Read Online Under a Summer Sky by Nan Rossiter - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Nan Rossiter
Ads: Link
summer?”
“Yup—both lifeguarding again.”
“Well, make sure they use sunblock, or they’ll end up with wrinkles like me.”
“I’ll try,” Laney said with a weary smile.
“And how are you? You look tired.”
“I am a little tired, but I didn’t think it showed.” She’d always wondered when someone voiced this observation. Usually, it happened on a day when she’d really tried to pull herself together, but then some thoughtless cur always came along and said, “Is something the matter? You look really tired.” She knew, deep down, it was a message of sympathy: You deserve a break. You shouldn’t be working so hard . But on days when she actually felt good or had really tried to be conscientious when she applied her makeup, it felt like a backhanded compliment. And on those days, the only response she could come up with was a somewhat sarcastic, “Thanks a lot!”
But that afternoon, when Etty said it, she was tired. She’d actually felt out of sorts for weeks, but she’d attributed it to the growing need for summer vacation. At fifty-two, she wasn’t a spring chicken anymore. In fact, at the moment, she felt like an old hen!
She settled into one of the chairs in the empty waiting room and sifted through the magazines on the table. A headline on the cover of one of the parenting magazines caught her eye: “What To Do When Your Child Is Bullied.” She picked it up and leafed through the pages, looking for the article, and when she found it, the accompanying photo startled her. It was a close-up of a boy, and his face was filled with despair. The single tear trickling down his cheek had left a glistening trail on his smooth skin. In the background, there was a computer screen, and on it was a mock Facebook page, symbolizing the prevalence of cyberbullying among today’s youth. Laney shuddered at the thought. Asher wasn’t even on the Internet yet, but he would be. Was this what his future held?
Laney had just started reading the article when Dr. Jamison’s PA, Martha, opened the door. “Hi, Laney.”
“Hi, Martha,” Laney said with a smile before stopping at the window with the magazine. “Etty, can you copy this for me?”
“Sure thing, hon. It’ll be ready when you come out.”
Laney followed Martha down the hall. “How’ve you been?” Martha asked over her shoulder.
“Pretty good. You?”
“Bus y . . .”
“Too busy, I’ll bet,” Laney commiserated.
“Always too busy!” Martha said with a grin. “Will we ever learn?”
“I doubt it,” Laney said with a laugh. “We haven’t learned yet.”
Martha stopped in front of a scale, and Laney eyed it skeptically. “Do I have to?”
Martha laughed and nodded. “It can’t be that bad. Look at you. There’s nothing to you!”
Laney shook her head and stepped on the scale. “Is that why I have to walk around with the top of my slacks unbuttoned all the time . . .and why I can’t wait to get home to my baggy sweatpants?”
Martha slowly moved the leveling weight on the scale to 120, but the bar didn’t budge. She slid it to 130, and it rose a tad; 140 sank it, so she slid it back to 130, and Laney exhaled and held it. The bar leveled at 134, and Laney breathed in. “Maybe you could take a couple pounds off for shoes and clothes,” she suggested hopefully.
“That sounds fair,” Martha said marking her chart and then measuring her height.
“Didn’t I weigh one twenty-nine last year?”
Martha flipped back a page and shook her head. “One thirty-one.”
Laney shook her head in dismay. “I watch what I eat. I exercise. But it just doesn’t seem to matter . . . so why bother?”
Martha smiled. “It’s perfectly normal. Once you hit fifty or go through menopause, it gets harder and harder to keep the weight off.” She marked Laney’s height. “Still five feet two inches though,” she said with a grin. “Did you have a bone density test last year?”
“I think so.”
Martha flipped through her
“Yup—both lifeguarding again.”
“Well, make sure they use sunblock, or they’ll end up with wrinkles like me.”
“I’ll try,” Laney said with a weary smile.
“And how are you? You look tired.”
“I am a little tired, but I didn’t think it showed.” She’d always wondered when someone voiced this observation. Usually, it happened on a day when she’d really tried to pull herself together, but then some thoughtless cur always came along and said, “Is something the matter? You look really tired.” She knew, deep down, it was a message of sympathy: You deserve a break. You shouldn’t be working so hard . But on days when she actually felt good or had really tried to be conscientious when she applied her makeup, it felt like a backhanded compliment. And on those days, the only response she could come up with was a somewhat sarcastic, “Thanks a lot!”
But that afternoon, when Etty said it, she was tired. She’d actually felt out of sorts for weeks, but she’d attributed it to the growing need for summer vacation. At fifty-two, she wasn’t a spring chicken anymore. In fact, at the moment, she felt like an old hen!
She settled into one of the chairs in the empty waiting room and sifted through the magazines on the table. A headline on the cover of one of the parenting magazines caught her eye: “What To Do When Your Child Is Bullied.” She picked it up and leafed through the pages, looking for the article, and when she found it, the accompanying photo startled her. It was a close-up of a boy, and his face was filled with despair. The single tear trickling down his cheek had left a glistening trail on his smooth skin. In the background, there was a computer screen, and on it was a mock Facebook page, symbolizing the prevalence of cyberbullying among today’s youth. Laney shuddered at the thought. Asher wasn’t even on the Internet yet, but he would be. Was this what his future held?
Laney had just started reading the article when Dr. Jamison’s PA, Martha, opened the door. “Hi, Laney.”
“Hi, Martha,” Laney said with a smile before stopping at the window with the magazine. “Etty, can you copy this for me?”
“Sure thing, hon. It’ll be ready when you come out.”
Laney followed Martha down the hall. “How’ve you been?” Martha asked over her shoulder.
“Pretty good. You?”
“Bus y . . .”
“Too busy, I’ll bet,” Laney commiserated.
“Always too busy!” Martha said with a grin. “Will we ever learn?”
“I doubt it,” Laney said with a laugh. “We haven’t learned yet.”
Martha stopped in front of a scale, and Laney eyed it skeptically. “Do I have to?”
Martha laughed and nodded. “It can’t be that bad. Look at you. There’s nothing to you!”
Laney shook her head and stepped on the scale. “Is that why I have to walk around with the top of my slacks unbuttoned all the time . . .and why I can’t wait to get home to my baggy sweatpants?”
Martha slowly moved the leveling weight on the scale to 120, but the bar didn’t budge. She slid it to 130, and it rose a tad; 140 sank it, so she slid it back to 130, and Laney exhaled and held it. The bar leveled at 134, and Laney breathed in. “Maybe you could take a couple pounds off for shoes and clothes,” she suggested hopefully.
“That sounds fair,” Martha said marking her chart and then measuring her height.
“Didn’t I weigh one twenty-nine last year?”
Martha flipped back a page and shook her head. “One thirty-one.”
Laney shook her head in dismay. “I watch what I eat. I exercise. But it just doesn’t seem to matter . . . so why bother?”
Martha smiled. “It’s perfectly normal. Once you hit fifty or go through menopause, it gets harder and harder to keep the weight off.” She marked Laney’s height. “Still five feet two inches though,” she said with a grin. “Did you have a bone density test last year?”
“I think so.”
Martha flipped through her
Similar Books
