“Well, we’ll step out now, so that the two of you can talk,” Mae says. “Nice meeting you.”
“He can talk?” I ask her.
She smiles and shrugs a little bit.
“He has some ways to communicate,” she says. “It’ll be a little while until he’s fully comprehending and talking. But you can always come back and visit him later.”
“Great,” I tell her, making a mental note to do so.
“Bye Harlow,” Lance says, “Nice seeing you.”
“Same here.”
They slip out the door and then I walk up close to Jesse’s bedside.
“Hey there, buddy,” I say. “I brought you something.”
It’s just a get well soon card, with a gift certificate to Dion’s Pizza, for when he’s feeling up to it. But he just stares at me blankly, as if he doesn’t recognize me.
“I’m Harlow. We met recently?”
He mumbles something, but I don’t think he’s very coherent.
“I hope you get well soon,” I venture, unsure of what to say.
He blinks at me and slightly smiles, as if he’s recognizing me, and trying to say that he hopes so too.
“You hope so too, right?” I ask him.
He gives me a faint thumbs up, and I chuckle.
“You sure do have your ways of communicating,” I tell him. “Lance’s sister, the nurse, was right.”
He smiles at me again.
I’m thinking of what else to say when I hear a ruckus by the door behind me
“Harlow!”
I turn around to an angry Dr. Davis, storming into the hospital room after pushing his way through the door.
“What are you doing here?” he demands.
“Jesse asked me to come,” I explain, incredulous at his outburst. “Remember? You were there?”
“But I never said that you could.” He looks angrier than I’ve ever seen him. “In fact, it’s a terrible idea.”
“But… why?”
“Harlow.”
Dr. Davis shakes his head back and forth, as if at a loss for words.
I have a feeling that the fact that Dr. Davis doesn’t want me here talking to Jesse means the news isn’t great for Jesse. I don’t want him to be worried. So I dart my eyes back and forth at Jesse’s bed and say, “I was just coming to wish Jesse a fast recovery and let him know that everything went just fine. Right?”
I’m nodding my head vigorously, pleading with him to agree with me so as not to scare Jesse. Luckily, though, when I look back at Jesse, he’s falling asleep, with the thumb of his hand still partly raising in the thumbs up position.
Finally, Dr. Davis squints at Jesse, rolls his eyes, and then turns back to me as he says, “Well isn’t it obvious? This is a surgery site. You’re not even wearing a mask. You could contaminate it.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, feeling stupid. “But I just wanted to comfort him, because he was so scared.”
“He has no idea you’re even here,” Dr. Davis snaps. “He’s on morphine.”
His tone tells me that he thinks I’m an idiot. I peer again at Jesse’s bedside and notice all the IVs and tubes everywhere.
But he gave me a thumbs up sign, I want to protest. He smiled at me.
But as usual, Dr. Davis has a way of making me feel stupid.
Of course it was useless to come. He’s probably so out of his mind on pain medicine he won’t even know I was here. If anything, I should have come prior to his surgery, to reassure him one last time that everything will be fine. Right?
“Well, is he going to be okay?” I ask.
“He’s fine, Harlow. Please, get out of here.”
“Will he be able to rejoin his unit?”
“Harlow.” Dr. Davis lets out an exasperated sigh. “You know there’s no way to know that yet. It is far too early.”
“Okay. Well. Can you please let him know that I stopped by, and that I’ll be in touch?”
Dr. Davis nods impatiently as I realize I don’t have Jesse’s contact information. Something tells me this isn’t the right time to ask for it.
“Thanks,” I say instead. “And I’ll just leave this card here for him.”
I place it on his bedside table, beside other cards, flowers and balloons that are on display. I’m glad to know Jesse has other people cheering him on through his surgery.
“Fine. I’ll see you later, Harlow,” Dr. Davis says, as he begins checking on Jesse’s medication, as if he’s a recovery ward nurse or doctor, instead of a plastic surgeon specialist.
