Take Me There

by M. C. Decker

  Opening the first box, I noticed they were old patient files that Dr. Reynolds had probably set aside for shredding. Just as I was shutting the box, one of the files caught my eye–Ashlynn Flynn written in red on the outside of the file. It couldn’t be her. It was the universe’s way of telling me that I needed to get this woman out of my mind. Surely Ashlynn was a more common name than I’d realized.

  Flipping open the manila folder, I was stunned to see that it was Ashlynn’s patient record. She’d been married to a Parker Flynn and the two had come to Dr. Reynolds about twelve years ago. She’d mentioned earlier in the day that she was no longer married, so I could only assume that they’d divorced and she’d returned to her maiden name. They probably sought counseling in a last-ditch attempt to save their marriage.

  Glancing through the file, I knew I should stop reading. I was invading her privacy. Hearing a noise out in the hall, I quickly closed the file. Chuckling at myself, I wasn’t sure what I was so nervous about. This was a patient record in my office. I had every right to be reading over it.

  Reading Dr. Reynolds’ notes on the couple, I learned that they’d only finished one session of therapy. Joleen had concluded from their brief meeting that Ashlynn struggled with showing feelings of intimacy, but she wouldn’t or couldn’t disclose the reasons for her frigidity.

  Finishing the outline of the session, I noticed Joleen had scribbled some additional notes in the margin.

  The two had been childhood best friends who married shortly after graduating from high school. I could only assume that Parker had been Ashlynn’s only lover up to that point. Maybe at her young age, she felt trapped and wanted a chance to explore other options. I don’t anticipate these two keeping their follow-up appointment. Ashlynn seemed very adamant that she was through with continuing their therapy. As harsh as it sounds, I have little hope for these two.

  Dr. Reynolds’ words were harsh, but in this field, we needed to report candidly. I thought about messaging Joleen about this case. I was sure she’d remember it since Ashlynn now worked as a counselor at the hospital. I assumed she hadn’t worked here at that time since there was no mention of it in the file. Besides, I’m sure Dr. Reynolds would have referred the case to another therapist since it would have been a conflict of interest.

  I should have really taken those words to heart, but instead, I read through the file once again in hopes of catching something I may have missed before. Closing the file, I was discouraged that nothing more stuck out. I guess if I wanted to learn anything more about Ashlynn I was going to have to continue working the source herself. Flipping over the folder to place it back in the box, a phone number written in red ink caught my eye. Staring at it for a moment, I wondered if it had been the clue that I’d been seeking.

  Deciding to go for it, I picked up the desk phone and quickly dialed the number. “Hello, the voice mailbox you’ve reached is full. Please try your call again later.”

  Slamming the phone down in frustration, I decided to call it a night. Hopefully tomorrow, I could learn a bit more about Ashlynn Sommers. I wasn’t sure if it was the doctor in me or the man that had me so intrigued by this woman, but I was determined to find out.

  Ashlynn

  Opening the door to my small, Cape Cod house, I nearly tripped over Steve Urkel as I walked inside.

  “Hey buddy,” I said, reaching down to pet my fur baby on the head. “Do you think they’ll ever finish that construction at the end of the street? One of these days, I’m going to die from boredom waiting to turn down the road. And, we can’t have that happening because then who would come and feed you?”

  Meow.

  “I agree,” I laughed, walking toward the cat’s food dishes. After putting down a fresh can of food, I opened the cupboards in hopes I still had at least a box of mac and cheese or can of ravioli hiding in there that I could eat for dinner. Fun fact about me, if there’s one thing I hate more than cooking it’s going to the grocery store. Oh, and I really hate washing dishes too. I blame my mother. She wasn’t exactly Suzy Homemaker.

  Sighing, when I realized even my secret stash of chocolate was gone, my phone rang from inside my purse.

  “Hey, Bradley Cooper. What’s up?

  “You know you love me more than Bradley Cooper,” Brad said.

  “I do, but for the sake of honesty in our relationship, I’d rather fuck Bradley Cooper.”

