– Whitney
I get into work and call Dr. Davis first thing, before I can forget. I receive his voicemail greeting, and then I remember how early I get to work, and that most people are still at home sleeping. So, I leave a message, informing him of Harlow’s positive progress and asking if he would like to talk further about perhaps changing his treatment plan to be more suitable.
I start out on some paperwork but my mind is still on Harlow. That kiss was electrifying and unlike anything I’d ever experienced with Tony or anyone else.
I wanted to let things go further but I was also scared. Scared of losing my internship. Scared I wouldn’t be able to walk away if I let Harlow that far into my pants— and into my life. And scared he would forget all about me as soon as he fucked me. I think that was my worst fear— for me to be hanging on and him wanting to let me go, but still having to see each other each day.
So, I listened to my brain and said yes even though my heart— and other parts of me— were saying yes, yes, oh god yes. I’ve been thinking non-stop about all the new, different, exciting and dirty things I want to let this bad boy do to me. After he’s no longer a patient of mine. And if I can hold out that long.
I’m already wondering when it can happen again. I’m wondering what will happen if I don’t stop him next time. If I let him do all the things to me that he wants to do, and that I want him to do…
Luckily, I have a patient coming in and I know that working with him will keep me focused. I’ve never liked the paperwork aspect of this job nearly as much as I enjoy being hands on with the clients. My grades are good because I force myself to study, but my clinic evaluations are always top notch because I truly love that part of it.
As I work with the patient my mind continues to flutter back and forth to Harlow. Much like my heart. I’m sad that I don’t get to see him today. But I decide I’m going to play it cool and not call or text him. I watch enough romantic comedy movies to know that’s not a good idea.
When I’m finished with the patient, I check my office voicemail only to find that I still haven’t heard back from Dr. Davis. So, I walk down the hall to discuss notes and treatment plans with Lance. Secretly, I also want to tell him about my “date” with Harlow, and how well everything is going.
But after I knock on his door, he doesn’t look as happy to see me as he usually does.
“Hello, Whitney.”
It’s such a formal greeting from him, one that I’m definitely not used to.
“Hello, Lance.”
I try to mimic his robot-like voice. Then I let out a small chuckle, expecting him to join me in laughing and then explain what might be up, but he doesn’t. I’m left feeling stupid for using a robo voice, and I also feel as if I’m left guessing about what if anything can be wrong, which is strange.
“Thanks for dropping in on my session with Harlow yesterday,” I continue. “I’m glad you were able to see that—”
“Yeah, about that.” He frowns. “About this whole Harlow thing. I don’t know what’s going on between you two, and I really don’t want to know, but I just think you should be careful.”
“I am. I haven’t…”
“I’m not talking about sleeping with him. I’m talking about whatever you’re doing during his treatment that is contrary to Dr. Davis’ wishes.”
“What?”
“Look. If I knew more of what was going on, I would say more. All I know is that Dr. Davis has contacted the facility…”
“He has? Today? Well, that’s good. I’ve been trying to reach him.”
“That’s probably not a good idea, Whitney. Let the higher-ups deal with him. I have no idea what’s going on with him and maybe you’re right that he’s less than up front about things.”
He takes a cautious look around, as if someone could have possibly come into his office to eavesdrop on us without us knowing. I guess he really is worried about something.
“But apparently,” he continues, his voice dropping to nearly a whisper, “he’s not happy with Harlow’s treatment. There’s going to be some meeting about it and we’ll all know more soon. I probably shouldn’t even be telling you this much. But what I do know is that I’m to take over his treatment until this is all ironed out.”
“You’re to… take over his treatment? Lance. But why?”
Despite my best efforts, my eyes well up with tears. I had thought everything was going so well in every way possible, only to find out that the exact opposite is true. I should have known not to get my hopes up.
“I’ve done everything by the book. Harlow is excelling. I don’t understand…”
“It’s probably better this way anyway,” Lance says. “It’s never a good idea to be so emotionally invested in a client. And this way I can protect you from any allegations of incompetence.”
“Incompetence?”
“I’m not saying that there are allegations. I’m just saying that I know you do good work and I want you to do as well here as you possibly can. So if there’s a… problematic client… it’s best you stay out of that mess. Let a more experienced person with job security handle it, while you stay in safer pastures.”
I’m crushed. Here I was thinking that working with Harlow was an exciting challenge that was going to propel my career forward, when in fact it’s a ticking time bomb.
“All right.”
I can’t think of anything else to say, or at least anything I should say.
“It’s okay, love,” Lance says, patting me on the shoulder sympathetically, turning back into the boss and friend I know and love. “I know it’s difficult, but you’re just beginning to see bureaucracy in action.”
Well, okay. If that’s all it is.
I try to hold my head up high as I leave the office. But I can’t help feeling as if I’ve done something terribly wrong.
And I can’t help but wonder if I’ll ever be able to see Harlow again.
– Harlow
I call Whitney after five, when I know she’ll be home from her internship. I’ve been waiting all day to hear her voice and I know she doesn’t keep her cell phone on at work.
This isn’t like me, but as I told Jensen, it wasn’t like me until it was. I just can’t explain it, not even to myself.
I begin to think she’s not going to answer, but she finally does after about six rings.
“Hello?”
Her voice sounds hesitant.
“Well, that’s definitely not the greeting I was expecting. What’s wrong?”
“Harlow.”
I wait, but she doesn’t say anything further.
“Yes. Whitney?”
“I can’t talk to you.”
“You can’t… why not?”
It makes no sense. Unless I read it wrong, we had a great time yesterday. And I never read women wrong.
“I need to stay away.”
Oh, I get it.
This is one of those things where girls tell each other not to seem too into a guy. She’s playing hard to get. She’s not very good at it, but it’s cute. I’d almost be flattered, if I weren’t so annoyed.
“Okay, Whitney. But that doesn’t mean I need to stay away from you.”
“What?”
Her voice sounds concerned. She doesn’t even get my joke. I’m beginning to wonder if I really am reading her wrong.
Does she really not want to see me?
“I was on my way home from work, and I’m near your house,” I tell her, determined to plunge ahead with the plan that I had thought was a good idea. “I was thinking of picking up some to-go food and dropping by. Do you like Chinese?”
“Harlow, I… you were at work? At Dr. Davis’?”
“Yep.”
I don’t really understand the relevance of this question, but at least she’s talking to me. She hasn’t hung up. I still have a chance to try to figure out what’s going on with her.
“That’s so strange,” she says. “I called him to talk to him about your case, but I haven’t heard back, although I guess the clinic did hear back…”
She sounds shaken up. Maybe this is all work-related. Or maybe her awful ex-boyfriend has nosed his way back into her life and made some kind of threat.
“Look, I’ll be there soon.”
I bide time, trying to convince her not to hang up on me as I finish driving to her house. I should feel like a creepy stalker but I don’t.
I can sense there’s something bigger going on, that she and I can face together. She just has to let me help her. She has to let me in, physically into her house and metaphorically into her life.
She can’t hang up on me without hearing me out.
“We can talk about it, Whitney. We can deal with it. You and me. It will all be okay.”
She sniffles but says nothing.
There it is.
My opening.
“I’ll be there in thirty. I’m assuming you like Kung Pao Chicken?”
“Okay.”
Yes.