Page 42 of Geordie

His doctor is in one of those big HMO complexes. I thought rich people all had private doctors in big fancy offices, maybe he was raised with NHS in Scotland.

Since I have a doctor at the same facility, I call while we're in the car to request a wheelchair. Geordie is quietly incensed during our drive until a pretty young attendant meets us at the curbside patient pickup. His Scottish brogue gets a little thicker as he flirts with her while she helps him into the wheelchair and she flirts back. He's a freaking menace when he turns on the charm. At least his anger towards me is forgotten for the moment. “Who's your doctor?” I shout as my window slowly eases down.

“Dr. Brownback,” they respond in unison. “The office number’s 327,” the pretty attendant calls back just before she slips inside the facility.

It takes me a little time to find a parking space and hike through the enormous parking lot, but when I find the doctor's office on the third floor, Geordie is not in the waiting room. I lean against the counter just as the clerk looks up. “I'm here with Geordie MacTavish. Has he already been taken to see the doctor, or am I in the right place?”

“You just missed him by about five minutes. If you're Mrs. MacTavish, the aide will escort you to the office.”

“We're not married.”

“Oh, I remember. Mr. MacTavish said you're his caregiver, that you were parking the car and would arrive soon.” He speaks to the aide without looking at her. “Please take her back.”

I follow the aide through a back door and around the nurses' station and to the right. Three offices down, she lightly taps on the door. “Come,” is heard from the other side of the door. The aide is already walking down the hall when I push the door open. Geordie is on an examining table and the doctor, who seems pretty young to have passed medical school, is sitting on a tiny stool peering at Geordie's knees.

“They told me that I should come in?” I say to the astonished men.

Geordie looks horrified while the doctor waves me to a chair in the corner. “I'm so glad you joined us. I'm Dr. Brownback, Mrs. MacTavish. I don't think we've met before.”

“Were not married,” Geordie and I say in unison.

He peers over his glasses. “Okay, we got that cleared up, but you're here to help him, correct?”

“I'm Lily,” I say, slipping into the chair. “Yes, I'm here to help. I'll do what I can.” The doctor smiles at me and turns back around to Geordie. I shoot Geordie a look not to contradict me.

“That's good to hear, because Geordie is going to need more help. I've given him the option of a stay in rehab or to hire someone to care for him. Is that something you're willing to do?”

Here I thought it would be checking on him or maybe cooking another meal. The doctor looks back at me when I don't respond. Geordie is shaking his head no and for some reason, that helps me make my decision. “I'd be happy to stay with him. Whatever it takes to make this big guy well,” I say with sincerity.

“Excellent, then I'll send you new medication and instructions. He'll need help with household tasks. You two will have to determine how much of his personal regimen you'll need to help him with. But I can't stress enough that he needs to stay off of that leg. The fall has set him back, he'll need more time to heal.”

During our drive back, Geordie's mood fills the vehicle with his disapproving silence. This must be a huge blow to his ego, that he can't get rid of me.

“You know I live alone,” I say. “For years, I barely stayed at my apartment, when Stephen and I were together. Living there full time has been difficult since we broke up. It would be helpful for me to have another project to concentrate on, when I'm not at the restaurant.”

“So, I'm a project?” he mutters, not looking at me.

“I said that wrong. You need help, and I need someone to help. You're alone, I'm alone. We can keep each other company.”

He's looking out the window, still not convinced.

“If you look at it, it's a win-win situation. If I live with you, I don't have to call you every day to check on you and if you need to argue with me, I'll be right in the apartment with you. I noticed you have three bedrooms. If I get too irritating, you can send me to my room.” I glance away from the road to see how my speech is landing. His elbow is on the armrest, chin in his hand.

“Do you have a hidden agenda?”

I’m surprised at the question, but I understand his concern. “No, I really think we can help each other out.”

He nods, as if he’s made a decision. “Then you can stay with me until I'm better.”

I grin. I thought it would be more of a fight. Geordie still looks like he’s not sure, but I know this will work out. He can be good company when he works at it.

“Great, I'll make a detour to my apartment to grab some stuff for now. After work, I'll come to your place. I normally get in at about 11:30 p.m. to midnight.”

Chapter twenty-one

Baby, One More Time

Geordie

---