– Harlow
I’m back at Piñon, but this time I won’t be working with Whitney. In fact, I hope not to have to see her here at all. I’m meeting with the new physical therapist assigned to me, Lance, who is one of Whitney’s bosses, the same one who showed up to watch me do the track exercises and who also went to see Jesse after his surgery, like I did.
I’m glad he’s familiar with my case although I’m a little afraid that Whitney may have poisoned him against me, because I know they’re friends. Her loser ex was afraid she was cheating on him with Lance, who is gay, when really Whitney was just tired of his antics. Like I got tired of hers.
Still, though, Lance had seen me perform the track exercises with his own two eyes. He has to know independently of Whitney that I’m fit for service, or else he’ll realize that soon.
I do my best to make a good impression when I first meet him, but soon I find out he’s a nice guy who doesn’t need pretenses.
“Harlow, good to see you again,” he says, clamping a strong yet friendly hand down on my shoulder. “I’m honored to be able to work with you.”
“Same here,” I say. “I’ve put in some time with Whitney but I hear you’re even more experienced.”
“Yes. Yes. Now about that… I know you’ve already gone through some of this with her, and I hate to be redundant. But just so that I have a good understanding of where we are on things, I’m going to ask you to do some of the same tests, if that’s okay with you?”
“Sure, no sweat.”
It’s annoying to have to repeat things, but I want to start off on the right foot, so whatever Lance wants to do is fine with me. Plus, I know I did well on those exercises before, and I’m anxious to show off my skill again, so that Lance can see that Whitney obviously wasn’t giving me enough credit in those reports she wrote.
“Okay, let’s start by having you stand on this bar and extend your left arm…” Lance begins, and I follow his instructions perfectly.
It’s not nearly as fun as when I was doing this same exercise with Whitney. I can’t help but remember her nice, plump ass as she stood in front of me, or the feel of her small, soft hands on my shoulder as she steadied me.
“Very good,” Lance says.
He runs through some more familiar exercises, taking notes and making little “hrmphs” and “hmmms” in between. His vocalizations sound vaguely positive, but I’m dying to know what he’s writing down.
“So how am I doing, Lance?” I finally ask him.
“You know what, Harlow, you are doing spectacularly well,” he says, sounding a little surprised.
Now I don’t know what to think. Is everyone here inclined to doubt my abilities?
I know I had a traumatic accident but I don’t know why they all seem so shocked that I can do simple stretches and pass easy assessments, when Dr. Davis has been working with me on all of these things for months now, and he’s helped me bounce back to where I’m almost as good as new.
Lance runs me through some more easy tests and then both of us jump when we hear an unexpected knock at the door.
“Dr. Davis,” says Lance, sounding as surprised as I feel. “Welcome. Come on in. What can I do for you?”
“I’ve just been observing,” Dr. Davis says.
“Observing?”
“From the window, and I can’t help but notice that you are repeating exercises that Harlow has already done with his previous physical therapist.”
“Why yes,” Lance says, visibly blushing. “I’m just trying to get an accurate assessment of…”
“And I’m just trying to not waste Harlow’s time,” Dr. Davis says, bluntly. “It’s a precious commodity and, as you know, he’d like to work on things that will help him advance faster.”
I’m not sure whether to be grateful or upset at Dr. Davis. I’m glad he’s trying to move me along, but I think it’s rather unorthodox for him to be here, and I’m a bit embarrassed. On the other hand, maybe he’s trying to make sure there are no more mistakes, like there were with Whitney.
“Of course. Dr. Davis. Whitney had suggested some exercises and stretches…”
“Nonsense,” says Dr. Davis, with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I can show you what Harlow needs to work on.”
He enters and stretches out my left leg— the one that is still rather weak— on top of the barre. He definitely knows my problem areas. I grunt, unable to extend it all the way.
“This is a big problem that Harlow needs help fixing,” Dr. Davis commands.
“Oh yes, I can see that,” says Lance, furiously taking notes. “I’m glad you pointed that out.”
I feel betrayed, as if somehow Lance should have stuck up for me. I’m not that bad.
Sure, I know I’m not as flexible as I was before my accident, and Whitney had said she would work on that with me. Still, I’m a lot more flexible than a lot of service members, and even a lot of guys in my own unit.
Dr. Davis continues to show Lance my problem areas, stretching me this way and that like an inflexible rag doll.
“You see?” he says, when he’s finally done twisting me into contortions.
“Yes,” says Lance.
“Now, if I may have a word with you privately?”
“Of course,” Lance says confidently, but he looks a little nervous. “I’ll be right back, Harlow.”
He steps outside with Dr. Davis, and I’m not happy. I’m sure that Dr. Davis has to go over things about my training with Lance, and make sure he understands, but I have no idea why he can’t do it when I’m not right here. I know they have planning and training meetings about me in my absence, but I guess that’s not enough.
Lance comes back with the same nervous smile he had on his face when he left.
“Please excuse that interruption,” says Lance, as he picks his pen back up from the desk where he had left it. “You are most definitely a very important patient of Dr. Davis’, and we just want to make sure we’re on the same page.”
Now it’s my turn to say “of course” like a robot, as I stand around awkwardly.
“Okay, we’ll just wrap up with some squats,” Lance says, and I obediently bend down to begin.
“I’m so glad that our program has the chance to work with you, and with Dr. Davis,” Lance says, as he clicks the meter to count each of my squats. “It’s a fine opportunity for the facility, and I’m sure it’s helped Dr. Davis with the sale of his technology.”
“The sale of his…?”
I want to stop squatting, but I don’t want to give Lance any reason to think I can’t continue, so I go on, perplexed.
I had known that Dr. Davis was trying to sell his technology and get his stocks to go public, but I thought I would be among the first to know when it actually happened. In fact, Dr. Davis had promised me some of the stock funds, for working for him.
“Oh yes, the whole office is abuzz, because the sale of Davis Technologies made the news. Now the program will have even more money, to help more service members like you.”
“That’s good,” I say, as the meter clicks one more time and Lance says, “All right, that’s good. That’s definitely the required amount in the minimum amount of time.”
“So am I free to go?” I ask him.
“You are. I’ll see you soon, and it was nice working with you.”
I’m not even going to ask what my report to Dr. Davis will look like. I’ve learned to just rely on Dr. Davis to tell me.
“Thanks,” I say, as I head out.
The more I try to make sense of everything, the less I can. I look around, wondering if Dr. Davis is still here, but I don’t see him. I’ll have to catch up with him later at his office, and ask about the sale of his company. Maybe he just hasn’t had time to tell me yet.
And I can’t help looking around to see if Whitney is anywhere in sight. She’s not, and I can’t decide whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing.
She’s listened to me about not calling me anymore, and I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. She’s tenacious when it comes to challenging Dr. Davis— or me, I guess— but not about anything else. And I guess it’s for the best.
That woman was bad news. I just wish my head could convince my heart of that fact.