Page 12 of The Incredible Ordinary
His jaw tightens, and he slumps back into his seat.
It’s my first taste of any kind of success in months. A drop of water in a desert.
I’ll take it.
“Areyou sure you don’t want to come home with me?” Jordan asks his son, ruffling his hair once we’ve been dismissed and are all standing awkwardly in the hallway. After the soccer team plan was approved, this is where we all ended up. The hallwayis quiet, but I can hear the murmur of voices from behind the classroom doors.
Jordan swipes his thumb over Theo’s bruised cheekbone gently, and the kid winces. I glance at Rory. He’s staring at his feet. There’s no sign of a forthcoming apology. Should I try and draw it out of him?
Not sure they make pliers strong enough for that, so instead I stuff my hands into my pockets and pretend doing that makes me productive.
Theo shakes his head at his father. “I’ve got the math test. I’d rather just take it now with everybody else.”
Jordan looks like he wants to argue, but he dismisses that instinct in a flash. “Okay. I’ll see you later, then. We can order in tonight. I think it’s your turn to pick.”
Theo nods, shoulders his bag, and walks off.
I look at Rory. What do I say?
“I—”
“Whatever.” He cuts me off and stalks away.
I’d like to say I have some pride left, but that thing jumped ship a long time ago, so instead of holding my head up high and pretending I know what I’m doing—my go-to method of plowing my way through life—I slump against the nearest wall, tilt my head back, close my eyes, clutch the back of my neck, and blow out a big breath.
These have genuinely been the longest three months of my life, and I can’t even begin to describe how much I don’t want to be here.
“It could have been worse.” Jordan’s voice is filled with sympathy mixed with a healthy dose of mirth.
I open one eye and peer at him. “I think you’re lying, but sure, I’ll bite. How?”
“Well,” he says thoughtfully, “nobody set anything on fire. Nobody stabbed themselves in the eye with an icepick. Nobodygot kicked in the ribs by a hippo. Nobody accidentally shot themselves when a bullet ricocheted. Nobody split their nipple in two on a protruding nail in the wall.”
I stare at him. “What the hell?” I look around the hallway and lower my voice. “What kind of school is this?”
He blinks at me for a moment before he starts to laugh out loud. He’s got a very nice laugh. The kind of effortless laugh people have when they’re used to laughing. When it comes naturally to them.
“Not school,” he says, chuckling at, presumably, my horrified expression. “Sorry. I used to be an ambulance driver. You see some things.”
“Oh. Okay.”
We look at each other for a bit. Him with an open, friendly smile. Me with a mix of exhaustion and weariness.
“Cracked ribs from a hippo?” I say then. “Really?”
He nods, still with that amiable smile on his face. “Those bastards are vicious. And those are only some of the milder stories. I also have a slew of R-rated ones I keep for special occasions when I don’t know anybody there and want to make friends. Things like weddings and Christmas dinners with the in-laws. Wakes.”
“What better place to tell R-rated hospital stories.”
“I’m a hit at children’s birthday parties. You have to know your audience.”
Impossibly, I find myself smiling.
He throws me another amused look and starts to walk. With no idea what else to do, I follow him outside. We stop on the street in front of the school. It’s the kind of deceptively warm fall day that lulls you into a false sense of security and then treats you to a cold after as a reward.
I should go home and clue Aiden in on what’s happening, so he’ll have plenty of time to come up with a plan about what to dowith Rory when he comes home from school. Or, you know, how to locate him when he decides to do a runner. Because there’s a decent chance that’s what he plans to do.
Instead, I want to stay here and talk to this stranger because he seems kind. He feels like a break from reality. A moment of reprieve. I want to extend it, even if it’s just for a few more minutes.
