Jason is a true mate. We were only school friends, until his marriage to my sister two years ago. We play together for the Tornados. After we helped Sharon with the flat, he had been after my life for hitting on her. I had put those thoughts away. Yet here I am, finding her on the most depressing day of my life. The thought of my injury brings back the pain and worry.
I squeeze my eyes more, to fight the pain in the leg. "I am not sure if I can handle her. She is perfect. I have never met someone like her before. She is smart, sweet and has a big heart. She is feisty and snappy. Sharon is funny. I would love to be the center of her fun. She can be my Daisy duck in real life."
"Aww. You and Nate must be the cutest duo watching Disney cartoons.” He chuckles. “I never thought I would live to see this day. You are smitten, mate." Jason squeezes my shoulder, "So, what are you going to do, Mr. Donald duck?"
I shrug my shoulders and stare at my leg, "Don't know. I can't run after her with this broken leg."
Jason pats my back. "Come on now, don't tell me the quarterback everyone calls the 'Hulk' will hold back because of an injury. Quack your way into her heart. You won't know if you don't try, bro." Jason is a true mate. He may joke about me but he always has my back.
We bounce all our doubts off each other. Both personal and professional ones. He is my confidant. Time to take some advice from him. "You sure about this? I am one of the many patients for her. What would a smart girl like her have to do, with a jock like me? Though I must admit, I get butterflies whenever she is around. She is beautiful and angel-like."
"She doesn't have wings, Dad."
Oh Shit. How could I forget? Nate is in the room. I turn toward him. He is busy in his drawing, but the kid is sharp. I am sure he is putting things together. I am in trouble if the kid utters a word to anyone. "Hm, yeah you are right. I suppose angels have wings. Hey buddy, how was your day at school?"
That is enough to get Nate chatting away about his friends. I hope he forgets what he heard. My attention soon drifts from what Nate is saying. My mind focuses on her again.
Yes, I am a flirt and a womanizer. I attract women by the dozen. I play along, knowing they are all there for a free ride on my fame and money train. Not good enough reasons to get involved at a deeper level and expose me to heartbreak. What I want is what my parents had. A strong relationship can only happen when the right woman comes along. Is Sharon the one?
Till now, I have found no one worthy of a deeper connection. With Sharon, I want things to be different. With Sharon, I have to try.
Chapter 11: Am I Silly?
Sharon
Tom moves right beside me after Jon's mother leaves. We move from Jon's room to go examine the next patient.
"What is going on between you two?"
"Who two?" The patient records in my hand serve as a perfect prop to avoid his gaze.
"Oh, so now we are playing dumb. You and Jon." Tom pulls the records out of my hands and points his finger at me and then towards Jon's room. "Why are you dolled up this way Tigress? What are you up to?" He waves his index finger in a circle.
I catch the finger to break his antics. "What am I up to?" Despite my best efforts, I can't hold the innocent face. A fatal character flaw. Not a gene of such kind present in my chromosomes.
"Trying to do a Harry on him?"
The conceited dork. He is making me question the weekend brunches with him and Betsy. Damn those food comas which turned innocent meets into group therapy.
"Should I be calling security and ordering CCTV cameras for Jon's room?" Tom drones on. "Word vomit girl or I am going to Richard and warn him about Ms. Geeky- Meeky with a jock fetish."
Where is the escape door when you need it to avoid an ambush? Tom has me cornered. Time for full disclosure about my meet and hate relationship with jocks. I had a crush in high school. Judge me all you want but almost all girls have. Only I was a pesky proverbial nerd with glasses. He wouldn't give me his time of day, so I teased his balls with a poster on his locker. Now get your head out of whichever gutter you took it to. Balls were the round ones with a rubber center covered in a soft furry texture. The ones used in baseball, dummy. Hey, I am a people teaser, not a pervert.
Anyways, the high school crush found out my antics. From then on, I endured a year of 'Geeky-Meeky' thrown at me. It progressed to hair pulls and jokes on my curls.