“See you later.”
I walk back to the parking garage, trying to convince myself that I did everything I could to be here for Jesse. And also that there wasn’t something sinister about the way that Dr. Davis rushed me out of the room.
Chapter 39 – Whitney
I’m embarrassed that I turned into a puddle of quivering mud when Dr. Davis was in my office, but I’m back to being determined not to let him get away with whatever it is that he’s trying to pull. I don’t know what exactly that might be, but I’m not going to let it happen.
It’s clear to me that I should have trusted my first instincts when it came to Dr. Davis. He has bad intentions and he needs to be stopped. I just need to figure out what exactly he needs to be stopped from doing.
And I have to do it in a way that won’t jeopardize my job.
I’ve been trying to call Harlow, but his voicemail just picks up without his phone ever even ringing. He obviously has it turned off.
I panic, but then remind myself to stay rational. I haven’t ever called him before, so for all I know he leaves his phone turned off at work during the day the way I usually do, and then checks it later. I leave him a voicemail but decide that even though it’s urgent, that’s about the best I can do right now.
Since I have nothing else to do in the meantime, I go visit Lance.
“Hey there, Hot Shot,” he says, as I enter his office.
“What?”
“Dr. Davis stopped by. He cleared up the little misunderstanding.”
“Huh?”
What now?
I have stopped even trying to understand what’s going on.
“Oh, you know, he just told us that you were concerned about working with Harlow and wanted to ensure he was getting the very best training possible.”
“I…” I start to say, but Lance doesn’t let me get a word in edgewise.
“I think it’s very professional of you, especially since I know what a raging girl-boner you have for him,” Lance continues. “Since you can’t trust your judgment, it’s best to pass him on. And I’m the one who has been assigned to work with him from now on. So thank you!”
“Lance. You don’t understand. Listen to me…”
My mind is racing, trying to figure out a way to make him believe me. I can’t just dump out all my information, as Lance might automatically head for Dr. Davis’ side of things.
Nor can I tell Lance all about my suspicions here, as it’s clearly Dr. Davis’ territory and I don’t even know what he’s up to. He seems to know an awful lot about Harlow, and me, and Harlow and me together. For all I know, he’s got spies, or some sophisticated surveillance system or something.
“And you know what?” Lance says, a smile coming over his fact that I wasn’t expecting. “I think you were right that Harlow is good people. I was just over at the surgery recovery ward because our next potential physical therapy patient, Jesse, wanted me to drop in on him. I guess he wanted Harlow to do that too, because Harlow was there, checking on him. Isn’t that just the sweetest thing you’ve ever heard?”
“He… Harlow was with Jesse at the hospital?”
“Yes,” Lance says. “And with me, and Mae. She worked tonight specifically so that she could do the same thing. I mean, we only all saw each other in there for a little bit of time, since the poor guy’s half out of it. But Harlow was really nice while he was there, and I do think he means well and cares about people.”
>
“Wow,” I say, both impressed that Harlow was doing such a nice thing but also glad that there was an explanation as to why he wasn’t answering my calls. I doubt he wanted to have his phone turned on in a recovery ward of a hospital. He wouldn’t have been able to talk.
I feel certain that as soon as he gets my message, he’ll call me back. I know that what he had was real. Sure, it was sex, but it was something more than that—something that Dr. Davis can’t destroy, no matter how much he wants to blackmail both of us. I just have to warn Harlow and figure out a way for us to still be together without Dr. Davis finding out and it affecting my job or Harlow’s treatment. Who knows what Dr. Davis is capable of.
“I want to take you to lunch,” I tell Lance, knowing how much he loves to go to lunch.
Sushi, to be exact. He loves sushi.
“To Sushi Heaven. To celebrate your newest patient. Congratulations.”
“Today?” he says, his hand over his mouth. “I need to check my schedule…”
“Clear your schedule,” I order.
