Anastasia Chapter 2 #3
I knew that he wasn’t doing it to show dominance. He was sticking to his manners. I eventually gave in, but only after he promised that next time it would be on me. Sam walked me to my car and even opened the door. Before I shut my door, he bent over to peer in at me.
“Anastasia, I had another great time. Will you go out with me again?”
Without hesitation, I answered him. “I enjoyed it so much, Sam. Yes, if you want to go out or even hang out again, I’ll do it.”
“Thank you. Drive safely. Text me when you get back to the office so I know you made it.”
“You drive safely, too. And I’ll text. Thank you, Sam.”
With that resolved, he shut my door, then stepped back and stayed where he was until I reached the parking lot entrance. Then, he walked off to find his vehicle. I knew this due to watching him in my rearview mirror.
As I drove back to work, I was trying not to get ahead of myself. Two successful meet-ups alone didn’t mean he and I were compatible. But I looked forward to finding out.
When I arrived back at work, I headed up to the desk to tell Morgana I was back. There was no one in the waiting area. I still had fifteen minutes until my next appointment.
“Hey, I’m back,” I said.
Morgana startled, then sighed. “You gave me a heart attack. I didn’t hear you come in. How was it?”
“The food was great. We’ll have to go there sometime. Definitely worth the cheat day.”
“Great to know, but I wasn’t referring to the food. I want to know about the company. How was he? Are you seeing him again?” Morgana rattled off her questions rapidly.
I was about to reply when the door opened, and my next patient walked in. I greeted her and said I’d be with her shortly before I walked away. Morgana hissed softly.
“We’ll talk later.”
I knew she wouldn’t forget. And I didn’t mind. She was both a friend and my employee. I had three chiropractic assistants, with whom I got along very well. But they weren’t friends like Morgana.
I went to the bathroom, brushed my teeth, used the toilet, and washed my hands before I went to my office.
When I was told which room to go to, I rose from my desk and went.
This patient was a regular. Mrs. Irma Washington came to see me every other week.
She had arthritis and chronic migraines.
Irma swore that the only thing that kept her mobile and her migraines under control was me.
I’d tried to deny it, but she refused to hear it.
I knew I helped, but the medications she took had a part in it, too.
“Oh, Anastasia, that feels incredible, as always,” Irma sighed when I was finished. I had moist heat compresses on her neck and the major joints she complained the most about hurting.
“I’m glad. Did your doctor change your medication as we talked about last time?” I asked, washing my hands.
“He didn’t. Said he wanted to give the old stuff time to work. It’s been four months. If it were going to happen, it would’ve,” Irma muttered.
I agreed with her. Approaching it delicately, since I didn’t want to overstep, I offered her a recommendation.
“You know, you are entitled to a second opinion if you want. Maybe someone else has a different idea on how to treat you.”
The reason I said anything was that I’d been hearing how this doctor not only treated Irma but also a few of my other patients who had been seeing him for the past two years.
My personal opinion, which I didn’t share with patients, was that the doctor was old-fashioned and refused to keep up with current treatment options.
He didn’t like chiropractors. He refused to refer to us and called what we did quack medicine.
I removed the hot compresses and then helped her to sit up. Irma nodded as she sighed.
“I believe you’re right, my dear. I’ve wasted enough time on him. As always, it’s a delight to see you, and for more than the pain relief. I’ll let you know how it goes at our next session.”
“I can’t wait. Take care.”
I walked her to the front. If I had time, I preferred to hand my patients off to Morgana.
When Irma was happily chatting away, I went back to my office—the rest of the day passed quickly—nothing out of the ordinary.
By the time the last patients left, I knew I had paperwork and a conversation to finish. I minded neither.
I settled behind my desk and, while I waited for Morgana to come for her answers, I worked on my charting.
I tried to do it between sessions whenever possible, but it wasn’t always feasible.
I said goodbye to my assistants as they left for the day.
At a quarter after five, Morgana walked into my office. She gave me the look. One I knew well.
She sat across from my desk as she said. “Spill, Stasia. How did the lunch go? And I don’t mean did you like the food, though that is a plus.”
“It went really well. Sam and I talked comfortably and found out a lot more about each other. And…I agreed to go out with him again.”
She let out a squeal and then urged me on. “Tell me more.”
So that’s what I did. I tried not to get ahead of myself, but it felt good for once to look forward to getting to know someone. And even better to contemplate the possibility of potential there.