by T A Ford
The answer was no. Typically he encouraged the support system to be present for the patient in the routine examination. However, Dina was special and his handling of her case would remain different. The more he worked with her, the less anxiety she suffered due to the process. He couldn’t include Rodney without risking revealing his connection to her brother. That worked in his favor, because Dina expressed the desire to not include him. She wanted to get her diagnosis as proof she would present to her brother that she was strong enough to be independent of him.
“I don’t do this often. You’re a special case.”
“Thank you, Doc. You know, I like that name better than Cue. Doctors are noble. Heroes. You’re kind of like a hero. No, like a prince. Though in Disney your hair would need to be blonde and eyes blue,” she said.
He chuckled. She handed him the clipboard. He walked over to the nurse and gave her instructions. Dina sat there staring at all of the posters in the office.
“Dina, you will go with Sandra. She’ll get your labs done. All routine stuff.”
“I want you to come with me,” Dina said.
“This is just a routine—”
“Please,” she pleaded.
He nodded. “Okay. Okay. Let’s go.”
Dina mumbled something under her breath. He followed her through the weighing and blood pressure checks to the blood samples she gave. The only time they separated was when she gave her urine sample. The entire ordeal lasted no more than thirty-five minutes before she was put in a wheelchair and he agreed to push her out of the doctor’s office into the hospital.
“Where are we going now?” she asked.
“To see an endocrinologist,” he said.
“Really? A thyroid doctor?” she looked up.
He looked down at her. “You’ve seen one before?”
“No. I read a few medical books on the process before I came to see you. Sometimes anxiety disorders can come from your thyroid. Right?”
“Very good,” he said, impressed. “You have to loan me those books.”
She laughed. “I got about twenty of them. But sure.”
Cue shook his head. He pushed her into the exam room, where Dina was greeted by a technician. He watched as the tech explained the ultrasound tests they would do on her throat. She went through the process fine.
Once done, he gave her the good news. “It’s over.”
“You sure? I thought we’d do a CT scan or MRI?”
“You want one?” he asked.
“If you’re as thorough as you say you are, you should have one done on me.”
“Let’s see what we get with this first. That level of examination may not be necessary.”
“Because you think you already know what I have?” she asked. “Verbal hallucinations.”
“I’m not going to guess at your diagnosis, trust me,” he said.
“I do. I trust you with my life,” she said.
“Hey, are you hungry?” he asked.
“Not for hospital food.”
“Okay, what do you want to eat?” he asked.
“There’s an Indian restaurant off of Ponce. Really good.”
“I like Indian,” he agreed.
He took her back to the doctor’s office in the hospital and he signed off on the work he needed forwarded to him. Then he escorted Dina out of Emory Hospital. She insisted on driving, so they took her Acura.
“I have a question,” she asked.
“Sure?” he answered.
“Are you married?” she asked.
He looked over to her surprised.
“Oh, don’t worry. I’m not asking for me. I don’t date white men.”
“Whoa. Wait a second—”
“No. It’s not a prejudice,” she quickly added. “I want black children,” Dina explained. “I can’t make a black baby with a white man.”
Cue chuckled. “You can have black kids with a white man.”
“You know what I mean,” she said. “The child follows the line of his father. You get it.”
“Well, to answer your question, no, I’m not married. Are you?” he asked.
“You know I’m not. I checked the box single on that documentation you made me answer in your office the other day. Plus, you thought Matteo was my boyfriend. So you know I’m not.”
He nodded. He was slumped a bit in the front seat. The Acura wasn’t comfortable for a man who was six foot three. He had to drop the back of the chair and push it as far back as it could go.
“Why aren’t you married? You’re handsome, and a doctor. Most women would want you. Even black ones.”
He chuckled. “Even black ones huh?”
Dina nodded as if her comment made sense.
“You think it’s a matter of a woman wanting me?”
She nodded again. “Yes. You look like the kind of guy that’s sensitive. So you would fall easily. Is that why they don’t want you?”
“Possibly. I did propose once.”
“You did?”
“Yeah, she got a better offer from the State Department.”
Dina frowned. She kept glancing to him and then the road. She changed the subject to road signs. He barely listened as she went on and on about the origin of road signs and how they evolved. He reflected on her assessment of him. He did shy away from personal relationships after his breakup. He got emotionally invested too fast with women. Instead he kept lovers at a distance, and never laid his head on a pillow twice. It satisfied his libido, but the emptiness did take a toll on his heart. Dating in Atlanta was a weird mix. There were so many women of different racial and economic backgrounds. But those he encountered were very independent and strong willed. Rarely was a woman impressed by his being a doctor. They sniffed out his propensity to love hard and shied away from commitment before it became a topic.
“We’re here,” Dina announced.
He hadn’t visited the Bay Leaf, but he had heard good things about it. Dina was out of the car while he struggled to get out of his seatbelt. She came over to his side of the car and offered her hand to him. He accepted and barely noticed when she didn’t let it go as they walked to the door. He let her hand go to hold the door open for her and she reached for his hand again once they were inside. Cue understood the association she was making with him. Social anxiety was one of her struggles, and sometimes his. By holding his hand, she felt grounded. But another part of him saw her as the beautiful woman she was. And he wanted to hold her hand because—he wanted to.
