by Elle Casey
“James, there’s a woman at the front door.”
I wait for more, but apparently that’s it.
“So? What do you want me to do about it?” I’m not in the mood to be polite. It doesn’t help that Veronica’s been bitchy all morning and came back late from lunch. I’m being punished for something she’s imagined I’ve done that’s completely none of her fucking business.
“She says she wants to see you, but I don’t recognize her. She looks like a gypsy or something.”
My heart stops beating. “A gypsy?” I barely get the words out. Flashes of the woman who called me Helen come to mind. But what would she be doing here? It can’t be her.
“Yeah. She looks crazy. Should I call security?”
I jump up from my desk and practically run through the door to Veronica’s desk. The surveillance camera is picking up a figure at our main doors and displaying it on a small screen on my secretary’s computer monitor.
“Son of a bitch,” I mumble to myself. It is that Leah Betty person! How in the hell…? Is she stalking me? But why would she be? It’s not like we’ve even exchanged a single pleasant word with one another. Maybe after seeing me in the hospital she wants to consult with me as a physician. That’s the only explanation that makes sense.
“Who is she?” Veronica asks.
I panic. The lie bubbles up and flies out of my mouth. “I have no idea. Send her away.” Seeing her as a patient just feels wrong. I know instinctively that I can’t do it. Nothing good will come of me seeing that woman’s breasts in a professional environment. I’ll lose my license with the things I’ll be wanting to do with them.
Veronica presses the intercom button that communicates with a box outside our main doors. “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to make an appointment if you want to come in.”
My eyes are riveted to the monitor. The woman stands there with her arms hanging at her sides, her mouth open. I can see she’s offended, and it makes me smile. My panic subsides in the face of her expression. It’s not that I’m happy about being rude, but she’s kind of cute when she’s mad. It’s that hair of hers, flying out all over the place …
“Okay, I’ll make an appointment now,” she says, chin up in the air. “Book me in.”
Veronica snorts in disgust. “I’m sorry, but I can’t do that at this time.”
I glance at my secretary, wondering where that tone of voice is coming from. Usually whenever I hear her, she’s practically simpering she’s so polite. I’m not sure I like this new person I’m seeing at my front desk. She reminds me of someone. Hilary.
I stare at the back of her head, wondering if she was being honest with me when she said they weren’t friends anymore. I never realized before how alike they were, but now it’s clear. Two peas in a pod. They could be sisters.
“Why not?” the girl asks.
“We don’t have any availability.” Veronica sounds very happy about that, like she’s just thwarted a rival.
“Then why did you tell me I had to make an appointment?”
Good question. I wait to hear what Veronica has to say to that.
“Because you do.” Not very brilliant repartée, but it does the job.
The girl’s hands ball up into fists. Then she reaches out really fast and grabs the door handle. I watch it wiggle from the inside as she tries to get in.
Veronica puts her face very close to the speaker. “Please don’t touch the door.” Her voice is so loud, it echoes inside the office and outside it too.
The girl pulls her hand back quickly. Then she looks up and she’s staring right into the camera. The image on the screen is slightly grainy, but even so, I can see she’s beautiful when she’s mad. It makes me want to have an argument with her naked. The make-up sex would be phenomenal, I know it would. My lower half starts to heat up at the idea.
“Are you spying on me?” she asks, obviously offended by the idea.
Veronica responds without hesitation. “We use surveillance to keep people out of our offices who don’t belong.”
My heart lurches at little at that comment. The comment and the tone in which it was delivered were designed to take the woman down to the lowest peg, and I feel bad when I realize she’ll think it came from me. She might be a little on the scrappy side, but I don’t believe she’s lower than me or anyone else. Something about her says diamond in the rough to me.
“You’re really rude, you know that?” She turns around and leaves the foyer, her black bag swinging out and hitting her on the butt. She grabs it and holds it close as she presses the button for the elevator that will take her back down to the lobby.
Veronica turns her chair around slowly and looks up at me. “Who in the hell was that?”
I shrug, suddenly angry that she’s talking to me in that tone and that she felt the need to be such a bitch, but absolutely sure I don’t want to alert her to the fact that I kind of know this person … this crazy woman who keeps showing up in my life being ridiculous, making me think stupid things like how she might look angry and without clothes.
“How am I supposed to know?” I say, playing stupid. “She’s not a patient.”
“But she wants to be one.” Veronica starts tapping a pen on the desk.
If I know nothing else about women, I do know one thing: when one of them gets curious and you don’t satisfy that curiosity with something they can sink their teeth into, they’ll start investigating, and there is no detective as skilled as a suspicious woman. This I know from personal experience. Hilary hacked into my voicemails and emails more times than I care to think about. I make a mental note to change all my passwords again.
“Okay, listen, I don’t know her, know her, but I have seen her around.”
“Around where?”
I frown, annoyed I’m being pressed for more details. I can’t look Veronica in the eye, so I stare at her monitor. “I don’t know, around. She bumped into me a few times.”
“At a bar?”
