My eyes wandered down the empty street, watching as passing winds carried the crisp fallen leaves of an early autumn. They crackled and whipped the street as they were carried far into the distance. I inhaled deeply, breathing in the sweet nicotine as I smoked. Leaning against the weather damaged building, I watched as ashes fell to the ground and were swept into the breeze. I silently took in the fresh air and breathed in slowly with my eyes gently closed. It was my least favorite time of the year, but flu season was among us.
"Hey, Logan!" I tilted my head to the left and saw him running hastily down the sidewalk toward me. I could not help but grin as he lost his balance and nearly fell on to his face. Finally catching up to me, he smiled in embarrassment.
"Have a nice trip?" I asked, putting the cigarette to my lips. "See you next fall." His usual pale face turned into a brilliant shade of scarlet as he nervously chewed his lip.
"It is fall," he said smoothly, in attempt to redeem himself.
"Next fall," I corrected, inhaling with a smile. "It's different." He grinned, his bright white teeth flashing.
"Yeah, whatever, man."
"So, how have you been, Trevor?"
"I'm doing alright. Just getting by, I guess." Even though he smiled, I caught a small glimpse of bitterness in his eyes. I could not help but notice he was cloaked in white powder from head to toe; it nearly matched his golden locks.
"You sure it isn't winter?" I teased pointing to his shirt.
"Oh, that," he laughed, attempting to wipe it off his black shirt. "I just had a bit of an accident earlier."
"A bit, huh?"
"Okay, maybe a big mishap. The flour was on the top shelf and…" his voice trailed off, his thoughts elsewhere. However, only seconds later he came to his senses and smiled bashfully. "I guess it's pretty self-explanatory." He could not hide the pained expression from me, as hard as he tried. I knew the reason behind the mask he fabricated to everyone else.
We lived in a relatively small town where strangers were rather uncommon. This town, Threed, was home to families that had been here for generations. Trevor worked at the bakery with the owner, his father. Business was well, but in truth, his father was an unpleasant man.
"If you didn't work at a bakery, I'd call you butter-fingers," I snickered, trying to settle the tension. "But in this case, it's probably true."
"Yeah," he smiled, but I doubt he heard me. Grunting, I dropped the cigarette and we watched as the smoke simmered into nothing. "So, how's work going?" he asked, his eyes glued to the ground.
"It's busier than I would like," I admitted, taking in a deep breath. "With fall approaching early this year, we're in for a long flu season."
"It's busy, then?"
"Brutal." The thought of the towering stack of paperwork caused me to shudder.
"The town's lucky to have a doctor like you," he said softly, his face thoughtful as he stared off into space. His lips were formed into a warm smile. "We don't need a big fancy hospital with you here. Everyone owes you a great deal, Logan."
I nodded, but did not respond. From my peripherals, I saw a young boy lost in thought. With a soft sigh, my eyelids became heavier in the drowsy fall air. They closed shut as a passing breeze carried the warm aroma of maple from nearby trees. Trevor either did not notice or did not care as I dozed against the clinic's wall.
"Doctor Collard!" My eyes snapped open, my body alert and ready. I cocked my head and saw my head nurse, May Miles, at the front entrance. She scowled as she approached, her long blonde hair nestled on her right shoulder. "You were supposed to be back ten minutes ago. You have an appointment with Mr. Green in five minutes."
"Alright, I'm sorry," I apologized, allowing May to let out her frustration. She was not looking forward to this busy season any more than I was. Besides, she was not really angry; she had a heart of gold. With a smile, she nodded approvingly.
"Why hello there, Trevor!" she greeted, her attention turned toward the young blushing stag.
"Hey, May," he replied, his confidence exceeding his bashfulness. His sparking blue eyes smiled in unison with his mouth. "How have you been?"
"I've been alright. A little busy here and there," she responded. "The only problem is this big oaf," she laughed, playfully punching me in the arm. I grinned, giving a thoughtful shrug. "Speaking of which, you need to get back to work, Logan."
"Fine, fine."
"I'll see you around, Trevor!" she said, waving farewell. She shot me a look before she went back inside.
