At this rate, Lucky might never truly have his family back. But if things didn’t start going better soon, he might go crazy and take the rest of the world with him.
***
Lucky flipped through a magazine, without reading, keeping an eye on the receptionist. The waiting room hadn’t changed in all the time he’d been coming to counseling. He’d missed a few appointments while having his insides carved out and growing new organs.
Soft music played, to go with the soft lighting. Soothing, designed to calm patients and get them ready to offer up details of their lives they’d sworn to never tell.
The door behind the reception desk opened. “Mr. Harrison?” Dr. Libby Drake waited for him to join her before taking her usual chair.
Lucky settled on the same ugly-assed couch where he’d confessed his deepest, darkest secrets to her on too many occasions. He’d been told confession was good for the soul, but his confessions probably kept Dr. Libby up at night.
A trace of cinnamon air freshener reminded him of Mom’s apple pie. Damn, now he’d have to stop by a diner on the way home.
“Look, doctor. I’ll be honest. I need you to clear me to return to work.”
“Lucky, I’m a psychologist, not your medical doctor.” Dr. Drake crossed her legs, a sure sign she’d never budge. She’d learned many things about him these past few months.
He’d also learned about her. “But you’re still a doctor. Says so on your door.”
Dr. Drake sighed. “I’m not clearing you to return to work after a mere four weeks. You’ll have to ask your medical doctor.”
Lucky’d been afraid of that. Might as well make use of the hour his insurance paid for. “I need to talk to you about my brother…”
***
Too bright lights. Antiseptic smell. Crowded waiting room. If the guy sitting next to Lucky made one more damned phone call…
“Mr. Harrison?” A nurse, not the doctor, called him back to an examining room. “Make yourself comfortable. The doctor will be here in a few minutes.”
Yeah, right. Lucky lay back on the table. Might as well take a nap while he waited. Dr. Libby could’ve saved him a lot of trouble by signing the damn form.
***
“No pain?”
Lucky hid a wince and pulled his T-shirt back on. “Nothing to speak of.” He’d lie his ass off if it meant doing more than sitting at home, brooding. Puttering around the house didn’t help.
“Your blood pressure is normal, and all tests are within normal limits. But still, it’s rare to send a patient back to work four weeks after major surgery.” The doctor tapped away on his tablet computer. “What type of work will you be doing?”
Lucky waved a dismissive hand. “Desk duty for the next month, part time, nothing strenuous.” Well, he did have a desk, so not a complete lie.
The doctor tapped some more.
Oh, for the love of… “Please, doc. My physical health don’t mean nothing if I lose my f… ever-loving mind.”
The doctor studied Lucky, bushy black eyebrows nearly meeting when he frowned. “Have you discussed the matter with your employer?”
“I have. If I get tired, I go home.” He pasted on a smile.Please, please, please, please, please.
The doctor relaxed his scowl. “If you’re certain. But I’m giving you a list of instructions to be followed to the letter, understand?”
Lucky strolled out of the office with his ticket back into the game. If he couldn’t be with Bo, he’d at least be in a position to keep up with whatever went on.
***
Ah, cube, sweet cube. Lucky eased down into the chair from hell and counted, “One, two, three, four…”
Johnson showed up at the count of eight. Lisa must’ve tipped her off to Lucky’s return.