One day I ended it in my style and took ownership of my nickname. Someone cut my hair while I was lost in the science lecture. It took me a week to confirm my hunch. On the day of the first training session, I walked up and punched harassing Harry in the face. Then ran out before anyone on the baseball pitch could react. He wore a shiner on his left eye for a week. I was better off. Two days of painful knuckles and a position on top of the leaderboard on the 'stay away list'. The week-long detention we both got canceled each other out.
The next day at school, the hallways cleared as soon as I entered. I walked down with my geek entourage, nose up in the air. High, five girls. One for the Queen of Geekdom. The boys, well they kept a safe distance. Out of my punching range. The legend of Ms. Geeky Meeky was born.
Yeh, my wild side is strong. Somehow Jon has awakened the force. Yes, I understand this is a bad idea when I am promising you all to reign in my flirty side. But a girl gotta do what a girl has to do. Which right-minded female would refuse a little attention? An absolute delight and from a distance, a harmless indulgence.
"Whoa. Your saucer eyes and flared nostrils are frightening me. Stop those thought B2 bombers from taking off Dr. Sharon Wells." Tom pats my shoulder with the clipboard. He is well aware of my history with jocks. They cause an itch that I can't resist scratching. When I saw the hairpins at the store, the opportunity was too tempting to resist. Regardless of the strong jock itch, Jon is triggering, Tom needs to be put off my trail otherwise he will turn into a match-making hound.
"You don't worry about Jon, He is safe. I am not going to punch him. He is my patient, and I am more mature now." I shrug him off and pray I can rein in Ms. Geeky-Meeky.
Tom squints his eyes throwing down a dare. There is no easy way out of this, but I have to push through. With my best haughty charm and index finger pointing at his chest, I accuse Tom. "You are a scandalmonger. If you rat on me at Principal Richard's office, I will deny it."
He huffs and disarms my finger with his own in a finger fight. "It still does not explain why the two of you can't take your eyes off each other. Then interpret the words you both hurl at each other when you are in the same room. Now this dress." Tom makes claws with his hands when I roll my eyes. "Do not roll your eyes. I have high myopia, but I am not blind. And I wear the best glasses money can buy. Your shenanigans are 20/20 clear from the first day in the OR."
Oh, God is it so obvious. There is no hiding from Tom. I need to find an excuse fast. "You are making me doubt your orthopedic qualifications with all those nerdy ophthalmology terms. For your info, I have to face him when I talk to him. Where should I fix my eyes according to you? Bedside manners Tom, admit mine are better than yours."
"Is that all there is to it? I am worried. Of late, I hear a lot of popping sounds come out of your room." Tom tilts his head and narrows his gaze. When I don't respond he shrugs, and hands back the records. I need to find a less noisy thing for my stress release. Squeeze balls do not offer the same level of satisfaction. Bubble wraps are perfect when you want to wring someone's neck. Sorry, no violence.
The conversation ends as I open the door to the next patient's room. A temporary respite from Tom's nagging. Tom does not persist. The topic does not come up again through our rounds. We move to the cafe for a quick break before getting along with the rest of our day's work. Tom offers to order the coffee.
I sit and my thoughts, in an instant, fixate on Jon. No matter how hard I try, the man is stuck in my head. Now, I have met his son as well. The pull is becoming irresistible. What would it be like to know him as a person? To be around the guys. Like Jon, Nate is cute too.
<
br /> "Yeah, he is," Tom joins me.
Wait, did I say something out loud? The coffee mug comes handy in hiding from Tom's gaze.
He does not let go. "So, you said Nate is cute. Is it just him or do you find his father cute as well?"
"Wipe that grin off your face, Jon!" I swipe my hand near Tom's face.
Tom chokes on his coffee, splattering it all over himself and the table. I push my chair back to save myself standing up as it falls to the ground. The cluttering sound draws eyes towards us.
"See? I told you. You are falling, my dear." Tom speaks between bouts of coughing.