"I guess I have to go," I muttered, glancing over at my friend. His face was still a bit blush.
"Yeah, I should be, too," he nearly whispered. I gave him a quick glance before heading back to work myself. He must have snapped to, because I heard him call out my name.
"Yeah?" I asked, turning my head to meet his eye.
"Have a good day, 'kay?"
I smiled and flashed him a wink. "You bet." He laughed, waved, and jogged back to the bakery, which was only a few buildings from the clinic. Cramming my hands into my white coat's pockets, I hurried to my office to attend to my patient.
Any happiness I had that day vanished when I saw the stacks of papers that devoured my desk. I cursed under my breath and tried to clear out a spot to work. Somewhere in my mind, I knew I had to clean my workspace, but I was a professional procrastinator. Out of frustration, all the papers ended up turning into one gigantic stack, not organized in the slightest. There was an abrupt thud as my head planted on the desk, a low grumble escaping my throat.
"Logan?" My eyes shifted to the door, May standing in the doorway with a white mug with steam billowing from its rim.
"Who's the meeting with? Mr. Yellow?"
"Green," she corrected, grinning. "You're not acting very professional today, are you?"
"I'm sorry," I apologized, grinning warmly. "I really should be acting my age, shouldn't I?"
"Well, I honestly don't think it's necessarily a bad thing, Logan," she pondered, tapping her nails on the ceramic cup. "Childish behavior is sometimes a nice change than the destructive nature of adults."
"Wow, that was quite sophisticated," I pointed out, leaning back in my chair. "Where did that come from?"
"Oh, I'm sorry." She shook her head and gifted me a kind smile. "Here's your coffee, Doctor." Her hands move from the handle and cupped the base, gently placing it in my hand. My fingers seized the handle and immediately, I brought cup to my face, inhaling the warm steamy fragrance.
"What's the flavor today?"
"French vanilla with cinnamon," she explained.
"And did you put in-"
"Yes," she interrupted, grinning confidently. "Two sugars, two creams. I know, Logan."
"I really should give you more credit," I muttered, rubbing the back of my head.
"Maybe you should," she smirked, flipping a strand of her blonde hair from her face. "I am also going to assume that you don't know where Mr. Green's paperwork is, do you?"
"Eh…"
May boomed in laughter, her teeth flashing. "That's what I thought!" She held a clipboard that held a small stack of papers. "I made you a copy of mine."
"You know me too well, May."
"Someone needs to keep you in line, Logan." She twirled her finger around a strand of her goldilocks hair, placing the patient's documents on top of the huge stack on my desk.
"Go look over it for a second and I'll let Mr. Green inside." With a few quick skips, she frolicked to the waiting room, disappearing within seconds.
"Fine, Mom," I smirked as soon as she was out of earshot, grabbing the chart and quickly giving it a glance. I crossed my legs, seizing the handle to the freshly brewed coffee, sipping it contently. According to his paperwork, Lawrence Green was relatively healthy, aside from a past case depression and mono. Before I could take another sip, a middle-aged man stood in the doorway, nervously shifting his eyes around the office. Tiny beads of sweat dripped from his forehead.
"Mr. Collard?"
"Oh, hello there, Mr. Green," I greeted with a smile, standing up and raising my arm for a handshake. Oddly enough, he hesitated before grasping my hand, with a weak grip. I also could not help but notice how uncomfortably sweaty his hand was. "Uh, please take a seat."
"Okay." Green inspected the worn-out chair before wearily taking a seat. His eyes wandered around the mess that I referred to as my desk.
"Sorry about this," I apologized, awkwardly laughing. I took a seat in my own chair. "I haven't had time to thoroughly clean out my office."
"It's completely fine," he assured, running his fingers through his thinning hair; he gulped loudly.
"If I'm not mistaken," I started, picking up and reviewing his chart. "You just had your regularly scheduled checkup two weeks ago and that you scheduled this one just last night."
"Yes, that's correct."
"Is there a reason for that?"
