Page 9 of His Last Shot

Family Sticks Together as One

Rachel

“ O kay, Rachel, are all your medications still the same?”

“Yes.”

“How about your pain on a scale from one to ten? Are you in any pain today, and if so, where is it located?”

My inner eye roll is huge with this question. And not that this nurse isn’t sweet and understanding. I get she is just doing her job, but yeah. I am in pain.

Like all the time.

“Yes. I would say it’s a seven. My elbows are really bothering me today.”

Empathy stretches across her face, adding another brow crease to the three already there, hitting her salt-and-pepper hairline.

During the nurse’s typical assessment of me, I casually survey the room.

The office has stayed the same ever since I started coming here at ten years old, following my RA diagnosis.

Mauve and sea-foam-green-painted walls surround us.

The border, adorned with tiny seashells, runs along the top of the wall, peeling slightly in the corner.

Ripped and stained vinyl chairs rest along a scuffed wall.

I like to call it retro chic, but really, it’s tacky 1990s Bill Clinton era decor .

When my Uncle Dexter became our guardian, this is where he said I had to go after my diagnosis. And I’ve been here ever since. Plus, it helps that my uncle takes care of the cost.

I have my suspicions about how the doctor gets paid. I’ve never seen a bill, but I have noticed the doctor’s name among a list of others titled THEY OWE ME in my uncle’s office .

I don’t know what it means, and honestly, I don’t want to.

Truth be told, I had an appointment at the Cleveland Clinic this week, but I canceled it.

This place, although I’m not sure I’m getting the best care, is comforting to me.

The nurses here are like friends. I can’t leave them.

My brother will be livid when he finds out I canceled it.

He wants me out of this place and somewhere else.

Somewhere ‘more world-renowned,’ as he calls it.

I get it. He loves me and cares. But they won’t be able to help me, I know it.

I’m stuck with this disease with no way out, so why even try?

Also, it’s here that I decided I wanted to be a nurse. Every single nurse that has treated me has been amazing. I want to impart that same kindness and understanding to others who suffer like me.

But I can’t do it. My RA always gets in the way.

I mean, how can I work for someone else other than my uncle? How can I put in the time at school? If I were to have a flare-up, would anyone be understanding? They can come on without warning. I can’t be calling off all the time.

But also, I always wonder, could this be possible for me? Why can’t I do it? The job at the bar isn’t easy at times. It can be physically demanding, yet I push through and do it.

And then, seeing Johnny’s excitement when I told him has forced me to reevaluate some things. To have a man I hardly know express such enthusiasm for my dreams was unlike anything I’ve had in my life. Drew showed no interest in me unless it had to do with my body.

I distinctly remember the day I told Drew I was contemplating pursuing nursing. His exact words were, “Heck, yeah! You would look so hot in scrubs.”

That was it. That’s all I got.

So, having a man cheer me on is … exhilarating. Plus, Micah supports me with this, so maybe, just maybe, my uncle will, too. I know he loves me and wants the best for me.

A sudden rush of ideas floods my mind, grinding and churning their gears as I watch the nurse with her orthopedic shoes enter my info into the computer.

Renee has been here since I was young. We have a nice dynamic, so I muster up enough bravery to get her thoughts. “Can I ask you something, Renee?”

She continues to concentrate on the computer screen. “Sure, sweetie. What’s up?” Her nails tap-tap-tap on the keyboard as she adjusts her reading glasses on her nose.

“How long have you been a nurse?” She boops her name badge on the computer screen, pushes away the keyboard, and gives me her full attention.

She swoops her glasses onto her head while glancing at the ceiling. “Let’s see.” She pauses as she contemplates her answer. “I would say around thirty-five years now.”

“Wow! And you’ve always loved it?”

“I have. I mean, every job has its moments, of course, but yes. It has been very fulfilling.” She tilts her head in curiosity. “Why are you asking me this? Are you thinking about going to school?”

I sigh in response, take a moment to gather my thoughts, and decide to confide in her.

Also, she will be only the fourth person I have ever confessed this to.

The first being my brother. The second being my cheating ex, and then the too-hot-for-his-own-good stranger who took my breath away and I kissed under the stars.

