Chapter 9 #2
“We’ll have daily meet-ups. Most of them in the mornings.
We can go for walks, you can play music if you feel like it.
And while we do all that, we’ll talk. I’m not going to push you.
If there are days you want to take it easy, that’s fine.
This is your pace. Along the way, we’ll figure out which therapies might help you most, so I can refer you to my specialist colleagues. ”
“Wicked.”
“You’re also welcome to join my yoga classes. If that’s not your thing, there are plenty of other on-site activities like meditation, gardening, sports, or art classes. I think you could benefit from some of that.”
“Wicked.”
My brows lift. I cover it with a cough. “You’ll find the full schedule at the front desk. You know where that is.”
The smirk he shoots back feels like a middle finger in my face. It’s a feeling I need to ignore.
“I usually have patients for acupuncture, massage, or chiropractic work in the afternoon, but I’m around in the evenings. Mostly I’m in the gym or doing paperwork in my studio. If you need me, you’ll know where to find me.”
“Thanks, Yosh. I appreciate it.”
“I won’t be around tonight. I’ve got an early appointment in Saint Luna tomorrow, so I’m leaving later today. I’ll be back late afternoon tomorrow. After your biometric screening with Rebecka, you’ll have some free time. If you want, we can meet after dinner. Same time, same place as yesterday?”
His lips twitch. “Sounds like a plan.”
“Good.” Relief washes through me. I haven’t been cut by Tom’s prickly thorns today, and more than that, he actually showed me the first glimpse of his vulnerable side.
I offer him another tissue so he can clear his face, and with it, a smile meant to tell him everything he needs to know: that he’s being heard, and that his words are safe with me.
“I think that’s enough for today. Do you have any questions for me so far?”
Tom shakes his head, standing up from the couch. “No. You gave me lots to think about.”
I wait, just to see if he’ll add anything. He doesn’t.
“Let’s take a short walk. I need to pass by Erin’s office.”
We step outside. I gather my hair and twist it into a messy bun before the wind gets a chance to blow it in my face.
Tom walks beside me, focused on the terrace ahead of us where the ocean melts into the sky. He looks more at ease than yesterday. Maybe even more than the day before. I don’t think he realizes it himself.
“Are you okay after our conversation, Tom?”
“I’m okay. I already feel… lighter, if I can describe it like that.”
“That makes sense. Letting things out can do that. But if things feel heavy again, you don’t have to be alone. You have my number, right? You can call anytime. Even at night.”
“Don't worry, Doc, I'll be fine.”
My unsolicited look of skepticism makes him laugh. “Okay, maybe not always fine, but I’ll manage. That's what I meant to say.”
“Happy to hear that.”
He looks back up at me.
“Yosh, can I ask you something?”
The curiosity in his voice puts me on guard. Not in a bad way this time. It's just that over the past few days I've learned that his mind works in unpredictable ways.
My lips twitch. “You can ask, I can’t promise I’ll answer.”
That has a fist coming for my shoulder, and he lets out this soft scoff that dissolves in a grin.
“Good. I like working for it.”
I feel my cheeks warm. “Go on, McKenna,” I say quickly.
He licks his lips as he turns more serious.
“If you could have a conversation with your past self, what would you say?”
I certainly did not expect that one, but I honestly enjoy this approach. Perhaps this is the way he processes things, by taking thoughts from others, trying to make sense of something. I don’t mind it. If anything, I encourage it.
“Probably nothing he’d listen to.” A secret challenge to see what he makes of it.
Tom huffs a quiet laugh. “Why does everyone say that?”
“Because it’s a cliché. We all think we’d listen, but we never do.”
I can see his sharp mind working. It’s kind of amusing, watching the gears turn behind his magnetic sapphires.
“Alright, fine. Let’s say he would listen. What’s the one thing you’d want him to know?”
“That it’s okay to want something for himself.”
“And have you?”
My chest tightens. “Have I what?”
“Got something for yourself.”
A flood of nausea goes through my body before it settles deep in my stomach. That nausea feels unsettlingly pleasant in a way that makes me want to hold onto it, and keep it a little longer than I’m allowed to.
I’ve buried that feeling a long time ago, but I still recognize its impact. It’s dangerous. And it’s wrong. Because standing here in front of him, I feel that want.
Tom watches me, waiting for me to answer. The dark smudges of make-up under his eyes make him look raw, and for that, I see art in its purest form.
“I’m working on it,” I say eventually.
We stop near the pool where we’ll split ways. He parts his lips like he’s about to say something, but then just nods instead.
“Yeah, me too…” he murmurs, giving me one final look before turning and walking away.