Page 5 of Physical Therapy

FOUR

Edith

His arrogance is typical of the kind of man who prefers to settle disputes with his fists. He wears it well. As well as he wears his three-piece suit.

I cast my gaze over the sleeves of his shirt, tracking down to where they’re clasped to his wrists by silver cuff links. He has strong hands, which is unusual for a man who works in the corporate field. Strong, tanned hands. A worker’s hands.

“Why would I admit to something that’s untrue?”

I return my focus to Boe’s face by way of the impeccably tailored waistcoat that hugs a clearly well-built physique. “Who says it’s untrue? Don’t we all have weaknesses? It’s what makes us human in nature, after all.” Such deep brown eyes.

“Is it? I happen to think weakness is what’s wrong with our so-called nature these days.”

Cynical. Most aggressive types are.

“Perhaps in some cases. But where do you think your survival instinct comes from? Your drive to achieve? If you didn’t perceive weakness within your character, you wouldn’t have anything you wanted to improve upon or change, would you?”

“Perhaps I don’t need to change?” He leans an elbow on the arm of the seat, side of his forefinger pressed to his lips while he regards me.

“Then we have a problem if you honestly believe that to be true.” I make a show of bringing his printed summary to the top of my notepad, yet I already know what I want to say. “The court finds your behavioral pattern to be a problem. It requests a significant improvement from these sessions, otherwise, they have no option but to relinquish all other means of recompense should you be charged again.” I glance up from the paperwork. “Of which they have no doubt you will.”

“I still don’t see how this is my issue.” His hand drops, revealing a smug smile. “Surely the failure to fix me is a slight on your record, not mine?”

“Not if I show that you were reluctant to engage in the set tasks and displayed keystones of a patient who is unable to be rehabilitated.” He can say whatever the hell he wants. This king of the urban jungle needs to realize that he’s not the one in charge around here.

“And how do you intend to do that?”

Somebody needs to knock him off his throne, and I get the feeling I’ll enjoy being the one to do so.

I set my pad and papers down on the table between us, right where I know his inquisitive eyes could pick out a few choice words from the summary should he choose to pry. “To understand how I intend to work on your ego, Boe, you would need to be a trained psychologist.”

“I think you underestimate my level of comprehension, Edith.” He brings his right ankle to his left knee once more.

A classic power stance if ever there was one.

“I don’t think I do. Otherwise, you’d understand why you really should stop fighting for once and simply do as you’re told.”

He drops the leg, all pretense of indifference lost as he leans forward, ass perched on the edge of his seat. “Let us get one thing straight: nobody tells me what the fuck to do. Got it?”

Control is a touchy subject: noted.

“As it stands now.” I softly rise from my seat, hands clasped before me while I give him my back. “However that will change.”

“I’d love to see you try.”

“You’ll get every chance over our next four sessions.” I turn with perfect timing to see the alarm flash across his eyes.

“Four? I was told two.”

“Minimum.” Pausing for effect, I then add. “Will that be an issue, Boe?”

“Of course not.” The muscle in his jaw flexes. He rubs it before it apparently registers what he does.

“You hide your pain well,” I remark.

He smirks, pride restored as he pulls his shoulders back and pushes his chest out. “I guess the old adage holds true: you can’t judge a book by its cover.”

“Or do you think a more telling explanation would be that we all hide behind a mask, Mr. Johanssen?”

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