Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 79583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
“Thank you.”
“No problem, and…” She smiles softly. “If you’re worried about what you missed this week, don’t be. We didn’t do much in class besides get reacquainted with health and safety regulations. Next week is when the fun will start.”
“I’m looking forward to that.” I give her a small genuine smile, and she studies me for a moment like she’s trying to figure something out.
“Is your plan to work in the emergency room here at this hospital?”
“That’s my goal.”
“This class will help you get your foot in the door, and I’m sure Dr. Hofstadter will give you a recommendation. He couldn’t say enough good things about you when we spoke this morning.”
Yes, I’m totally setting myself up. I’m so screwed.
“Thank you for this opportunity, and I’ll see you next week.”
“See you next week,” she agrees cheerfully, and I leave the classroom. I go back down the hall to the elevator, and once inside, I open the packet and look at the outline for the class. It all seems easy enough, and I know I won’t have a problem with the workload if I take the class. I just don’t know if I want to take it now.
Closing the folder when I reach the lobby, I head outside to the parking lot, and when I reach my car, I get in, start the engine, put on my seat belt, and then stare at the hospital in front of me. “What should I do?”
With no answer from the windshield, I put my car in reverse, back out of the parking space, and then drive to the grocery store, where I pick up stuff to make dinner and a frozen chocolate cream pie, because everyone knows pie makes everything okay. I also get Dizzy some peanut butter doggie ice cream from the frozen food section. When I get home, I drop the folder with the information for the class on the island and try to forget about it as I get to work on dinner, but no matter what I do, I can’t seem to stop thinking about it.
Needing to talk to someone about it, I pick up my cell phone and dial Willow.
“Hey, I was just thinking about you,” she says, answering on the second ring, and I smile, holding my phone between my ear and shoulder.
“Maybe our twin ESP is finally kicking in,” I joke, spreading cheddar cheese over the spicy ground beef I cooked earlier.
“I doubt that.” She laughs, and I grin, thinking about a game we used to play when we were younger. I’d think of a number, and she would try to guess it by reading my mind, and I’d do the same to her. It never worked, ever, but that didn’t stop us from trying over and over again. “So what’s going on? How are you and Harlen?”
“We’re good. I just needed someone to talk to about something happening at work.”
“What’s that?” she asks, as I start laying out the tater tots on top of the shredded cheese.
“You know that trauma class I wanted to take at the hospital?” I question.
“The one you didn’t get into?” she asks, and I nod even though she can’t see me.
“Yeah. Someone dropped out of the class, so one of the doctors put in a recommendation and I got a call this afternoon that a spot’s mine if I want it,” I tell her as I open the door to the oven.
“That was nice.”
“It was nice, except this doctor gives me the heebie-jeebies, and now I’m not sure if I should take the class. I don’t want to feel like I owe him,” I tell her, putting the casserole dish in the oven.
“Are you worried that if you accept a place in the class, he’s going to hold it over your head?”
“I don’t know,” I sigh. Hearing it said out loud from someone else makes it seem ridiculous.
“I think you should take the class, and if he says anything you’re not comfortable with, just talk to HR about it.”
“I guess you’re right.” I chew my bottom lip, wondering if I’m overthinking this, but feeling like I’m not.
“Don’t overthink it.”
“Now you really are reading my mind.” I laugh.
“No, I just know you. You overthink everything. It’s who you are. It’s a good thing most of the time, but sometimes you just need to accept things as they come.”
“I’ll try,” I agree, setting a timer on the stove.
“Good, now tell me when I get to come for a waffle breakfast?”
Apparently my mom has been bragging to everyone about Harlen’s waffles.
“You know you’re always welcome, waffles or not.”
“Have you gotten a bed for your guest room yet?” she asks, and I let out a deep breath.
“Not yet. It’s on my long list of things I still need to get for the house, but I should have one before Christmas hopefully.”