“All right,” he says, not putting up much of a fight. “I can always make time for sushi. But I’d already promised Mae that I’d have lunch with her, so, can she come?”
“Sure,” I answer, automatically.
I’ve always liked Lance’s sister. And maybe she can put her head together with us to help us figure out what’s really going on with Dr. Davis.
Chapter 40 – Whitney
An hour later, Lance and Mae and I are ordering spicy dragon tail and I’m armed with documentation.
“So, Lance, I need to talk to you about something really important,” I tell him. “And you too, Mae.”
I nod at her, remembering to be inclusive.
“And here I was thinking you were serious about simply celebrating with me,” Lance says, with a pout. But before I can feel too bad, he exchanges it for a smile. “Just kidding. I knew you wouldn’t be having sushi with me without an ulterior motive.”
“I like sushi but as you know, this definitely isn’t my favorite place,” I say, looking around at the smudged walls and a pile of used take-out containers stashed on the counter instead of in the trash, for some reason. I’ve voiced my concerns about the sanitary nature, or lack thereof, about this place to Lance before— I’ve even mentioned that perhaps we should call the Health Department and request a surprise inspection— but for reasons that will probably forever remain a mystery to me, he continues to like to eat here.
“Well, thank you for at least giving me the rare pleasure of your company in this esteemed restaurant you consider a dump.”
“Lance, I didn’t voluntarily pass Harlow onto you,” I confess. “And Dr. Davis is saying that I think he isn’t making progress.”
Lance crinkles his nose but doesn’t say anything.
“You know that isn’t true, Lance. You came to one of our sessions.”
Thank goodness, I think, even though at the time I was less than happy about him showing up. Now he’s a witness, for all the things I know that Harlow can do. He also knows my character, that I’m not one to lie or sneak around. Well, except when it comes to dating and having sex with our patient… oops.
Lance slowly nods.
“To be fair, though,” he says, with a shrug, “I only observed for a short amount of time, from a distance, and I didn’t calculate his speed or anything like that. That was all you, girlfriend.”
“Lance. Listen to yourself. Do you really think I’d make that up? Lie about his progress? Why?”
He frowns but doesn’t say anything.
“You know I’m not that kind of person. And even if I was, why would I do it? What would my end game be?”
“To get in a few more one-on-one sessions with your secret crush?” Lance jokes.
“Very funny. And they’re obviously not so secret.”
“Okay,” Lance says, with a sigh. “I’m afraid to even go there with you. I don’t know what you’re getting at. And I don’t want to know. I can’t know. It would be against company policy.”
My shoulders stiffen up when he says this, but he continues and I try to focus on what he’s saying.
“Sure, I don’t think you’d lie or make stuff up, Whitney. But I don’t think Dr. Davis would either. And that’s pretty much what you’re saying.”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
Lance looks at me in shock. But I figure this is one of those times when “go big or go home” applies. I can’t figure out any way to have this conversation with Lance, or Mae, except to accuse Dr. Davis of exactly what I think he’s doing.
Speaking of Mae, she clears her throat, and both Lance and I look at her, waiting for her to say something.
“I have had my own concerns about Dr. Davis’… methods,” she volunteers.
“See!” I say, holding out a flat palm in her direction to prove my point. “It’s not just me.”
“Right,” she agrees. “I’ve heard him make rather wild promises to patients just recovering from surgery, which he can’t possibly have any basis on which to stake his claims. I’ve also seen him… exaggerate their condition, make them look even worse.”
“Hmmmm. Well, that could go along with my theory. Thank you for that input, Mae. And both of you, look at this,” I say, producing a copy of my notes. “These were my notes after my sessions with Harlow. I made a copy.”
“To put in your ‘I love Harlow’ Album?” Lance asks. “That’s some level four stalker shit right there.”
