I nodded, and before I could conjure up a passable lie, my cell phone vibrated in my pocket. I held my hand up in an attempt to wave, and walked back toward the elevator and pulled out my phone and rolled my eyes. Mom was calling.
“Hello,” I said as I was getting into the elevator.
“Where are you, Brandon. It’s 4:15, and I haven’t received a text from the doctor’s office.” Her voice blared into my ear.
“I’m in the elevator—”
“You better be, young man!” she snapped.
“I am! The roads were bad out there. Maybe you haven’t noticed the fucking rain!” I said through gritted teeth as I shook.
“Watch your tone, Brandon!”
“Mom, I almost got hit by a car, and you’re bitching at me.”
“Is the car okay? I swear to god, Brandon, if you wrecked that car.”
“No! The car is fine.”
“I thought you said you almost got hit,” she remarked with an accusatory hint to her tone. As if I was lying about almost getting hit to avoid coming to the appointment. “You best get your ass in Dr. Hamilton’s office.”
“I’m on my way!”
“You’re on your own for dinner tonight. I need to go over to Hollywood for a social thing.”
“A party, you mean,” I smarted back.
“It’s a social event, Brandon. Drive safe when you leave. I will set some money on the counter for you to order something. But not pizza; it’ll just mess up your skin.”
When I walked into the doctor’s office, Elijah was standing at the front desk talking to Barb. Both of them stopped talking when I walked in.
“I have my mom on the phone, if I put her on speakerphone would you let her know I’m here?” I asked.
Elijah and Barb both had a look of concern on their faces, and suddenly I regretted coming today. I should have just rescheduled for later in the week. Elijah held his hand out for my phone, and I just handed it over to him.
“Hello, Ms. Cooper … Yes, Brandon just arrived,” Elijah said into my cell phone while he eyed me. I could hear my mom talking, but I couldn’t make out what she was saying.
“May I use the restroom,” I asked Barb.
“Of course, dear,” she said quietly and stood to show me where it was. The bathroom ended up being next to Dr. Keith’s office. She opened the door and turned the light on for me. “Brandon, can I get you anything?”
I shook my head as my reply. Suddenly the shivering started to get worse, and I didn’t want her to hear it in my voice. As soon as I closed the door, I ran my hands under the warm water. Glancing down, I could see that my jeans looked damp on the side that I fell on, and both of the knees were wet. I unzipped my hoodie and pulled it off, only to instantly grow colder. While I headed back to the lobby, I noticed the upper arm and the back of the shoulder had dirt on it from the bumper of the Escalade.
“Brandon, Dr. Hamilton will contact your mother before you leave. Since the storm is supposed to get worse, I’m going to leave early today. Be safe when you leave, sweetheart,” she said and glanced at my sweatshirt. “Elijah, I’m going to put his sweatshirt on my chair and turn the space heater on.”
“Here, I’ll take it,” Elijah volunteered as she tugged my hoodie out of my hand. I know he saw the dirt and scuff mark on the sweatshirt, but he didn’t draw any attention to it while Barb was there. “Brandon, would you like something warm to drink? Tea, hot chocolate?”
“The hot chocolate sounds good,” I answered and waited by Barb’s desk while he brewed a hot chocolate at the Keurig.
I could feel his eyes on me while we waited for the hot chocolate. The urge to tell him that I really just needed to go home was ever present. Not only had the run-in with death shaken me, but the heated talk that I had with my mom moments after my close brush with death had angered and frustrated me. But the desire to sit and talk to someone who understood me outweighed the urge to go home right now.
“Here you go,” Elijah handed me the foam cup, and I started to feel better simply from its warmth.
I took my usual seat in his office, and he brought in the space heater that had been by his receptionist’s desk. He set it up so that it was a few feet away from me and aimed it at my damp pant legs. The heat felt great on my legs. Before he sat down, he opened a cabinet and pulled out a small blanket and set it beside me on the couch. He let me sip my hot chocolate in silence for a few moments before he started. When he spoke, I didn’t feel like I was sitting across from someone who was going to analyze me to death, but like an actual true friend who cared.
“You don’t have to use the blanket, but if you’d like, it might take the chill off.”
“Thanks,” I said as I pulled the blanket against my leg.
