Everything Changes #2
The words are so professional they almost sound cruel. I know she does not mean them that way, but that doesn’t make them hurt less.
“No.”
She looks back.
“I’m done for today.”
“Jamie, your shoulder—”
“Is fine.”
I reach for the door.
“Please don’t leave like this.”
I stop with my hand on the handle but do not turn around. “How else am I supposed to leave?”
She has no answer. Neither do I.
I open the door and walk out of the room, past the therapy equipment, the front desk and every ordinary place that has somehow become part of us.
For the first time since I began rehabilitation, I leave without looking back.
***
Annette
The door closes behind Jamie with a soft click.
For several seconds, I remain exactly where I am, one hand resting on the back of the chair, the other still wrapped around the edge of the desk.
I cannot seem to make either one move.
Outside the consultation room, the rehabilitation gym continues exactly as it always has.
Someone laughs. A therapist counts repetitions. A printer hums somewhere near the nurses' station.
Life moves forward with remarkable indifference to the fact that mine has just stopped.
I draw one slow breath. Then another. Neither one seems to reach my lungs.
A knock sounds gently against the open doorway. "Annette?"
I turn too quickly. Elise stands there holding another patient's chart.
"I thought your ten-thirty was in here."
"He left."
Something in my voice must answer the question before Elise can ask it.
She quietly sets the chart on the corner of the desk.
"You don't have another patient for forty-five minutes."
I nod.
"I know."
She hesitates. "Do you need anything?"
The question is kind enough to undo what little composure I have left.
I shake my head because speaking feels dangerous. Elise takes one step into the room before stopping again.
"I'll cover the front if you need a few minutes."
She doesn't wait for an answer. She simply leaves, closing the door behind her.
The silence returns. This time...it wins.
I sink into the chair Jamie had been standing beside only moments earlier.
My hands begin trembling almost immediately, not dramatically, but just enough that I drop them into my lap to keep the shaking from spreading.
“What have I done?”
The words come out as little more than a whisper. I already know the answer.
Exactly what I intended. Exactly what I had decided needed to be done.
I protected him.
At least...that's what I've been telling myself.
The memory of his face refuses to leave me. You don't get to decide what you are to me.
I close my eyes. "I know."
A tear slips free before I can stop it. Then another. I let them fall. There seems little point pretending otherwise when I'm alone.
For months I have watched Jamie fight his way back from believing his career was over.
I watched him learn to ask for help, learn to rest, learn that leadership didn't require carrying every burden alone.
Somewhere during all of that...
I forgot to notice what was happening to me.
Or maybe I noticed and simply hoped it would disappear.
It didn't.
Instead, I fell in love with my patient.
No. Not with my patient, with Jamie.
I press the heels of my hands against my eyes.
None of that was supposed to happen. None of it.
A soft knock interrupts my thoughts. This time it's Mrs. Alvarez.
She doesn't ask permission before stepping inside. She has worked in this clinic for nearly thirty years. She has probably seen every emotion recovery can create.
She studies my face only briefly. "You told him goodbye."
It's not a question. I nod.
"He wasn't ready, but…” I swallow hard. "I was."
Mrs. Alvarez smiles sadly. "No, sweetheart." She walks over and sits in the chair beside me. "I don't think you were."
Fresh tears blur my vision.
"I’m trying to do the right thing."
"I know."
"I thought if I stepped back now..." My voice breaks. "...it would hurt less later."
Mrs. Alvarez reaches over and gently covers my hand with hers. "And how's that working?"
I laugh through the tears. A tiny, broken sound. "Not very well."
She squeezes my hand once. "Sometimes the right thing and the safe thing aren't the same thing."
I stare at the floor.
"What if I made everything harder for him?"
"What if you made everything harder for both of you?"
The room falls quiet. Outside, someone wheels another cart past the doorway. Another ordinary Thursday, except nothing feels ordinary anymore.
Mrs. Alvarez stands after a moment. Before leaving, she pauses beside the door.
"For what it's worth..."
I look up. "I've watched Jamie Walker walk into this clinic for months."
She smiles gently. "He never once looked around the room to find his therapist."
She lets that sentence settle. "He always looked around the room to find you."
Then she quietly leaves. I remain sitting there long after the door closes. Eventually my eyes drift to the consultation room calendar hanging beside the desk.
Today's appointments.
Tomorrow's.
Next week's.
At the bottom of Jamie's file, someone has clipped the updated rehabilitation schedule.
Remaining Therapy Sessions: 6
Six.
Yesterday it felt like too few.
Today...it feels impossible.