by Graylin Fox
“Yes. And when a spouse wants out of a marriage, it is quite common an affair be used as the excuse.” My heart was heavy in my chest. All I wanted to do was move over to him and hold on until he felt better.
“Do you help everyone who tells you their story?” His smile lit up his face, and my mood lightened.
“Yes. I don't just do this for a living. I've always listened when people have problems. I can remember being there for friends in third grade.”
My profession was obvious to my parents from grade school forward. They encouraged me to study psychology because they figured I would keep listening to people, and I might as well make a living at it. I couldn't have asked for better cheerleaders.
“I wanted to be a doctor as long as I can remember. That or a fireman. I grew up in Perm, Russia. My sister and I used to walk along the Kama River and talk about what we wanted to be when we grew up. Our parents insisted we not watch television or listen to radio because they didn't trust the Russian government. We lived a normal life, but as soon as my father could get a job abroad, we moved to Italy when I was sixteen.”
“What did your father do?”
“He was a mechanic. He built airplane parts. We left in 1991 after the Soviet Union fell. We were among the first families to leave. My mother thought Italy sounded pretty, and so we packed all of our things in a van and drove there.”
His eyes shone as he spoke.
“You enjoyed the trip?”
“I loved the trip. We were out of soviet control and free to have normal conversations. It was my first taste of freedom, and I vowed never to go back into another communist country. I kept that promise when my wife and I left Italy for New York right after we married.”
“Excuse me, Doctors. I need to speak with Ellie.”
I turned at the sound of Owen's voice. He looked frustrated. I had a feeling it was conversation I didn’t want to have in the relatively open lounge.
“I'll see you later, Dr. K.” I smiled at him and followed Owen into the hallway. “Why do you look like someone pissed in your cornflakes?”
“Like someone what?”
Clearly, he had never heard that particular expression.
“Like someone pissed in your cornflakes. Or like you ate yellow snow. Does that help?” I teased him.
“Lady, you are one strange surprise after another.” He smiled and led me toward the intensive care unit. “We have a small child brought in with a suspected non-accidental injury, and we want you to talk to the mother. She has fainted three times on my security officers, and they need to know what happened.”
“Okay. Is she the suspected abuser or was there someone else present?” I hated to ask those questions.
“She was present but asleep. The suspect is her boyfriend. He’s in custody. The child is unconscious with brain injuries, and the attending said she will likely stay in a coma for a while.”
He forced the last words out of his mouth. He was furious.
“How old is she, Owen?” I hoped she was very young. Small children healed fastest from traumatic injuries because their systems were still under construction.
“Two years old.”
“Owen, I can take it from here. Are your officers still there? If I get her to speak with me, I'll ask her if it's okay for them to listen in.” Unfortunately, I had experienced this situation before.
“Yes, I have a female officer with her now.” He stopped cold and took a deep breath. “I will go and cool off before I join you.” He turned down an adjoining hallway and left.
I walked the rest of the way to the pediatric intensive care unit focused on the little girl. I arrived as the female officer attempted to placate the mother outside of the door. The screams could be heard down the hallway. I signaled to the secretary to make sure the other patients’ doors were closed so they didn't hear this confrontation.
“I didn't do anything wrong!” the mother yelled.
“I never said you did,” the female officer replied in a calm voice.
“Maybe I can help,” I smiled at the secretary. “Can we have the key for the family conference room?”
She handed me the key, and I asked the mother and the officer to join me.
The mother explained she lay down to take a nap that morning after she worked a full twelve-hour night shift. Her boyfriend shook her awake and told her the baby had fallen down the stairs and he couldn't revive her. The mother panicked, shoved her boyfriend aside, and ran to her daughter's side. She couldn’t get a pulse and called 911. The ambulance got there a few minutes later. That’s when she noticed her boyfriend was gone.
She explained what happened to the officers, and they didn't believe her. They made her ride in the squad car instead of the ambulance, and she recalled passing out a few times. A call came into the squad car just before they arrived at the hospital, and the officers let her come inside with her daughter. She assumed she was going to be arrested as soon as her daughter stabilized.
The security guard interrupted her. “We don't think you did this, ma'am. Your boyfriend has priors for abuse and is being questioned right now.”
“Oh, thank god.” She fell forward and wept. “I hope they put him away forever. He tried to kill my daughter.”
The officer and I sat where we were and let her vent.
“You son of a bitch! I trusted you! I let you into my house, into my life, and you pay me back by hurting my little girl.” Her fist didn't make a dent in the wall. “My family told me not to trust you, but I did and look what happened. I can never make this up to her. Lost time, I can make up. Working too much, I can make up. But I can't put her back together.”
I caught her as she fell and held her while she cried. The officer finished her notes and left us alone.
“I'll never make this up to her. She will never forgive me.”
The young mother looked at me with pain and sorrow etched into her face. She would be a better mother because of this incident, if she didn’t become so overprotective that her little girl feels trapped.
