Friday morning came too soon after a long, lonesome night. Kendra crawled out of bed to turn off the alarm on her phone, which had been strategically placed across the room. She turned on the room lights, which were too bright, and imagined shrinking away from them with a hiss like a vampire facing the sun. Outwardly, only the hint of an ironic smile betrayed her melodramatic hatred of mornings.
A change of clothes later, she stood before the coffee machine waiting for glorious black liquid to dispense into her expectant mug. She couldn't remember which pod she had shoved into it. Hopefully something strong and bold. The hazelnut creamer squatted beside her hand, ready to work its magic. A disturbing belch came from the direction of Ski's room, drawing forth a scowl from her. Susie's taste in men had never made any sense to her. Her cute, petite bestie could have had her pick of any number of attractive and successful guys. Instead, time and again, she wound up with the ugliest, dumbest, and meanest cretins society would allow to walk around as free men.
Kendra had joined the Army National Guard under the buddy program with Susie. They had done all their training together and been stationed in the same section of the same company. Following their completion of both basic training and AIT, they had gone to their first drill with their unit. That day, before first formation, Ski had been in prime bro mode, the center of attention of a gaggle of guys discussing his win at an MMA match a few weeks prior, which some of them had attended. They had drifted over to listen as the group seemed the most animated and exciting in the room. Kendra had noted Ski's gnarly cauliflower ears, crooked nose, square jaw, immense shoulders, and assertive body language. When he noticed the two of them, Ski had pointed right at Susie and mentioned that he might have been worried if his opponent had looked tough like her. And in that moment, despite the fact that Susie had been seeing someone else at the time, Kendra had known a relationship was inevitable.
What had surprised her over the years was the fact that Ski was not a total asshole. Sure, he had only a vague conception of what it meant to pick up after himself, and never figured out the purpose of a vacuum cleaner or how to turn on the dishwasher, but he had gone out of his way to do nice things for Susie the entire time they were together. He was the only one of a long line of brutes to not break her heart. Though in the end that record stood only because of the timing of events.
The coffee machine announced its success with a beep. Kendra poured creamer and two packs of stevia sweetener into the liquid, stirred vigorously with a straw, and began to sip the heavenly liquid while she cleaned up after herself. She alternated between applying makeup and intaking caffeine, then pounded the remaining coffee before going to her car. The ride in to work proved as annoying as ever, with early morning traffic making a mess of her commute.
Then she arrived at the outpatient facility. Kendra used her key to unlock the office, then went about her morning tasks. First and most importantly, start the office coffee machine. No fancy coffee pods here -- she had to play around with coffee grounds and coffee filters like a Neanderthal. She tidied up the waiting room a bit, then took her post behind the desk as Doctor Kathy arrived, bringing up the schedule in anticipation of the question.
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
"What time is my first --"
"Your first patient is at eight. You have ten minutes to get ready. The notes just say it's a wrist injury."
"Is this a kid in sports or an older patient?"
"Age is eighty-four."
"Call me out when -- she? -- when she gets here." Doctor Kathy stopped just long enough to fill a paper cup with black coffee and then was back to her office.
The day went fast, as always at work. People came in. Kendra greeted them based on the energy she felt from them -- cheerful and jokey for some, kind and nurturing for others, and curt and professional for the difficult ones. She got their information. The doctor saw them. Kendra ran their insurance information. The phone rang with someone wanting to schedule an appointment. During the lulls in action, she filed paperwork and performed basic housekeeping tasks in the waiting room and exam room. Lunch didn't happen that day, as was often the case if they fell behind schedule. Doctor Kathy, a skeleton wrapped in leathery skin, didn't exactly prioritize meals. She did like to sneak out the back for a quick smoke, which didn't exactly speed things up.
When they saw their last patient at four, Kendra did a quick sweep of the floors and wiped down every surface before returning to her car. She ordered a burrito from a phone app, then drove to pick it up. While parking, she noted Ski's car wasn't there. She thought this was his day training with his creepy Indian friend and not the tramp, which made his early departure a good thing. There were days she regretted her decision to move a homeless Ski into her apartment. He was a real friend now, not just the faux friendship between a woman and her BFF's husband, but a little bit of that man went a long way. If he would just start dating some poor, unsuspecting woman, he could finally fly from the nest of her apartment. Or maybe Marius would take over Ski's rehabilitation.
Kendra plopped onto her couch and tore into her burrito. Marius. Possibly the fakest person she had ever encountered, spewing an unending torrent of compliments and self-aggrandizing anecdotes. Yet it did wonders for one's self-esteem when the most powerful man in the world thought you worth pursuing. Less so when he forgot you existed the moment you were out of his sight. She had known it would happen, though. There was no point being upset about it. This was just another case of don't hate the player, hate the game. She really, really hated the game.
She pulled out her phone and brought up Greg Smith in her contact list. After a moment's hesitation, she sent him a text. 'House to myself. Want to come over?'