Page 28 of Tangled Up

I quickly tap back a response.I’ll see you.

He doesn’t need to know I can’t stop thinking about him. He’s had the upper hand on me for too long. His power over me nearly broke me, but I managed to find myself again.

This time, I won’t let myself be broken.

CHAPTEREIGHT

BECK

“My grandson told me a knock-knock joke. Wanna hear it?” The old man’s voice is soft and gravelly in a way that makes me want to clear my throat.

He’s wearing tan slacks and a pale blue shirt, and I have a step stool for his feet as he sits on my table.

Smiling, I press my stethoscope to his back. “It’d better be good.”

He chuckles. “Oh, it’s a real stinker.”

“I’d expect nothing less from a knock-knock joke.” Moving the silver disc between his shoulders, I listen to his steady heartbeat. Its strong, regular rhythm satisfies me.

“Knock-knock.”

Stepping back, I toss the stethoscope around my neck. “Who’s there?”

“Broken pencil.”

I have to hand it to him, I’ve never heard this one. “Broken-pencil who?”

He presses his thin lips together, shaking his head in disappointment, and I prepare for him to say he forgot the punchline, which is how most of my patients’ stories go.

“Ah, never mind,” he says. “It’s pointless.”

My brow furrows, and it takes me a whole two seconds to get it.

“Dang.” I exhale a laugh. “You got me.”

“Not bad, right?” He holds up a hand, and I clasp it, helping him down.

“Not bad.”

His elderly wife smiles at us from the chair across the room, her hazel eyes twinkling. “He’s been a whole new man since we started our daily power walks.”

“I have so much energy.” I hold his elbow, steadying him as he steps off the stool. “Thanks, Doc.”

“Thank you for the joke.” He reminds me why I like geriatrics so much.

Elderly patients are so unexpected, so full of history. People tend to write them off or don’t want to see them. Their children are too busy to call, and their grandkids don’t even know them. Sometimes it’s as much about having someone to talk to, to laugh at their jokes, as it is about treatment.

“It’s possible the diet change and exercise might be enough.” I go to my laptop computer and type in my notes. “Atherosclerosis can’t be reversed, but we can control it.”

“You’ve given us a new lease on life.” His wife threads her fingers through the back of his salt and pepper gray hair.

I imagine Carly as an older woman, threading her fingers in my hair, smiling up at me with bright eyes framed by happy laugh lines. Would she love me this much if we were together at eighty? Would she take me to my doctor’s appointments and worry with me over the results of all my tests and checkups?

The woman leans closer, dropping her voice. “He’s frisky as a teenager, too.”

“That’s a good sign.” I smile, holding the door for them. “His memory is strong.”

Everyone likes that bit of extra reassurance at this age.

---