THOMAS
How is it that the best and worst things in my life are occurring at the same time? I love spending time with Finley. So much so, I’ve gone against my better judgment and asked her out on a real date. We had so much fun last night, I can hardly wait to wine and dine her for real.
Conversely, I’ve come to hate going into work. It’s not that I’ve totally stopped enjoying my profession, it’s just become a little dull.What I wouldn’t give for a flesh-eating bacteria or some mad cow disease.Not that I’m wishing ill on people, I just want to use the skills I’ve spent my adult life honing. And then there’s Constance. Just knowing she’s somewhere in the hospital, plotting her revenge, makes being here very unpleasant.
Becky, the nice nurse that gave me the scoop on my boss’s history as a predator, comes up to me and asks, “How are things going withyou know who?”
I roll my eyes. “Did I tell you she put me on the nightshift?”
“That’s awful but not surprising.” She leans in and whispers, “You should complain to the board.”
“I don’t have any proof she’s doing it to get back at me.”
“They all know who Constance is,” she tells me. “It’s in your best interest to start an official paper trail. They might even be able to intervene and tell her to back off.”
I hadn’t considered that. If Constance has the history she’s reputed to have, that might be all it takes to reinstate my regular schedule. “Thank you for suggesting this, Becky. I’ll make an appointment with someone other than Constance today.”
“Ask for Armie Bader,” she says. “He was good friends with the doctor who sued her for sexual harassment.”
“Good tip.” Then I look at the clock and say, “I’m off in ten to meet my lady friend, so I’d better see if I can contact him now.”
Becky suddenly looks very interested. “I know it’s none of my business,” she says, “but I don’t suppose you’d tell me who you’re dating.”
“Are you going to spread the news around the hospital?” Good dish takes nanoseconds to travel in a hospital.
“I promise I won’t,” she says.
For some reason I believe her. “Her name is Finley.”
“Not Finley Harper?” Becky’s eyes open wide. It seems everyone in town knows her.
“The photographer,” I say.
Becky reaches out and touches my arm. “That girl is a pure delight. She takes my grandbabies’ first pictures, and they are all stunningly special. Be good to her, Thomas,” she warns like I’ll have her to deal with if I’m not.
Apparently, everyone loves Finley. I’m going to have to tell her so she can quit worrying about people finding out she’s on the spectrum. I’m guessing she’s the only one who cares about that.
It’s not that I blame her. It’s got to be tough being around so many different personalities without being able to fully understand motivations. I’ve gotten insights into this from observing my sister’s world.
Vivie works alone in her art studio and only contends with the outside world when she shops or eats out. When she’s feeling overstimulated, she orders her food—groceries as well as meals—to be delivered. She says she doesn’t miss having people around because they exhaust her.
I wonder if Finley feels the same way. Choosing a people-focused profession seems odd for someone on the spectrum, but I suppose it’s called a spectrum for a reason. Autism encompasses a wide variety of symptoms that go far beyond the stereotypical ones.
I stop by the information booth and get the phone number for Armie Bader’s office. Then I find a quiet corner and call. When his secretary asks for the reason I want to meet, I tell her plainly, “It’s regarding a sexual harassment claim.”
She immediately asks if she can put me on hold. Within seconds she’s back on the line. “Dr. Bader can see you now, if you’re free.”
“I’m just getting off my shift. I can be there in five minutes,” I tell her.
I text Finley quickly to let her know I might be a little late for our session, but I assure her it’s for a good reason. Then I speed-walk to the other side of the building.
Unfortunately, Dr. Bader’s office is in the same wing as Constance’s. Even though I shouldn’t be surprised when I run into her, I still rear back like a lion tamer trying to keep his charge from attacking.
“Dr. Culpepper.” She sounds as surprised as I am. I wonder why she’s suddenly decided to address me formally. Up until this point, she’s only called me by my first name.
“Ms. Brucker,” I say, mimicking her tone.
This seems to catch her off guard. “Are you here to see me?” Now she sounds hopeful.
