Page 50 of Delayed Intention

The Rebuild

Ginger hops into my SUV and is more buoyant than she has been in a month.

The poor dog’s mood has been a reflection of my own—Miche says she is empathic—so she has been moping alongside me for almost a month.

Now, after having filed the last of the reinstatement documentation with the medical board, I’m officially licensed to practice medicine in Colorado again.

I’m also reinstated in Nebraska and Wyoming, but I don’t plan on returning to practice in either of those states.

Finally, I can get back to work and feel more like myself. At least, that’s the plan.

Some reporters have gotten wind of the charges being dropped and asked for my statement. I tell them all the same thing—the truth. I’m just grateful my name is cleared, and I can get back to doing what I love—practicing medicine. Beyond that, I have no comment.

The clinic reached out a few times as soon as the case appeared to move in my favor, but I didn’t return their calls.

I sent a personal email to each member of the support staff, thanking them for the years we worked together.

To the board and my colleagues, I only sent my letter of resignation, and left it at that.

On the one hand, the practice had to put up with more than one instance of drama on my behalf, and I’m sure they are happy to see the back of me.

That said, I can’t possibly return to work there after their decision not to stand by me through this last event.

I might be a pain in the ass, but I deserved some loyalty after my dedication to the practice.

Dr. Hendricks was more than happy to hire me into her practice in Estes Park as she is hoping to retire soon.

So now I’m at the clinic in Estes full-time.

It’s mostly locals now but as the summer hikers start to come in, the practice will get busier, and I look forward to it.

I’m almost home when my phone rings, interrupting my thoughts, and on the dash I see my sister is calling.

“Hey Miche.” I feel like I can relax for the first time in a month and she probably hears it in my voice.

“It’s all done! Congratulations Joshy!”

I grin. Michelle hasn’t called me by my baby-brother nickname in more than twenty years. I hear Ella and Erin launching into congratulatory squeaks in the background. My smile widens as I turn down the volume for Ginger’s sake. She looks like she wishes she could put her paws over her ears.

“Thanks, Miche.”

“You know how you’ll be thanking me.”

“I sure do.”

Instead of laying into me about losing Alan for a day, she had me sign up for eighteen involuntary babysitting sessions, one for each hour I borrowed her husband to rehydrate me, accounting for his travel time as well the time spent helping me.

She’s been quite serious about this, including making a formal spreadsheet for me to attach to my calendar.

She’s already warned me that if I miss one, I will owe her two, which she claims is a reasonable interest rate.

“Yeah, I’m well aware.” The truth is I don’t mind because there’s no downside to spending more time with my nieces.

It will not only be good for me, I’m more available now that my work situation has changed.

Even with half a day’s drive between our towns, it doesn’t feel like a burden, but another move into this new chapter in my life.

One where my family isn’t on the back-burner.

Seeing more of those three girls is part of reorganizing my priorities.

“So, Michelle.” I clear my throat. “Have you heard anything from Lily recently?”

Silence.

“Miche?”

“If you want to know how she’s doing, why don’t you call her?” Her tone is firm but not unkind.

“She doesn’t want to hear from me.”

She barks a sharp “Ha,” that sounds nothing like a laugh at all. “Because reading women’s minds and deciding you know what they want has always worked out for you.”

Given all the evidence, I can’t argue with that.

“Do you think I should call her?”

“Yes!”

“Do you think she’ll answer?” I can’t keep the hope out of my voice, and I’m not sure that I care that she can hear it.

“No. But you should still make the effort.”

“Okay, I will.”

“Wait, what?” Michelle’s tone is incredulous on the other end of the phone. “No argument? Who are you and what have you done with my brother?”

“Very funny. I’m trying here Michelle.” I clear my throat. “If you think I should call her, I will.”

“I definitely think you should call her… By the way, you should know, you don’t have to avoid us for Passover.”

“Because Hanukah worked out so well.” I deadpan.

