one
Imani licked her lips and reached out, flexing her fingers open and closed in a “gimme” fashion toward her lunchtime savior. Loretta worked behind the counter in the hospital’s busy lunch line. Her black hair was covered by a hairnet and laugh lines creased the dark brown skin around her nose and mouth.
Loretta shook her head and smiled, but Imani didn’t care. She was starving and Loretta had exactly what she needed.
“I made sure to put one to the side for you today,” Loretta said handing over the red-and-white-checkered food boat with a golden brown fried corn dog in the middle.
“I owe you big-time, Loretta.” Imani grinned as she snagged the corn dog and placed it on her tray. “I just knew I was going to miss getting one.”
“You’re the only person I know who gets so excited when we have corn dogs for lunch,” Loretta said. “Most of the doctors prefer the fancy stuff.”
Imani shook her head. “Give me a corn dog and mustard any day over fancy. How’s your daughter and the baby?”
Loretta’s smile broadened, revealing one gold tooth. “They’re doing great. I’m so glad I told her to come see you instead of that other doctor. Thanks again for fitting her into your schedule. I don’t know if she would have made it without you.”
Imani’s cheeks warmed and so did her heart. “Of course, I’m going to fit her in. You always save the best corn dogs for me.” They both laughed before Imani sobered. “Seriously, I’m glad they’re okay. Tell her to call the office if she needs anything.”
“Will do, Dr. Kemp,” Loretta said with a bright, grateful smile.
The man next to Imani in line cleared his throat. Loretta threw him an annoyed look. Imani shrugged and waved a hand. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She moved on down the line and grabbed a handful of mustard packets and a bag of baked potato chips before scanning the crowded seating area for her lunch partner. She spotted Towanda Brown, a doctor from the hospital’s orthopedic practice sitting in a corner near one of the windows.
Maneuvering through the filled tables, Imani kept her eyes down to avoid eye contact as she made her way through the maze of bodies, seats and chairs toward her friend. Still, she received several points and stares with whispered “yeah, that’s her—the hospital’s chosen one” along with a few waves from some of the less cynical doctors and nurses for her to sit with them at their table. She gave the people who caught her eye a polite nod before pointing toward Towanda.
She sat with her friend and sighed. “Sorry I’m late.”
Towanda shrugged. Despite having not run track in over ten years, Towanda still had the tall, muscular figure that once had her on the fast track for the Olympics before an injury ended her career. Her sienna skin was as line-free as it had been when Imani first met her, and she wore her hair in braids that were pulled back in a ponytail at the base of her neck. She looked closer to thirty-three than her actual forty-three.
“It’s so busy today, but I knew you’d make it for corn dog day.” Her friend grinned and pointed to Imani’s tray.
“Loretta never lets this day go by without saving me one,” Imani said.
“That was before you helped her daughter. I’d be surprised if she doesn’t make extra just to pack up and deliver to your office.”
Imani chuckled while opening a package of mustard to put on the corn dog. “I would’ve helped her daughter despite her support of my corn dog addiction. She was seeing a doctor who ignored all her fears. I was just happy to let her know that her concerns were valid and that I wasn’t going to gas her up with fancy talk.”
“And that’s why you’re the hospital’s doctor of the year,” Towanda said pointing behind Imani.
Imani didn’t look over her shoulder. She knew what was there. Her face was plastered all over the hospital right now on signs, cardboard cutouts and television screens. Was she proud of being named the hospital’s doctor of the year? Kind of. She’d spent so much of her life trying to become an obstetrician patients could rely on and trust. Did that translate to being comfortable as the “face” of the hospital system for a year? Not one bit.
“Can we not talk about that right now?” Imani squirted mustard down the length of her corn dog.
“Why not? It’s something to be proud of.”
“And I am proud. I just don’t want that to become all I am.
Especially when we know the hospital administration’s guilt about the last few doctors of the year may have had something to do with it.” She raised a brow.
The last four years hadn’t included a female doctor of the year at all and only two women were nominated. Ever since Guardian Heath merged with Mid-State Health to become one of Florida’s largest health care systems, the struggle to diversify prior to the merger was lost as profits and popularity became a thing. When she learned of her nomination, Imani hadn’t believed she’d had a chance of winning against a heart surgeon and oncologist.
“You won because you’re the best and that’s all we’re going by,” Towanda said.
Imani shrugged. “Fine, I’m the best. Now can we talk about something else?”
Talking about being the hospital’s doctor of the year meant thinking about how the obstetrics unit now pushed her in front of every camera they could find to draw more clients to the practice. Imani, who’d previously been a liked and well-respected member of the practice, but never thrust forward as the only Black doctor for diversity points, was suddenly a double commodity. She didn’t like that.
Imani took a bite of her lunch. The savory mixture of the mustard with the hot dog wrapped in cornmeal batter made her groan with pleasure. “This is soooo good.”
Towanda’s brows rose and she eyed Imani curiously. “Can we talk about how after watching you go in on that corn dog and moan like a porn star, I don’t know why you haven’t caught a man, yet?”
Imani tried to glare at her friend but could only cover her full mouth and suppress a laugh. She chewed and swallowed hard. “Corn dogs, unlike a lot of men, don’t disappoint.”
“Chile, please. Everything disappoints eventually.”
“Corn dogs never disappoint.” Imani took another bite.
