by Bella Grant
“Sure thing, Doctor. Thanks.” Click.
I sighed in relief. That was easier than I’d expected. Though I knew I would walk in to a ton of work in the morning, it suddenly didn’t matter. What did matter was right in front of me, sleeping peacefully on my leather couch and looking like she was getting the best sleep she’d had in months. What had happened that night affected her deeply, and I could clearly see it for the first time since working with her. Her loneliness was eating away at her without her even noticing it. The pressing thoughts of teetering over the line of patient and doctor were still there, and I worried if I had made the right choice. But my spike in concern for her overpowered all of them and now that she was slowly opening up, I knew I couldn’t just transfer her to another doctor. Not when she was just on the edge of trusting me.
I decided to order take-out from my favorite Chinese place down the road after sending Blaine an email letting him know Fiona would be with me for the afternoon for an extended session. I also added I would escort her to her room once we were done so Blaine didn't have to miss his lunch and could move on with his day. I didn’t need anyone on staff suspicious of my behavior or where Fiona was, yet I also wasn’t ready to wake her up yet. Or let her go. She had bared her feelings to me, and I wasn’t about to throw our progress away. That’s how I justified my actions to myself.
I locked my office door behind me and made the short walk down to the restaurant. Usually, I would have Vickie grab my lunch, but since I had let her go home early, I decided to enjoy an afternoon walk outside the hospital walls. I felt as if I had forgotten what the sun felt like or how fresh the air smelled, both things I had taken for granted since my professional life began.
The feeling of the sun beating down on my back instead of seeing it from my office window did wonders for my self-esteem. I felt more confident than ever strolling back to my office with our lunches in hand, hoping Fiona would be awake when I unlocked the door. I was ready to tell her what I had been mulling over in the back of my mind since we’d met. Perhaps we could cure one another’s loneliness with each other’s company. Not in the way my heart desired, but in a way we could both benefit from if she so chose. Like friends. I was kidding myself, though. A doctor should never press his own needs on to a patient, especially not one who is grieving.
I inhaled deeply before unlocking the door, teetering the take-out boxes in my other hand along with two Cokes from the vending machine. Was she a Coke girl or more of a Pepsi girl? There were so many things I wanted to know about her but bided my time. I opened the door and saw she was, in fact, awake and fixing her hair rather hurriedly. The sound of me walking in caused her to sit up straight.
“Good afternoon, sleepy head,” I greeted her and placed our lunch containers on my desk before they tumbled over. “I hope you like Chinese food. I figured we should get something in us since we missed lunch over an hour ago.”
I started opening the different cartons of food, releasing the trapped aromas of fried rice, almond chicken, and beef and broccoli into the air.
“Have I really been asleep for over an hour? Why didn’t you wake me?” She sounded concerned, so I turned around to see what was akin to guilt written all over her face.
“Why? You were clearly exhausted, so I let you sleep. It looked like you needed it.” I shrugged and unpeeled some chopsticks from their plastic wrappers. “Are you a chicken or beef kind of girl?” I wheeled my office chair around to face the couch before I sat down to dig in. I placed a Coke in front of her and opened my own.
“Y-you’re not concerned about what happened between us?” she asked, her voice unsteady.
I took a few bites before I responded. “Why would I be? You needed to be comforted, so I comforted you—though I don’t usually hold my patients like that. So, if you don’t mind, I would like to keep it between you and me. And…” I put the carton down and gave her my full attention. “If I did anything to make you feel uncomfortable, I apologize. I got caught up in the moment, so please, if I…”
“You did nothing wrong, Dr. Sullivan, please. If anything, I’ve been sitting here hoping I didn't make you feel uncomfortable. I mean, I practically used your shirt as a snot-rag, for crying out loud. How embarrassing.” She groaned, and I was disappointed she covered her pretty face.
“Please, if it makes you feel better, call me Josh. I think after you snotted on me, we could be on a first name basis, at least,” I joked, hoping to lighten the mood. Or to simply hear her laugh again.