“Honey, she will never know what happened today. She is two years and old, and no adult remembers earlier than five years. A rare few remember three or four but not two. You keep her safe from now on, as best you can, and she will have no memory of this.” I repeated that speech too often.
“Are you sure?”
Hope is a powerful drug.
“Yes, I'm sure.” I helped her up, and she returned to her daughter's room.
“You're good.” Lee stood outside the door. She handed me some papers to sign. “The human resources department called and needed these signed. I thought I would take a walk.”
I signed the papers and handed them back to her. “You’re welcome to come on any consult you want, Lee. I'll ask the patient if it's okay for you to sit in.”
Backing away, she declined. “Dr. K called and asked you to stop by his office when you were done.”
A quick check in the nearest employee restroom showed me little had changed since I left home this morning. My first stop was Owen's office. He took this case personally, and I wanted him to know he could stop by and see the girl if he wanted—the mother would be more open to his questions now.
His office was in the back of the security department. It was cold with white brick walls, a metal desk, and three chairs. It looked like an interrogation room from the old movies. No personal effects were on the desk or the lone file cabinet in the corner. A chill ran down my spine as I sat in the chair near the door to wait for him to finish his phone call.
“I know I told you that. I don't know why you aren't listening to me. Oh, wait. Yes, I do. You never listen to me.” He slammed the phone down and excused himself for a minute.
I fought the urge to excuse myself and waited for him to return.
“I'm sorry you had to hear that, Dr. Quinn. It was a personal matter.”
He sat at his desk, and I had the same feeling run through me that I did when called to the principal’s office in school. I was
uncomfortable and all of the things I’d done wrong recently came rushing back to me. The room felt cold and hard to me, and I understood more about the man in the chair across from me.
For whatever reason, he had cut himself off from emotions, at least at work. He fit in this austere space, and I understood why my gut kept telling me to be careful. I was a warm and passionate person in all aspects of my life and that didn’t fit with men who were able to cut themselves off and look at life through purely factual analysis.
For him, everything would come down to the facts, and the shades of grey that made my job so fascinating and my life interesting would be something he couldn’t understand.
“I came by to inform you that the mother in PICU is better. She was relieved to find out she is not a suspect. I don't know how or why that information was kept from her after she arrived here. She is calmer and back with her daughter.” I didn't realize how I was angry until I spoke.
“It is standard procedure not to tell anyone what is going on until we know.”
I hit a nerve, apparently.
“Either way, Officer. She is more likely to speak with you now. I thought you would want to know since you seemed affected by this situation when we spoke earlier.” It was time for me to leave. “If you will excuse me, I have to get going.”
At the door, I stopped and turned back to Owen. “I don't know what happened, but you know where I am if you want to talk.”
Something told me he would be around to apologize for his tone later, and I would forgive him. And yet, everything between us had changed. His chiseled body tempted me and my thoughts wandered to his muscular arms and broad chest, but there was something missing in the personal connection.
Like he held himself aloof and made sure to keep a certain distance there. That was when I realized he held himself at arm’s length to protect himself. I had thought he did it to protect me, I believed his vow to protect me was genuine, but he said it from across the room. He always left space there and that had to mean he either was involved with someone else or hadn’t broken it off yet, or he was emotionally unavailable even if he made it clear his body might be willing.
On the other hand, Dmitri opened up earlier and let me see his pain and how much he missed his children. For someone who works with emotional connections, that made my heart beat faster as I walked to his office. I wanted to hear more about his past, especially his life in Russia. He missed it and the way he smiled and his eyes lit up when he talked about it was something I wanted to see again.
He seemed so genuine in the lounge earlier, and the way he spoke of his children touched me. Blue eyes framed by black hair were a weakness of mine, and a chance to indulge with an educated man who loved kids tempted me. I knew I could be in trouble with him but Josh was right. I liked a challenge, and he seemed like a nice guy.
“Good afternoon.”
His smile erased the doubts my mind worked overtime to smother.
“I wanted to know if we could go out to dinner this Friday?” he continued.
My mind rushed to remember what day it was, Thursday? “Tomorrow night?” I asked for clarification.
“Yes, tomorrow night.” He smiled and walked me to his private office.
It was decorated with items I'd only seen at antique markets. An old writing desk got my attention, cherry-colored and polished to a shine. I reached out to touch it and checked with him, he nodded it was okay. It felt so smooth, and the faint smell of real wood hung in the air.
“This is beautiful.” For an office in a hospital, this was spectacular.
“I love antiques. On weekends, I restore them in my garage. I moved here soon after the divorce and got a home large enough for the children to run in. Now that they are teenagers, I find I have more rooms to decorate.” He beamed with pride.
“I would love to see them,” I said before I thought about it. “I mean, I love antiques as well. It is one reason I chose Savannah. The history is written on all of the old buildings downtown. The beautiful homes and terraces.” I blushed.
“You are welcome to come by and see my home at any time. You will feel like a princess.” His blue eyes sparkled and all of my doubts left. The ones that stayed would be beaten with a hammer before the weekend was out, I was certain.
