On Wednesday, as I took the elevator down the five floors to head to lunch, my heart began to race in anticipation. Would he be there again? He hadn’t told me he was coming the other times, so I didn’t know what to expect today. When I stepped off the elevator to find Jonathan once again waiting for me, my breath hitched in my throat. The smile on his face had me answering with one of my own. And just like the other time, we had lunch together, and then I went about torturing him for an hour afterward as we upped the intensity of his therapy. Jonathan was weaving himself into my routine in a way I wasn’t anticipating. Almost as if we were in some kind of relationship. Even if he hadn’t asked me out again, he had, in effect, become my Mr. Leeann. My salad guy. And whether or not it was planned, I kinda liked having a Mr. Leeann.
I liked having him around so much that I couldn’t help the overwhelming disappointment I felt on Friday when I stepped off the elevator and into an empty lobby. Well, a lobby without Jonathan in it. Biting my lip, I glanced at my watch and decided I’d wait a few minutes in hopes he’d show up. Then I mentally scolded myself for being disappointed. It wasn’t like we were actually dating or anything. Even if it sure as hell looked like it were possible.
The voice inside my head, which once again sounded like Mari, told me to stop making assumptions—not about why he wasn’t there, not about what he thought we were doing, or if this was normal behavior for him. None of that mattered.
Deciding I needed to get on with my lunch, I made my way outside. Of course, I couldn’t stop myself from looking at the faces that passed, hoping I’d spot him. Maybe he was just running late?
With my work located in an area known for its high concentration of medical specialty offices, it made the likelihood there’d be other people on crutches around. Regardless, Jonathan would be easy to spot. What with his six-foot-plus height, his broad shoulders, strong but not too bulky arms, his steady stride—even on crutches—and that damn smile. He was not someone easily overlooked.
So when I still didn’t see him, I reluctantly went in search of lunch. Alone. It really shouldn’t be a problem since I had lunch alone all the time, so I was annoyed with myself for feeling so bothered by his absence.
I debated whether or not to take my food to go, wondering if he might show up looking for me. Then I realized eating alone in hopes of someone showing up was lame. Pathetic even. And so not my style. It was almost like being stood-up. It didn’t matter if that wasn’t actually the case, because it felt like it. To-go it is.
I sulked the entire walk back to work—just me and my little bag of food. The rustling of the plastic against my leg as it shifted taunted me the whole way. As did all the people having conversations with their lunch companions. My mood continued to decline as I perused the faces I could see, not finding the one I was looking for. I was pathetic if a non-date, non-scheduled lunch had me acting like this.
When I got back, I was surprised to find my phone sitting on my desk, since I hadn’t noticed I’d forgotten it. Trying not to lunge for it, in anticipation of a message from him, I gently set my lunch down before sitting. I slowly took my food out and prepared to eat it, all while pretending I wasn’t dying to check my messages. Sure, the hope was that I’d missed one, but I refused to be ruled by my desperation to find out. After taking my first bite, I allowed myself a look. The disappointment I’d been wallowing in minutes ago disappeared when I discovered, Jonathan had texted me.
Jonathan: Hey you, I’m at the orthopedist right now and the doc is running over an hour behind schedule. Go figure. Looks like I might miss lunch today. Which really pisses me off because I really wanted to ask you something. Here’s hoping you miss me. ;-)
Of course I smiled like a fool when I read it. Pathetic, I know. As I took a pic of me taking a bite of my burger, it occurred to me I hadn’t ordered a salad. I wondered if I had subconsciously avoided eating salad because Jonathan wasn’t there. I decided it best to put that all aside for another time. I wasn’t even dating the guy so I needed to pull myself back a little. Refocusing on the picture I took, knowing he seemed to enjoy watching me eat, I sent it.
Leeann: Mmmm, burger ;-)
Jonathan: Dammit! We were having burgers today? I am totally hitting the doc with my crutch!!
Leeann: It’s so good too!
