Page 36 of As Long As You'll Have Me
Okay yeah, maybe a little deranged.
Cute jammies, by the way. I like the strawberries ;)
What?
Oh…thanks I was about to head to bed since I’m a grandma. This is what I do to wind down and chill before going to sleep.
Oh shoot am I keeping you up? I’m sorry I can let you go.
No it’s fine. I told you to reach out if you needed anything, I’m glad you did.
Is there anything you want to talk about?
I know it’s her job to ask but the question still stings. I force out a breath and stare at my phone before replying.
Not really. Getting to see your deranged bunny was enough. I appreciate you texting me back, doc.
Of course. Maybe we can pick up this conversation on Thursday when I see you again?
Thursday sounds good.
Have a good night Hanna.
You too, Miles
Looking at the screen, I consider sending another message. Something. Anything. But I also don’t want to keep her up or be the reason she doesn’t get to finish her project. She would be someone who crochets. I laugh to myself thinking about her curled up on her couch, needles in hand, twisting and turning the yarn until it becomes something entirely new.Maybe I should get a hobby,I think to myself but the thought is gone as quickly as it comes.
Tapping on the photo she sent, I zoom in on the corner where I can see a sliver of her leg and a pair of pajama shorts just out of reach. Strawberry pajamas and deranged looking crocheted bunnies. Guess there’s more to the good doctor than meets the eye. Maybe one day if I’m lucky, she’ll let me see this side of her more often.
16
HANNA
I’d successfully prevented myself from texting him to see how he was doing all week. Successfully, but barely. There were multiple times I reached for my phone to send him a message while walking to my office, heading home, and sitting on my couch at the end of the day. I stared at our text thread trying to come up with a way to open up the conversation. Sure, I wanted to check in on how he is doing, but more than that I wanted to text him simply so I could talk to him.
When my phone buzzed on my coffee table late Sunday night, I expected it to be Rae or my parents. My stomach did a somersault when I saw his name on my phone screen. Not because I was panicked or worried, but because I was excited he texted me, which is definitelynotwhat I should be feeling when a patient reaches out after hours. I thought I handled the conversation well enough. I kept it polite yet professional. Except my slipup of sending him the picture with my exposed leg in the corner. I thought I managed to keep myself out of frame. When he pointed out my pajamas,I nearly gave myself a concussion after smacking myself in the forehead.
Of course he pointed out my pajamas.
I’m still embarrassed by the way my cheeks flushed when he called them cute.
I don’t have time to think about that though since I’m running late getting into the office as Rae and I had chatted a little too long. She tried to raze me about ‘my cute fireman’ but I retaliated by asking her about her future husband. My retaliation didn’t get me very far because unlike me, she had been brave enough to finally text him and they have dinner plans this weekend.
Lucky bitch.
Unlocking the front door, I step inside and flip the lights on with a smile. My practice space isn’t a lot, but it’s me. Artwork hangs on the walls and the chairs I picked out make the space feel cozy. I worked hard to go out on my own and will never not be grateful for getting to this point so early in my career. My feet carry me to my office and I quickly unpack, setting my planner on my desk and tucking my lunch into the mini fridge. Flipping my laptop open, I cross-check my digital appointment booking system with what I have down for today’s sessions. Today is a full day with five appointments on the books—two in the morning and three in the afternoon. I smile to myself looking at my morning lineup.
10:00 a.m. - M. Adler
11:00 a.m. - C. Miller
Conrad has been coming to see me now for a couple months and while he might see our sessions as nothing shortof pure, inhumane torture, I personally look forward to them week after week. He’s one of those classic cases of an adult trying to work through unresolved childhood trauma. For him, this has manifested into a hard exterior he uses as a defense mechanism to close people out and keep them at a distance. He tries, though, which is what matters. Thankfully for him, he has a rock solid support group around him in the form of three friends he talks about every time he comes in. If he isn’t talking about whatever nonsense his dog has gotten him into, he talks about them. Even though I’ve only been seeing him since September, he’s made immense progress in his healing. Not all on his own, I think he has someone in his life making him a little more chipper than usual which makes me happy for him.
I spend the next hour taking notes on my clients for the day and billing those I’ve seen earlier in the week. I do my best to keep up with the admin portion of my work so I don’t have to stay late on Fridays to get it done. Before I know it, Miles’s session is about to start. Looking up at the clock, my stomach flips knowing he’s going to be here soon. We made it through our last session just fine but that was before the ‘cute PJs’ comment and me sending him a picture of my crocheted rabbit. I hope he didn’t read anything into our messages, I was only trying to be nice. A professional. Someone following through on the offer they had made.
At least that’s what I’m telling myself.
I wipe my hands down the front of my pants as I stand from my desk. A fresh cup of coffee sounds like just the thing I need to take the edge off. Grabbing my phone, I head for the lobby and then the hallway to the building kitchen to use the coffee machine since I don’t keep one in my office. Pulling my phone out of my pocket to check my texts, Istep into the hallway and promptly run into a body that feels more like a brick wall than a human.
