The Doctor is Free

"I've been waiting here twenty minutes," she said. "Do you have any idea when my doctor will be ready?" "I'm afraid she's running behind schedule today," said the receptionist. "We'll call you when she's free."

So she waited.

"Hey, it's been over an hour. Any chance of a time estimate?"

"We're very busy today, and some of us are covering for sick staff. All I can tell you is that we'll call for you as soon as the doctor is free."

"Great," she said. "Thanks."

And she waited.

"So, I've been here since ten and now I've missed my entire work day."

"I'm very sorry, but we'll call you..."

"...as soon as the doctor is free," she said with the receptionist. "Right. Thanks." She sat down.

"Kim?" A nurse asked the full waiting room for her.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm afraid I'm behind schedule. I'll come in as soon as I have a free moment." She went back to her book.

"Okay," said the nurse. "Deshawn?" A guy got up and followed the nurse in.

"Wait," said Kim, "I'm ready. I'm ready now."

"I'm sorry," said the receptionist. "We'll call for you as soon as the doctor is free."

Muse

He sat there while she looked over his office. She put her arms around him and held him warmly. "What a cozy little place," she said, kissing him on the neck. "That's not what I said," she said, looking over his shoulder. "And since when do I hold you warmly and kiss you on the neck? What kind of story is this?"

"Stop arguing with me," he said, and she smiled, and put her hand on his shoulder possessively while his creative muse flowered.

"For God's sake, no," she cried. "I'm leaving."

But she stayed, because she couldn't leave him. Not like that. Not with so many words unsaid between them.

"Ew," she said. "Or howabout, 'Goodbye?' Is that a word between us enough for you? Because it's enough for me." And she stormed out.

But she secretly yearned for him.

"I do not!" she yelled from down the hall.

On Whom to Marry

"I will not marry him," she declared, having just burst into the tent where her parents were meeting with his parents. That's when she got a look at the him in question, kneeling politely behind his parents. Karak, the younger brother. Not the older Errak. "Leave, daughter," said Father. "This is not your concern."

"It's my future!"

"This is outrageous," said Karak's father.

"Why shouldn't I have some say?" she said.

"when I was your age," said Mother, "I would never have chosen your father." Father raised an eyebrow. "But my parents made the wise decision."

"The sapling does not choose where it grows," said Father. "It falls where the great oak wills."

"I want to marry someone who will make me happy, someone I can make happy, not this, uh...." She had rehearsed a speech for someone far older than Karak. "...this guy.

Father stood. "We are your parents. If you do not think we can choose what is best for you, you disrespect our wisdom."

"I don't, I think you're very wise, Father," she said. "But what I want should matter. Does the wise man, um, does not the wise man look which way the river flows before he sets his nets?"

Karak's father looked like he might catch on fire, but he did not break Father's silence. The tent was quiet.

"The wise man does," said Father.

Like Old Times 3

"You didn't have to shoot him," I said. The pistol disappeared back into her handbag. "Don't be such a baby," she said. Her tone got dangerous: "Why are you taking out your phone?"

"I have to report this to the police," I said. "Ah, wait, put that gun back in your purse."

"I'm not gonna let you rat me out to the fuzz," she said, distinctly not putting the gun back in her purse.

"And I refuse to be an accessory to murder."

"You think you're not already?" she said.

"Obviously I am, but I'd like to lay a trail of plausible deniability," I said. "Also, who says, 'rat me out to--' Hello, I'd like to report some gunshots." Once I'd finished telling them something technically true, I hung up.

"They're gonna question you. They'll trip you up on some detail and you'll give me up."

"Darling, don't you remember how good I am at stories that hang together?"

"Damn straight I do, cheating bastard."

"Then don't sweat it."

"Do that again," she said, "and you'll be hunting the idol from my trunk."

"I'm going to have to pretend you kidnapped me when this is all over, aren't I?"

"Pretend?"

Like Old Times 2

"Tell us who took the seal or I'll put my fist through your throat," she said. "Woah, woah, woah," I pulled her off him. "We don't need to hurt this person. Look, I'm sorry," I said to him.

"Like hell we don't," she said. She shoved me. "He's not gonna help without some encouragement."

"We can offer incentives other than freedom from violence, you know."

"Like what, a toaster? A pretty little benefits package?" She shoved me again. "This? This is why our marriage failed. You could never go the distance. You just don't push through to get the job done."

"You're blaming the divorce on my lack of trying? Really?" I shoved her back. "Lady, I tried. I tried like hell. What killed it was your complete inflexibility. Your way or the highway, over and over, and I eventually chose the highway."

"Yeah?" she said, "well maybe you'd like my fist through your--"

"Shut up," I said, "he's talking."

"I said," said the guy, "the seal's at the Ouroboros Club on 43rd."

"Huh," I said. "That was surprisingly easy."

"Anything to not hear you two fighting like an old--," he muttered.

So she punched him in the throat anyway.

Like Old Times

I was drowning. I'm pretty sure I'd done something to deserve it, but deserving it didn't mean I liked it. Strong hands pulled me up and into fresh air. After vomiting up the water, I said, "Okay, I'll tell you everything."

"I don't wanna know anything," said the gorilla holding me. Then she pushed me under the water again. Damn. Sometimes I regret divorcing her.

Next time she pulled me up, she slapped the water out of me. "Now tell me where the idol is."

"I thought you didn't want to know anything?" I gave her a leaky grin. Whoops. Back under I went.

We tried it again. This time I said, "Listen. You know I'm a stubborn SOB. I'd rather drown than tell you what I know. You'd rather kill me than not get the idol." She tensed to push me under again. "But, butbutbut," I said, "we could partner up." I could tell she liked the idea by the way she didn't go back to drowning me. "It'll be like old times, except without the fights and the sex." I looked up at her. "Unless you'd prefer it with the sex?"

One more drowning later, we were partners.

Reverse House

Beneath the bed lies a door. Through this door lies the reverse house, the space that fills all the walls and floors, all the blocked-off areas you could never get to otherwise. Reverse people live there. They are adults who let you stay up as long as you want and don't make you go to school. They are the siblings who are nice and let you play with their toys. You can watch any movies you want. The cookies are on the bottom shelf of the cupboard, the spoons are stored next to the ice cream, and the salads are nowhere to be found. The zucchini is in the trash.

When you go to the reverse house, you have to be careful. You never know if one of your real parents might come in and clean your room. And if they do, will they put boxes underneath your bed and block the door?

How long do you stay? Can you afford to be trapped in the reverse house forever? If you can't get back, will you miss your real family? Or will you be happy with a life of pancakes and play time, all that you want and more, forever?