Page 42 of Roar for Me
Her face lit up like stage lights. “You mean out of hemp?”
“You’ve heard of it?” Duncan tried to keep the shock out of his voice.
“Yes. I see things about hemp plastic on social media all the time, but I never knew where to get them. I’d much rather use those than oil-based plastics.”
“Problem is, oil has government subsidies.”
Aurora nodded. “Like the pharmacy companies.”
“Does your clinic have a pharmacy, too?” Duncan asked, confused.
“No, but I learned about it in graduate school.”
“What did you study?”
“I have a Master’s in Healthcare Administration. Learning about ‘Big Pharma’ was part of my ethics class.” She shook her head. “I won’t bore you with the details, but it’s such a racket. I imagine Big Oil is much the same.”
“Yeah, it’s so frustrating. We’re taking oil out of the ground that’s not going to be replaced in this millennium. We have to start using something sustainable. Reusable is best—”
“But Americans don’t want to change their lifestyle,” Aurora and Duncan finished in unison.
He stared at her. Had he ever met someone who could finish his sentences?
She kept talking. “I get it. I’m as guilty as the next person. I’m trying to make one green lifestyle change a year, but it’s hard. I can’t get a box at a restaurant that’s not foam, and the health department freaks if they let you bring your own. And don’t get me started on plastic waste inmyindustry.” She sighed, then shook her head. “I’ve ranted enough for one night.” She took another bite of pie.
“No, please do.” Duncan dug into his side of the pie. “I’m dying to know.”
“Well, okay, but remember, you asked.” She took a deep breath. “Obviously, like the food industry, healthcare is concerned with a sterile environment, right?”
He nodded.
“Well, what that translates to is single-useeverything. We sterilize and reuse as much as we can, like surgical tools. But when I was flushing Jeff’s PICC line every day, the amount of plastic we had to throw away was ridiculous.” She ticked off on her fingers, listing all the different moving parts dealing with whatever a PICC line was.
Duncan’s eyes widened.
“And that’s just one cancer patient.”
“I had no idea. That’s insane. You couldn’t recycle it?”
She shook her head.
Duncan nudged the plate toward her; there were only two bits left. She took the hint and polished off the pie.
“My organization has environmental consciousness built into the mission. We’re a certified green facility, and we have a kitchenette with dishes and silverware for employee use. Many of my colleagues are very passionate about the environment. It’s part of why we work there. But we’re a drop in the bucket.”
Duncan nodded, fascinated. “It’s so refreshing to hear someone from Riverton passionate about the environment.”
“There’s a lot of people who are. I had no idea how many until I started working at The Women’s Clinic.” Aurora looked down as her phone vibrated. “It’s Katie. I’m going to take this out on the patio.” She grabbed her purse and rose.
“Take your time,” he assured her.
Everyone said their good night’s after the checks were paid, but Aurora was still on the patio talking to her daughter. Duncan slipped outside to let her know everyone was gone, and his heart stopped—from the patio, came a sound he hadn’t heard in a quarter century. Aurora was singing.
He had to hear her better. He crept as close as he dared and sat on a bench. It wasn’t a song he recognized, but she sang it effortlessly. A haunting melody that rose through the night even above the noise of the city.
She sang about the wind like it was a loving parent trying to draw back a wayward child. She sang of being estranged from who you were in the past; something they both related to. The pain in her song made his heart ache. She no longer had the innocent voice he once knew.
When she sang the chorus again, a breeze swept through her beautiful long hair, and her lips turned upwards into a gentle smile. “Goodnight, Katie. I love you.”