Wringing my hands in my lap, I rhythmically swing my legs back and forth over the edge of the exam table. “I have thought about it before. I’ve always wanted to be a nurse. To help people. But it’s out of my reach.” I shrug and sheepishly turn my face away. “You know, with my RA and all.”

A wide grin stretches across her features. “Well, don’t let that stop you!”

Regarding her again, I let out an exasperated sigh. “Oh, come on, Renee. With my flare-ups and chronic pain, how could I ever do”—I wave my hand over her—“what you do? And then there’s the schooling. My body won’t allow for it.”

With a deliberate step, she walks over and places her weathered hand on my knee. “I am a type 1 diabetic.”

My mouth drops open. “You’re kidding me?”

She shakes her head. “No, ma’am. And the other nurse, Bobby, he has MS.” She squeezes my knee.

“Then there’s Chrissy; well, that poor dear deals with Crohn’s disease.

” Determination fills her expression, raising her chin in the air.

“Let nothing stop you from doing the things you want to do. There are nurses who work through cancer. Some have personal family problems; others take care of their aging parents.” She raises her hand and then points to herself.

“You can totally do this. You are smart, capable, and have an enormous heart. That’s all the makings of an incredible nurse.

And you’re still young.” She lets out a heavy sigh, then smiles sweetly.

“You can accomplish big things, young lady.” She gently shakes my knee, then leans forward.

“Do the big things,” she whispers, then releases her hand. “The doctor will be in soon.”

After she exits the exam room, soft pop music creates a calming atmosphere, leaving me to contemplate my life in peace.

Hearing her words creates a swell of excitement in my chest. Could I do this?

Do I want this? The thought of going to school is daunting for sure, yet very exhilarating.

And the cost wouldn’t be an issue. The OBGs have been very generous tippers over the years.

They will nurse one seven-dollar beer for hours, then slap a hundred on the bar.

I’ve tried and failed to reject the kind gesture.

It brings them joy, so I let them. But because of their generosity, I now have a modest savings account that is more than enough to pay for the schooling.

And money that I keep hidden from my uncle.

Suddenly, the ache in my elbow is gone since all I can think about is a brighter future.

But first, I need to talk this over with my uncle.

Knock, knock, knock.

I’m standing outside my uncle’s office, wringing my hands to release some of this tension building.

“Come on in.” His muffled reply sails from the other side of the door.

With a deep inhale, I puff out my chest and slowly turn the knob. As soon as the door opens, I’m met with the smell of cigar smoke and fresh paint from the remodel and his kind eyes.

“Hey, Rach.” A genuine smile reaches his ears.

Uncle Dexter did not receive the height of our family. I tower over him, and he definitely suffers from short-man syndrome, that’s for sure. It can be a blow to the ego when your niece, who is only twelve, surpasses you. I was five six back then. He’s five five.

In order to make up for his lack of height, he always walks fast, head back, arms swinging with purpose.

He ensures he commands attention and respect in any room he walks into by projecting an aura of importance.

With each passing day, his receding hairline inches back further while he carries extra weight around his midsection.

He’s never been married, yet always has a woman on his arm.

Uncle Dexter loves Micah and me as if we are his own. After my parents passed away, he and his father took us in and raised us. He has been there for me through so much.

And, I know it’s weird for me—a thirty-year-old woman—to ask him for permission to attend nursing school, but there is this debt I feel I owe him. He employs me here and pays me way more than he should; he takes care of my medical bills, and he’s family. The only family Micah and I have right now.

Plus, he relies on me to run this bar. Micah and I handle just about everything, so in order for me to go to nursing school, I will need to cut back on my hours. And Johnny was right. He may need to hire someone to fill in.

Suddenly, the thought of Johnny and maybe seeing him again soon is making my cheeks pink.

My uncle notices.

“You okay today?” he asks as he rises from his chair behind his desk, abandoning whatever work he was doing to give me his full attention.

I shove aside my thoughts of Johnny. “Sure. Why?” I answer, attempting to look all unbothered, although I am anything but when it comes to thinking about that man.

“You’re flushed. I was hoping you weren’t sick.”

With a shake of my head, I try to reassure him. “I’m fine.”

He grabs my head, pulls it toward him, and kisses my forehead the way he always has. “Good. What brings you by?”

“I’m so sorry to bother you. I know you’re busy today.”