Page 1 of The Next Of Us
1
Answers
Aaron
Studiously avoiding her wide, doe-eyed stare, I called out a falsely cheerful good morning as I passed through reception and stalked back to my office.Only once I closed my door did my shoulders drop.
But I didn’t breathe any easier.
Up until six months ago, my office was as comfortable and comforting as my own home.Working alongside Max, my stepfather and mentor, had bolstered me in so many unforeseen ways.Steady as the sun and smart as a whip, Max both challenged me and provided me a soft place to land.
The front door of our practice opened up into a reception area that could easily be mistaken for somebody’s family room save for the three desks scattered around the perimeter of the room.Couches, deep armchairs, side tables, toys, puzzles, bookshelves, and a gas fireplace all worked together to further the notion.
The hallway behind reception led to a bathroom and two offices, Max’s and mine.Max’s office was a designer’s dream.Mine was slightly more perfunctory and playful.Seeing as my clientele usually veered toward the younger side, they appreciated my more casual approach.
I mean, who doesn’t like a beanbag chair?
Hanging my coat on the hook behind the door, I ran my hands through my hair and sat down at my desk.Situated directly in front of the window, it at least gave me the illusion of being outdoors.
I dragged the pads of my fingers along its smooth, glossy surface until I reached the scratch that afforded us a 50% discount and smiled.Nadine had been thrilled when she found it.My mom loved it almost as much, and took great satisfaction in informing us all the best things were slightly dented.My smile softened at the thought of the scratch and dent kitchen table from my childhood that my mother still refused to relinquish.
Vera, who had worked with Max forever, barked out a laugh.The sound drifted through my closed door and, reminding me of who else was out there, wiped the smile off my face.
The situation was becoming untenable.
No, it had sprinted past untenable weeks ago when Lynda, the single mom who worked for us, made her feelings clear.At the time, I put it down to misplaced gratitude for helping her nine-year-old son through a tough time.
Schoolyard bullying led him to picking at his skin and plucking his eyebrows thin.Stomach problems soon followed and then he outright refused to go to school.At the end of her rope, Lynda requested help.
She didn’t have to ask me twice.I understood the struggles of a single mom firsthand.After a few months, and several meetings with the school which I voluntarily attended with Lynda and her son, he reached a place where he no longer needed me.
It was then Lynda decided she did.
I passed her and her delusions over to Max.He addressed it in his usual compassionate but straightforward manner.
While she apologized and assured him it wouldn’t happen again, little had changed.The weight of her gaze found and followed me throughout the day despite my obvious coolness toward her.The woman couldn’t take a hint.
I wanted to ask Max to talk to her again but what was I supposed to say?She’s looking at me?
I didn’t have the emotional bandwidth to deal with her emotions.Perhaps, it was time she found another job.
Or, and even better idea, I could.
Because I barely had the bandwidth to deal with anybody’s emotions.In my line of work, this was a major fucking problem.Leaving sounded better all the time.
I huffed out a laugh at the impossibility of starting something new.
This was my job.
Mycalling.
There were some patients I truly looked forward to seeing.The ones who could laugh at themselves a little bit, who didn’t hesitate to get down to business, those who put their head down and did the work.
The others frustrated me to no end.There was a time those feelings had no place in my day.What would it take to get back to those days?
I wasn’t sure I cared enough to try.
Shortly before lunch, a soft knock I’d come to recognize and despise sounded at my door.
