“Hey, Jason. How are you?” I said offhandedly, hoping whatever it was, didn’t require a long, lengthy discussion.
“I wanted to talk to you about that new case you were given,” he said, bringing me up short.
“My new case?” I asked, feeling myself tense.
“Yossarian Frazier in ICU,” Jason continued, clicking a pen with fidgety fingers.
“What about him?” I was going for blasé. I was pretty sure I sounded mildly high. I picked up my go-to coffee cup and readied myself to make my escape.
“Tracey Higgins called.”
I groaned and Jason smiled. “No need to tell you that she was less than pleasant,” he continued.
“What was she complaining about this time?”
I picked up my case files and stood by my desk, restless to leave.
“She says you’ve been blocking her coordination efforts. I told her that didn’t sound like you at all,” Jason went on.
I sighed. I hadn’t thought about calling Tracey in again because Yoss had been insistent he didn’t want her services. I had called her the day following her visit to let her know as much. She hadn’t been very nice about it, but that was to be expected.
“You can’t force services on people that don’t want them, Tracey,” I had told her with just a hint of condescension.
“Well what’s a man like that going to do, Imogen? Where will he go? You should insist on him coming to the shelter! You know what happens to the people out on the streets. They die! Do you want that man to die?” she had asked in frantic annoyance.
She was over the top and overly dramatic. But her question hit me all the same.
Where will he go?
The truth was I hadn’t thought much about service plans and outreach, my head and my heart were mixed up in rediscovering the man I had lost.
But that wasn’t right. I had to think about his future. What he was going to do. His situation was precarious. I had to stop thinking about me and my heart and start thinking about what was best for Yoss.
“He doesn’t want to go to the Salvation Army, Jason. And he was very antagonistic towards her. As you know, Tracey’s style can be off putting for a lot of people. And I’m not going to push services down his throat if he doesn’t want them. That’s not how we work, you know that. It has to be Mr. Fraizer’s choice.”
“I know that. You know that. But Tracey is a community resource we can’t alienate. We have to make it out like we’re on the same team. Half of this job is playing nice with the other people at the table.”
“I know. I’ll do better next time,” I muttered. Jason patted my back in a fatherly gesture. He wasn’t wearing his hairpiece today. He seemed to finally be embracing his male pattern baldness.
“How are you, Im? You seem happier,” he noted, regarding me closely.
How was I?
What a loaded question.
But it was easy to answer.
For once I could give him 100% honesty.
“I’m good, Jason. Really, really good.”
And it was true.
For reasons I wouldn’t share with my boss.
“New man?” Jason asked with a cheeky grin.
I laughed but didn’t answer.
I wouldn’t tell him it wasn’t a new man that had me smiling for the first time in years.
It was the second chance that seemed to have fallen from the sky.
One that was all wrapped up in the man I thought I had lost.
Yoss was sitting up in bed when I finally arrived. Jason had been too chatty to get away from him quickly.
“What are you doing? You’re still recovering from the biopsy!” I exclaimed as Yoss swung his feet around and attempted to get to his feet. He hung onto the IV pole to try to get his balance, his legs obviously weak.
“I’m sick and tired of lying around in this bed, waiting for bad news. I want to get up and move around. It’s been three days since the biopsy. I’m fine,” he grunted, hoisting himself upright. As he did so, his hospital gown opened in the back, revealing parts of him I hadn’t seen in a very long time.
I felt myself flush and quickly looked away.
“You might want to put a robe on,” I suggested, covering my mouth with my hand so he didn’t see my silly grin.
Yoss peered over his shoulder. “What? You don’t think people would appreciate a nice view of my very white ass? You seem to like the view.”
I coughed loudly, not able to believe what he had just said. He laughed. His eyes crinkling in the corners, his lips curved upward. “Busted,” he said.
I rolled my eyes but then grinned back.
“Well, if you want to channel your inner exhibitionist, I’m sure there’s a nurse or two who’d like the eyeful. It would probably be the most excitement they’d have all year. But I’m thinking it’ll be on the drafty side.” Yoss continued to hang onto the IV pole, barely able to stand, let alone walk anywhere. “Are you sure you’re up to this? I can get a wheelchair—” I started to suggest, but Yoss cut me off.
“I can do it. I’m not six feet under yet.” He was being flippant. And I didn’t find his comment very funny. His morbid attempt at humor left me cold.