– Whitney
Time seems to stand still as I’m nearly pressed up against Harlow’s chest. I’ve never felt so conflicted on the job before.
On the one hand, I can’t believe he seems to be doing so well— as healthy as a patient who doesn’t even need physical therapy. On the other hand, I want to find something wrong with him, not just to appease Dr. Davis but to have my own personal reasons to keep him in physical therapy. To keep him this close to me.
Stop it, I tell myself, but I can’t seem to break away from what would normally be a very unnatural physical therapist-client position. It doesn’t seem like he wants me to break away either. So we just stand there, staring at each other and locked in time and space, until…
“Whitney!”
I jump at the voice, immediately thinking it belongs to Lance, or— worse— Dr. Warren, and that I’m in big trouble. But before I even turn around I realize it’s Tony. Even though that makes no sense. It’s definitely Tony’s voice, though.
“Tony?” I spin around to face the door, hoping that the look on my face isn’t too guilty.
“So this is why you want to break up,” he says, peering at Harlow as if he’s a bug. “This is why you’ve not been coming home until late, and claiming that you feel disconnected from me. It all makes perfect sense now.”
He walks up until he’s dangerously close to me, pressing me up against the barre with his hips.
“When were you going to tell me the truth, Whitney? So convenient to have me think it was your boss, when obviously it was this— this….”
In taking a second look at Harlow, Tony shirks back a bit. Harlow has a good six inches on him, and a lot of muscle.
“This is my client, Tony,” I explain, as if he’s five years old, which is about the age level at which he appears to be operating right now. “I’m working, as you know. How did you even get here?”
“You don’t think they’d let your boyfriend in to see you?” Tony smirks, throwing a challenging glare at Harlow. “I’m her boyfriend. Did she tell you that?”
“Tony, this really isn’t the time or place to get into relationship issues…”
I begin to explain, feeling rather embarrassed at the whole incident. But this just makes Tony even more angry.
“I supported you,” he says, towering over me once again.
“What?” I can’t believe his audacity. “You haven’t even tried to find a job…”
“There’s more to supporting someone than just financially” he whines. “I meant emotionally.”
I just stare at him, blinking, as if he’s from a different planet. He used to be pretty emotionally supportive, which was the whole reason we were together, but that hasn’t been true for quite some time. He can’t even bother to listen to what I say to him. But I know it’s useless to try to explain, since he’s still not in the mood to hear me.
“All those hours you were away, working or going to school or whatever you were doing,” he continues, the words “whatever you were doing” heavy with innuendo.
I shake my head adamantly, not wanting it to sound like I ever cheated on him or did anything untoward, because I hadn’t. He’s acting as if I’m a bad person, when I’m not. I had been trying to make things work out between us, but clearly they haven’t been.
“You could never bother to come out with me and my buddies or do anything I wanted to do,” he continues, angrily. “Yet I sat patiently at home waiting for you, only to find out you’ve been getting a bit too comfy with your ‘client’…”
He grabs my wrist and presses it against the barre.
“Tony! Stop it…” I begin to say, but Harlow grabs him and pulls him off me.
“That’s enough, buddy,” Harlow says. “The lady doesn’t appreciate being manhandled like that.”
“Fuck you!” Tony says, nearly spitting on Harlow, and raising his fist to him.
For a second I think he’s going to fight him, but then he appears to realize how foolish this decision would be. Harlow is towering over him, his large shape and toned physique clearly the better match in any potential fight.
“I’m out of here anyway,” Tony says, heading back towards the door. “I just came to ask you to borrow the car, so I can move out.”
“I think it’s better than you didn’t,” I tell him. “Borrow the car, I mean.”
“Thanks for nothing,” he says, and saunters off.
“Tony, wait…” I say, and then to Harlow, “Just give me a second, please.”
“Sure,” he says, and I can’t express how grateful I am for his understanding.
I know it’s not very professional to fight with one’s boyfriend on the clock. Or to leave a client in the middle of his very first session. But I need this drama with Tony to be over with, and I don’t want to have any regrets.
“Thank you,” I tell Harlow.
In the lobby, I keep my voice down low so the receptionist won’t hear.
“Tony, this really wasn’t the best way to go about this.”
“So you’re just going to lecture me now, like you always do?” he asks, his mouth drawn up in a sneer. “So you can go back in there and make out with your client?”
“Tony!”
I know he said “client” loudly, and on purpose, to get me in trouble. It was probably a mistake to follow him out here. I’m glad we’re breaking up. I shouldn’t prolong it. I’m always too damn nice.
“I just want to see if we can end things between us as smoothly as possible,” I tell him. “I never meant…”
“Yeah, yeah, you’re little miss perfect Whitney and you never do anything wrong. Well, good luck finding someone as good as me.”
I stop myself from laughing out loud.
“I see you drooling over that soldier guy like a little doe-eyed idiot,” Tony says. “He’ll just use you and lose you, if he wants anything at all to do with you. You’re not his type. Too intellectual. Not enough of a ditzy cheerleader. And a bit too out of shape, if you know what I mean. You had a good thing with me, and you lost it. I’m not coming back.”
“That’s good, because I don’t want you to,” I finally tell him, realizing it’s impossible to reason with him right now, or maybe ever.
It’s not as important to end on a good note as it is to stand up for myself and let him know that I too am done for good.
“As I’ve been trying to tell you for far too long, you’re useless to me these days,” I continue. It feels good to let it all out now, everything that’s been bottled up inside. “You don’t work, you don’t clean; hell, you’ve never even given me an orgasm! So good riddance.”
His mouth drops open, as if he can’t believe I just said that. I can’t believe it either. But it’s the truth. I’ve never had one, and certainly not with Tony.
“You’re going to be sorry…” he starts to say, but I turn back towards Harlow, relieved that Tony’s in my past and that a new future looms in front of me.
I walk away from him, determined to never have to hear from him again.