter right beside my signature.
There, that should help you understand why I don’t want to stick around.
Beneath my resignation form is a flyer with the details of the home I’ll be renting, the address, and the move-in date (two weeks from today). Custody will remain the same, and the move will only add ten minutes to the drive between us.
Beneath those forms is one last paper giving Ross first rights to the Camry before I sell it. I resist the urge to scribble a note about Brenda’s son because the personal message I wrote on my notice says it all.
This is for the best, Ross. I think we’ll have a healthier co-parenting relationship if I no longer work for you.
This feels good. So good that I keep asking myself why I didn't do it sooner. But I'm met with the same internal responseeach time:It never would've tasted this sweet. Besides, this very path is what led me back to Liam, and how could I ever regret that?
Since Loretta and her husband were long gone before I arrived, Loretta sends me a follow-up asking me who I’ll be working for in town. She’ll likely transfer her records wherever I go since it’ll be closer. I love hearing that because the patients are what make work something to look forward to. Especially patients who give me warning calls so I don't fly off the handle when I walk into an ugly situation.
I go about my day, working on the three patients I have scheduled for that afternoon, but behind me, I hear snickers, whispers, and wonders about whether or not I've seen what's in the waiting room.
Aww, Brynn’s beauties,I think to myself,you have no idea.
Yes, I know what's there. I’ve seen it, and soon, it will beyourturn to see Dr. Brynn in a whole new light. I have Andrea, the clerk at the front desk, forward all my dental files to my new dentist, DDS. Patricia Wyler, who, it turns out, has attended a few of the 40s singles events. She's never been married, having focused on her career like Annica, but I look forward to hopefully seeing her find someone.
Just as the day winds down, the staff busily wiping down stations, sanitizing tools, and preparing for the next day, I waltz into the waiting room at last. Andrea’s gone to grab the usual box of jumbo frosted cookies for their staff meeting, which happens to take place in this very waiting room—perfect. It’s not a meeting I attend, but the rest of Brynn’s beauties do, and I can’t wait for their eyes to behold what I’ve got.
I start by removing the photographs of me because, no, I didn't give Ross permission to use them.
Then, I post a few fair warnings of my own.
Picture number one is a closeup of a very remorseful looking Ross with his face so puffy on one side he looks like a two-faced creature—half llama, half hippo.