“The goat biriyani is my favorite,” she said. “Do you like spicy food?”
He winked.
“Good, I’ll order for us. You pay. Okay?”
He chuckled. “Deal.”
She ordered confidently. He glanced up to the television screen where a Bollywood movie played.
“I’m sorry about what I said earlier. It was rude.”
“What did you say?”
“That I don’t want to date a white man. I just blurt things out at times. It’s a thought and then it’s out my mouth. I’m not prejudiced,” she said.
“I didn’t think you were.”
“My dad was a good man. He was a pilot.”
He nodded that he knew her dad’s reputation. It was in her profile paperwork that she had filled out. She continued without taking a breath. “That was until he got sick. I think every girl wants to marry a hero. Like their father. For me that’s a black man. Thing is, dating any kind of man for me is hard. Black, white, yellow, men want a certain thing in their women. A balance. I don’t bring a balance. For my relationships to work I have to have a man that is imperfect like me. Imperfect people are never successful at love. I do think men are good for some things. I make sure I get what I want just like they do.”
“How so?” he asked.
“I like sex,” she announced proudly. A few people dining turned their heads and looked at her. Dina giggled. She shook her head and smiled. “I like sex a lot,” she whispered with her hand cupped over her mo
uth. “Maybe too much. My relationships are mostly sex. My brother doesn’t know. But I like to do it. You’re my doctor, right, so this isn’t weird. Me telling you this?”
“It’s private. I won’t share the information with a soul,” he said.
“Okay, I like that. Having someone to talk too. I don’t have friends. I try to make friends but most of them get weirded out. Well, not true. I have six girlfriends. They were from school. We’re in a sorority together. We are sisters. So, we go to Boule and local chapter events. We did. They haven’t invited me out in a while since I didn’t pay my dues this year. I’m not active right now. Never mind that story. Anyways, I like sex, but when men start to really like me they find out about... you know, my quirks. They don’t understand my books and post-it notes. They end things.”
“You’re dating the wrong men.”
“Maybe. It’s okay. I’ll find him. And you’ll find the right girl for you. Do you date black women?”
He nodded yes.
“Liar!”
“I’m telling the truth,” he chuckled.
“Really?” she frowned. “Why?”
“That surprises you?” he asked.
“Yea. I know a few Spanish men that date black women. Matteo does. Marissa had sex with my brother but she thinks I don’t know it. She is protective of Matteo like I am with Rodney. She said he needs to find a good Columbian girl to settle down with. But Matteo always dates the black girls. Like I said, I know a few Spanish men who do, but not any white men.”
“Well white men, Spanish men, Indian men,” he pointed at the television, “all date beautiful women. Black women are beautiful.”
She stared at him for a moment and then lowered her gaze. “That’s a nice thing of you to say if you believe it.”
“It’s the truth. Why question it?”
“I find that few people are truthful. Most people say what they think the person wants to hear. For instance, I’m a black woman. How comfortable are you with telling me that you don’t find black women as pretty as other races of women? My guess is not comfortable at all. So, you lie to make me feel comfortable. Truth is, you’re from Boston, and probably Irish. There is a divide with Irish-Catholics and black people in that region. There’s a good book by Michael Patrick Murphy called Neighborhood Lines that explains the issue.”
“Well this Irish Catholic Boston Southie is different,” Cue smiled.
“That’s disappointing,” she sighed.
“What?”
“How you dodged a real conversation with me on race. That means you are uncomfortable,” she said and continued to eat.
“No. I think it’s disappointing that the first conversation we have is about race. Maybe I just want to talk about you,” he said.
“Would you date a woman with... you know?” she asked.
“Kids?” he asked as they brought food to the table. She asked a few questions about the food and made sure the yogurt was right with a taste test, and then nodded she was satisfied. The server rolled his eyes and walked away. Dina either didn’t notice or didn’t care.
“No not kids, women like me. With Asperger’s?”
“I wouldn’t date a patient, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“I wasn’t asking. I just wanted to know, well, I want to know if men... good men, would date and you know, marry a woman with mental developmental and anxiety issues? My father did. He knew my mother had all kinds of mental health issues when he met her. Well. I take that back. When they first met, she worked at the airport in one of the restaurants that he would fly in and out of. He said she was the prettiest woman he’d ever seen. So, he got to know her. It wasn’t until they were married, and she gave birth to Rodney that she changed. Her anxiety and depression started then. It got worse and worse after I was born. And he loved her anyway. He was a different kind of man I suppose. Rare.”
“Sounds like a great guy.”
As they ate, he mostly listened while she talked about more books she’d read on Baltimore. The conversation flowed. He noticed that the more he let her talk, the more relaxed she became.
Her phone beeped. She picked it up and checked the text. She turned the phone for him to see. “Rodney sent it!”
