Driving Doctor Mayhem

Epilogue- Help No Longer Wanted

ONE YEAR LATER.

I squinted at the ad pinned between the wiper and the windshield of my Camry in the odd, transitional, maybe-orange-maybe-blue-maybe-purple evening light. Cocking an eyebrow in disdain, I ducked into the driver's side.

"Did you know that they're having a two for one sale at the Dairy Queen?" I laughed, buckling myself in.

"I most certainly did not," Cricket said. "I'm a concierge now. I have bigger fish to fry. Also, it stands to mention that there are only a select few situations where having two milkshakes for the price of one would be practical."

A concierge. Cricket'd finally found a job where he was pretty much paid to be nice to people all day. It was like his dream come true. He'd moved upstate with me when I left for college, where the grass was greener and the hotel industry was booming.

"I know you're not suggesting that that you've never slipped into a shame spiral and drank three milkshakes all in one sitting," I shot back. "Because if that's just me, I'm going to cry snotty, gross tears all over everyone in this car."

"Been there, done that," my mother piped up from the backseat. "Please don't get any of your snot on me; that's what the toddler years are for, and this is a nice dress."

It was the beginning of the summer after my freshman year of college and the three of us were headed to That New Restaurant Over There for a fancy lunch with Doc and Gideon. Once we got inside, Gideon waved frantically, motioning us over to their booth.

"Hey, darling!" he chirped brightly. "You look radiant as ever."

"I've been feeling a little more sick than radiant, lately. They have you cut open pigs in medical school. Pigs." I eyed the burger in Gideon's hands pitifully. "My only saving grace is that I can't really afford meat at this point."

"We're stockpiling Ramen noodles at our apartment," Cricket laughed.

"At least it's served in a meat-based broth."

Doc perked up, obviously reminded of something that he'd meant to say earlier. "That's your own doing. St. Jude's? Isn't that a bit of a cliche? That was a ton of money I left you."

I snorted. "I'll have you know, it's cliched because it is worthy. I'll have money when I'm a sucessful doctor. Until then, I'll help the people who need already successful doctors."

"It was yours to spend, Banksy," he grinned, sipping his drink. "At least you didn't blow it all on parties and heroin."

"Ha, ha," my mother said flatly, before actually laughing despite herself. "Wait, that's not funny."

"It is a little funny."

"By the way, it's just Robin now," I said as politely as I could make myself. "I mean, I couldn't be a medical student have have everyone still calling me Banksy, could I?"

"It's about time," Doc huffed. "That name was stolen."

"John," Ma interjected, "Must you?"

"Well, Lord knows, you have no problem stealing, Doc," I smirked.

Cricket raised his eyebrows, bemused. "What's that mean?"

"Oh, nothing."

After dinner, Doc and I trailed ever-so-slightly behind the rest of the group. "You know, I never said thank you," I chirped. "So, thanks, Dad." After a year, the word still felt weird. I'd long decided by then to stick to Doc, but the moment felt right-ish.

"For the money? You've thanked me plenty of times. There's no need to fall over yourself--"

"No, not for the money. For the..." I paused, thoughtfully. "For the best, worst summer ever."

Smiling widely, Doc shrugged. "I don't know, I think this summer could be far worse."

"There's no need for that."

"Are you sure? Because I think I may have perfected this shrink ray--"

"No, no. I'll pass."

"Who am I kidding? I've absolutely perfected it."

"Humble as ever, I see."

"I'd just like a real go-getter on my side, is all, Robin!"

        THE END.