Page 19 of Physical Therapy

ELEVEN

Boe

A heavy conscience comes as no surprise, but what I didn’t expect Edith to do was sneak out without me knowing. Surely she doesn’t expect to get away that easily?

A man might become self-conscious when a woman leaves without a goodbye.

I set my phone down on the edge of my desk and return to scouring the property pages for any bargains I can acquire and turn for a quick profit. Waves of laughter drift in from the cubicles where the rest of the office share drinks for Susan’s birthday.

I can’t imagine anything worse than having to stand around and make small talk for the sake of “morale”. I couldn’t give a fuck if it’s someone’s birthday. I’ve got no idea how old Susan is, let alone what the hell her job title is. We don’t interact in our jobs, so why should I feel obligated to interact for a personal occasion?

These messages cannot continue.

Regret. I grin at the banner on my phone’s home screen. Her reply was short and simple. I unlock the device and tap out a short response.

In the words of Brittney Spears, oops, I did it again.

To my surprise, her number lights up the phone.

“Good morning, Dr. Potts.”

She sighs down the line. “Boe. What happened was a mistake.”

I chuckle. “No, Edith. Dropping your fresh cup of coffee is a mistake. Forgetting your keys is a mistake. What we did was intentional.”

I’m greeted with silence. For once, I’ve rendered her speechless. She has no comeback.

“I’ve emailed you a list of therapists who can continue your case.”

Or perhaps she had one all along? “I don’t need another therapist.”

“I can’t, in good conscience, continue to see you professionally, Boe.” She lowers her voice. “I told you there was a line I couldn’t cross without it affecting my opinion of you, and I think you can agree we more than crossed it.”

“Yeah,” I snap. “We did. But I’ll say it again. I don’t want another therapist. I want you.”

“You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?”

I huff a laugh. “You know I won’t.”

She hesitates, a small groan piercing the silence from her end of the line. “There is an alternative.”

“We don’t need alternatives.” All I need is another fix of the good doctor.

“I can conduct sessions via video call.”

“Jesus, Edith.” I lean back in the office chair and kick my heels up on the desk. “Are you that helpless around me?”

“Perhaps,” she whispers.

I massage my forehead with finger and thumb. “What are you worried about? Because if you think I’m going to shout it from the rooftops that I’ve fucked my therapist, I have more class than that.”

“It’s not just me I’m worried about,” she stresses. “If it’s discovered that I had a personal interest in you, now or in the future, my report could get thrown out and you would face jail time, Boe.”

“Have you considered that it’s a risk I’m willing to take?”

She lets out a long breath. “You’re answering on impulse. Think about this.”

“I am.” My feet hit the floor. “And I have.” I hustle across the office and shut the damn door—fuck rules. “You’re all I thought about last night, Edith. Do you have any idea how fucking unusual that is for me?” How goddamn unusual it is, even, that I let her know?

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