“That’s wonderful!” I tell her, only half comprehending what she’s talking about. I wonder if this is what people feel like when I start talking about anatomy. For me, it’s simple enough that it barely requires thought, but I’ve lost track of how many times Melissa’s eyes just glazed over when I answered the question, “How was your day?”
“So, I’m going to finish getting ready,” she says. “You’re still up for taking me to the hospital, right?”
“Of course,” I tell her. “That’s why I’m here.”
“Huh,” she says, turning and leaving the room, “I thought you were here because you couldn’t stand the thought of being away from this hot ass of mine for any extended period of time.”
“That is a big part of it,” I call after her.
It doesn’t take Grace that long to get ready, considering that Melissa used to be three hours in the bathroom and another hour to hour and a half in the bedroom before she’d be willing to leave the house.
When Grace comes out, we go.
Today’s my day off, but Grace has to go in for another day of tests and treatment.
I really wish I knew more about what was going on, but Dr. Willis has apparently scared the bejesus out of everyone involved with the trial. I can’t get anyone to give me a sneak peek at Grace’s file.
“I was thinking,” Grace says. “You and I have been a thing for a few days now.”
“A few weeks,” I tell her. “Actually, it’s been well over a month.”
“Whatever,” she says. “What I’ve been thinking is that maybe we should exchange keys or something. I’m always misplacing mine, and the guy who has my key right now is either never home or he hides when he hears me knocking on the door.”
“Who do you have holding your key?”
“A neighbor,” she says. “That’s not the point. I guess what I’m more worried about is that this treatment doesn’t work and I have to go back on chemo.”
“Don’t worry about that,” I tell her. “You seem to be doing really well. If it does turn out that you do have to go back on chemo, assuming no significant change in your oligodendroglioma, we’ll just go back to five days a month oral treatment.”
“I’ll give you oral treatment five days a week if you don’t put me back on that shit after this trial’s over,” she says.
“I wish I could promise that,” I tell her. “Without being able to see your scans, though, I can’t even make an educated guess where your treatment might end up.”
“Comforting,” she says. “I don’t want you to misunderstand me here, I’m not suggesting we move in together. I like you, and we have a great time naked, but I’m not looking to rush into a situation where I just end up being Melissa the Sequel. I just know that there are going to be days when I go back on the chemo, that I’m not going to be up to doing jack
shit and I’m going to need some help. I would just hire a housekeeper, but they really get up there in price when it comes to sexual favors.”
“Sexual favors?”
“That was just to see if you were listening,” she says.
“How do you feel?” I ask.
“I still haven’t had a headache in a while. I’m not counting the one after the seizure.”
“That’s good,” I tell her. “Still, I wish I could see your scans.”
“Too bad for both of us, then,” she says.
We pull into the parking lot and I drop her off at the curb. I know it’s a bit silly drawing the line there, but I just have this feeling that if the two of us were to be seen actually walking into the hospital together, the secret would be out.
Grace wouldn’t be the first patient of mine I’ve ended up giving a ride to, but after the way I came into the room after her seizure, I’d rather not take any unnecessary chances.
I park in my reserved spot and head up to my office.
If I can’t walk Grace in, I certainly can’t meet up with her when she’s with the trial doctors.
The office is dark as I’m approaching, but I could swear that I see a flicker of light.