Yes, I knew I was teasing him, but this was what we would’ve done if we’d had lunch together. The banter between us, whether by text or in person, had swiftly become the best parts of my day.
Jonathan: I’m pouting now.
Leeann: Will you be late for your appointment?
Jonathan: I don’t think so. I was told he should be with me “any minute.” Is there fries with that burger?
Leeann: Sure is. Apparently I wasn’t in the mood for salad today. So I went all out! I guess I didn’t want to eat salad without you … even if I didn’t realize it until after.
There was a brief pause before he responded, and I feared I might’ve said too much. Then again, this was the guy who had been showing up at my work multiple times to have lunch with me, without even asking. Yes, I was being pathetic again, apparently there were no bounds to my patheticness. When his response finally came, I breathed a sigh of relief.
Jonathan: Glad to hear I’m having an effect on your eating habits. Doc is here now … see you soon.
My irritation level had been steadily rising with each passing minute over the past hour. When the time I needed to leave by came and went, it morphed into frustration. Then when the time I would’ve met Leeann for lunch came, I had to fight just saying fuck it and walking out without being seen. The only thing that kept me there, and a little level-headed, was the concern that missing the appointment could jeopardize my rehabilitation plan.
Doc was definitely lucky I’d finally heard from Leeann because it lessened my desire to shove a crutch up his ass. Especially since it would be so easy to do with him bent over the sink washing his hands.
It pissed me off that I missed lunch. I’d had plans for today’s lunch! I was finally going to ask her out again. She seemed to be enjoying our lunches, so I figured since it’d been a week, now would be a good time. She was definitely going to say yes this time. I was certain of it. But now, since I wouldn’t ask her out while at her office, my plan was out the fucking window. Damn specialists and their oversized egos, making patients wait for over two hours.
“So, Jonathan, how’s the knee doing?” he asked once he turned to me while drying his hands. I just glared at him. I knew for a fact Dr. Johnson was a great surgeon, and I understood that shit came up, which would mess with the schedule, but right now he was the jackass who ruined my lunch plans. When he finally looked up at me, he stared for a second before actually laughing out loud. My glare intensified.
He must’ve gathered I wasn’t sharing his joyous mood. Putting his hands up in defense, Dr. Johnson explained, “I’m sorry, son, but that face you were giving me looked so much like one your mother would give me.” He chuckled again before adding, “And has given me … on many occasions I might add.”
The mention of my mother reminded me of my manners, but still, I spoke my mind. “I sure hope you didn’t keep me waiting in here this long for no good reason, Doc. I had some pretty important plans over lunch.”
Dr. Johnson nodded as he sat on his stool with a sigh. “Had a major complication with surgery this morning. Been playing catch up with my schedule all day. When I’m done with you,” he looked at his watch, “I still have two more patients to see before moving straight into the afternoon schedule. Believe me, son, today has not been my idea of fun.”
Since he looked like he’d been running around all day, I would cut him some slack.
I nodded. “Okay, fine. But you should know, if I don’t get the girl … I’m totally sicking my mom on you.”
Yep, that’s right. I played the mom card. I didn’t care how juvenile it sounded. And it still didn’t erase the fact I’d been trying to figure out the best way to ask Leeann out
for a fucking week. One annoyingly long, could’ve-been-dating-and-kissing-and-touching-her-already kind of week.
Dr. Johnson motioned for me to remove my knee brace while shaking his head. “Apparently you sound just like your mother, too.”
I smiled. “I’ll take that as a compliment, Doc.”
After eating way more than I should have for lunch, I made my way to the treatment bay to prepare for my afternoon. Just as I opened the first chart, a heavy file landed in front of me. Looking up, I found Marla standing over me, donning her usual grumpy expression. When she didn’t say anything, I gave her a questioning look. “You know, this is where you tell me why you brought me a patient file and what I need to do with it.”