  “Ditto, girl. Ditto,” he laughed.

  “I wouldn’t expect anything less. Now is there a reason for your call?”

  “I was just calling to check up on you. I wanted to make sure you recovered from whatever I walked in on earlier.”

  “I told you before I was fine and to let it go. I was just about to head out to the store. Even my secret stash of chocolate is gone. And, after the day I’ve had, I desperately need some chocolate and probably a quart of ice cream too.”

  “I thought you said you were fine.”

  “Let it go, Brad!” I yelled.

  “OK, OK, I give up,” he agreed. “And, Ash, you do realize it’s twenty-eighteen and you can order your groceries online and have them delivered right to your place, right?”

  “That actually works?” I asked skeptically.

  “Uh huh. Go put on your pajamas and order yourself some ice cream and chocolate.”

  “OK, I guess I’ll give it a try. Thanks for saving the day.”

  “Anytime. Love you.”

  “Love you too,” I said, ending the call before realizing that Brad never told me why he’d called in the first place.

  Dialing his number, he picked up on the first ring.

  “We just hung up. Did you butt dial me again?” Brad asked, answering the call.

  “Hey, Bradley, do you think you could tell me why you called me in the first place? We got a little sidetracked talking about my lack of online shopping knowledge.”

  “Oh right. My sister said I could bring someone to my niece’s birthday party this weekend. I’m pretty sure she wants me to bring a date to this soiree, but lord knows I’m not subjecting Everett to my family yet. He’ll never ask me out on a third date, and we both know what happens on the third date.”

  “Oh, for the love of god, stop right there. I don’t need the sordid details,” I laughed.

  “Whatever, just because you’re a ho and never go on a second date,” Brad joked.

  His words stung, even though I knew he didn’t mean any harm by them. “You know it’s not like that,” I nearly whispered.

  “I’m sorry, Ash. I crossed the line. I didn’t mean it.”

  “It’s OK. I forgive you. But, I might just make you take Everett now after all.”

  “Oh, don’t be a bitch. Please say you’ll be my plus one.”

  “Yeah, I’ll be your plus one,” I replied.

  “That’s why you’re my best bitch. Oh, and Ash, lace up your roller skates because it’s at the skating rink,” he said, ending the call before allowing me the chance to renege.

  Ending the call for the second time, I opened the webpage for the local grocery store. My search, however, was interrupted by another incoming call. At this rate, I was never going to get my chocolate. Looking at the phone, I was even more surprised to see my ex-husband’s name appear on the screen.

  Even though Parker and I had divorced, we remained amicable. We’d been best friends growing up, and I’d always wished we’d just stayed that way. Parker pushed for a romantic relationship and at first, I thought it was what I wanted too. But everything changed in just an instant, and I knew I didn’t want a relationship with anyone–especially with Parker. But since we’d always been inseparable, it seemed like the natural next step. No one at our high school was even surprised when we walked through the doors one morning holding hands. We married far too young–just shortly after high school graduation.

  Everything on the outside seemed copacetic between us, but everything behind the closed bedroom door was so wrong. Initially, Parker thought it was just my hesitat
ion because we weren’t married, but it turned out to be so much more than that. Truthfully, it was all me, but I could never confide in him. We were doomed before we ever truly began. I mean, if you can’t tell your best friend your darkest secrets then who can you tell?

  In an attempt to save our marriage, I even briefly tried marriage counseling. I say briefly because I only made it to one session. The irony isn’t lost on me because shortly after Parker and I divorced I decided to go back to school. I earned a degree in social work, and ultimately decided to become a marriage counselor myself. I figured that I would be well-suited to help women with similar problems. I might not be able to help myself, but I like to think that I’ve helped others along the way.

  Parker moved on from me as well. He met a beautiful woman at his work, and they really are perfect together. The two are expecting their first baby in just a few months. I really couldn’t be any happier for them.

  “Hey Park,” I said, answering the phone. “What’s up? Is everything OK with Caroline? The baby?”

