Page 21 of Physical Therapy

TWELVE

Edith

Tuesday comes around way too fast. I see my previous client out, and then shut the door with shaky hands. Nerves seem to be a slight understatement.

I’m absolutely out of my element.

I’ve treated five clients via video call in the past. Two teenagers, one senior citizen, and two middle-aged women. Nobody of Boe’s caliber.

I bolted from his apartment well aware of the error in judgment I’d made. He’s not the type of man to care about the wellbeing of the other person. He’s exactly what I warned Molly away from. And yet like a moth to the flame, I’m drawn in, knowing the danger that faces me.

I navigate to the app on my laptop and switch the webcam on. A little positioning, and an extra button on the blouse loose, and I’m ready to go. Soft light filters in from my office window, the day outside overcast. Auburn streaks in my hair are highlighted by the stream of sun, adding what I have to admit is an alluring depth to my image. I roll my lips twice, smack them together, and then hit Call.

“Right on time, Doc.”

Goddamn him—I smile. Boe leans on his desk with both elbows, shoulders hunched as he leans forward. The angle makes me think his phone is propped up on something, rather than him using a laptop as I do.

“You know I like to adhere to schedule as best I can.”

He grunts in agreement.

I focus on the notes before me to save from getting lost in his eyes. They’re as crisp on my monitor as they are face-to-face. Technology isn’t doing a very good job of lessening Boe’s effect on me.

“I have a few topics here that we must work through in order to appease the court.”

He leans back and folds his arms. “List them.”

I drop my gaze back to the sheet before me, fingers restlessly playing with the ends of my hair. “The origin of your aggression, your reasoning for the assaults, and how you propose to avoid confrontations in the future.”

He regards me, massaging his chin. “We’ve covered my reasoning already.”

“Do you think we could improve on that, though?” I study him also. One can learn a lot from physical cues.

“Nope.”

So damn arrogant. “The origins,” I test. “We touched on that in your second session.”

“Did we?” His eyes narrow.

I wither under his scrutiny. “Your grandfather. You mentioned he was the one to first engage in physical hostility with you.”

Boe breaks away, glancing off to the side as he works the knot of his tie. “What is it you want to hear, Ms. Potts?”

Another underhanded power move. He’s dropped my title, therefore degrading me, whilst also using my formal title rather than the first name we’d agreed on.

“I want to hear what the hell makes you so damn defensive.” His head snaps around at my curt tone. “Why do you insist that the world is against you? No man is an island, Mr. Johanssen.” Two can play at his game.

“Perhaps not, but most days it’s survival of the fittest.” His chin dips, slight lines marring his forehead.

He challenges me. But also he’s apprehensive.

“My question is, though, Boe, who are you fighting? Are people really antagonistic, or are you simply striking first so that it lessens the chance of being hurt?”

“Isn’t that what you did,” he taunts, “by sneaking out of my apartment? Struck first?”

Bastard. “Perhaps. But today we’re focusing solely on you.”

“You want to know what started the fight, am I correct?” He relaxes, head tipped back with one eyebrow cocked.

---