– Harlow
When I get to Whitney’s house, she still seems standoffish.
She lets me in but walks over to the kitchen table and says, “feel free to sit,” as if I’m some formal guest.
I remove the Chinese take-out from its bag.
She says, “Thanks, but I’m not hungry.”
I shrug and take a bite of my eggroll.
“So talk to me. What’s going on?”
“I don’t even know, but it seems bad.”
“How so?”
“You know how I’m friends with my supervisor, Lance?”
“Sure. The guy your ex was so sure you were cheating on him with.”
“Ha.” That almost gets her to laugh. “Yeah, him. Well, he’s always super chill but today he told me to ‘be careful’ with you, and that Dr. Davis isn’t happy with how your treatment has been going.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I say, knowing for sure it must all be some sort of misunderstanding. “I’ll talk to him first thing in the morning and figure out what’s been going on.”
“No, don’t,” she says. “Or he’ll know I talked to you. Lance said he is taking over your treatment until we figure out what’s going on.”
“What?” I pound my fist on the table. “Sorry. But this has me upset.”
“Yeah. I know.”
“We work so well together,” I insist. “Of course there’s the chemistry but I’m talking about for physical therapy. Everything is going so well.”
“I know. I don’t get it. I have no idea what they think I could have done wrong, unless they don’t like that we’re… getting close.”
“Have they told you that?”
“No. Lance seemed to act as if he didn’t care, and didn’t want to know. And luckily I didn’t get the chance to tell him about last night. I usually would have, because we’re good friends, but it happened so fast, and I guess I had some kind of a clue that he might not approve.”
She gulps, as if not wanting to tell me something, but then she continues.
“When you were running laps, he mentioned something about the possibility of me losing my internship if you and I fooled around, or something, but I don’t know if he meant, like, at work, or after hours, or what. I really need to look at the employee handbook.”
She runs her hands through her pretty, dark hair, her beautiful eyes looking wide and distraught. I just want to comfort her and let her know everything will be okay. I’ve certainly been through a lot worse. But I don’t want to sound insensitive if she really thinks she could be losing her internship, her career. That is a big deal.
“I would think he would tell me if my internship was in immediate danger,” she says. “If he even knew. He seemed to be as in the dark as I am, but I think he has some clue of what might be up. I can’t imagine I’d lose my internship without any proof of us being together. We haven’t even…”
She trails off, but I finish the sentence for her in my own mind.
Fucked.
We haven’t even fucked, unfortunately.
“That would be so fucking unfair,” I say.
“I know, right.”
She laughs, nervously, but I’m glad to hear it. Then she’s back to pacing and running her hands through her hair.
“But if it’s not that, then what else could it be?”
I shrug.
“Whenever I organically find out that you’ve been replaced as my assigned physical therapist, I’ll talk to Dr. Davis about it. He won’t make me work with someone I don’t want to work with.”
She nods, half hopeful, but half doubtful.
“Although maybe I shouldn’t,” I add, with a grin. “Because if you’re not my physical therapist then there’s nothing standing in the way of us consummating this relationship. In fact, let’s do it right now before they reassign you to my treatment.”
I laugh, but she doesn’t think it’s funny.
“Harlow, whenever I first saw Dr. Davis— at the conference where he presented your slide show but then he was presented with an award, even though you had done a lot of the work too, for your own recovery, and you didn’t get any award— I mean, that’s not the point, but, I don’t know, I had a funny feeling.”
She trails off, and it’s obvious that her mind is racing a million miles a minute.
“I don’t know why or what it’s about but I can’t help thinking now that I was right about him from the beginning,” she finishes. “Why doesn’t he want me working with you? Why does he disagree with the treatment model? When everything is going so well?”
“I guess we’ll find out in due time.”
Whitney is definitely one of those perpetually worrying types. I know the feeling, but now it’s time to comfort her rather than give into worry and fear myself. One of us has to be strong. I’m determined to be there for her. And I’m confident that I can work this out with Dr. Davis.
I shovel some of my entrée down my throat. “So do you want to watch a movie? I can cuddle you and make it all better.”
“Very funny.”
She picks at her eggroll but doesn’t really eat any of it.
“Harlow, I think you should just go,” she finally says.
“Are you serious?”
I’ve never been rejected by anyone before. And I’ve never even liked anyone before, except for her.
I guess this is why I never let myself get close to anyone, except for my fellow SEALs. It never ends up being worth it.
“I just think it’s safest to not see each other until we have this all straightened out.”
“Are you serious?”
I pack my food back up and stand up from the table.
“You are not the woman I thought you were.”
“What do you mean?” she asks, as I head toward the door.
You’re not the one for me, after all, I think. I guess I was right that there is no one for me.
But I just say, “I guess it makes perfect sense, though. I was blind to who you really are.”
I might as well lay it all out on the line now.
She’s not into me enough anyway, and I’m mad at myself for thinking that it could work out.
“And who is that?” she asks.
“You’re someone who never takes chances, never risks anything. You settle. You wanted to be a doctor but you settled for physical therapist. You wanted true love with a good man but you settled for Tony.”
I say his name in disgust, because I really can’t believe she was with him. And now that I think it all through, I’m not sure why I wanted to be with her, when this is her MO.
She just stares at me, blinking as if in shock.
“Have a good time excelling at the career that was your back-up plan,” I say, as I reach for the door. “It was nice getting to know you.”
I’m ready to leave, forever, but she grabs my arm. I’m not sure if she’s mad or sad or what.
“It certainly doesn’t sound like it,” she says, her eyes burning an accusatory hole into mine.
“Doesn’t sound like what?”
“Like you thought it was nice getting to know me. You think all these bad things about me. So what was so nice about it?”
Her words— and her actions— shock me, but I love it. I knew she wanted me just as badly as I want her. And now she’s proving it. I love this spitfire of anger and passion that she’s turning into, because of me, for me.
But I have to be careful. She was just acting like she wasn’t into me at all, when I was putting my own heart on the line for her. And now she’s acting like she is. I don’t know which one is real and which is fake. Although I’m used to taking risks in my career, I never do it in relationships; this is as close as I’ve come and I don’t want to get burnt.
“Oh I don’t know,” I say, not wanting to give too much away about how I feel— or, rather, make that felt— about her. “Your dedication. Your smile. Your laugh. Your eyes. Your ass. But I’m not going to go on and on, when we’re over before we could really start.”
It’s so stupid to be pouring my heart out to someone who isn’t interested. I open the door and take one step forward. But then she wraps her arms around me, and kisses me.
Now that’s what I’m fucking talking about.