Marla rolled her eyes, clearly exasperated by the thought of having to explain something to me. In the time I’d worked there, grumpy and exasperated were the only two expressions of hers I’d seen.
She sighed, pointing to the large file. “Mr. Turner is here. He doesn’t have an appointment, but says you told him he could come by if he needed to. I told him he needs to have an appointment, but he insisted I come find you.”
Her accusatory tone pissed me off, but not as much as her denying a patient access to me. Concerned for Mr. Turner, I headed to the front desk to find him. He was a seventy year old man with chronic arthritis, who had trouble with his hand locking up on him and was completely dependent on others to drive him around. If he was in the office looking for me, he was in pain.
Marla clearly didn’t know how pissed I was because as she followed me, she added, “You know, you’re not in charge of the schedule, and I don’t appreciate you telling people they can just walk in and be seen. It gives them the control, and that will only have negative effects on the office.”
I stopped abruptly, causing Marla to almost collide with me. It brought her face within inches of mine and flustered her for a moment before she moved back. Not wanting to give her any space, I stepped closer so she’d have no problem hearing the tone of my voice as I made my distaste evident.
“The only thing that has a negative effect on this office is you.” Her eyes widened a little in surprise when I added, “And the next time you come to me, acting put-out because a patient, who’s most likely in pain, insists you get your lazy ass out of your seat to find me … I’ll make sure management knows exactly how you treat our patients.”
I didn’t care if she’d been there longer than me. I didn’t care that she could probably have me written up for being hostile in the work place. Truth of the matter was, I could care less if I got fired over something like this because my patient’s needs always came first. And if management didn’t see things that way, then I definitely didn’t want to work there.
Leeann swept through the door with purpose. I watched as she scanned the waiting room, looking for someone. When her eyes landed on me, she only paused for a second. A small smile broke through the determination that was etched in her features. But then her eyes moved past me as they landed on whomever she was looking for. Since I knew I was her first appointment for the afternoon, I was surprised—and a little disappointed—it wasn’t me she was looking for. When she breezed past me, she didn’t even give me another glance. I watched as she crouched down in front of elderly man two seats away. She immediately took his hand in hers and began rubbing her thumbs into his palm. His eyes closed, a mixture of pain and relief in his expression. I watched, mesmerized, as she cared for him.
“I heard you were looking for me, Mr. Turner. You just couldn’t go another day without seeing me, huh?” Leeann said with humor as she continued doing something to his hand. The old man sighed and opened his eyes.
“I’m sorry I came without calling, Lee. But you said if it got bad to come down …” His voice trailed off as he glanced at the reception desk. He looked like a kid afraid of tattling on someone. Leeann looked that direction, too, and glared at cranky-middle-aged-lady before saying, “I know, Mr. Turner. You did the right thing coming to see me. There’s nothing to apologize for.”
The tone of her voice spoke volumes. I found myself glaring at the woman behind the desk, too. I’d never liked her, but now it appeared as if she was mean to old people. Apparently she needed more than to just get laid. Maybe she’d be the one finally on the receiving end of a crutch-shaped dent in the side of her head.
I turned my attention back to Leeann as she moved to stand in front of her patient. “Mr. Turner, where’s your walker?” she asked with concern.
“In the car. My hand wouldn’t open at all so I couldn’t use it. I made sure to grab my cane,” Mr. Turner admitted. Again, Leeann glared at the receptionist.
“Go ahead and stand up, Mr. Turner, and let’s get you to the back room.”
Mr. Turner stood slowly, in a way that proved he needed his walker. As a man, his limitations had to be frustrating. My recent lack of mobility was very frustrating, but I knew I was improving, and it was only a matter of time before I was close to one hundred percent again. That wasn’t the case for Mr. Turner. I immediately felt like an ass for complaining over the past few weeks. I was also hit with a dose of admiration as I watched Leeann work with him. She was clearly a compassionate person, and there was a protective nature about her as she hovered near him as he moved through the waiting room. Just a few more things to add the list of reasons why I had to get to know her.