“I’d miss having you here.” My sister is working up to something, I can tell.

Our family usually gets together with the Haddad family in Lincoln and that can only mean Lily would be there.

The idea that I would ruin another holiday for her or our families is at the forefront of my mind.

After everything I’ve put Lily through. I had resigned myself to having Passover alone at home.

I pull up to my driveway as my sister stays quiet. I let Ginger out and into the back gate before I let myself into the house, lost in thought when she spoke again.

“So Passover will be different this year. First of all, we are celebrating more than one night.”

“Since when do we all celebrate more than one night of Passover?”

“Well, Roselyn and David do, and since they’re coming into town, Lily is planning a whole thing. In fact, her parents and other siblings are coming as well.”

“All of them?” Why would Miche want me there for that?

“They’re all invited, but we’ll see what comes of it.”

Not for the first time, I feel mixed emotions for Lily—proud that she’s confident enough to expose herself to her entire family.

The next layer of feelings is worry—that they will hurt her again.

At least she has Roslyn and Abbie. Abbie had been in touch a few more times to give me no end of shit, which is the least of what I deserve.

I know she’s thinking about moving to Nebraska.

Her family doesn’t live in the D.C. area anymore, and she misses Lily.

“Yeah… so, the point is the Mendes family will all be gathering at Rose and Lily’s for the first night.

So Roselyn, David, and their daughter will stay for the second night.

What I’m getting at is we aren’t joining them until the second night.

It would be too many people. I mean they’ll be around nineteen, not including all the kids.

So, you see, Alan, Mom, and I will have the first night at home and we’ll join Rose on night two. ”

“Wow.” I can’t remember the last time we weren’t at Rose’s house for the first night.

“The point is, since we aren’t going there, you can come home for the first night.” So, our family was essentially uninvited from the Haddad home for night one of Pesah for the first time in decades because of me.

“That makes sense.” What else can I say? I start to ask whether I shouldn’t come, suspecting the rest of my family will be invited to Rose’s if I’m not there when I hear an argument breaking out in the background of my sister’s call.

“Shit, Josh I gotta go referee. You’re coming up for the first night now, right?” I hear in her voice that it isn’t up for debate. There’s no way our mother or she will let me be alone for the holiday.

“Yeah, go on, we’ll talk again soon.”

Once she hangs up, loneliness settles back over me, creeping in like a fog.

Instead of reaching for a drink, which hasn’t done me any good lately, I grab Ginger’s leash.

The sound of the lead, as I slide it off the wall, is almost undetectable to my ears but makes my dog appear out of nowhere as if I blew a whistle inviting her to the front door.

“Let’s go for a walk, okay?”

Ginger just smiles expectantly, and off we go.

Lily, Heckenlively’s, Lincoln, NE, April 2025

Heckenlively’s Market is usually crowded but now that both Easter and Passover are around the corner, it’s wall-to-wall people in every aisle.

I’m almost run over by a harried-looking young man with a black wide-rimmed fedora, who’s pushing a cart so full of matzah, wine, and gefilte fish jars that I vaguely wonder if any is left behind.

Not that our family eats gefilte fish. Rose, born in Egypt, brought her Sephardic traditions to the Passover holiday, and as far as I know, there has been no one who married into our family that gave up the opportunity for rice during the holidays; who would?

In place of gefilte fish, our family eats baccala , which Nona makes from scratch.

Of course, we eat it year-round, but to me, it’s a staple of the meal we have on the first night of Passover, after the seder.

I’m helping Nona make some for both nights of the holiday.

Looking at my list, I see we need eight pounds of dried cod along with some fish heads for the table.

Waiting my turn for our order, I reflect that the food prep for the dinners is starting to feel like a second full-time job.

Before I allow any self-pity to settle in, I remember that while it’s exhausting, sharing this experience with my grandmother is a blessing.

Reflecting on everything Nona had to survive for me to even exist, I pause to thank God.