“You too!”
Once I got to my car, I pulled out my phone to call my sister, Danita, like I usually did when I was headed home and it was almost nighttime. After the third ring, she answered.
“Hi, baby sis! On the way home?”
I sighed. “You know it. I just got dinner and headed there now.”
“Long day?”
“Yep. Like always. I just wish I could go home, already have my bath run for me, dinner cooked, someone there to rub my feet, then end the night getting my head smashed into the pillow.” I sighed. “But a girl can only dream.”
Danita sucked her teeth. “You can have all that. You just choose not to. You stopped dating, and you’re letting grass grow under your feet when you’re still a spring chicken, babe! Get on the scene.”
I rolled my eyes as if she could see me. Danita was the true definition of a Scorpio woman. She was passionate, loyal, and courageous. She feared nothing and believed it was essential to live life to the fullest. She would often encourage me to do the same, but I didn’t have the confidence that she had. Danita didn’t fear rejection like me. However, being a Cancer, Danita helped balance me out. We are both water signs, and she understood me better than anyone else.
“That’s easier for you to say. I don’t know if I’m ready to date yet.”
“Oh my gosh, Mina! It’s been a year. Fuck that nigga! He’s moved on, and so can you.”
“I’m not thinking about him. I’m over him. Plus, I work too much for a true relationship. Gio said?—”
“Blah, blah, blah. If you don’t think Gio is living his best life, you’re insane. Listen, if Mama didn’t teach us anything, it was to enjoy life, and you need to do just that.”
Danita was right. My mother lived her life to the fullest, even in her last days. Even though she died young, she lived more than I do. I felt myself tearing up thinking about my mama, so I changed the subject.
“Anyway, how was work today?”
Danita rambled on and on about her day as a teacher. Her day-to-day woes played in the background as I thought about what my life would be like had I not been dealt the cards I was dealt. Still, even then, I wasn’t sure if I would’ve gotten a better hand.
I stuffedmy lunchbox in my locker and grabbed my stethoscope. It was a new day, and things were still busy. I tried my hardest to wake up in a good mood, but it was challenging to do so with a manager like Patrick. Just as I grabbed my ChapStick out of my purse to place in my pocket, Patrick came bursting through the door.
“Good morning, Amina.”
I took a deep breath before responding. My body was still tired and mentally drained from the previous day, so I didn’t have time for Patrick’s foolishness today.
“Good morning.”
“Um... Who was that patient you had? She always asks for you, an older black lady, Jenny, Jackie, or something like that. Do you remember?”
Confused, I looked at him. “No, I don’t, because you’re not giving me anything. I see tons of patients throughout here.”
Patrick huffed and rolled his eyes. “She had breast cancer. You spent most of your shifts catering to her needs? She never came in here with any family. You were her only friend.”
My eyes widened when it all clicked together. “Gloria... Gloria Moore?”
“Yeah, Ms. Moore.”
My heart raced. “What about her? Is she here?”
“Yes.”
I didn’t even wait for Patrick to reply as I sped past him out of the break room. I looked in every room and corner until I came across Gloria in the waiting room. My heart relaxed but still raced as I looked at the beautiful, well-kept woman. Gloria was my first patient after my mother died. Her energy and spirit reminded me so much of my mother that I grew attached to her. She was battling breast cancer during that time but had gone into remission.
My soul left my body as I saw her sitting there. I knew from experience the potential reason she was here. Ms. Gloria had chocolate-colored skin that was covered in black moles. She rocked a jet-black bob wig because she lost all of her hair during chemotherapy. Despite her age, she always made sure to wear makeup and high-end designer clothes. Ms. Gloria was once the VP of financial services for a bank, but she retired after receiving her diagnosis. She stopped scrolling on her phone as if she sensed me. She looked up from her phone, smiling big. She stood on her feet.
“Amina, pretty girl, how are you?” She opened her arms, and I walked into them as if she were magnetic.
Her sweet-smelling perfume filled my nose, and her warm embrace did wonders for how I felt.
