I replace the black dress with pants and a blouse. No danger with fitted wool trousers.
Except these days, being around Lucas affects my internal thermostat. I’m no longer able to regulate body temperature the way I’m accustomed to. I replace the wool pants with a thin pencil skirt and then leave my room before I toss another article of clothing onto the floor.
It has been two weeks since Lucas and I started working together at McCormick Family Practice. I’ve had enough time to adjust, and yet when I stroll into the office Monday morning and see him preparing a cup of coffee in the kitchen, the sight of him still shocks me.
There are milliseconds that pass in which I see Lucas as everyone else sees him—tall handsome doctor with thick brown hair and a perfect white smile—but it’s a mirage, a fictional oasis that disappoints as I draw near and remember that the image belongs to Lucas Thatcher.
“Having a case of the Mondays?” he asks, suspicious of my inspection of him.
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” I sigh before urging my legs to propel me into the relative safety of my office.
Once I’ve dropped my things beside my desk, I open my purse and pull out the items I collected before leaving the house: a bottle of red nail polish Casey fawned over and a hardcover edition of Dark Matter for Gina. They’re not bribes, per se, just gifts meant to elicit support—all part of Phase II.
After the book and nail polish are gratefully accepted, I float around in a triumphant haze. Giving really can be better than receiving, I think as Lucas and I walk into the exam room to see our first patient. Mrs. Vickers. 56. Ankle pain with slight swelling. I have the lead, but Lucas will undoubtedly cut in at some point to offer his own two cents. I want to smash his piggy bank.
“Mrs. Vickers, good morning. I’m Dr. Bell and I’ll be taking care of you today.”
“Jesus! Finally!” She slams her magazine down on the floor. I reach down to pick it up, but she doesn’t want it back, so I clutch it awkwardly. “Where do you get off making people wait? I had an appointment at 7:45 AM and it’s 8:00 AM. Do you think I can just sit here and wait on you all day? I have a job too, you know.”
I want to correct her—our first appointments of the day are always at 8:00 AM—but I’m still drifting on a cotton candy cloud.
“I’m truly sorry about that,” I say sweetly. “I understand your time is important, and I want to make this right. After you leave, go across to The Brew and tell them to put your coffee on Dr. Bell’s tab.”
“Ugh, coffee gives me diarrhea. Listen lady, you think that because you’re wearing a white coat you get to rule over everyone else around you? Well guess what? I won’t stand for it. You better believe I’m leaving a bad review on Yelp.”
I can sense Lucas behind me, no doubt enjoying the attack. Not so eager to jump in on this patient, are you Dr. Thatcher?
“Mrs. Vickers, there’s nothing I can do now except get you healed up so you don’t have to waste any more time here, so let’s get to the point: you mentioned some swelling and tenderness on your right ankle?”
Her arms are crossed and her eyes are narrowed. I can tell she was looking for more of an outburst to feed into her provocation, but I’ve disappointed her.
“Yes. The right one,” she mumbles, turning away.
“Then let’s take a look.” I drop her chart and magazine on the counter and step forward. It’s another five minutes of games before she lets me examine her foot. The bruising and sensitivity paired with her story of the tumble down the stairs definitely warrants concern.
“I think we ought to send you down to the county hospital for a weight-bearing x-ray. It’s definitely sprained, but we need to rule out something worse.”
“You can’t do that here?! This is ridiculous!”
“I’m sorry. We’re a small family practice clinic. We don’t have the equipment—”
“Oh save your bullshit for someone else, Blondie. My Yelp review is only getting longer,” she snarls, pulling out her rhinestone-encrusted smartphone.
“All right, that’s enough.” Lucas’ voice booms from behind me and I go pin straight. “You’re obviously having a bad day, but if you can’t treat Dr. Bell with the same respect she’s showing you, I think you should take your healthcare needs somewhere else. When you get there, I’d also suggest starting with a weight-bearing x-ray.”
My eyes are so round with shock they must take up half of my face. For maybe the first time in her life, Mrs. Vickers is speechless; she is clearly more accustomed to bullying teenaged cashiers at Dillard’s. She stares at Lucas in silence for a few seconds before she turns to me, not quite meeting my eyes. “Which hospital did you say?”