  “Hey Ash,” Parker replied. “Yeah, everything is good. I saw you called me from the hospital earlier, but you didn’t leave a message.”

  “Nope. It wasn’t me. I didn’t call you today. Besides, I would’ve used my cell.”

  “Yeah, I thought that too, but I asked Caroline if she was expecting a call about an upcoming OB appointment, but it wasn’t for her either. I just assumed it was you. Sorry then, it must’ve just been a wrong number. I guess we’ll just talk later.”

  “Yeah, OK,” I said, ending the call. Standing there for a moment, I wondered who would have called Parker from the hospital. A feeling of unease settled over me. Surely it couldn’t have been Carson. Now I was just letting my imagination get the best of me. How would Carson even know about Parker? The topic of my ex-husband only came up briefly this afternoon, and I never mentioned his name. When he asked if I was married, I’d told him not anymore. And, that was the truth. That was all I felt he needed to know. It was all anyone ever needed to know. Because the more anyone learned about Parker, the more they’d learn about his brother.

  Ashlynn

  AFTER TOSSING AND turning for most of the night, I was up and at the coffee shop extra early. The previous day’s events had me rattled, resulting in a restless night of sleep. I wasn’t sure if it was Carson, or the phone call from Parker. Both conjured up ghosts from my past that I’d tried not to think about for a while. I was hoping with my schedule pretty tight, I could avoid Carson for most of the day. Glancing down at my watch, I assumed he was already making his morning rounds at the hospital, and maybe, I could sneak into my office unnoticed.

  “Better make it a triple shot of espresso, Tina,” I told my favorite barista. “I’m already riding shot-gun on the struggle bus this morning and it’s not even eight yet. Oh, and throw in a strawberry scone. I’m wearing my sassy pants today.”

  “You know that stuff will kill you, right?” A familiar voice said from behind me. So much for my plan of sneaking into the office.

  “Who says?” I laughed, turning to face Carson.

  “Medical research,” he said, seriousness in his tone.

  “Last time I checked, you weren’t a neurologist or an endocrinologist,” I sassed. “And, shouldn’t you already be at the hospital? I thought you doctors always did your rounds before the sun came up.”

  Rolling his eyes, Carson stepped up to the counter. “That seems like a pretty broad generalization. I prefer getting a full eight hours of beauty sleep. Besides, it takes me quite a bit of time in the morning to get myself looking this good,” he chuckled as he turned and smiled. “I’ll have what she’s having,” he added, placing a twenty on the counter.

  “I thought you said that stuff will kill you?”

  “It’s a risk I’m willing to take,” he said, handing me the cup of coffee.

  “You didn’t have to buy my breakfast,” I said.

  “Just accept the gesture, Ashlynn. I don’t have any ulterior motives, I promise,” he joked, raising his hands up in innocence.

  “So, by taking this cup of coffee and scone, I’m not accepting a dinner invitation that I didn’t even know was on the table?”

  “That depends,” he responded.

  “Yeah? On what?” I asked, taking a sip of the hot brew.

  “Are you saying you would accept a dinner invitation if it was on the table?” he questioned.

  “I didn’t say that at all,” I laughed nervously. Feeling my heart rate jump, I wasn’t sure if it was Carson’s proximity to me or the triple shot of espresso jolting through my veins.

  “You OK? You’re flushed all of a sudden,” he said, reaching for my wrist. “And, your pulse is racing.”

  “I’m fine. I probably just shouldn’t have drunk that so quickly. I’ll be all right,” I said, trying to reassure him as the room began to spin around me. Even though it’d been years since I’d experienced a panic attack, I was almost certain that that’s what happened.

  With his hand still on mine, he tightened his grip. “Ashlynn, listen to me. You need to take a deep breath,” he said, grabbing my coffee with his other hand before it crashed to the floor.

  “I think we should take a seat,” he said, pulling me to the corner.

  Sitting in the chair that he’d pulled out, I put my head between my legs and began taking deep breaths.

