Everything would die down eventually.
Life would go back to what it used to be.
I would just be Dex, the computer guy.
Mom didn’t echo Dad’s words at me, and she acted like nothing happened. She was definitely the good cop, and he was the bad cop. Maybe she just understood complicated emotions better than he did, but she knew when it was time to back off and give me space.
She was a good mom like that.
I sat at the desk and scrolled through my device when Sicily approached the office. She pushed the cart in front of her, which was now empty with the exception of the utilitarian vases that were used to keep the flowers wet before they were switched out. Her heels tapped against the hard floor as she wheeled it into the storage room. I hadn’t seen her much over the last few days, and unlike everyone else, she didn’t ask me a million questions about the whole thing.
She took a seat at the desk beside me. “What are you working on?”
“Making my schedule for tomorrow.” I scrolled through my tasks before I turned to look at her. “What about you?”
“Psh. I’m done for the day.” She crossed her legs and slipped off one of her heels to rub the bottom of her foot. “Serious question, how does everyone rock heels here all day long? I feel like I’m dying by the end of the day.”
“Well, I don’t rock heels.”
“Lucky bastard.” She clenched her toes a couple times before she slipped her heel back on.
“Yes. Another perk of being a man.”
“Like you don’t have enough as it is.” She turned back to her computer and moved the mouse so the screen would light up. She’d been in the condo when I walked inside, on her knees, covered her in blood, and putting pressure on his wound as she waited for help to arrive. Mrs. Carlton was too busy going into shock to spring into action, but Sicily didn’t hesitate. That was commendable.
I heard footsteps, so I turned to see Mr. Carlton and his wife approaching. “Oh no,” I sighed to myself, knowing what was going to happen before it even happened. They carried gift baskets in their hands, and Mrs. Carlton was already in tears when they approached the desk.
I stood up and took the initiative. “You’re looking good, Mr. Carlton. I’m sure the wife will dig the scar.” I gave him a wink.
He didn’t respond to my lightheartedness in kind. He set the basket on the desk, which held an assortment of cheeses, cookies, and wine. “I know there’s never anything I can do to show my gratitude for what you’ve done, but thank you.” He looked me in the eye, the emotion obvious in his gaze. “I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.”
I wished I had something to say to that, but I really didn’t. It was hard to accept his gratitude, to accept his gift, when I didn’t feel like I deserved it. “I’m very happy you’re doing well, Mr. Carlton.”
He extended his hand. “Call me Adam.”
I took it and gave a slight smile. “That’s gonna be hard to remember. I’m so used to calling you Mr. Carlton.”
“That’s what my friends call me. And you’re my friend.”
I went back to silence, unsure what to say.
Mrs. Carlton moved into me and hugged me. “Thank you so much.”
I hugged her back, giving her a gentle rub on the back. “You don’t need to thank me.”
She pulled away and looked at me with tear-stained cheeks. “I’m a person who believes everything happens for a reason, that there are no coincidences. I believe you were meant to be here, Dex. You were meant to save my husband’s life. God bless you.”
Now I was speechless.
The two of them stepped over to Sicily next, who was visibly moved by the scene unfolding in front of her. “We have a basket for you too.” Mr. Carlton set it on her desk. “Thank you for everything.”
Just like me, she didn’t know what to say. “I’m so happy everything worked out. And I agree with you, Mrs. Carlton. I don’t believe in coincidences either.” She rose from her chair and hugged them both, and after a brief conversation, they left.
I looked down at my basket and saw the card tucked inside, another round of gratitude that would be too difficult for me to read. There were some good snacks inside, and I could leave it on the coffee table and eat it while watching TV.
“That was nice of them,” she whispered.
“Yeah, it was.” I put the basket in the back of the office so it wouldn’t be in the way. I took hers too. “What are you going to eat first?” I returned to my seat beside her.
She was looking at me with a distant look in her eyes, like she hadn’t heard the question I just asked. “Cleo told me you’re a heart surgeon…”