A Grateful Dragon. Karla Schuurs

grunted and put her paintbrush down again.

      She still thought of Rex more often than not, even though she was dating David now.

      Mira felt genuinely wretched about obsessing over fucc-tard Rex.

      Get outta my brain! She commanded about 700 times a day, it felt like.

      Maybe she shouldn’t have rushed into dating David?

      But rushed what?

      Mira had been single for over 3 years, then had a crumby one-night stand.

      Ok, it was far from crumby.

      But the point was, there was nothing to get over.

      And David was the kindest, most loyal, devoted, fantastic catch of a boyfriend who adored her.

      If Mira kept rejecting good, decent men on account of one dick; well, she’d end up old and alone with lots of cats.

      And Mira didn’t really like cats.

      Mira didn’t mean any harm, she was just still hurting. But if nothing else she was a tenacious human, and determinedly pushed away images and memories of Rex as soon as they surfaced.

      Surely there was nothing wrong with that?

      She was doing the right thing.

      She was doing the best she could.

      But Mira was still mad at herself for letting her mind wandered to Rex. It was wrong, and silly, and out of character.

      David had been nothing but patient, and honestly down-right grateful just to be around her when they both had time. David was amiable, a gentleman, one of the good ones. She should be more damn grateful! Mira often chastised herself inside for not being more grateful.

      And David chatted a lot, which was a good thing. It filled up the empty space between them, because Mira never had anything to say.

      David was a chatty sally.

      He enjoyed moaning about his parents insisting he study economics and take over the family business, when he really wanted to be a personal trainer; or prattling excitedly about an upcoming tennis competition. He talked easily about everyday life and didn’t bother Mira about her art. He didn’t ask about it at all actually. Mira preferred that. Her work had taken on slightly darker tones these days and the last thing she wanted to do was have to try and explain the deep psyche of her inner demons to someone who honestly didn’t seem emotionally or spiritually equiped for it. Not that Mira was a vibrational snob or anything, but she couldn’t help it. She saw where David’s energy shot off excitedly and where it didn’t. He just wasn’t like her, and that was ok.

      It was ok.

      Mira shrugged off thoughts of David, sitting in the corner of the garage; defiantly staring down with dark, stormy eyes her cloud creation that just looked like a tattoo of infinite gratitude.

      Mira knew she shouldn’t, knew it was no good for her, but she was all alone, in the garage…

      Maybe it would help get this obsession out of her head?

      She searched apple music for Play that Song, let it play and closed her eyes, remembering…

      “Darling!” Mum burst through the garage door and Mira gasped, flipped the phone in the air, and fumbled as she grabbed for it in desperation to jam that bloody song off.

      “Sorry darling,” Mum bleated out, her mouth set in a grimace, looking awkward. Mira felt her face blushing up scarlet storm clouds all over her cheeks.

       Fucc!

      “It’s ok Ma,” Mira trilled brightly, pushing those emotions so far down they were squashed into her toes somewhere.

      No, squished into a bunion.

      “I was just taking a break. What’s up?”

      “Doctor Cole’s assistant just rang out of the blue. Someone needs to pick up Dad’s cochlear implant this morning, otherwise the hospital will dispose of it. I’d just forgotten. I’d hate to see it get thrown out, those things are expensive…”

      Mum found it hard to fathom throwing out a dried up liquid paper pen from 1995.

      “Ma,” Mira tried.

      “I’d like to donate it to someone who really needs it. Mmmmm… Your father would want that mmmm…”

      “Ma!” Mira tried again, but Mum was on her roll.

      “I’ve got to take Lai to school. I told Pops I’d visit this morning. You know how he worries if I don’t visit every Monday.”

      “Ma!!” Mira hollered.

      “Yes darling!” Mum’s eyes popped wide and startled as she was whipped out of her rambling trance.

      “I’ll pick up the cochlear implant. Where do I need to go?”

      “Oh thank you darling! Just to the hospital, second floor though. The specialist suit. Doctor Cole is in room 23. But you’ll need to see the nurse at the reception desk and let her know that you’re there to pick up Rhu Jacobson’s cochlear implant mmm…”

      “No worries Ma,” Mira got up off the floor and duster herself down, “I’ll throw some jeans on and head over now.”

      “Thank you my darling,” and Mum threw her arms around Mira “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

      “Probably have a much tidier garage,” Mira said through the muffle of Mum’s cardigan.

      Mum laughed.

      Good.

      “I’m just going to take Lai to school now, mmmm…”

      “Ok Ma, I’ll lock up. See you at home later.”

      Mum hummed all the way out of the garage.

      Mira smelt like paint. It was matted through her hair and all over her hands but Mira just changed her pants and sweater. She was only popping her head in an oncologist’s office for probably 20 seconds.

      No need to get dressed up for that.

      At the hospital, Mira followed Mum’s directions by memory, and didn’t even need to read a sign.

      It was completely straight forward.

      She saw a nurse at the reception desk with shiny blood hair and a surprising lot of eye makeup on.

      Mira walked up and explained “My name is Mira Jacobson. I’m here to pick up my dad’s cochlear implant from his oncologist, Dr Cole. He rang my mum this morning.”

      A cotton-candy type pink mist enveloped the nurse and sparkles of star-dust energy burst from her eyes at the mention of this Dr Cole.

      Mira understood what the overdone eyeliner was for now.

      The nurse picked up a phone on the desk and gushed down it “Dr Cole, a Miss Jacobson is here to see you regarding her father’s cochlear implant.” The sparkly-eyed nurse put the phone down and looked up at Mira. She smiled so widely it looked painful, “You can go straight through to Dr. Cole’s office, number 23.”

      “Thanks,” Mira muttered, a bit put off by the nurse’s out-of-proportional grin and enthusiasm.

      Any specialist Mira had ever seen was a grizzly, condescending old man.

      But hey, no judgement for different tastes.

      Mira knocked at the door of suit number 23 and heard a muffled “Come in.”

      She opened the door and walked in with her head down. Her guts were clenched at being back in the hospital. Mira desperately hoped the oncologist would