“Ugh! Please don’t bring it up,” she whined though I could see a hint of a smile in the corner of her mouth that peeked out between her fingers.
“Whatever you say, though I think tomorrow, I might have to wear a bib to work— around you,” I continued.
She dropped her hands and grabbed the almond chicken carton, shaking her head. “You’re the worst, you know that, Josh? If you weren’t my shrink, I would have hit you by now.”
My breath hitched when I heard my name on her tongue, and I hoped she was too into attempting to eat her chicken with chopsticks to notice. The combination of her silky voice and my name did things to my insides before I could stop it.
“I’m merely trying to make light of a rather sticky situation. Next time you need an embrace, I’ll be more prepared,” I remarked, watching her successfully get rice in her mouth on the third try. I caught a glimpse of her pink tongue and took a full gulp of my Coke to distract myself before she spoke.
“Oh? Who’s says there’s going to be a next time?” she challenged me, and I had to swallow quickly before the Coke came out of my nose.
“Well…” Why couldn’t I get a grip on my words in front of this woman?
“Well?” she urged, her hands frozen in place on her chopsticks, waiting for me to go on.
I swallowed nervously and fumbled over my words. “Well, I guess what I’m trying to say is if you needed me to comfort you again, I wouldn’t be opposed to it,” Fuck I shouldn’t have said that.
“Is that so?” she asked as she chewed her next piece of chicken carefully, her voice flirtatious.
“Yes, that is so, or we don’t bring it up from here on out,” I offered, stumbling backwards and away from a conversation that grew more unprofessional by the second.
She sat for a few minutes, contemplating what I had said as I tried not to look nervous eating my beef and broccoli but I was. This could go one of two ways, and either way would have grave consequences for both of us. I wasn’t sure which way she was willing to take it. What consequences she was willing to deal with. Nor which route I wanted to deal with. I acted on pure male instincts only and my doctor side was shoved to the back of my mind until my phone rang.
We both jumped at the sound to which pierced our playful banter and a few pieces of food fell to the ground. “Shit.” I got up and grabbed the receiver. “Dr. Sullivan speaking.”
The nurse explained the case in the emergency room rapidly. A suicide attempt gone wrong, just like Fiona’s had. This time, I was on call to take it, a mere detail I had forgotten about. I hung up the phone after getting the information I needed. It was nearing 5 p.m. and that phone call had sobered up any of my previous tempting thoughts.
“Well, duty calls,” I announced and started to clean up the mess on the ground along with the cartons of food. “You can take the rice and chicken to eat in the common room if you want, but I’m afraid our evening meal has been cut short. Or at least mine has.”
I noticed Fiona hadn’t moved or spoken up. I looked up from the ground and into her glossy eyes.
“Was that…another one…like me?” she croaked, and I realized she must have overheard my conversation with the nurse on the phone. I wasn’t exactly sure what she’d heard since I’d kept my spoken words to a minimum and written everything down due to patient confidentiality. Yet somehow, Fiona had gotten the gist of the conversation. I stood up and straightened my still damp coat from her earlier tears.
“I’m sorry, Fiona, I ca
nnot disclose that information. I’ll escort you to your room before I leave,” My authoritative voice was back as I regained my professional composure before I went to deal with the case.
“You know, that’s the exact same thing the police officer said to me. That he couldn’t disclose any information to me. About my own damn parents.” My words didn't comfort her and only made it worse. She was unraveling again, and I couldn’t hold her like I desperately yearned to. The doctor was back in, and so was my hesitation.
“Fiona, I’m so sorry. The officer was merely doing his job. We’re all under contract to not say anything unless in person. It’s in place to protect loved ones and the patients of loved ones,” I explained calmly.