“No, not like that.” I move my gaze to Veronica now, so she can see I’m being honest. I feel like I’m being let off the hook, portraying this situation as merely happenstance. I can’t feel guilty over something I can’t control, right? “She literally bumped into me, outside. First near a fountain and then outside a subway stop.”
“You don’t take the subway.”
“Normally, no, but last week I did and I ran into her.”
“So what … you guys had some coffee, chatted…”
I run my hands through my hair. “No, Jesus, nothing like that. I mean this literally.” I put my hands out in front of me and try to mime two people running into each other. “Like this. Bam. We ran into each other.” I clap my hands together and let them fall away.
Veronica smiles. “Ohhhh, you mean you literally made impact.”
“Yes!” I smile too, holding my hands out flat. “See? That’s it. That’s how I know her.”
Veronica’s gaze narrows and she loses all hints of humor. “So how did she know where you worked if all you’ve ever done is literally run into each other?”
I have to think about that for a few seconds. “I have no idea. Maybe she looked me up at the hospital.”
“What?”
I’m nervous, like I’ve been caught lying. “I also bumped into her at the hospital.”
Veronica folds her arms over her chest, pushing her breasts up over the top of them. I’m sure it’s intentional, and I try not to stare.
“So you bumped into her there too, is that what you’re saying?”
I let out a long sigh. “As unreal as it sounds, yes. She was there to visit a patient, and I was there for Jeremy.”
“How do you know she’s not just stalking you? Seems kind of crazy that you’d literally bump into the same person three times. There’s like a billion people walking around Manhattan.”
“I know she’s not a stalker because I asked one of the volunteers.”
“Ohhhh, so you’re interested in her?”
/> “Why does everyone keep saying that?!” I yell.
Veronica lifts an eyebrow. “Who else is saying it?”
I spin around and leave her behind. “Never mind. Drop it.” I rush into my office, grab my suit coat off the hook behind my door, and go out into the lobby. It feels like the hounds of hell are nipping at my heels.
“I’m going to the clinic,” I say distractedly. “Text me any messages that come in.”
“But your surgeries don’t start for two hours,” she calls out at my back.
“I have things to do first.” I shut the main doors behind me without waiting for a response.
It’s possible I shut them too hard, but I’m pissed. I feel like a kid who’s broken the rules, being called to task by his mother. Since when does a secretary get to make her boss feel that way?
Since I started letting her.
Goddammit! My first order of business when I get back is to have a little talk with Veronica. If she can’t keep her nose out of my personal business, I’m going to have to replace her, that’s all there is to it.
I hail a cab and head to the clinic. As the car crawls down the street, I catch a glimpse of a girl in a multi-colored skirt about to turn the corner, five blocks up from my office. I crane my neck to watch her walk down the sidewalk as the cab slows in traffic. It’s Leah Betty, and her head is hanging down. I feel like the world’s biggest asshole as I watch her wipe away some tears.
Did I do that? Did I make her cry? I wonder how I could possibly be at fault as the cab accelerates and takes me away from her. I’m tempted to tell the driver to stop so I can run after her, but I resist. She’s just a girl from a different world, and I’m a guy who can’t afford the complication.
I face front and lean back into the seat as my brain pounds away painfully in my skull. Today has not been my day. I definitely need to go piss in that fountain.
Chapter Forty-Four
MY CELL PHONE RINGS AS I get out of the cab at the clinic. It’s Hilary, and I hesitate about answering it, but instead decide to get it over with. I’m sure she’s calling to bitch at me about something. Maybe she’s changed her mind and she wants to try and fight me for my condo. Good luck with that, bitch.
“Hello,” I say, not very warmly. The last thing I want to do is encourage a conversation.
“James, sweetie, hi.” Her voice is saccharine sweet, immediately putting me on my guard.
“I’m going into surgery, what’s up?”
“Babe, do you have a minute?” Her voice has gone soft, as if she’s about to cry. I know this routine very well, and I’m not going to fall for it. I don’t know why she’s even bothering to try it on me; this method hasn’t worked on me for months.
“I have one minute,” I say, “what’s up?”
“I just wanted to apologize.” She’s crying for real now, or at least there are tears present. I can hear her going stuffy and sniffling.
“For what?” I could list about eighty things she should be apologizing for, but instead I wait to hear her version of things.
“For what I did … for Jeremy … for all the times I didn’t listen to you or give you the space you needed to come to terms with your feelings for me…”
I hold the phone out and stare at it. Never in our years together has she ever apologized for those things. She always apologized for my feelings, like she was sorry I felt the way I did, or she was sorry I was angry, or sorry I had taken things the way I had. As if whatever reaction I was having was to be regretted by everyone around me, as if my emotions or reactions to her behaviors or words weren’t valid. I always disliked that about her, but now I downright hate it. The only person who can apologize for my feelings is me, and I’m not sorry for anything. This relationship needs to be killed with fire.
I put the phone back to my ear. “I don’t get it, Hilary. What’s this all about? We’re through. It’s too late for this garbage.”
“It’s not too late, James! It’s not! It’s never too late for love and commitment.”
