Perri O'Shaughnessy - Unfit to Practice

“He paints women to look like pieces of furniture, Mom.”

“How insightful of him. I feel like a broken-down footstool at this very moment. Can we go to bed now?”

But Bob’s research had woken him up. He had other ideas. “Mom? Sometimes I miss my dad. I wonder what it would be like. To have two parents in the same place. I mean, that party. A new baby and everything and all of them together.”

Instantly, a gap opened in her heart. She thought of the men in her life. Kevin Cruz, the father about to lose his children. Jack, Bob’s absent ex-stepfather, and Kurt, his biological father, so far away in Germany. How confusing it must seem to him. How lonely. “Call Kurt,” she urged. “It’s morning in Wiesbaden by now. You’ll probably catch him at home. But make it short, it’s late.”

Bob made the call, spending nearly an hour on the phone. He would be so tired in the morning. She would set her alarm early to make sure he had enough time to wake up and get rolling. Listening from her bedroom to his pauses and happy laughs, she reminded herself that rates after eleven were the best they would be.

When she heard the thunk of the phone returning to its cradle, she went into Bob’s room to say good night to him and kiss him on the cheek. “Thanks for letting me call him,” he said, his voice thick with fatigue. “Sometimes I get low.”

The words struck like a whip. She said, “Everyone does, honey. You know that, don’t you?”

“Sometimes I feel alone. You work so hard.”

“Is there anything special you want to talk about?” She thought of Nikki. She hadn’t had time to think about Nikki and Bob. “Is everything all right at school?”

“Same as usual.”

“Are your friends doing all right? Taylor? Nikki?”

“Screwed up, as usual.”

“Then what do you feel low about?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Paul and me? Is that bothering you? Do you want to-”

“Things were easier before. It’s more tangled up now. I want to get to know my dad better, but he’s so far away and I live here with you. I want to stay on your good side, but you don’t like my friends. You need me, so does he.”

“I do need you, Bob.”

“But he needs me in a different way. You need me to stay your little kid.”

“But, Bob, you are still a kid.”

“Sometimes. Sometimes I’m a man.”

“What?” Nina said. She was too tired to deal with that one.

“G’night.” He closed his eyes.

“Good night, honey.”

She managed to brush her teeth and throw water on her face before climbing into bed. Could it possibly still be Monday? She checked her watch, the modern curse, again.

No. Tuesday had arrived. Maybe she’d get a chance to breathe.

But then she remembered what T-Bone Walker said about Stormy Monday:

… Tuesday’s just as bad…

P AUL PROPELLED A LEG from the Mustang and then a small Styrofoam cup full of espresso he was holding, lid askew. Then the rest of him slid out and straightened up. Not one drop spilled, not that the asphalt of the Starlake Building parking lot would have suffered. The air had that peculiar late-summer Sierra quality of being both crisp and warm at the same time. He checked his watch, saw that it was one minute to nine, and leaned back against the car, planning to spend the entirety of that minute with his face turned to the sun and his eyes closed.

A large indeterminate-model brown car-who made brown cars and why did anyone buy them?-pulled up sedately beside him. Wish Whitefeather was in the driver’s seat and Sandy sat in the passenger’s seat, spine straight, purse in her lap. Paul saw with a small start that both Wish and his mother had the same profile, strong brow ridge and nose, beetling brows. As Wish turned off the ignition, they both turned toward him. Sandy said, “It’s you.”

Paul bowed and opened the door for her. “And how is my favorite Washoe maiden?” he said.

“Don’t think that’s gonna gain you any points.” Sandy gathered her coat around her. Paul had noticed that she often wore her coat outdoors, even on warm summer days. Heaving herself out of the car, she brushed out the coat crinkles and adjusted herself while Paul shut the door. “Well, speak up,” Sandy demanded. “How was the drive?”

“Long. I wish a big earthquake would come and cram the coast against the mountains so I wouldn’t have to drive so far.”

“You could always move here,” Sandy said. Paul smiled and thought he detected a faint thawing of her expression in return.

“How you doin’, buddy?” he said to Wish, who had carefully locked up and was following them toward Nina’s office. Wish was still a sloucher, too tall for the rest of the world and trying to blend in. He wore his straight hair longer these days and a loose black sweater contributed an illusion of broad shoulders. At age twenty, he was starting to settle into himself without any of the jaded irony of his fellow MTVers. Paul liked that, liked his straight-up enthusiasm and naiveté, but had to stay watchful when Wish rode with him.

“Real good. Been hiking a lot. Goin’ to school. Gave the van a paint job.”

“You did? What color?” The van had once been Paul’s.

“Brown.”

“Hmm.”

“Then you don’t have to wash it so much.”

“So Nina talked you into helping out for a few days?”

“I only have three classes this semester, and a pretty flexible schedule. I wouldn’t miss out for anything. Mom says Nina needs help.”

“I never said a thing,” Sandy said.

“You don’t have to say it, Mom. I knew it the minute you told me to get up early and come to the office with you. Don’t worry, Paul, you got backup now.”

“I feel better already,” Paul said.

They went into Nina’s office and Nina called from the conference room, “In here.” She shut the law book she had been reading when she saw him, looking relieved. New strain lurked in her eyes and she’d forgotten the mascara that morning, a sure sign that the night had not gone smoothly.

She got up. Paul came around the table to give her a hug and a kiss while Sandy and Wish hovered back in the outer office. Nina’s soft brown hair swung around her face, smelling like a rain forest, and he rubbed her back through the silk blouse and inwardly cursed her high IQ. Once in a guilty while, a dull-normal version of Nina who didn’t have any significant problems or complexity held real appeal. He was not proud of these thoughts; they were as involuntary as the sexual response she aroused when she brushed her hair against his cheek. Lucky for him, she couldn’t see into the dull-normal corner of his mind or she wouldn’t be looking at him so kindly.

“Thanks a lot for coming,” she said. “I know it isn’t easy for you to get away.”

“Couldn’t let you down.”

“Hey, Wish. It’s good to see you.”

“At your service,” Wish said, stopping just short of a courtly bow. “I can’t wait.”

When they were all settled around the long table with their notepads, instead of launching into discussion, Nina did a strange thing. She picked up the cordless phone and punched numbers, a finger touching her lips.

“Dr. Mai?” she said a moment later. They could only hear her side of the conversation. “How are you? Uh huh. Yes, I have some news. We are settling the insurance amount at two hundred ten thousand as Kao instructed through you. Yes.” She paused, then said, “That’s why I’m calling. Right. I’ll have the check this afternoon. But there’s a problem.

“A problem, right. I can only turn the money over to Kao Vang and his wife. I’m sorry, but you’ll just have to find him and bring them up here. Well, you’ll just have to. No, I won’t turn the money over to you. I know you have the power of attorney. I can’t accept it. I regret that I am unable to accept it.”