She stood up slowly as if she was hypnotized, and I was ready for her to snap on me. To start yelling and go into hysterics. To tell me I was wrong and the officer was wrong, and she was the victim. Instead, she simply walked up to me, standing right under my chin and so close I could smell the jasmine on her.
“You think next time could be now?” Her voice was so small, barely coming out. If I hadn’t been listening intently, I would have missed the need in her tone. I tried to find the right words to turn her down, to explain I couldn’t just hold her when we had roles to fulfill. Yet with one glance at those big blue watering eyes yearning for my comfort, I gave in and in one fell swoop, she was in my arms for the second time that day.
After a few minutes of holding her, I escorted her to her room, reminding her I had somewhere to be. She wasn’t shaking anymore but was in a fragile enough state that I called Blaine and asked him to keep an eye on her.
“Thank you, Dr. Sullivan,” she said with a smile that made me weak in the knees when it shouldn’t have. I reluctantly tore myself away from her room and my feet carried me down to the emergency room, where I met a teen male brooding on the hospital bed, his parents sitting across from him.
“It was a dare.” He shrugged, another one who didn’t see the problem. My mind was back in work mode as I picked up his file.
According to the chart, his friends had urged him to see how long he could choke himself to get high on his own oxygen deprivation—the latest thing hitting the internet. I had to clench my fists to stop the constant stream of words I wished to yell at him.
I looked at the parents, a heavy-set dad in a nice button-down and a timid, upset mom next to him. “Unfortunately, we see these kinds of cases more and more with children who have access to sites where they have an audience egging them on. Since he is still a minor, I will leave it up to you whether you want to admit him,” I explained. The mother looked at the father, her eyes wide with silent plea. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took her hand in his.
“We’d like to take him home,” she confirmed, her eyes back on me.
I put on a smile for her sake. “Great, though I do suggest a follow-up therapy session at the least. Not because I believe your son did it because he is depressed but because he clearly has some self-esteem and attention issues that need to be dealt with.”
The boy clicked his tongue, but his parents nodded.
“Okay, I’ll sign off on his discharge and write down my recommendations,” I replied and handed the paperwork to the nearby nurse with the name Dr. Ross written down. He specialized in teens, not me.
I wouldn’t have even acknowledged it as a suicide attempt, merely the stupidity of today’s youth. I’d never say it out loud, but I knew the father agreed with me, because I could still hear him from down the hall once I left, scolding his son for being such an idiot. His booming voice washed over the mother’s attempts to calm her husband down.
After I got back to my office, instead of doing any paperwork or dictation like I was supposed to, I grabbed my coat and made the trek to my dark, quiet condo. I was okay with that, because the happiness bubbling up inside of me was enough to light up the place—hell, enough to light the city skyline if I so desired. I had made a connection with a female patient. More importantly, with Fiona as a person. Nothing could bring down my high when I thought about my successes if it they could potentially be my pitfalls in the long run.
Still, I got the best sleep I had ever had since I started medical school. It left me feeling refreshed, refueled, and possibly falling for a patient.
Chapter 8
“Are you sure about this?”
I looked down at the paperwork, and the bold signature line glared at me. My gaze shifted up and into the soft, caring blue eyes I’d had the pleasure of looking into for the last week. Those eyes reassured me how I was sure about this.
I nodded my head. “I’m sure. I’ve been thinking about it since our last session, and I’ve come to the conclusion it is truly what’s best for me in the long run.”
Josh gave me a reassuring smile along with a black ink pen. “I can’t argue with that. Not when we are so close to the root of the problem. Sign your life away, then.”
I took a big breath before putting my name in neat cursive letters, trying not to think about the last time I had signed something so neatly. When I had signed myself into the hospital, I did it without a care because I didn’t care. There was a time when I used to care, though.
I knew where I needed to be and what I needed to do get myself out of the hole I had dug for myself. It was right in front of me. Right in Josh’s office, playing video games, chatting, laughing away the summer afternoons—and slowly, slowly, peeling away the layers of my depression. I knew deep down we were getting closer to touching on the subject I didn’t dare go near, and I didn’t want to go back to square one. No, that was not an option for me.