“Sent what?”
“The code,” she said, smiling. “He has a new place for me. Close to his house. I really want to move. He needs his space. Sheila doesn’t like me, but Maura does. I almost left a post-it note for Sheila to let her know that Maura’s panties were in the laundry room,” she chuckled.
Cue smiled.
“Anyways, he needs his space and I think this place will be perfect. I’m going to have a library. Want to come and see it with me?”
“Now? I, ah,” he checked his watch. He had an appointment with Mr. Drake in two hours. His client was agitated that he made him see another therapist. He couldn’t cancel this one. “How close is it?”
“Not far at all.”
“Can you get me back to my office before four?” he asked.
“If we leave now, yes.”
“Then let’s go.” He signaled for the server. He paid the bill and they were back in the Acura headed to the interstate.
It took them fifteen minutes to get to the condominium building. She used the code to gain access and then drove through the opened gate.
“He said it’s the penthouse. We can get inside with his code.”
“Your brother owns this?”
“Not the building, but the penthouse. He buys them and flips them. I don’t know why he bought this one. It’s too new to get a real profit. I think it’s just something he’s got for me. Either way I’m excited.”
Cue got out of the car, this time without her help. She seemed impressed. “What does your brother do?”
“Investment broker, is what his taxes say. But he does a lot of other things for his investors.”
“You see his taxes?” Cue frowned.
“I do his taxes. I’m good at some things, Doc. Especially numbers.”
“Oh, I believe you.”
They rode up the elevator from the garage to the lobby and then walked into the office to pick up the key left for her. He liked the building. He was looking for a new place—he couldn’t afford this one, not with his credit rating—but he was looking.
“So this place is four thousand square feet and it’s got a loft like upstairs with a theater room that Rodney said can be turned into my library. He’s already fixed it up for me. Been dying to see it for myself.”
“You collect books?”
“I have a small collection,” she shrugged.
He smiled, knowing the truth.
They went inside and she gasped. “Look at the windows!”
He couldn’t help but notice them. They were at least twenty feet tall and everywhere. The city could be seen from any angle in the condo. She walked over to the kitchen, which was all white, and clapped her hands with happiness. He glanced up to the winding stairs that were made of glass. His friend had done well for himself. The place had cost a small fortune.
“Look!” she exclaimed.
He turned to see her by the kitchen. The wall wasn’t just a wall. She pushed it and it slid over to the side to reveal a room behind it. “This is it! This is my library! Come see! Come see!”
Cue walked over to an additional room that could be concealed from the front of the condo by a separation wall. He guessed it had previously been for entertainment—probably a theater, since the projector and large screen were still in place. But white bookshelves now lined the walls. Taller than normal bookshelves, they were so closely pushed together a sliding ladder had been added for a person to reach them.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” she said in awe.
“It’s really nice,” Cue agreed.
“Hold on! Don’t say anything. Rodney would be angry if he knew I brought someone here with me without permission.”
Cue made a silent motion of zipping his lips. She called her brother on FaceT
ime and gushed over how much she loved his surprise. She thanked him over and over and agreed to whatever terms he mentioned. When she was done, she ran straight for Cue. Out of instinct he caught her in his arms. She hugged Cue’s neck. “I’m the happiest I’ve ever been my entire life. The happiest girl in the world.”
The embrace tempted him to hold her longer, and it was then he knew he had to let her go. She slid down him and stepped back, fixing her shirt that had risen to reveal her flat tummy. She wiped her tears of joy. “I’m so excited!”
“You haven’t seen the rest of the place,” he joked.
“It’s mine. Doesn’t matter. This room is all mine. And the windows, I can put... anything I want on them. Rodney said I can do anything I want here. He said I’m the boss. You heard him.”
“Congrats.”
“We’re going to fix me, Doc. Whatever tests you run I’m okay with it. I want to get better. I know I have a big thing ahead of me. But I feel different. I trust you.”
“Let me earn your trust, okay?”
She grinned.
“Let’s go see upstairs!” she said and took his hand. “Please!” He took one final look around at the room with all the bookshelves. He had to admit it was a good open space for her. Rodney had done well.
“Sure, I want to see upstairs.”
DINA ARRIVED HOME LATE. She hadn’t planned to, but after seeing her new place she had to go to the bookstore and pick up her out-of-print books that the store had specially ordered. She’d got seventeen titles. She brimmed with excitement to put them on the shelves first. She could only carry one box to the door. When she came inside, she heard jazz music play a bit too loudly. She knew her brother had beat her home. Jazz was a sign that he had, had a good day too.
“Rodney!” she sang as she closed the door.
“In here,” he said.
Dina carried her box into the front living area. Rodney was setting the table.
“What’s this?”
He smiled. “I got a new client. A big one, Dina. Really big. This is it sweetheart. We’re moving on up!”
“To the east side... to a delux apartment in the skyyyyy...” Dina sang.
Rodney laughed. He nodded. “I cooked your favorite meal. Everything you like.”