"Yeah, actually," he admitted, twiddling his thumbs together. "I, uh, haven't been feeling well lately." The man only met my eyes for a second before the floor suddenly became entertaining enough to shift his gaze. Though I was not a psychiatric doctor, I found it difficult not to observe his odd gestures.
"Can I see that paper, please?" I asked, directing my eyes to the clipboard in his hand. It was standard for someone to fill out a few papers while in the waiting room; the paper he carried listed the symptoms he had.
"Yeah." Green only looked up long enough to place the documents in my hand before reverting his gaze back to the tiled floor. As soon as the clipboard was in my possession, I silently yawned as I leaned back, looking over the information.
"How's Sarah?" I read where he listed the abnormalities: dizziness, nausea, feverish, headaches, cough, and sore throat.
"She's alright. She's actually the one who made me come here, practically pushed me through the doors."
"She may have overreacted," I smiled, eyeing my coffee enviously. "But she only does it because she loves you." I made a mental note of his perspiration.
"Yeah," he whispered, his cheeks lifting as he thoughtfully smiled. "She does…"
"It must be nice, being married and all." My nostrils flared, fearing the start of the seasonal flu.
He simply nodded.
"Alright, let's take a listen," I said, carelessly rolling my chair to the other side of the room, opening a drawer to retrieve my stethoscope. With it in my hand, I strolled back over to Mr. Green, brushing my dark hair from my eyes, facing him. Knowing routine, he unbuttoned his flannel shirt partially, revealing his bare chest. I stuck the rubber pieces in my ears; he flinched when I pressed the metal to his skin.
Dub… Dub...
His heart rate was slightly above normal, though it may have been due to nervousness. His pulse was strong. I slid the instrument down and allowed it to hang from my neck. My neck crooked to the sphygmomanometer on my desk and I reached over to grab it.
"Please roll up your sleeve and hold out your arm." He did as I asked and I wrapped the Velcro cuff around his forearm, squeezing the pump. "Tell me if it's too tight."
"That's good," he grunted a few seconds later. I stopped as he asked and read the valve; my tongue slid on the backs of my top teeth.
His systolic blood pressure read 157 mm HG. I watched the strap as it deflated back to normal.
"Your heart pressure is above normal," I informed the man, leaning back in my chair. "That's a sudden spike within two weeks' time. Have you been eating more carbs or sodium lately?"
"Um, I'm not sure," he pondered, thinking back. "I mean, maybe."
"Also, if you drink, try to cut back on the alcohol intake."
"Yeah, sure." He took a long breath, blinking. "So, what's wrong with me?" My eyes locked onto his and I could see the fear in his eyes.
"Lawrence," I started, giving him a soothing smile. "As far as I can tell, you just have high blood pressure, which is completely manageable. You're fine; there's nothing to worry about."
"Really?"
"Definitely," I reassured, leaning back in my chair. "Unless you have any other concerns, you are free to go."
"Wa-wait, Logan?"
"Hmm?" I peeked over at him as I rolled back over to my cup of java.
"Oh, never mind." Green's head dropped down and he quickly stood up from his seat, bolting to the door.
"Say 'hi' to Sarah for me."
"Sure." He nodded and slipped through the door. "Thanks." Without even so much as blinking an eye, I grasped the mug's handle and took a long sip of my coffee, the small hint of cinnamon bringing out the full flavor of the drink.
The messy pile on my desk seemed to have grown substantially within these past few minutes. I sipped contently, gazing anxiously at the mess. Sniffing, I checked the watch on my wrist: 3:47. Green was the last scheduled patient for the day and the only assignment I really had was to file paperwork. I blinked, staring at the pile.
"Eh, it can be postponed," I muttered, giving myself the incentive not to do it.
The liquid slid down my throat and with one final gulp, I stood up, leaving the empty glass on the desk. I scratched the back of my neck and moved it to my chin, feeling the coarse facial hair. I walked to the counter by the door, putting the stethoscope back in the drawer. Without looking back, I clicked the office lights off, going home for the evening.
