Chapter 38
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
THOMAS
I feel bad I haven’t been in touch with Finley more since I canceled our second date.
I should have at least called her, but I was afraid I’d say more than I should.
Even so, getting to know her better is a big part of my decision about whether I want to stay in Elk Lake.
Which makes me doubly excited to see her tonight.
I had originally thought I’d introduce Finley to my parents as a love interest, but now that my future is so uncertain, I think it’s best to just say she’s my friend, even though Vivie knows the truth about her.
Armie Bader was remarkably receptive to my ending my employment at the hospital.
I’m guessing he might have even been relieved because he assured me there were no hard feelings.
He also mentioned he would personally choose my replacement.
In the meantime, he’s hired a traveling doctor to fill in for me.
I’m not going to tell my parents I’ve left my job. They would take my discontent as a sure sign that I should come home, and I don’t need the extra pressure.
I’ve had a great few days with Edward. Strangely, I don’t find what he does boring.
It’s not like he sees a bunch of patients with exotic illnesses, either.
It’s primarily been ailments like the flu, eczema, and strep throat, with a few others sent out for additional testing.
The same conditions in a hospital setting would have bored me to tears, but it really is different here.
To keep rumors at bay, Edward has introduced me as his associate.
I realized it would be a lot easier for gossip to spread if my full name were used, which is why he refers to me as Dr. T.
I haven’t interacted with the patients a lot.
I mostly sit back and watch Edward do his thing. Which is quite impressive.
He doesn’t rush his people through, like we do in the hospital. Instead, he chats with them about their lives and their families. He small talks about things going on in town, and he’s even offered dining recommendations. Only then does he perform a physical exam.
He told me that by starting out slowly, people are less anxious about why they’re at the doctor’s office.
He shared that those who get nervous, and have higher blood pressure readings because of it, will have more accurate readings after a nice chat.
Patients who are inclined to embellish their symptoms suddenly don’t.
Edward very wisely told me that people just want to be seen and heard. He said that a lot of them come to a doctor before medical intervention is needed simply to feel like someone cares. He gives them that before tending to their complaints.
One woman told Edward she’d not been feeling well since her husband died eight months earlier. Edward assured her, “We’ll do all the necessary tests to find out if there’s a problem.” Then he added, “But grief hurts. Not just emotionally, it can cause real physical pain.”
Helen, his patient, seemed relieved to hear this. She told Edward, “My world stopped spinning when John died, but everyone else just keeps moving forward.”
“It doesn’t seem right, does it?” he asked.
She simply burst into tears. “I don’t expect everyone to feel as badly as I do, but most of our friends have stopped checking in. Even our kids have kept living like the most devastating thing in the world didn’t just happen to me.”
“Everyone mourns differently,” Edward told her. “Just because they don’t show it on the outside doesn’t mean they aren’t grieving, too.”
After he examined Helen, he assured her that her physical health looked great, but he told her that her emotional health needed tending to.
Most doctors would have probably told her she was fine and sent her on her merry way.
But Edward gave Helen a referral to a counselor, he offered her suggestions about attending a support group, and he even advised she talk to her pastor.
Then he excused himself and went to his office.
When he came back, he was carrying a small white bag.
In it was a large ginger snap he’d bought at Rosemary’s that morning.
He gave it to Helen and told her, “They’re not magic, but they’re pretty great.
” Then he winked at her and said, “Do nice things for yourself while you grieve, Helen. You’re worth it. ”
She left the building with a smile on her face. Not because she was suddenly happy but because Edward took the time to validate her feelings. He showed her that he cared. He saw her and it was a beautiful thing to witness.
I’m only going in for half a day today because I want to get to the store and fill up the house with food for my family.
I don’t feel secure enough on the highway to pick them up at the airport myself—not that there would be enough room in my car.
Instead, I hired Kevin next door to collect them.
I can only imagine what my mom is going to think when she gets a load of his old Cadillac.
I leave work later than I had planned because our last patient had a very questionable looking lump in his throat. Edward called a colleague who’s an ear, nose, and throat specialist to see him right away.
Once the man left, Edward told me, “I’d bet my left foot it’s cancer.”
We talked for over an hour about how hard it is when people get a bad diagnosis.
Unlike my job in the ER—where we see patients and then either admit them or send them home—Edward continues to track his patients’ journeys.
Even when they’re referred to specialists, he stays on their case.
I can see why he finds his job so rewarding.
On my way from Edward’s clinic to the grocery store, I see Finley walking down the street. Pulling over, I give the horn a brief tap to get her attention. She doesn’t even stop and look. Hurrying to park, I get out and call, “Finley!”
Again, she ignores me. I wonder if she has earbuds in or something. Jogging over to her, I touch her arm and say, “Hey, you. Long time no see.”
She stops walking but she doesn’t turn in my direction. Instead, with her back to me, she responds, “I’ve been in the same place I’ve always been.”
Uh-oh, I’m in the doghouse. “I’m sorry I haven’t called but I’ve been super busy at work,” I tell her. “I’ve missed seeing you.”
That causes her to spin around so quickly she almost loses her balance. Regaining her footing, she looks at me and demands, “Really?”
“Yes.” I have no idea what’s going on with her, but whatever it is, it’s making me nervous. “I’ve been burning the candle at both ends.”
I’m about to explain the idiom means, when she snaps, “I know what it means.”
This is certainly not how I thought it would go when I saw Finley again. She’s really mad at me. Other than my not talking to her for a few days, I can’t imagine why. And even then, I told her I was going to be busy this week.
I decide a change of subject is in order. “So how does the calendar look? Is it amazing? Can I come into the shop and see it?”
“It’s fine,” she says with no inflection in her voice to give credence to that statement. “And no, you can’t see it now. I have a client coming in.”