"God, you are disgusting. Get a hold of yourself. Let me get something to clean." The mess Tom made allows me to bypass his question, but only for a minute.
"Hey, you are the one who called me Jon."
I stop in my tracks. Did I call him Jon? Oh no, this is getting out of hand. I slump back into the chair beside him. "What am I going to do? This is not right. I can't get involved."
Tom wipes the coffee stains from his clothes. A vain effort, the coffee stains will not go unless the clothes go to the dry cleaners. Still, Tom spends a few minutes of dabbing tissues on the stains and returns to his matchmaker mode. "Why can't you get involved? He is handsome. He is nice. A bit temperamental, like you. Which I suspect, is an effort to grab your attention. He has a son you find cute."
I have to nip Tom's push in the bud. "For heaven's sake! He is my patient, Tom. Everything is wrong about me and Jon. There are rules against such relationships. Anything personal is a bold red line to cross. Even without the ethical issues, there are so many things to consider. We don't know each other. He is a celebrity. I am sure there is a mile-long line of women somewhere in his closet."
Tom has a counterpoint ready, "That mile-long line doesn't matter if I can read Jon's signals. He is into you."
I keep quiet. After a moment's silence, Tom begins again, "Sharon, if the code worries you, then I can take Jon's case. The surgery is over."
Without waiting for my response, he puts on his persuasive charm. "You deserve love and happiness in your life. How long will you continue to live alone? I am not saying it will work out. All I want is for you to give it a chance."
Tom wishes me well, but I can't walk down that road. "How is this even going to work? Celebrities date models and actors, not ordinary people like me and you. Jon and I are poles apart. Our worlds are different."
Tom taps my hand, forcing me to look at him. "Your differences could compliment each other. Why not let him in?"
I lower my head and close my eyes, afraid that Tom will see right through me and call my bluff. "Don't confuse me any further Tom; dealing with Jon is difficult."
"Does that mean you are thinking about him?" How does Tom understand me so well? I am never able to hide my emotions. My face is like a mirror. It reflects everything on my mind and in my heart.
"See? I told you." Tom is smiling away. How do I get him off my back?
"Shut up and clean up. Go do some work before Richard holds a gun to your head."
I throw a few napkins at Tom and walk out of the cafe. The thought of calling Jon mine brings a smile. The question I need to answer is whether Jon is that person.
Someone to trust with my deepest thoughts, without being judged. Someone with whom I can cuddle in bed at night and wake up with, adoring his sunny smile in the morning. Jon is fun to be around. Can I love him that way?
Wait a minute, did I use the L-word for a man I have known for a few days? There is a dangerous pattern emerging here. Strong throwing arms. First Harry the pitcher, now Jon the baller. Is this some 'my type' kink cliché?
Who am I kidding? I can't forget that he is my patient, and that is a significant barrier to cross. What do I do with my heart that goes into overdrive whenever I am near him? Am I acting silly or am I silly?
The more important factor here is his celebrity status. Am I prepared to put myself out there? Will I survive the public scrutiny? The last thing I want at this stage of my life is a broken heart, which I am sure is the only outcome possible with Jon.
Call me crazy for Googling him. He and his flings are all over the place. You can fit two of those women into me. You should not compare, and I don't compete in those Olympics. He is welcome to his models because this girl gotta eat. A lot, if she has to drill, cut and screw. Mind out of the gutter. I am not into kinky sex.
His latest one is with a blonde, his publicist as per media reports. Funny, she hasn't turned up at the hospital yet. Then, there is the ex-wife. The posts on the net say the divorce was bitter, but most of the news items are tabloid gossip. I wonder what led to the split. I should keep my nose out of his business and my heart a mile away from him and Nate.
Alrighty, let me seek a second opinion on my diagnosis.