  Kneeling in front of me, Carson began rubbing my knees. “That’s it. Just breathe,” he said, reassuringly. Raising up my wrist once again, he measured my pulse against his watch. “That’s better,” he said, as I slowly lifted my head.

  Meeting Carson’s eyes, the look of concern written on his face took me by surprise. “I’m OK. I just need a glass of water,” I requested between breaths. I wasn’t sure if I really needed the water, or just a moment alone to gather my thoughts.

  After just a matter of seconds, Carson was back with the water and the scone I’d already ordered. Taking a sip, I tried to stand. “Whoa, what are you doing?” he asked.

  “Getting up. I need to get to work. I was supposed to be there fifteen minutes ago. I have patients waiting.”

  “The only way you’re going to work is by going down to the emergency room for an evaluation,” he said sternly.

  “Carson, don’t be ridiculous. I’m fine,” I insisted. “I don’t need to see a doctor. You were here with me the entire time.”

  “I’m not an emergency physician. I would feel much better if you had someone else look at you. We don’t know what caused this. You could be dehydrated. Your blood pressure could be high. Your blood sugar could be low. It could be any number of things,” he said, grabbing his phone from his back pocket.

  “Please tell me you’re not calling for an ambulance,” I said, rolling my eyes.

  “No, I’m messaging Brad so he can tell your assistant to cancel your appointments for the day. Should I call an ambulance?”

  “Oh my god. NO! I was kidding. I’m fine,” I yelled. “I only had a panic attack. I’ve had them before. I just haven’t had one in a while. Now, will you get out of the way, so I can get to work?”

  He looked at me once more before standing up. The look in his eyes telling me that my words had hurt him.

  “OK, I’ll go down to the ER if that’ll make you happy,” I sighed, reaching for my cup of coffee.

  “I really don’t think you should finish that,” he advised.

  “You’re incorrigible,” I huffed. “Can I at least have the scone?”

  “Fine,” he said, grabbing the bag as he led me out of the coffee shop.

  “Since you won’t let me call for an ambulance, I’m driving you to the hospital myself. I’m not taking no for an answer, so you can save your breath,” he insisted. As we stepped outside, the cool autumn breeze was whipping the fallen leaves across the sidewalk. A sign that winter was lurking around the corner.

  “What about my car?” I asked, pointing toward the green Chevy Malibu parked alongside the curb. “I’m
not sure how much time is left on the meter and I’m out of change. The last thing I need is a parking ticket.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it,” he said, guiding me to the SUV, parked directly in front of my car. Opening the door for me, I slid into the passenger seat before watching him drop a few quarters into the meter behind us.

  “That should do it,” he said, sliding into the driver’s seat. “I’ll return on my lunch break and drive it back up to the hospital for you.” Buckling his seatbelt, he checked the mirrors before pulling into traffic.

  “You really don’t have to do all this for me,” I muttered as we drove down the street.

  “I want to do it. We’re colleagues now. I know I came across as a bit intrusive yesterday, and I apologize for that. I didn’t mean for you to feel uncomfortable at all. It’s just in my nature to ask the tough questions–even when it’s none of my business.”

  “Don’t even worry about it. I know you meant well,” I said, gently reaching over to squeeze the top of his hand. “Thank you for talking me through that attack. I don’t know what would’ve happened had I been alone.”

  “Shh. I’m glad I was there for you,” he said, smiling. “Now let’s get you inside and checked out. Wait here and I’ll go get you a wheelchair,” he added, pulling up to the emergency room entrance.

  “Oh my god! You are NOT getting me a wheelchair, Carson! I’m perfectly capable of walking on my own two feet.”

  “Fine, but at least wait for me to come around and help you.”

  Not wanting to argue in the parking lot, I waited for Carson to escort me into the hospital. Finally, after completing the check-in process, and skipping the waiting room–perks of being a hospital employee–Carson agreed to get back to his work upstairs.

  “Carson, thanks again–for everything,” I said as the ER attending entered the examining room.