“Let me help you with that.”
I glanced over my shoulder to see Charles moving my way. I lifted an eyebrow and he made a face for me to just keep going as usual.
Once we rounded the corner and were out of earshot of the nurses’ station, he leaned down and whispered, “I don’t trust that one. You watch your back.”
I frowned and wrinkled my forehead. “Which one?”
“Suzanne. Listen, I don’t know what happened in that room with Dr. Reynolds, and yeah, the guy can be rude and off-putting at times, but he’s one of the best surgeons I’ve worked with.”
I nodded because that was the truth. Jacob’s skills were second to none, and he was still young in his profession. I could only imagine where his career and abilities would take him. And why did I start thinking that? Because as soon as I did, my heart began to sink. I ached for the fact that he’d broken his knuckle, a fact that could be detrimental for a surgeon. Also, because I knew if he couldn’t get past whatever it was he was going through, he would never be able to flourish in his career. And then there was this debacle with Suzanne, which could derail his career in so many ways.
“I don’t trust her,” Charles stated finally, drawing the same conclusion I’d come to months ago regarding Suzanne. “Just watch your back.”
I nodded as Charles walked off to another patient’s room, giving me one final warning look. Of all the nurses I worked with, I respected Charles’ opinion the most. He was rarely the one to get involved in hospital gossip. He was efficient at his job and always willing to jump in and lend a hand when needed. If he was warning me about Suzanne, then I knew I was on the right track when my instincts were telling me not to believe a word she said.
****
Jacob
“What the hell am I doing here?” I asked to no one in particular as I glared at the ceiling above me. I laid in the bed of the single room I’d been assigned at the thirty day in-patient treatment center, Willow Springs Treatment Center.
“What the fuck kind of name is Willow Springs?”I asked Kearns as we drove into the circle driveway of the facility. He chuckled and said something about not being a fan of the name either, but he hadn’t named it.
Now, I was here on my fourth day, in my empty, naked bed, the blanket and sheets bundled up in the corner of the floor, wondering how I got here. Yes, I agreed to come, but for the life of me I couldn’t figure out how Kearns had gotten me to agree.
I finally got myself out of bed, sitting up and raising my arms overhead to stretch and work the kinks that’d formed during my sleep out of my back. Standing, I looked around the room, as I did every morning, appreciating the fact that I had a single occupancy room. I was not in the mood for a fucking roommate. Though not my style, the room that comfortably fit a queen-sized bed, a low sitting armchair in one corner, lamp, and a decent size desk, dresser, and closet wasn’t exactly a shithole or a rubber room.
I snorted at the thought of being locked in one of those fucking rooms, with a straight jacket on to keep me from gauging my own eyes out. Shaking my head, I pulled open the top drawer of dresser and removed a T-shirt, bringing it to my nose and inhaling. The shirt wasn’t mine. It was Grace’s. She’d left it at my place, and while packing to come here, I instinctively grabbed it, not knowing what for. But as I inhaled the shirt that smelled just like her, I knew why. It was my way of being close to her even when she wasn’t physically present.
I used to think things like that were bullshit or for lames. Now, here I was, behaving like one of the men I despised who fell for a woman.
“I love you more than I ever thought I could love a man …”
Those were some of the last words she said to me that morning. And to be honest, I think it was those very words that prompted me to take this step, to agree to be locked in this place for a month.
Fifteen minutes after awakening, I found myself rounding the corner of one of the trails on the Willow Springs property during my usual four mile run. After the first half mile, my lungs opened up and finally adjusted to the aerobic exercise. My brain switched off and my body took over, doing what it needed to do to make it to the next step, next mile marker, and the next phase of this workout. Running out here at Willow Springs came eerily close to what it felt like being in the operating room. All else seemed to fade away into oblivion, and all that mattered was the next step. I needed these morning runs to take the edge off in order to face what I had to face the rest of the day.
An hour later, I found myself sitting in Dr. Kearns office, on the comfortable loveseat couch I was pretty certain they make extra soft just to lull patients to open up.
“You’re continuing to do your runs every morning, I see?” Dr. Kearns noted.
I nodded but didn’t say anything since the answer was obvious. I was sitting there in a pair of track pants and T-shirt, after having just finished my breakfast after a run.
“Have you been able to come up with any other coping mechanisms that you can implement when things get too uncomfortable?”
“Fighting.”
“Aside from fighting.”
I grunted and stared across the room at the waterfall fountain that sat on his shelf. Water was supposed to bring tranquility—at least that was what I heard or read somewhere—but thinking of water reminded me of Grace. She loved swimming as her favorite activity. She could outswim me, which was no easy feat considering I was a pretty good swimmer. But it was her main form of exercise.
“Are you thinking about Grace?”
I turned sharply to Dr. Kearns, pissed that he could discern my thoughts so easily.
He must’ve picked up on my ire, because he soon added, “Your face gets more relaxed, calmer whenever you’re thinking of her, or talking about her. I noticed it two days ago when she was mentioned.”
I adjusted myself on the couch. “We’re not discussing Grace.”
