Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 124320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
I gulp the water down along with these hard truths, immediately filling the cup again and draining it before making my way back to my seat.
“So you said restarting my period is the first thing. Can we do that for sure?”
The answer is scribbled across her face like one of her prescriptions, impossible to read. She confirms what I fear, though, with a shake of her head. “There are no guarantees. I’ll leave it to the specialist to discuss likely outcomes, but I would think your chances are good. I’d prefer not to speculate, though.”
My phone dings in my purse. I’m tempted to ignore it, but I don’t have that kind of life. A ding could be a small fire, and if I delay responding, in no time it could be a conflagration, trending on Twitter and ticker taping on every major news outlet.
“Excuse me one second, Dr. Granden.” I fish the phone from my bag to read the text message.
Carla: Hey. Just reminding you to leave the doctor’s office soon or you’ll miss your two o’clock with Senator Billingsley.
Me: Cancel Billingsley.
Dr. Granden places a plastic model on the desk between us. I vaguely note a vagina, uterus and fallopian tubes.
Me: Cancel everything.
Chapter Eleven
Ezra
“Son, slow down. Your food’s not running from you. Stop chasing it.”
Noah looks up, the expression on his small face abashed, but still eager, as if I spiked his oatmeal with Mexican jumping beans. He deliberately takes his time lifting the spoon from his bowl, opens his mouth exaggeratedly, and stretches his eyes really wide, sliding the spoon between his teeth in extra slow-mo.
Smart ass.
“And don’t scrape that spoon over your teeth,” I add, grinning and mussing the dark wavy hair that spills into his eyes. He begged us to let him grow it out after visiting his cousin Tao in LA, whose hair hangs past his shoulders in a pin-straight curtain. Noah’s won’t be quite that straight or silky, thanks to my genes. He’ll grow up like I did, with hair finer than my father’s and not quite as fine as my mom’s.
“It’s the first day of summer break,” he reminds me unnecessarily and for maybe the tenth time since he woke up.
“I know.” I take a few gulps of the strawberry smoothie I prepared for breakfast, sliding a small cup of it to him. “Drink up so we can take your mom to the airport.”
“Yuck.” He scrunches his face and turns up his nose.
“It doesn’t taste bad, and it’s good for you.” I glance at my Apple watch to see if we’re on schedule. The name Joseph S. Allen in the subject line of an email captures my attention.
I click the message open and lean against the counter to read from my wrist.
Reminder! The Joseph S. Allen Community Service Award for your outstanding leadership in education is coming up soon. Details below.
I was surprised when I received the email. Does Mrs. Allen know? Our parents were adamant about putting distance between the two families. Seeing Mr. Allen a few years ago when I first moved back to Atlanta was by chance, and I wasn’t sure he’d recognize me, much less cross the street to shake my hand. He invited me to coffee and spent an hour listening to my plans to start a private school, Young Leaders Academy of Atlanta, serving low-income and at-risk middle school students. He was an important man. I’m sure he’d had better things to do than spend time with me, the kid of a family he had fallen out with.
He’d asked about my family, and I’d found creative ways to ask about Kimba without being too obvious or pathetic. When he died, I’d risked the censure of Mrs. Allen by going to the funeral, but I had to pay my respects.
And I’d hoped to see Kimba.
“I’m ready,” Aiko says, rushing into the kitchen and grabbing a banana from the bowl on the counter.
Things have been weird between us. Not hostile, just uncertain in this limbo where we know our relationship is over, but Noah doesn’t yet. I’ve been sleeping in the guest bedroom. After we decided to end it, it felt wrong to sleep in the same bed. Actually, it felt right not to, further confirmation that we’re doing the right thing. Noah goes to sleep before we do and I’m up before he is, so he hasn’t noticed the change.
“Mona promised to make sure you boys don’t eat junk the whole time I’m gone,” Aiko says, kissing Noah’s forehead.
Mona and I reconnected by chance at a teacher’s job fair. I was recruiting for YLA’s first year. Once we got past the shock of seeing each other again, I realized she was exactly the kind of educator I wanted to build with.
Fast forward three years, and her backyard adjoins ours, separated only by a fence. She’s not only the school director, but has become like a part of our family.