"I thought Dr. Fredrick was your doctor?" Wynter hurled the question like an accusation.
"He's the surgeon. Dr. Joshua is the oncologist. Could you be more polite, please? You're embarrassing me."
"God forbid I do that!" Wynter hopped up, striding to the windows. Opening the blinds, she stared at the city below her.
"Wynter Osteen Whitley, you apologize."
"Mother!" Wynter whirled around, hands on hips. "You know I hate when you do that!"
"Don't make me trot out your Confirmation name, as well."
"Mother!" Fuming, she glared at the doctors. "Fine. I apologize Dr. Joshua. It's been a trying couple of days. To find this out—"
"I understand, Ms. Whitley. Maybe I should grow a beard, so I look older," he chuckled.
"It wouldn't help. You could have a beard to your waist, it wouldn't matter. You'd simply look like a hairy kid," Obi said with a smirk.
"Push it, Father. You're six months younger than me."
"But vastly more experienced." He backed up, laughing, when Joshua advanced.
"You gonna sock him, Boss?" one of the interns asked with a cocky grin.
"Not today. But next time we get on the mat together, I'll smack him around some." Joshua laughingly shadow boxed with Obi for a moment.
Dr. Fredrick cleared his throat, rising on his toes. "Boys," he said, his voice going deeper.
Joshua and Obi messed one another's hair, then pretended to behave. Fredrick's eyes twinkled as he watched.
"I'll get you started right away," Joshua said. "First and foremost, we need a scan. I'll get that set up, and we'll go from there."
"Do you want to stay the night?" the nurse, who had come in behind the doctors, asked Wynter.
"May I?"
"Certainly. I'll make arrangements. Why don't you go get something to eat, and pack a bag. Mom's going to be occupied for several hours."
"You'll be okay, Mama?"
"I'm fine, darling. Go have some dinner, get your things together, and come back later."
"Okay."
They embraced. Wanda held her hand out to Obi.
"Thank you, Father Randolph. Please, come see me again."
"I shall. You concentrate on getting better. I'll add you to the prayer list."
"Thank you."
"My pleasure."
"Did you have any questions?" Dr. Joshua asked Wanda.
"If she doesn't, I do," Wynter said, confrontational again.
"And you can ask them when you're in a better frame of mind," her mother concluded. "I know how you get. Give the man some breathing space."
"Yes, ma'am."
"I'd be happy to listen to any questions, but I do want to run a few tests, so I can answer them," was Dr. Joshua's diplomatic reply.
"Of course. Can I bum a ride home?" she asked Obi.
"Certainly. Good to see you, Wanda. Doctors."
They bid farewell and headed out. Wynter was very quiet all the way to the car. Josiah was nowhere to be seen, so they trudged slowly to their parking space.
When they got in the car, Obi changed the music. He wasn't in the mood for Metallica at the moment. Instead, wailing guitar filled the car. Wynter smiled, leaning back in her seat.
"Gary Moore. Messiah Will Come Again," she sighed.
"Good ear. He's a favorite."
"Of mine, as well."
"Where am I taking you? Do you need to go back to the church for your car?"
"No. I don't have a car, so I took a cab over. I don't know my way around at all. I took a cab from the airport, too. Mom was already at the hospital, and I don't like the traffic."
"No worse than New York, surely."
"I don't drive there. I take the subway, cabs or buses. That's why I don't own a car."
"Unfortunately, I don't know anything about the subway, or buses here. I drive all over the place, so the traffic doesn't bother me. Let's go pack your bags, then I'll take you to dinner."
"That sounds amazing. Thank you. You're so kind!" she burst into tears, flinging herself at him across the console.
Obi held her in his arms, letting her cry. She sobbed for several minutes, as the music played. The song reached the end, and she wiped her eyes. With the neck of her shirt, she wiped her nose and dabbed at her eyes.
"I have tissues."
"I know, but this was handier. Do you mind if I grab a shower before dinner?"
"Not at all. You do that, and I'll call my secretary. She's probably wondering where I am."
"Okay."
She told him her mother's address, which wasn't far from his own home, in an older part of town. All the houses had been built in the 1920's or 30's. Substantial and well built, they were comforting in their solidness.
"My home is about four blocks that way," he pointed to the west. "It was my grandparents' house, where my mom grew up. They gave it to me when they moved."
"Are you an only child?"
"No. I'm the oldest grandchild, so it went to me."
"I bet that made your siblings and cousins unhappy."
"They have their own homes, and jobs. Some are in the city, others are scattered. I'm the priest in the bunch, so I got the house."
"What do you mean, the priest in the bunch?"
©Dellani Oakes 2023
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