Molly - Sarah Monzon Page 0,5
makes Chloe and me feel better when we’ve had a hard day.” I held the door open for her, and she stepped into the Shoppe.
She stood back away from the counter and eyed the flavors listed on a chalkboard hanging from the ceiling. “I’m going to assume the doses aren’t like acetaminophen and based on the patient’s weight.”
I hid a laugh behind a cough and took advantage of her focus being on the menu to really get a good look at her. She was petite—about the same size as Kennedy, our seventeen-year-old neighbor who babysat Chloe occasionally. Hair the color of…
…
Blonde! My eyes bugged wide.
Her hair was blonde and not the color of the first thing that entered my mind. Curse Dr. Feinburg for making me take all those urine samples down to the lab before I left for the day.
I must have been more tired than I’d even realized. Yes, it had been a while since I’d spent any great amount of time with the opposite sex. Finishing medical school while juggling diaper changes hadn’t left a lot of room for a social life, but I wasn’t so completely out of touch with social reality that I didn’t know comparing the color of a woman’s hair to bodily fluid would not put me on said woman’s good side.
I quickly shot another glance at Miss Osbourne. It appeared that all her sides were good sides. Her high cheekbones and button nose created an adorable profile, and the high-waisted skirt she wore with attached suspenders gave her an air of innocence and youth.
Just how old was she?
Some people looked younger than they were, I got that. But standing beside her I began to feel decidedly ancient. The bags under my eyes grew heavier. The crick in my lower back from catching a ten-minute nap in a waiting room chair twisted tighter. The responsibility of being a single father while trying to perform all the demanding tasks of residency pushed down on my shoulders until I wanted to crawl to the closest chair and collapse under the weight. I was only twenty-seven, but I felt more like seventy-two.
“What flavor are you going to get?” I twisted at the waist to alleviate the pinch in my lumbar region.
“I was thinking about trying the Horchata. Have you had it here before?”
Based off the Mexican drink made from rice, milk, cinnamon, and sugar. “The best in Southern California, in my opinion.”
Her brows rose. “That’s high praise. I’ve gotten used to the Latin American kind the past few years.”
“What other kind is there?”
She stepped up to the counter and ordered a double scoop in a bowl. I opted for a coffee chocolate chip gelato in a waffle cone.
As the aproned employee scooped out our choices, Miss Osbourne turned toward me. “The Horchata I grew up drinking was Horchata de Chufa. It’s made with tiger nuts instead of white rice. I used to have it all the time when my dad was stationed in Rota, Spain.”
We were given our frozen treats, and I thanked the clerk after he swiped my debit card and handed it and the receipt back to me. Miss Osbourne slid into one of the small booths by the window and I took the seat opposite. “A Navy brat, huh?”
“Along with a good percentage of people in this area. Between Naval Base San Diego, Naval Air Station North Island, Naval Amphibious Base Coronado, and Camp Pendleton Marine Base you can’t throw a rock without hitting one of us. We’re everywhere from Chula Vista to Laguna Beach.”
I laughed. “You make it sound like you’re invading.”
She dipped her spoon into the bowl of ice cream in front of her. “I’m sure some people think so.” Scooping out a bite, she slipped the frozen custard between her lips. A moan escaped as she leaned back and let the cushion of the booth support her weight. “You were right,” she said around her mouthful. “This is really good.”
I let her take three more bites in peace before I asked if she was feeling better.
“I’m not sure it’s such a good idea for a doctor to prescribe that his patients eat their feelings.” She shoveled another bite into her mouth.
“Well, I’m still a resident and you aren’t my patient.” My teeth scraped along the mound of gelato in front of me. There wasn’t nearly enough caffeine to get me through the rest of the day, but the trace amounts should give a much-needed boost of energy. “Plus, it’s scientifically