When I hang up, he finally says, “You do know that you could just ask me if I’ll stop over, and it’d save you a lot of money.”
“Yeah,” I answer, “but if I did that and the wandering saline container called your other office to see what you were up to, you’d get in trouble.”
“They don’t give out that kind of — let’s just talk about it later,” he says. “For now, as your doctor, I’d say just let me know if you notice any new or worsening symptoms, and we’ll go from there. As for now, I don’t think it’s going to be necessary to adjust your medication, but do let me know if things get any worse and we can make a change as needed.”
“All right,” I answer.
I get up and make my way to the door, opening it just in time to hear the sound of his pager echoing through his office and waiting room.
Chapter Eight
Finding My Inner Douchebag
Jace
I run home before going over to Grace’s. It’s a little ridiculous that she actually made an appointment with my service while I was sitting across the desk from her, but it’s good to have an excuse to leave the house.
Melissa didn’t protest last night when I told her I felt more comfortable sleeping on the couch. Tonight, those roles are going to be reversed.
I’m headed over to Grace’s apartment now, and I’m really battling myself on what to do here.
The truth is that I like her.
She’s a patient, and I’m not unsympathetic to that fact, but she reminds me of someone I haven’t seen in a long time, someone I’m trying to get back in touch with.
Grace is challenging and spontaneous. Even with the specter looming over her, she’s still hanging onto her ability to take things into her own hands.
It’s inspiring, really.
That said, she scares the shit out of me.
She’s successful, but that’s not the source of my intimidation. It’s that she’s so true to herself, and for the last few years, I’ve been wondering when or if I’m ever going to remember what that feels like.
Tonight, though, I think I’ve taken my first step in that direction.
I get to the apartment and knock on Grace’s door. From inside, I can hear her calling out, “It’s unlocked!”
Turning the knob, I’m just curious as to where tonight’s going to lead.
I walk into the apartment and close the door before making my way into the living room.
“Where are you?” I call.
“In the bedroom,” she replies. “I’m still getting dressed.”
“Need a hand?” I ask, testing the waters to see if I can still pull off facetious and charming.
“I think two would be better,” she calls back, “but I’m almost done.”
So, off to a good start.
Why the hell am I so nervous?
Grace comes into the living room, wearing a black tank top and a pair of jeans.
“You look nice,” I tell her. “Kind of like an 80s metal chick with better hair.”
“Thanks,” she says. “It helps being able to change it out on a whim. So, do you know where we’re going tonight, stud?”