Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
THOMAS
How is it that the best and worst things in my life are occurring at the same time? I love spending time with Finley. So much so, I’ve gone against my better judgment and asked her out on a real date. We had so much fun last night, I can hardly wait to wine and dine her for real.
Conversely, I’ve come to hate going into work.
It’s not that I’ve totally stopped enjoying my profession, it’s just become a little dull.
What I wouldn’t give for a flesh-eating bacteria or some mad cow disease.
Not that I’m wishing ill on people, I just want to use the skills I’ve spent my adult life honing.
And then there’s Constance. Just knowing she’s somewhere in the hospital, plotting her revenge, makes being here very unpleasant.
Becky, the nice nurse that gave me the scoop on my boss’s history as a predator, comes up to me and asks, “How are things going with you know who?”
I roll my eyes. “Did I tell you she put me on the nightshift?”
“That’s awful but not surprising.” She leans in and whispers, “You should complain to the board.”
“I don’t have any proof she’s doing it to get back at me.”
“They all know who Constance is,” she tells me. “It’s in your best interest to start an official paper trail. They might even be able to intervene and tell her to back off.”
I hadn’t considered that. If Constance has the history she’s reputed to have, that might be all it takes to reinstate my regular schedule. “Thank you for suggesting this, Becky. I’ll make an appointment with someone other than Constance today.”
“Ask for Armie Bader,” she says. “He was good friends with the doctor who sued her for sexual harassment.”
“Good tip.” Then I look at the clock and say, “I’m off in ten to meet my lady friend, so I’d better see if I can contact him now.”
Becky suddenly looks very interested. “I know it’s none of my business,” she says, “but I don’t suppose you’d tell me who you’re dating.”
“Are you going to spread the news around the hospital?” Good dish takes nanoseconds to travel in a hospital.
“I promise I won’t,” she says.
For some reason I believe her. “Her name is Finley.”
“Not Finley Harper?” Becky’s eyes open wide. It seems everyone in town knows her.
“The photographer,” I say.
Becky reaches out and touches my arm. “That girl is a pure delight. She takes my grandbabies’ first pictures, and they are all stunningly special. Be good to her, Thomas,” she warns like I’ll have her to deal with if I’m not.
Apparently, everyone loves Finley. I’m going to have to tell her so she can quit worrying about people finding out she’s on the spectrum. I’m guessing she’s the only one who cares about that.
It’s not that I blame her. It’s got to be tough being around so many different personalities without being able to fully understand motivations. I’ve gotten insights into this from observing my sister’s world.
Vivie works alone in her art studio and only contends with the outside world when she shops or eats out. When she’s feeling overstimulated, she orders her food—groceries as well as meals—to be delivered. She says she doesn’t miss having people around because they exhaust her.
I wonder if Finley feels the same way. Choosing a people-focused profession seems odd for someone on the spectrum, but I suppose it’s called a spectrum for a reason. Autism encompasses a wide variety of symptoms that go far beyond the stereotypical ones.
I stop by the information booth and get the phone number for Armie Bader’s office. Then I find a quiet corner and call. When his secretary asks for the reason I want to meet, I tell her plainly, “It’s regarding a sexual harassment claim.”
She immediately asks if she can put me on hold. Within seconds she’s back on the line. “Dr. Bader can see you now, if you’re free.”
“I’m just getting off my shift. I can be there in five minutes,” I tell her.
I text Finley quickly to let her know I might be a little late for our session, but I assure her it’s for a good reason. Then I speed-walk to the other side of the building.
Unfortunately, Dr. Bader’s office is in the same wing as Constance’s. Even though I shouldn’t be surprised when I run into her, I still rear back like a lion tamer trying to keep his charge from attacking.
“Dr. Culpepper.” She sounds as surprised as I am. I wonder why she’s suddenly decided to address me formally. Up until this point, she’s only called me by my first name.
“Ms. Brucker,” I say, mimicking her tone.
This seems to catch her off guard. “Are you here to see me?” Now she sounds hopeful.
“I’m not.” I don’t elaborate. Instead, I walk around her and announce myself to the person at the front desk. “I’m here to see Dr. Bader.”