Once Leeann had Mr. Turner standing, she assisted him to the treatment area door. She made eye contact with me, giving me that smile of hers. The strain and determination I saw a few moments ago had thankfully receded. When they reached the door, Leeann maneuvered herself so she could open the door while keeping Mr. Turner steady. I also noticed how that grumpy bitch behind the counter made no move to help them.
As quickly as I could, I got up and ambled over just in time to help her. With my crutches in one hand, I held the door open with the other. As she walked him through, she glanced over her shoulder at me. “I see someone got the okay to ditch the crutches. Come on back, too; I can work on both of you. I’ll just switch up the order today.”
I nodded but stayed put for a few seconds longer. When I was certain Leeann was out of earshot, I focused on the receptionist, who was paying me no attention. “Excuse me. What’s your name?”
She looked up and scowled a little. “Marla. Why?”
I shrugged but grinned. “Because when I make a complaint about you, I want to make it clear that you are the one I’m complaining about. Even though I’m sure if I referred to you as cranky-middle-aged-lady, they’d know exactly who I was talking about.” I let the door swing shut on her surprised face, which quickly returned to a scowl before she disappeared from my view. She really had no clue what a bitch she was.
I found Leeann and moved her way, proud of my stable gait. The fact that the crutches were merely a formality at this point was fucking fantastic. It was a good thing I hadn’t walked out before seeing Dr. Johnson earlier since he nixed them from my treatment plan. He told me I still had to be careful and use them if I was having any difficulty. He also made sure to throw my words back at me when he threatened to tell my mom if he thought I wasn’t doing as he instructed. Apparently I wasn’t the only one who knew how to play that card.
“Where do you want me, Coach?” I asked her.
She snorted a laugh and shook her head before talking to Mr. Turner, “Let me get this big guy situated, and I’ll be right back, okay?”
Mr. Turner nodded, but then looked to me. “I’m sorry to interrupt your time with Lee, but I really needed to see her.”
“No worries, sir. There’s enough of her to go around.” I leaned forward and mock whispered, “Besides, I couldn’t wait one more day to see her either.”
We gave each other knowing grins, and I would bet some serious cash that Mr. Turner had a little crush on Leeann, too. Who could blame the guy? Next to us, the object of my infatuation said, “All right you two, no conspiring. Jonathan, why don’t you start with the mat today? Increase t
o the next level of resistance bands, and I want you to do three sets of twenty for each exercise we worked on last time.”
“You got it, Coach.” I saluted her, then made my way over to start my torture session. The change in my session today meant that she’d be rubbing my knee down at the end of the appointment. This also meant that I would have some one-on-one time with her then. This gave me the opportunity to think about how to ask her out. I knew I didn’t want to ask her at work. Definitely not by text. At this point, I would probably have to call her and ask. Otherwise I’d be waiting until lunch on Monday, which wasted this entire weekend of possibilities. Asking her in person was my goal because it allowed me to persuade her if I thought it wasn’t going my way. I wasn’t above manipulation.
It really shouldn’t be this difficult, and I had no idea why I was making it that way. But for whatever reason, I needed to make sure she couldn’t say no. Leeann was different—better than the girls I’d asked out before. She was more. Starting my stretches, I let my mind wander over the possibilities of how I was going to get that sexy, spandex-covered goddess to go on a date with me.
After working on Mr. Turner for twenty minutes, I was finally able to get his hand to relax from its cramped state. He continually apologized for interrupting my schedule, which only fueled my anger at Marla’s behavior. I definitely needed to talk to my supervisor about her. It was terrible that a patient in pain felt bad for seeking care. That wasn’t how things were supposed to be.
After walking him out, we met up with his daughter who waited with his walker. She also thanked me more than once before I watched them leave. When I walked past Marla, I made sure to glare at her one more time before finding Jonathan.
Assumptions Page 7
