So I took several calming breaths and mumbled to myself, “It is what it is.”
Then I waited some more before having my blood drawn and meeting with my oncologist. I calmly told him about the headaches. He promised to get me in for a new MRI appointment as soon as possible.
I was friendly with his nurse, Liz Shaffer—average height and build, sandy-blonde hair, brown eyes, married with two kids, nosy but well-meaning—and she knew both my knitting group friends, Sandra and Ashley, from working at the hospital. Sadly, Liz didn’t knit. But she was funny and kind and had known me since I moved out to the mid-west from Virginia eighteen years ago. She was my first nurse at my first cancer-free follow-up appointment in Chicago. We’d grown up together in many ways.
Unfortunately, I didn’t have much time to visit. So after chatting for about ten minutes, I sprinted out of the hospital. I made it home by 1:00 p.m. and figured I had barely enough time to take a shower and bake the cake before leaving to go pick up Grace and Jack from school.
As soon as I shut the front door, I heard Matty’s voice call from inside the apartment. “Fiona?”
“Yes, I’m home. How did it go?”
“Great! I’m in the kitchen.”
I jogged to the kitchen, impressed that the apartment was still clean, and found my neighbor’s long, jean-clad legs and half of his bare torso sticking out from underneath the kitchen sink. I realized with some surprise that Matty Simmons had a six-pack. In fact, everywhere I could see was chiseled muscles and bronzed skin. This realization made me feel old because I used to babysit for someone who now had a six-pack.
“The kids were okay?”
“Yes. No problem. And I spoke to Jack’s teacher about the field trip.”
“Thank you.”
“And the ingredients for the cake are on the counter, but I stopped by the bakery and secured a replacement cake just in case you run out of time. Obviously, it pales in comparison to your coconut genius, but better to be safe than sorry. I also noticed you were out of ketchup and some other things so I grabbed those as well.”
See? Genuine and nice!
“Whoa, this cake is huge.”
He’d purchased a giant sheet cake, enough for fifty people or more.
“Then there will be leftovers. Everyone loves leftovers.”
“Thank you, Matt.” I surmised he was counting on being the recipient of said leftovers. “And thanks for keeping the place clean. I don’t know how you managed it. But I have friends coming over Tuesday night and I truly appreciate the lack of mess.”
“No problem. I had them use paper plates for their breakfast. Oh! Also, there was no poster board,” Matty paused and I heard him grunt. His abdominal muscles flexed in conjunction with the sound of channel locks turning. “So I stopped by my office and grabbed five from the supply cabinet.”
“Ah, thank you!” I walked to the counter and inspected the bags of groceries; everything I needed was present and accounted for. “Finding the poster board has been impossible.”
“The dishwasher is fixed. Your suspicion was correct, it was the solenoid.”
“This is the third time it’s burnt out. I think I need a new dishwasher.” I pulled off my jacket and hung it on the back of a kitchen chair, mentally calculating how soon I could afford a new dishwasher. The extra income from my contracting work would definitely help.
“Probably not a bad idea,” he agreed, sounding distracted.
“Thank you so much for all your help, Matt.” I said this to his legs as his upper body was still hidden under the sink. I observed, in addition to his shirt, he’d removed his shoes. He had a tattoo of the pi symbol on his left foot. I smirked at this. He was such a nerd. “If you need to go, I can take over from here.”
“No rush. I think I’m about finished with the disposal. Go relax or something.”
I smiled wistfully at the idea of relaxing. “No time. I need to take a shower and get this cake baking.”
“Then go take a shower, I’ll be a few more minutes.”
“Thank you, so much, for—”
“Stop thanking me. Instead I’ll take the ruined cake—the cake I ruined—and we’ll call it even.”
“You have a deal.” My eye caught the time on the wall clock hanging over the table. I needed to hurry. Darting from the kitchen, I made for my bathroom, swiftly undressing as I shut the door behind me. When I was in my birthday suit, I reached into the shower to turn on the water.
Nothing happened.
I stared at the inactive showerhead and frowned. I’m ashamed to admit it took me a full ten seconds to realize nothing was happening because Matty had obviously turned off the water to the apartment in order to fix the dishwasher. Sighing when I couldn’t locate my bathrobe, I pulled an oversized towel from the rack and wrapped it around myself, then speed-walked to the living room. All the while making a mental list of the things I needed to accomplish before leaving for Ashley’s party at 4:00 p.m.
“Hey, Matt,” I called, “Did you turn the water off?”