That’s why another week as an inpatient would do me some good. Surprisingly, I didn’t want to stop these daily sessions. Not when we had come so far in only a week. Even if I had to deal with another week of shitty hospital food and another group therapy craft project, I knew I belonged at the hospital for now.
I even surprised Josh when I brought up extending my stay. I knew he expected me to ask for my discharge papers right off the bat. Shoot, the moment I admitted myself, I was already looking forward to being discharged when I had no hope to hold onto. I had nothing but negative thoughts dragging me down—ones that convinced me I was nothing more than a hopeless case.
I didn’t think anyone could help me.
Josh was the first one who had looked past my depression and saw me as a person. Sure, Lisa tried to, but it was hard to look past something that took up so much space in our apartment, in our friendship, and in my life.
I had thrown her off with my bout of depression. She wasn’t used to the Fiona who talked back. The Fiona who didn’t move from the couch for days on end. Her best friend Fiona was the go-getter while Lisa was the backbone of our friendship. She wasn’t sure how to act when I didn’t provide the input for her output. I realized after being in the hospital for a week that Lisa did the best thing for me by convincing me to admit myself. On visiting day, I would give her the biggest hug following the biggest thank you. She’d saved me, and the baton was passed to Dr. Sullivan.
Dr. Josh Sullivan. The magnificent, mysterious man who sat in front of me, signing his signature on every page he had to. He had changed my view on doctors when he treated me like a person and not simply a patient. I still smiled fondly at the memory of him whipping out the Wii U controllers and dismissing our second session early.
At the time, I thought I had done something wrong. I mean, I hadn’t talked or given him anything to work with. I wasn’t ready to. I was still reluctant around doctors, even when he didn’t pursue my mumbles and let me drop whatever topic he’d tried to discuss. It was weird, at first. I assumed he was being lazy and didn’t really care to get to the heart of my issue, which wasn’t the case at all. I eventually came to understand it was his way of approaching me. As if I was a scared, injured doe, alone in the woods, and he was trying to reach out to me. Not a hunter. Not a predator. Simply a friendly face looking to help me. The Wii U controllers had done it for me
. They’d called to me as they dangled from his hands. When Josh had pulled those out and brought the Wii U to life, he’d reawakened my love for it.
I decided I would tell him once the papers were signed and sent out to his secretary, Vickie. She was a mousy woman in her early forties with a mom-haircut and wore a cardigan or a shawl around her shoulders—even when it was seventy-five degrees outside. She was married with two kids and the sweetest lady, always giving me reassuring smiles and never the fake kind.
Once she had gone, he turned his smile on me, and I tried hard not to react to it.
“I just wanted to say thank you for the video game sessions. Believe it or not, it’s been a long time since I played. I didn’t think I would be any good at them anymore,” I admitted sheepishly.
“Really? I don’t want to believe that. Especially after the way you kicked my ass up and down the screen the first day.”
I laughed. That was the other thing about Josh. He swore and acted his age of twenty-eight and didn’t try to play the role of a pompous ass doctor.
“No, it’s true. I haven’t been able to pick up a controller in months without it bringing up memories…” My laughter died on that last bit, and Josh’s face grew serious. It was time to play patient and doctor, and I was ready to play my part.
He cleared his throat and folded his hands. “Why do you think it’s different now?” he asked.
I tread carefully. “Because it’s not my console where the button sticks after a certain incident. It’s yours, and we’re in a setting where I have no bad memories attached,” I explained, feeling like my own therapist. Like I could figure myself out. My response sounded calculated, and I was sure Josh could tell.
“So what you’re saying is anything outside of my office is a bad memory? Or something that could trigger a bad memory?” he queried.
I nodded. “Correct.” I should have said more, but it was hard when I felt like I was choking on the words that desperately refused to come out.