“You could just hand it to me. I wouldn’t have to go through it there.”
“No,” she replies. “I’ll see you at your house at five.
I need to go.” Then she turns around and practically sprints away from me.
I briefly wonder if Frankie might have some insights into what’s going on here.
Out of the three men I talked to about Finley, he was the one who seemed most battle-savvy.
I figure there’s no point in going after her now; she clearly doesn’t want to talk to me. Which makes me uneasy about her meeting my family. Maybe I should cancel with her for tonight and set something up for another day. Although, I’m guessing that will only make her madder.
I turn around and get back into my car and go to the grocery store.
I buy everything I can think of that will impress my mother and help convince her that I don’t live at the very edge of the earth.
But being that Elk Lake doesn’t carry the same selection she’s used to in Manhattan, I probably haven’t succeeded.
When I get home, I turn up the thermostat and put fresh logs in the fireplace. Then I make sure the spare rooms are ready to go. At four thirty on the dot, I see Adelaide pull into the driveway. I hurry out to help Kevin get the luggage out of the trunk.
When I reach his side, I ask, “How did it go?”
“We’re here, aren’t we?” I can’t tell if he’s acting normally or if he’s annoyed at having been trapped with my mother in a car for over an hour.
When the doors open, I hurry around to help my mom. My first thought is she looks totally wrung out. Then she throws her arms around me and declares, “I can’t believe we made it.”
My dad walks up behind me and claps me on the shoulder. “What a journey!”
Clearly, there’s a bigger story than Kevin picking them up in a less than respectable car.
“Where’s Vivie?” I ask.
“Lying down in the backseat,” my dad says. “She’s had quite a day.”
“We all have,” my mom interjects.
“What happened?” I want to know.
“Let’s go inside first,” my mother says. “I have to use the restroom.”
“What about Vivie?” I peer in the back window and see that she’s sleeping.
Kevin walks past us and puts my parents’ luggage on the porch. When he passes back in our direction, he says, “Let her rest. I’ll walk home from here and get the car later.”
I reach into my pocket and pull out forty bucks for his tip, but he waves it away. “Tommy,” he says. “I felt bad taking the money for the fare, but you booked it on the app so I had to. I’m not taking a tip, too.”
“This is your job, Kevin,” I remind him while pushing the money at him.
He still doesn’t take it. Instead, he turns to my parents and says, “Morgan, Jason, I hope I get a chance to see you before you go back to New York.”
My mother uncharacteristically reaches out and gives my neighbor a hug. “Pickles,”—the use of his nickname is more startling than anything—“thank you for all your help.” He hugs her back before shaking my dad’s hand.
As he walks away, I lead my parents inside my house. Then I ask, “What in the world happened out there?”
“First point me to the bathroom,” my mom says. I do as I’m told and she walks away.
Turning to my father, I demand, “What’s going on, Dad?”
“It was a rough flight,” he says. He crosses the room and sits on the sofa before saying, “I don’t suppose you have any vodka.”
My dad drinks socially only, and never before supper, which makes his question truly unnerving. “I bought a bottle today,” I tell him. “How do you want it?”
“Straight,” he says, once again making me jumpy. “Your mom will have one with whatever juice you have on hand.”
This is a true emergency if my mom is drinking hard alcohol. Hurrying to the kitchen, I quickly prepare both cocktails for my parents and then bring them back to the living room. When I get there I find that my mom has returned. She’s sitting down next to my dad with her head on his shoulder.
“Reinforcements,” I announce while handing over their beverages. My dad makes quick work of his, but my mom takes it slower. Sitting down on one of the chairs across from them, I ask, “What happened?”
“Rough flight,” my dad says. “There was a lot of turbulence.”
“And that baby!” my mom interjects like Satan’s spawn was onboard. “I have never heard a baby scream for over two hours without falling asleep.”
I’m starting to understand why my sister is sleeping it off in the car. “That must have been hard on Vivie,” I say.
My mom slumps down in her seat, which effectively makes her look like a lost child. “My poor baby,” she says.
My dad explains, “The infant was right behind us, so the headphones did little to drown out the noise. Your sister did her best to distract herself, but then the turbulence started and it was too much stimulation all at once.”
It’s been years since Vivie has completely lost it due to external overload, but it has happened before. “What did she do?” I ask.
“She pulled out her piece of sandpaper and rubbed it hard enough that her fingers began to bleed. When I tried to take it away from her she screamed at me and just kept rubbing,” my mom says.
“I gave her an additional sedative,” my dad interjects, “but you know how these things go. Sometimes too much has a reverse reaction.”
Many autistic people have heightened reactions to different substances and in some cases, including my sister’s, often have paradoxical reactions.
For instance, caffeine makes Vivie tired and most sleeping medications actually stimulate her.
It took a long time for my parents to find the perfect calming cocktail.
My heart sinks at hearing this. “Poor Vivie,” I say. I feel responsible for this happening. Had I not moved here, she wouldn’t have been on a plane to come see me. She would have remained comfortably at home in the bubble she knows.
My mom takes a sip of her drink before saying, “Your sister is such a fighter and she does so well most of the time. This is going to feel like a real setback to her.”
“I was going to take you all to supper tonight,” I tell them, “But maybe we should order in, instead.”
“That’s a good idea, Thomas,” my mom says. “I think Vivienne might need a couple of days to recuperate.”
Trying to play the good host, I ask, “While we wait for suppertime, can I get you guys something to snack on?”
My mom is the first to respond. “Do you have any cheese?”
If I didn’t already know what a tough day they’d just had, her response would be enough to alert me that all was not well.
“I have cheddar,” I tell her.
My mom snuggles into dad and replies, “Perfect.”