Page 12 of Clinically Bewitched
She was right. I didn’t. But I could make plans. I could suddenly develop plans. Very important plans that couldn’t be rescheduled.
“Jules, you can’t avoid them forever.”
“I’m not avoiding them. I’m simply... strategically minimizing contact.”
“That’s literally what avoiding means.”
I grabbed my blood pressure medication—a recent addition to my routine, thanks to the stress of running a medical practice with five lunatics—and added it to my toiletry bag. “Fine. What day?”
“Saturday. Seven o’clock. That Italian place Mom likes.”
I closed my eyes. The universe was punishing me. That was the only explanation. I’d done something terrible in my past life, probably been a singing waiter, and now I was paying for it.
“I’ll be there,” I said, because what else could I say? My mother had a way of making me feel guilty even when I hadn’t done anything wrong. It was a superpower, really. She should have been studied by science.
“Great! I’ll let them know.” Vivian appeared in the bathroom doorway, leaning against the frame. “And, Jules?”
“What?”
“Try to have fun in Vegas. Please. For me. Do one spontaneous thing. One thing that isn’t scheduled or planned or color-coded.”
“I’ll consider it.”
“You won’t.”
“Probably not.”
She smiled, and it was softer than her usual smirk. “I worry about you, you know.”
“Don’t. I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. You’re wound so tight you’re going to snap.”
“I’m not going to snap. I’m perfectly calibrated.”
“Humans aren’t machines, Jules.”
“Some of us are closer than others.”
She shook her head and pushed off the doorframe. “I’m leaving before I say something we’ll both regret. Have a safe flight. Try not to alphabetize the airplane.”
“The seats are already organized by letter and number.”
“Of course they are.” She grabbed her purse from my bed, leaving an indent in my duvet that I’d have to smooth out, and headed for the door.
“Vivian.”
“What?” she turned to look at me.
“Keep an eye on the clinic while I’m gone.”
“Why?”
“Just make sure Fitz doesn’t burn it down.”
“Why would he burn it down?”
“To drive me crazy.”