Constance sprints to my side. “Why do you need to see Armie?” she demands. Good, she’s nervous.
“It’s a private matter,” I say while looking down at her panicked expression.
She swallows loudly. “Is it something I can help you with?” She suddenly seems very eager to please, which has not been her vibe up to this point. She has been much more interested in what I can do to make her happy.
“I don’t think so,” I tell her.
Before Constance has a chance to try to convince me, a short man in an argyle sweater vest walks out of one of the offices. “Dr. Culpepper?” When I nod in the affirmative, he stretches out his hand and introduces himself. “Armie Bader.”
Taking his hand in a friendly grip, I tell him, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Constance steps forward and addresses Dr. Bader. “I was just explaining to Dr. Culpepper I’d be happy to help him.” She’s clearly on edge that I’ve sought out someone on the board other than herself.
“And I told Ms. Brucker,” I insert, “I really wanted to meet with you, instead.”
Dr. Bader’s gaze shifts between us before he tells Constance, “I’ve got this. But thank you for your interest.” Even though she’s been dismissed, she doesn’t move.
Dr. Bader turns around and asks me to follow him. Once we are in the office, he closes the door. Then he crosses the room and sits down behind a large mahogany desk. “What can I do for you, Dr. Culpepper?”
“Thomas,” I tell him.
He nods his head. “Call me Armie.” He taps the top of his desk with a gold pen. “What’s on your mind, Thomas?”
I sit on one of the winged-back chairs across from him. “I understand you were friends with Dr. Monroe.”
His posture straightens noticeably. “Do you know Bill?”
“I don’t,” I tell him. “But I think he and I share a common complaint.”
Armie releases a growl in the back of his throat before saying, “Go on.”
“Constance Brucker seems to have taken a shine to me,” I tell him.
“And?”
“I don’t feel the same way about her.” After a beat, I add, “She’s making things uncomfortable.”
Armie rolls his eyes. “What is she doing?”
“She asked me to be her date to the Spring Fling, and she doesn’t want to take no for an answer.
” Armie gestures for me to keep talking.
I tell him, “I explained to her that I have a lady friend. After declining her offer on three separate occasions, she’s decided to put me on the night shift.
” I hurriedly add, “Which she made clear she would not do when I signed my contract.”
He leans forward on his elbows. Entwining his fingers, he asks, “Is that contingency specifically noted in your contract?”
“It’s not. I don’t know why I didn’t make sure it was, I suppose I just trusted Ms. Brucker.”
Armie exhales loudly enough to express irritation. “I assume you know why Bill left.” When I nod in the affirmative, he continues, “We learned a lot about the nuances of the law during that time.”
“I imagine you did,” I tell him.
He explains, “In order to prove sexual harassment, you need to have several instances that show a pattern.” I nod again, so he concludes, “It sounds like you don’t quite have that yet.”
“Not quite, but I’m getting there.” Then I tell him, “I will not be renewing my contract if this doesn’t get cleared up. In fact, I might look into breaking it.”
Armie nods his head. “I’ll talk to the rest of the board and let them know what’s going on. We’ll issue Constance a warning.”
“Thank you.”
Looking concerned, he says, “We’d like to settle this without legal action.”
“I would rather it not go that far, either,” I tell him. “I just want to be able to come into work without having to deal with a vindictive boss.”
Standing up, he says. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention. Please know we’re on your side here.”
I follow his lead and get up. “I appreciate your help, Armie. I’m not a litigious person by nature. I just want to be able to come to work in peace.”
“I hope that’s the outcome.” Offering his hand again, he says, “Let me know if Constance gives you any more trouble. We all need to keep records in case this goes further.”
As I walk out of Armie Bader’s office, I can’t help but wonder how many women have gone through similar situations.
I imagine it’s been much harder on them as they have historically been the primary recipient of sexual misconduct.
And up until recent years, their claims have by and large been swept under the rug.
I can’t help but feel that as a man I should just suck it up and take it. But I also want this kind of abuse to end for everyone. No one should have to go to their job and feel like they’re working for the enemy.
As I walk out the door in the direction of the parking lot, my phone rings. When I see who it is, I merely turn it off and keep going.