Am I eating? Just enough. But food has no taste these days.
Am I moving my body? Sure. For the first week, I moved from the bed to the couch and back to the bed again.
This week, I’ve forced myself to take walks outside every day. It would be a shame not to since the weather is perfect this time of year. Joey texted the other day to let me know she’s back in town and asked if I’d join her for a spin class, but I ignored the invite. While my behavior isn’t healthy and I’d be hypothetically slapping my patients upside the head if they were acting this way, I’m not ready to find a new normal yet.
I want to soak in my misery a little longer, god dammit. Is that too much to ask?
But I discover that my friends have other plans this morning when they practically knock down my door.
“Oh shit. When was the last time you washed your hair?” Millie says by way of greeting.
She’s the last person I expect to find standing in my apartment, not just because she’s been swamped with work, but because she’s Asher’s sister.
Joey rushes to hug me. Though after she steps back, she turns up her nose. “We’ll wait while you shower.”
It’s not a suggestion.
Twenty minutes later, and feeling somewhat human again, I join them in the kitchen, my hair still wet but smelling much better. They’ve made a fresh pot of coffee, and seeing how they’ve made themselves at home melts my frigid heart a little. Joey prefers her coffee black, same as my brother, while Millie pours a concerning amount of sugar and creamer into hers. (I keep my doctor mouth shut.) I add a splash of creamer into mine after a mug is shoved in my face.
“Where have you been?” Joey asks. “I’ve tried calling.”
“Hibernating,” I reply flippantly.
“Claire,” she reprimands. “It’s not even winter.”
“Blame it on global warming.”
Millie rolls her eyes, though she quickly dons a more concerned expression. “Asking ‘how are you doing?’ seems like a loaded and useless question, so instead I’m going to ask, do you want to be helped, hugged, or heard?”
“Is there a fourth option to behauledout of the trash? Because I feel like absolute garbage.”
She eyes Joey, then the two of them lean in.
“When do you start your new job?” Millie asks, redirecting the conversation.
I bite down on my lower lip, thankful for the shot of pain it causes. It’s a sign I can still feel something. “Um…” I hesitate to tell the truth, but they’ll get it out of me regardless. “I don’t have one.”
“What?” both women nearly shout, their eyes bugging out.
“Hold up,” Millie says. “What do you mean?”
She tops off her coffee and scoots her stool closer to mine. “Spill it. Tell us what’s going on and why you’re not upstate.”
I frown at her. “I was only hired for the summer. Why would I still be there when another doctor has filled my position?”
This is why I’ve been avoiding her. I don’t trust myself not to force her to give me every detail about the new doctor. I lie awakeat night consumed by thoughts about who they might be. Did Asher hire a woman? Is she young and fresh out of med school? Is she pretty? Are her boobs bigger than mine? Is Asher attracted to her? Does she get along with Bea? Oh, god. Do they play beauty salon together?
It hurts too much to think about it. Like death by a thousand paper cuts.
Millie and Joey exchange a look, both pressing their lips together, making it impossible to decipher what they’re silently saying to one another.
“Why do I feel like you know something I don’t?”
Neither answers. In fact, both busy themselves with their coffee.
“Millie…”
“Asher hasn’t hired another doctor.”