The word commitment has alarm bells ringing in my head, clanging away and making my headache ramp up to migraine levels.
I sigh, trying to send the pain out with my breath. “I’m sorry, Hilary, but I can’t do this right now.”
“Babe, listen, I’m going to go over to your place tonight. I’ll make you dinner, I’ll give you a bath, I’ll rub your neck … we can talk about our future together, it’ll be great, I promise.”
I get a cramp in my chest as panic starts to rush in and take over my body. It’s like I’m living on another planet right now where reality has no place in daily life. “Hilary, you can’t come over. I’ve told the doorman not to let you in anymore.”
“Why would you do that?” she says, her voice going higher. She’s not crying anymore.
“Because, we broke up!” I’m yelling way too loudly, causing people on the sidewalk to stop and look at me, but I don’t care. “You get that, right? You’re not my girlfriend anymore, we aren’t together … it’s a done deal, Hilary. Denial is not going to change anything.”
“But you bought me a ring!” she screams.
I nearly drop the phone with the pain that slices through my brain. Then my heart freezes solid as I realize what she’s said.
“Who told you about a ring?” I ask.
“It doesn’t matter who told me. All that matters is you bought me a ring and you were going to propose and I screwed it up. I want to fix that, James. If you loved me enough to propose, you can love me enough to forgive me.”
I grab my hair and pull it, trying to keep control of my temper. It’s not good for potential patients and colleagues to see me losing my mind outside the clinic before a surgery, and I’m so, so close right now.
My voice goes down to low levels, coming out almost in a growl. “Hilary, listen to me, and listen well, because I’m only going to say this once. I don’t love you. I’m not sure that I ever loved you, and it doesn’t matter anyway, because the second you touched my brother’s dick, it was over. Over. Do you hear me? We’re done. Finished. I will never, ever forgive you for doing that to him or to us.”
“James…!”
“Don’t call me anymore.” I hang up the phone without another word. My heart is racing, but it feels good.
My next thought is to dial my office and tell Veronica to take a hike because I know she’s the one sharing my secrets, but I don’t. Instead, I walk into the clinic with plans to set up for my surgery. Now is not the time to turn my life inside out.
First thing’s first … do this rhinoplasty, then find my brother and get him into treatment, and finally get the guardianship papers done so my sister can move on with her life as a single mom. After all that is taken care of, I’ll clean up my own life.
I put on my scrubs and leave the locker room, ready to scrub in. Visions of a girl in a gypsy skirt haunt my mind, taking the place of my headache and making it possible for me to get to work.
Chapter Forty-Five
MY HEADACHE THRUMS AWAY, DOWN to a mere whisper of its earlier levels. I pull my tie out of the locker but fold it and slide it into my jacket pocket instead of putting it back on. It’s seven in the evening, and I’m done being a doctor for the day. I leave my collar unbuttoned at my throat.
My phone buzzes on the top shelf in the locker and I take it out to see who’s texting me. If it’s Hilary, I plan to ignore it, but if Jeremy or Jana need me, I’m there, even though there’s nothing I’d rather be doing right now than falling asleep on my couch in front of the television.
Cassie is really sick. Call me.
My phone history says this is the third message from my sister in the space of one hour.
“Shit.” I drop my jacket on the bench behind me and hit the speed dial.
“What’s up?” I ask as soon as the call connects.
“Hi, James, thanks for calling. Sorry to bother you, but Cassie’s got a pretty high fever, and I don’t know what to do. I gave her ibuprofen b
ut it doesn’t seem to be working.” Her stress comes through in her tone loud and clear, transferring right into my veins.
“I know the feeling,” I say, as my mind whirls. My headache ramps right up to previous levels, so I dig around in my coat pocket for the bottle of pain reliever I have in there.
“What?”
“Nothing. Listen, when was the last time you gave her some?”
“An hour ago.”
“And no change?”
“None.”
“Was that her first dose?”
“Yes.”
The reedy cries of a sick baby come over the line, making me feel uncomfortable with worry. I’m a doctor used to emergencies, but having one in the family is different. Babies are so vulnerable…
“Give her another dose. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to overdose her.”
“Jana, I’m a doctor. I went to medical school. Trust me when I tell you I’d never do anything to harm my niece.”
“No, of course you wouldn’t. I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant.”
“Just relax. I’m on my way. Call me if you see anything else alarming.”
“Like what? Like what would I see?” She’s gone into panic mode, something I was hoping to avoid.
Instead of telling her to watch for seizures, I opt for giving her something to do. “You need to get her temperature down. Take her clothes off and use a cool, wet rag on her. Don’t cover her in thick blankets, just a sheet if anything at all.”
“Are you serious? She’s burning up. When I have a fever, the last thing I want to do is get undressed.”
“Do it. I don’t have time to discuss this. I’ve gotta go or I’ll never get out there.”
“Okay, okay, I’ll do what you said, but I’m not going to like it.”
“No one said you had to like it. See you in an hour, less if I can help it.”
I hang up the phone and head out of the locker room, grabbing my things indiscriminately with plans to finish getting put together on my way to Brooklyn.