“Maybe we should have dinner first and then we could go to the symphony, if that is okay with you?” He glowed.
“I would love to go.”
We set the time for seven p.m., and I gave him my address. Josh would still be here through this weekend, and I would love his take on the doctor. “Excuse me, but do you want me to keep calling you Dr. K?”
“Dmitri. Please call me Dmitri.”
He leaned back on his desk with long firm legs crossed in front of him, his arms by his sides as he absently stroked the carved edges of the desktop.
My knees gave a little as I imagined those long, precise fingers gliding over my body. The walk back to my office took moments, and Lee stood in her office and stared at me as I went in. You would think I had written “smitten” across my forehead. She jumped and walked out to hug me.
“It's Dr. K, isn't it?” she asked.
“Yes, it is,” I answered. “I'm having some very naughty thoughts about that man, and if I don't stop, I'll need a cold shower.”
“I can't wait to see your face when he asks you out if this is how you look after a short visit in his office." Lee grabbed papers from her desk and followed me to my office.
My office decorations looked so paltry now. I needed to go wander through antique stores and find some items to make my office cozier. Then again, with children coming in who have behavior problems, I might need to find copies of antiques.
“Please sign these.” Lee placed the papers neatly marked with sticky arrows in front of me.
“He asked me out,” I said as I signed the last line.
I heard her land in the chair with a thud.
“You said yes I hope,” she said.
“We are going to dinner and the symphony tomorrow night.” I needed to get to a local store and find some dress clothes. My wardrobe leaned toward lazy not sophistication. “Lee, where can I go to get a nice red dress that's formal but not slutty?”
Her laughter filled the room. “I'll write down the names of a few places for you. You live on one of the islands?” I nodded. “Okay, I'll list a couple of places that will be close to your house.”
She excused herself to write down the names of the shops and, I was positive, inform the gossip trail of the new development. My assumption proved correct as my phone rang a few moments later, and Dmitri told me one of the nurses in intensive care asked him about our date. I apologized, and told him Lee had connections. He laughed and said he didn’t mind, in fact, he promised the nursing staff he would give a full report Monday morning. I told Lee I’d like to keep my private life private from now on, and she apologized.
The charts for the patients seen that week were in my inbox, and I closed the door to review the reports I'd written and make any updates or changes as needed. My cell phone rang as I finished—it was Josh.
“Would you hurry up and get here? If I don't eat soon, I’ll hunt something out back.” He laughed and hung up before I could reply.
Business was completed for the day. Lee and I left the office walking to the parking deck together. I wondered how long it would take before she asked about Dmitri. Ten minutes.
“I have to know. How did he ask you? Did he ask you to dress up? Why did you ask about a red dress instead of a little black dress?” She waited for my responses.
“He asked me to dinner when we were in his office. Which, by the way, is gorgeous and full of antiques. His desk belongs in a museum. He didn't ask me to dress up. I prefer red dresses to black dresses.” We entered the parking deck, and I walked to my car before she could ask more questions.
“I'll see you in the morning, Doctor. Remember to get a dress tonight!” Lee shouted across the parking deck as I got to my car.
I waved to her and got in my car. I bought a Toyota Solara when I graduated and decided to go with bright red. The guy at the dealership told me that red cars get pulled over more often, but I loved the car the moment I drove it. A quiet ride home was a luxury I needed. After a day of people telling me their problems, silence is a welcome companion. I never understood how my mother could ride in a quiet car when I was a teenager until I started working as a therapist.
My garage door opened as I drove in the driveway. Josh stood at the back of the garage with a spatula in one hand and his phone in the other. He looked self-conscious, so I guessed it was his girlfriend.
“You could invite her over for the weekend, if you want,” I said entering the house.
He followed a few minutes later and stood in the doorway of my room. “She thanked you for the offer but is busy this weekend. Maybe we can get together over the holidays?”
“That sounds good to me. By the way, Josh, after dinner we need to go shopping for a red dress.” His jaw stood open, and I walked right past him as if I didn't see it. “Yes, I have a date and it’s tomorrow night.”
“Slutty?” He poked me in the ribs.
“No, not slutty. You idiot. It's with the Russian doctor. We’re going to dinner and then to hear the local symphony.”
I grabbed a plate and helped myself to the pot roast on the stove.
“Oh. A fancy date.” He chuckled. “We had a couple of those at first. I had to get cleaned up after matches, and we would go to museums and see plays. Maria couldn't believe I could appreciate art.”
My brother, the intellectual wrestler. “You should show her your SAT scores. That would fix it.”
He coughed. “She would think I forged them.”
“How is Dad?” I asked.
“He is doing fine, playing golf, and watching sports on that flat screen I bought him,” he replied.
Josh bought Dad a huge, 60-inch television when he retired, and it had been a source of pride for Josh ever since. The television filled an entire wall in Dad’s family room with stereo speakers. It was a theatre and better than some of the real ones.
“I haven't called in a couple of days. Maybe I should call him tonight,” I thought out loud.