“Even microwaved ones?” Towanda asked.
Imani scrunched her nose and shivered. “Touché. Thanks for reminding me nothing in life is perfect.”
She’d once believed in perfection. That she’d had the best life ever. That reality had been shattered harshly and abruptly one fall afternoon.
Her cell phone vibrated in the pocket of her white lab coat. She pulled it out and smiled when she saw the text icon from her mom.
“Who is it?” Towanda asked.
“My mom. She only texts with town news or a funny video she found online.”
Towanda grinned. “You still care about town news?”
Imani nodded and clicked on the text. “I mean, I don’t live in Peachtree Cove anymore, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like hearing what’s going on with all the judgmental people in town.”
“The people couldn’t be that bad.”
Imani grunted and didn’t answer. The same people who’d loved her parents together had been quick to talk about all their faults after her dad’s girlfriend decided to put a deadly plan in place to separate Imani’s parents for good. So, maybe it was petty, but Imani indulged
in her mom’s texts about the trials and tribulations of the people so eager to cast judgment on her family all those years ago.
Imani opened the text, preparing for the funny video or latest update, but frowned at what looked like an invitation instead.
“Everything alright?”
Imani zoomed in on the invitation and nearly dropped her phone. She had to read the words out loud to be sure her eyes weren’t deceiving her. “You’re invited to the wedding of Linda Kemp and Preston Dash. What the hell is this?”
Towanda leaned forward and tried to see Imani’s cell. “Your mom’s getting married?”
“No. She couldn’t be. My mom isn’t even dating.”
At least, her mom never talked about dating. Her mom hadn’t dated since the disaster that ended her last marriage. She hadn’t been able to trust anyone since. Not that Imani blamed her. Almost getting killed by your husband’s mistress tended to do that to a person.
“Who in the world is Preston Dash?” Imani muttered and why was her mom marrying him? In a month! This didn’t make sense. It had to be a prank. She called her mom immediately. The phone went straight to voice mail.
Imani stared at her cell phone. “Seriously?”
“She didn’t answer?”
“This has to be a joke,” Imani said. The watch on her arm vibrated. “Damn.” She pressed the button to stop the alarm reminding her that she needed to be back upstairs in the practice in time for her next patient appointment.
“You’re probably right,” Towanda said. “Your mom wouldn’t get married without telling you, would she?” The question in Towanda’s voice was the same question in Imani’s heart.
“My mom wouldn’t get married, period,” Imani said. She shoved the rest of the corn dog into her mouth and jumped up. She pointed toward the exit.
Towanda nodded. “I know. Go ahead. We’ll talk later. Let me know what your mom says.”
With her mouth full, Imani nodded and hurried out of the cafeteria. She shoved the bag of chips into the pocket of her lab coat and chewed the rest of the food in her mouth after dumping her trash into the can. On the way to the elevator, she texted her mom back.
This is a joke, right?
She watched her phone and waited for her mother’s response. There was nothing as she waited for the elevator. Nothing as she boarded with a group of people. Still nothing as she tried to avoid eye contact with the others as they slowly realized the face smiling back at them from the picture plastered on the elevator doors was her. In the background the throwback song “How Bizarre” by OMC, played from the speakers. Imani hummed along and watched her phone. The doors opened, thankfully, before everyone connected
the dots between her and the life-size photo, and Imani quickly got off. Her phone finally buzzed as she approached the door to the practice.
No joke. Come home. We’ll talk.
What kind of response was that? Her mom wouldn’t answer her call, but she’d text back telling her to come home. She’d just talked to her mom a few days ago. She hadn’t mentioned anything about getting married or even given a hint of there being a special person in her life. A few months ago, her mom mentioned Imani’s cousin Halle said something about getting on a dating app for seniors, but Imani had immediately shot that down. No way was her mom about to be played by some random guy online after all she’d been through. Now she was talking about marriage after she’d vowed to never trust another man again? Something wasn’t right.
She was preparing to dial her mom’s number when she walked through the door of her office.
“Oh, thank goodness, Imani, you’re here!” Karen, the receptionist behind the desk, exclaimed.
Imani looked up from her phone to Karen. The receptionist had a bright smile on her face as she pointed to a man holding a camera next to the desk. The white guy wore a blue polo shirt with the logo from a local news station on the breast pocket and khaki’s. His dark hair was stylishly cut, and he grinned a hundred-watt smile at her.
“Dr. Imani Kemp, it’s great to meet you. I’m here for your interview at one,” the man said.
Imani looked from him to Karen behind the desk. “I have a patient at one.”
The door behind the reception desk opened and Dr. Andrea Jaillet came out. Tall, red hair with bright blue eyes and a supersweet personality that wasn’t manufactured, Andrea was someone who was nearly impossible to dislike.
Andrea beamed. “Imani, you’re here, great. We’ve moved your patients around to other doctors so you can do this interview. Isn’t it wonderful? The news wants to feature our doctor of the year.”
Imani’s phone buzzed again. She glanced down.
Dinner Friday afternoon. You’ll meet your stepfather then.
Friday! It was Tuesday. She looked from the text to Andrea’s smiling face, to the reporter and his camera. The chorus of “How Bizarre” played on loop in her head. All she’d wanted was a corn dog. What in the world had happened to her perfectly normal day?
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