Free Tappin' On Thirty by Candice Dow Page A

into a deep slumber. My attending physician gave me a nod of approval. I nodded back in appreciation.
    It takes a certain kind of arrogance to perform surgery. Every time I watch her with that scalpel, it scares me. Her adrenaline pumps through her veins, but her hands remain steady and focused. This was one of the few things that excited her. I stand there studying her and she doesn’t even realize I’m here. She and her patient are the only people in the room.
    Nearing the end of the surgery, the patient squirmed. Akua’s eyes pierced through me. Without exchanging words, I knew she was furious. I bit my lips. C’mon, man. Stay asleep for five more minutes . My fists tightened, as I prayed. Thankfully, Akua said, “All done.”
    I uncrossed my fingers, my legs, and my arms. That was a close one. As we exited the operating room, I heard someone with an accent say, “You need to get your shit together.”
    I turned around to my girl’s stony look. I frowned. I can respect her style, but not in front of my colleagues. I’d obviously misjudged his weight and didn’t give him enough to last the length of the surgery, but did I really need her smart-ass mouth? That had nothing to do with getting my shit together.
    On my way into the second surgery, she chuckled, adding, “Don’t mess up in here, too, Doc.”
    I frowned at her and didn’t comment. During the surgery, I found myself reflecting on how we’d gotten to the point that Akua felt she could say whatever she wanted to me. Why did I settle? Maybe I concluded I should take the good with the bad, but is her bad really worth her good? When the surgery was done, we scrubbed down and I still didn’t say anything. I couldn’t help thinking about Taylor.

12
    TAYLOR
    T he phone startled me as I coasted down the highway in a daze. I looked at the caller ID. I smiled when I saw my little sister’s name. “Hey Turi. What’s up, girl?”
    If she hadn’t dialed me, her monotone voice would have made me question if she even wanted to talk. “Hey, Tay.”
    â€œWhen you coming home?”
    She sighed. “Dunno. Maybe Thanksgiving.”
    â€œMaybe?”
    She snickered. “Yes. Maybe.”
    â€œSo, are you trying to disown us?”
    â€œLook who’s talking.”
    â€œThey disowned me. What am I supposed to do?”
    She laughed again. “Nobody has disowned you.” She kidded, “They’re just concerned about your spirituality.”
    â€œWhatever, Turi.”
    â€œFor real. They pray for you like you’re the devil himself.”
    â€œShut up. Just cause I don’t go to their church doesn’t mean I’m a devil.”
    â€œYou’re right,” she agreed. “Enough about that, you know they love you all the same. What’s going on in your life?”
    â€œNothing.”
    â€œI heard that you been talking to Scooter.”
    â€œWho told you that? Mommy?”
    She teased. “I can’t reveal my sources.”
    â€œIt had to be Mommy.”
    â€œPsych. It was Toni.” She laughed. “She said you would have thought God walked in the church when they saw Scooter.”
    â€œStop playing, Turi.”
    â€œLook, I’m only telling you what I heard.”
    I laughed. “What did she say?”
    Why are the religious ones the biggest gossipers? She hummed to expand my curiosity. I begged, “What did she say?”
    â€œShe said he was fine as ever.”
    I gasped. “Tell me about it.”
    â€œSo have y’all hooked up since he went to church?”
    How was I to explain I’d been awaiting his call for over a month? Acting as if it wasn’t so serious, I said, “No. You know he lives in Connecticut.”
    â€œBetween Mommy and Toni, they got all the info. They know all his vital statistics. Mommy got you on the prayer list.”
    â€œTuri, Mommy is crazy.”
    She