“Yep, how about six?” she suggests.
“That will give me enough time to get done here. I’ll pick you ladies up.”
“Perfect, and tomorrow, we’ll put my plan in place with Rhonda,” Mom says, and she and Dr. Rubin talk for a few more minutes before we leave the hospital. Once we get into the car, I turn it on then turn my head to look at my mom.
“You know there will be nothing between me and Dr. Rubin, right?”
“Of course,” she says, but her eyes twinkle with mischief.
“I’m serious, Mom.”
“I know you are, honey.”
“Good,” I mutter, put the car in drive, and take us home. The whole way there, I’m trying to think of ways to get out of tonight but nothing comes to mind.
*
“Are you ready?” I ask my mom, walking into her room, where she’s lying on the bed.
“I have a headache.”
“How bad is it?” I question, going to her side.
“Not that bad, but I think it’s a migraine.”
“Did you take something?”
“Yes, I took one of my pills; I’m just waiting for it to kick in.” She sighs, covering her eyes, so I walk to the light switch and flip it off.
“Where’s your phone, so I can call Dr. Rubin and cancel?” I ask, using the light from the doorway to see if I can find it.
“Oh no, you two should go,” she mutters, and I take a breath, knowing exactly what this is.
“Mom, I’m not going out with him without you.”
“He doesn’t really know anyone in town, honey. Do it for me.”
I’m going to kill her. My dying mother is going to die of suffocation when I cover her head with a pillow. “Mom,” I hiss, and she rolls to her side and mumbles something I can’t make out, so I start a panic search for her phone, but come up empty-handed. “I’m going to kill you,” I tell her when the doorbell goes off.
“Have fun, honey.”
“You’re lucky you’re dying,” I grumble.
I hear her laugh and say, “I heard that,” as I make my way from her room to the front door.
“Hey,” I greet Dr. Rubin as I open the door.
“Hi.” He smiles softly looking unsure of what to say.
“Mom has a migraine,” I say, trying not to sound like I’m spitting the words out.
“Really?” His face changes and I see concern in his eyes. “Do you mind if I come in and see her for a moment?”
“Of course not.” I step back then lead him into her room. “Mom, Dr. Rubin’s here.”
“Are you okay, Josie?”
“I just have a headache, nothing serious. I told Lea that you guys should go on without me.”
“What did you take?” he asks, going to her side, so I follow behind him and turn on her bedside lamp so he can see a little better.
“I took one of the pills you prescribed for my migraines,” she says, sounding a million times weaker than she did moments ago when I was in the room with her.
“It should kick in soon,” he tells her.
“I don’t think I should leave you, Mom.”
“Oh, stop. You guys go on. I’m just going to wait for the pill to kick in. There is nothing for you to do for me.”
“She should sleep,” he says, and I want to say, ‘But she’s lying so we’ll go out alone,’ but I have a feeling he would think I’m crazy, so I nod and turn out her light.
“Love you, Mom.”
“Love you too, honey. And take care of my girl, Doctor.”
“Sure.” He chuckles, making me wonder if he knows what she’s up to.
“We don’t have to go,” I tell him when we stop at the front door hoping that he will take pity on me.
“I don’t mind.” He shrugs holding the door open.
Okay, so that isn’t going to work. I grab my bag and follow him out to his car. He goes around to the driver’s side as I open my door. The small fact he didn’t open it annoyed me slightly, but then I remind myself this isn’t a date, so it doesn’t actually matter.
Once we are both buckled in and on our way to town, I try to think of something, anything to talk about but nothing comes to mind. Thank God the drive is short, so it isn’t long before we pull in front of one of the bars on Main Street.
“You don’t mind bar food, do you?”
“Not at all.” I smile and get out, following behind him into the bar.
Once we’re inside, the buzz of people talking fills my ears, and I try my best not to look around for any familiar faces. Being Friday night, the bar is packed, but we find a small table in one of the corners. As soon as we sit down, I pull the menu from the holder in the middle of the table and inspect it, just so I can avoid all the awkward looks I’m receiving. I know word had spread around town about me being home, but for the most part, I’m always at the house, so I never really have much interaction with people. But sitting here, I can feel people looking at me like I’m some kind of leper.
“Do you know what you want to eat?”
“A bacon burger and fries,” I reply.
“I’m getting the same. I’ll go put in our orders. What would you like to drink?”
“Corona.” I smile, or try to, and he nods, getting up from the table and heading to the bar, coming back a couple minutes later with two beers, both Alaskan Amber, which I hate, but instead of saying anything, I take the bottle from him and gulp down half.