Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 41635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 208(@200wpm)___ 167(@250wpm)___ 139(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 208(@200wpm)___ 167(@250wpm)___ 139(@300wpm)
I shake my head. “Never. And if I do, I’ll age gracefully while also still caring about our planet and poor people.”
“Unlike baby boomers?”
“Unlike baby boomers,” I agree.
He laughs and pulls me closer. The musicians on stage are getting settled and started.
The music begins, flows over the people. I watch them play at first, and while it’s pretty cool to hear these familiar Slide songs get jazz deconstructed, I end up watching Aiden’s face instead.
He’s fascinated by the music. He looks like he’s genuinely happy, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen that before.
I know there’s a cliché about music transporting people, but this is the first time I’ve ever thought it might be true.
I squeeze his hand and he smiles at me.
“You like this,” I say to him.
“I do,” he admits.
“Do you play anything?”
“Piano,” he says. “Not very well.”
“I’m sure you’re great.”
“I have good hands,” he admits. “But I made a choice a long time ago. Or a choice was made for me.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
He hesitates, glancing down at the ground. “I had very intense parents,” he says softly. “They pushed me to succeed. Second best was never, ever good enough in their eyes. Back then, I had to choose if I’d try and live up to their expectations or if I’d try and do what I want…”
“What did you choose?” I ask, although I already know.
He grins. “Parents love to have a doctor in their family.”
I nod slowly. “I get that.”
“Do you?”
“My parents did the opposite. They didn’t push me, didn’t direct me, just supported whatever I wanted. And I ended up going to school for marketing, even though all I want to do is draw.”
“You ended up selling out anyway.” He grins at me.
I nod. “Exactly. I wanted to make them proud even though they weren’t pushy.”
“You’re a good daughter.”
“I try to be.”
He grins at me. “I was an awful son. Always gave them shit, even when I did what they wanted.”
“I’m not surprised. I mean, you don’t exactly have a huge fan club at the hospital.”
He laughs again. “That’s true.”
“Why are you always so mean to everyone there?”
He’s quiet for a second, smiling and watching the band. I think he didn’t hear me, but he speaks after a short pause.
“I think I want them to live up to my expectations, but they never do.”
“Like your parents,” I point out.
“I’m aware of the irony.”
“It must be hard, though. Don’t you get lonely?”
“No. I solve cases. I save lives. It’s what I do.”
“Still. I’d want friends.”
“Friends can be dangerous, you know.”
I sigh, pushing against him. “Come on. Really?”
“Really. Friends can be a distraction from what’s important.”
“You can’t just live your life in that hospital.”
“I’m not. We’re in the park, aren’t we?” He grins at me and kisses me softly.
I kiss him back and as we pull apart, I notice an older woman, short white hair, thin severe face, staring at the two of us.
I can’t figure out why until I notice Aiden staring back.
“What’s wrong?” I ask him.
“It’s the age difference,” he says softly.
“Excuse me?”
“That’s why she’s staring.”
“I doubt it.”
“I don’t.” He looks down at me. “You’re half my age.”
“I know. Who cares? It’s a modern world.”
“Not to people like her,” he says softly. “To people like her, we’re ruining America. Destroying her culture.”
I roll my eyes. “People always forget that America was founded by a bunch of religious fanatics escaping persecution. We have weirdness hardwired into this country.”
“True, but nobody wants to see the world pass them by.”
I nod and snuggle tighter against him. I wish I could flip off that judgmental old woman, but I’m not convinced she’s staring for that reason.
I’d rather imagine the best in people until they prove me wrong.
We watch the rest of the performance together in silence. It’s really good, and by the end I think I can almost say that I like jazz.
Almost. Not quite.
We get up and start walking. He holds my hand, apparently not self-conscious.
“Dinner?” he asks me.
“I could do that.” We approach the end of the park together. I stop and kiss him again. He smiles at me. “Thanks,” I say.
“For what?”
“This. It’s nice.”
“Good. I thought you’d like it.” He turns, but something starts beeping and he stops in his tracks. “Shit.”
“What’s that?”
“Hospital,” he says, pulling a little beeper from his belt. “Shit. I have to go.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“Let me drop you at home.”
“No, it’s okay. I can get a cab.”
He frowns, walks to the street, and flags one down. Like freaking magic.
He holds the door open for me. “I’ll see you later. Sorry about this.”
“It’s okay. It’s who you are.”
He frowns slightly and nods. I kiss him one more time and get into the cab.
“Bye,” he says, slips some money to the driver, and walks quickly away.
I sigh as the cab pulls into traffic. I’m going to have to get used to him disappearing on me like that if I’m going to want to be with a doctor.