Prescription for Dr. Sharon Wells
Diagnosis: Jon Itch
Severity: Severe
Symptoms:
1. Goosebumps (in his presence)
2. Warm flushed cheeks
3. Lip quivers (at his antics)
4. Hot sensations in certain parts of the anatomy (No. I am not talking about those parts. Patient confidentiality is sacrosanct)
Signs:
1. Tachycardia (my heart sprints every time I am in his room)
2. Dilated pupils (roving over his body)
3. Tongue fasciculations (lick him naked)
Prognosis: Recoverable but short-term consequences are detrimental to one's mental health.
Advice: Keep my head screwed in the right direction and stay in line. (on his medical care)
Oh, this is dangerous!
Chapter 12: Rising Temperatures
Sharon
"So, we allow him to walk in and change everything."
Richard raises his eyebrows alarmed by my loudness, warning me not to take this further. "Noah is adjusting to our work. When a new person joins the team, it requires some changes. There is no reason for you to get all worked up." Richard does not look up from whatever he is reading.
His calm voice gets on my nerves. I pull up the chair in front of Richard, making sure it makes enough noise and plant myself on it. Perhaps now, Richard will find me less threatening. I take a few deep breaths to calm myself. No point in antagonizing him. Richard needs to understand my point of view.
"Dr. Noah is welcome to make the changes, as long as he stays within his consultations. You should not let him change OR protocols." My efforts to stop desperation showing in my voice fail.
Richard taps the pen on the table. An irritating habit that gets to my nerves every time because we never agree on anything when Richard does that. He goes back to examining his papers, "You are reading too much into it."
"Am I? How do you expect me to react, when I find instruments not ready for my rotation in the OR?" Richard continues to work, so I cover the papers he is reading with my hand.
Richard removes my hand and places the papers out of my reach. "He is not doing it on purpose. There must be some reason."
"Why are you taking his side? You have only met the guy a few days ago." I cross my arms.
"Listen, Sharon. Don't test my patience on this. Give the guy some time to adjust." The pen tapping begins again. Wonder why Richard does that. Is he nervous around me?
I push the chair back and get up to leave. Not making any headway here today. "Have your way, but I am warning you. Noah will walk all over you in a few days. Give him all the time you want."
"And stop doing that when we are talking," I grab the pen out of Richard's hand.
Richard gets up, "Why are you so riled up? Is there something I should know that you are not telling me?"
"Better not go digging graves, Richard. It will not do anyone any good."
Richard raises both his arms, "Ok, let us try this. We will separate the OR schedules on different days. Is that okay with you?"
My heart leaps with joy, the fist pumps and all. Though in front of Richard, I maintain my poise
and confirm my agreement with a nod, "A fair starting point. Let us try it out."
A small victory on one front. Now to the next one, where every day is a new battle.
Chapter 13: Her Magic Wand
Jon
Today, I am not letting her runoff. I will make her stay longer in my room. In the last three days, she came and did a quick round. Not a word or a glance. It was upsetting. The team that came along with Sharon made it difficult to grab her attention. The tigress was playing a game by tagging them along to prevent any interaction with her.
I am determined to keep her in my room today. Only one thing will get her to stay longer. It is an easy switch to flip. A simple trick. Mess with her and she will work up a storm. Behind the white coat, doctor prim and proper hides a hot and fuming tigress.
When she finishes her examination, I confront her, not caring for the crowd in the room. The game is on. "Doc, you are ignoring me?"
"Why do you say so? I am taking my rounds every day checking on you." Sharon stops in her tracks and turns to face me.
For a fleeting moment, her eyes reflect panic at being asked point-blank, but she hides it. I have her attention. Time to roll this ball further. "If you don't growl can we discuss my progress? When can I get back on the field?"
Her face turns red. "Mr. Hayes, you sound like a broken record. Can't you think of anything beyond the game? I have told you before, it will take time."
Dr. Thomas clears his throat. Sharon shuts her eyes and then schools her voice into her professional avatar, "Let us go over this once again. Your wounds will take a certain amount of time to heal. The recovery in the past few days has been good. The X-rays show that the bones are fusing and there is a perfect alignment. Blood circulation is better and soft tissues are recovering. It is only a matter of time."
All the lines to cross Page 6