“Very funny. I printed them out before I came to talk to you about Harlow’s progress, remember? And I also wanted to go over them with Dr. Davis. I couldn’t believe how great the results were, and I thought he should see them.”
“He has access to Harlow’s file,” Lance points out.
“Well, I know that now,” I tell him. “But anyway. It’s a good thing I did print them out. Because now look at these.”
I show him the notes that Dr. Davis gave me earlier.
“These are notes that were doctored by Dr. Davis. Pun intended.”
Lance’s eyes widen as he sees the difference.
“See? I told you.”
“So, he just… changed them? And he thinks he can get away with that? What exactly did he say?”
“He threatened me. Said to go along with it or he’ll have my job taken away.”
Lance’s eyes bug out even wider.
“He doesn’t know I have these original notes. But I’m not sure how it proves anything. He will just turn around and say I made these after the fact, out of spite against him once I was no longer allowed to work with Harlow or something. I mean, he is one hundred percent certain that everyone here is so far up his ass that he can just do what he wants, and threaten who he wants, without consequence.”
“Hmmm,” says Lance, nodding his head. “I guess he’s right about that. Everyone swoons over him. He’s like some God around here. And even I have fallen prey to it. I can’t believe I’ve let myself be so fooled! I thought you were off base about your issues with him…”
“Don’t worry about it, Lance,” I assure him. “I thought that too. I was finally over it. I thought he had been lying about how far along Harlow had come. But then I realized he wasn’t lying. So I was fine with him, and feeling stupid. But now I find out he’s lying in the opposite direction. He wants us to think that Harlow hasn’t progressed as far as he has? That’s the part I can’t figure out. Why would he do that?”
Lance taps his fingers on the table, perplexed as well.
“Makes no sense to me either.”
“Me neither,” Mae pipes in. “But it does fit my general impression of him. I wasn’t so smitten, because of some of the things I’ve overheard him say to patients, that just didn’t quite add up.”
“No, you weren’t so smitten because you were smarter than all of us,” Lance says. And he’s probably right.
Our waiter brings our sushi, and Lance seems to forget about his short
-lived concern.
“A bigger question that why he’s doing this,” he says, “is what are you going to do about it? Or not do about it?”
“I… don’t know. I thought I would start by talking to you, and take it from there.”
“Bad idea,” he says, taking a bite and then saying “mmmm.” “Taking it anywhere, that is. Besides me. God, this sushi is delicious. It really is made in heaven. That’s why I love this place. I don’t care how many rats might be running around in the kitchen.”
“Ewww, Lance, that’s gross.”
I crinkle my nose up and so does Mae. Then I try to get back to business.
“Well, I can’t just let him get away with it!” I protest.
I’m so mad I don’t even feel like eating. And not just because I just looked back over at the pile of garbage.
Where are Lance’s principles?
“Get away with what?” Lance shrugs. “You don’t really know what he’s doing, or why. You just know he doesn’t want you to stand in his way.”
“So, what about you?” I ask him, accusingly.
“What about me?”
“You’re just going to be his little puppet? You’re going to change Harlow’s results or let Dr. Davis change them as he wishes, for whatever reason or whatever he’s trying to accomplish?”
The more I say, the angrier I get.
“Because you know that once he found out I’m not going to go along with what he wants, he got me out of the way, but how many other people can he do that to?” I continue. “He’s going to count on you to do things his way from the start, or he’ll surpass you for someone else. He might even threaten you too. And that’s part of why I felt compelled to tell you about all of this.”
“Well, thank you,” Lance says, “although I don’t feel too grateful. I just feel confused. I think we should just wait and see what happens. Let me assess Harlow and see what I think. Maybe there are areas that do need a more experienced eye. I haven’t exactly been watching you that closely.”
“Hey!” I protest.
“It’s a compliment. I know you know what you’re doing. But I don’t really know Harlow’s situation. So, let me figure that out. And see what Dr. Davis does. Maybe you’re jumping to conclusions.”
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