With the stick of tobacco perched from the corner of my lip, I smoked contently, wincing from the cold breeze every now and then. I stuck my right hand in my coat pocket, listening to the jingle of the change, bored. A car flew by on the still road, leaving behind a trail of dry leaves in its path. I scowled as my stomach growled aloud. From my peripherals, I saw a young blonde boy running down the sidewalk: Trevor. He nearly threw the white box he had tucked in his arm as he tripped over his two left feet. I briefly turned my head away from him, hiding a grin.
"Lo-Logan," he gasped, out of breath. "Hey!"
"Trevor," I acknowledged, giving him a small nod. Taking another drag, I tilted my head up and closed my eyes contently. "How is work going?"
"Same old, same old," he explained, shrugging slightly. He tugged his apron, half way sticking his hands in his faded jean's pockets. "Dad's just on edge because we got an order for a wedding cake and it's just not lining up right." He chewed gently on the inside of his cheek. "How about you?"
"It's fine," I muttered, inhaling through my nose. "I'm just preparing for the busy season."
"Huh?"
"Flu season," I explained, coughing sporadically. "It typically ranges from fall-to-winter season."
"So, why are you worrying about it now when it may not happen for a few more months now?"
"Someone came in yesterday with all usual symptoms." I opened my eyes and gazed into the cloudy sky. "It looks like the flu came early this year."
"Is it really that bad?" Trevor asked, meaningfully. "I mean, this is a small town, after all."
"I can see how you might see it that way, but it's just the opposite," I said, sighing. "Because it is such a small rural town, people are more exposed to the flu. If your neighbor gets it, odds are, it'll spread rapidly since everyone is so close together. The clinic is too small to take care of the entire town at once."
"Ah," he pondered, the wind blowing through his hair. "How bad does the flu typically get?"
"Not too bad," I answered. "We usually have it under control and it ends within a week's time. We did have one casualty last year, though."
"Really?"
"Yes, but the woman who died was in her late 80's. She had a history of liver problems and when she caught the flu, it caused extensive liver damage. She passed away a little later."
"Oh, that was Mary Bond, wasn't it?"
"Yep." I scratched my neck. "The only deaths this town seems to have is of old age and hers wasn't far from it."
"So, the flu isn't that bad, then."
"Maybe not for residents, but the clinic is going to be up to their waist with paperwork." Trevor laughed, shifting the box in his arms.
"Well, I'm sorry, Logan," he sympathized, flashing me his smile. "Will this help?" He offered the large white box.
"It depends on what's in it," I grinned, sliding my hand to my back pocket.
"Ah, shut up," he laughed as I took the box.
"Thanks, Trevor." I glanced to him and narrowed my eyes to the ground, with a sincere smile. "I really do appreciate it, as do the other staff." I grasped the box tightly when it reached my hands, my stomach silently rumbling. "What's today's selection?"
"Mostly glazed, but there's Onett Cream, lemon custard-filled, and a chocolate glazed."
"Yum." It was tempting to peek in the box and eat one of the donuts then. "By the way, as a refined pastry chef, what is your favorite kind?"
"Uh…"
"I'm sure it's something fancy, probably one of those foreign ones, right?"
"Um…actually," he started, his cheeks slightly turning a light scarlet shade.
"What? Are you embarrassed?"
"Well, honestly, I prefer the chocolate-frosted glazed ones with the colorful sprinkles."
"Oh my god, it would be," I grinned, slowly shaking my head.
"Yeah, and what's so wrong with that?" Trevor became defensive, his eyes slightly narrowing.
"Nothing, nothing at all." I tried to hide my sly grin from his view.
"No, tell me what's so funny about it."
"Who's laughing?"
"You are!" He began to pout, offended; it seemed I had pushed him far enough.
"It just doesn't surprise me, is all," I smiled, releasing a long sigh.
"And what's that supposed to mean?"
"You're just like a child."
"How am I supposed to respond to that, Logan?"
"Sorry, Trevor," I apologized, looking him in the eyes. "I didn't mean it in a bad way. You're just, you." I smiled, watching as he studied my face, debating whether he was going to take my explanation offensively or not; he decided upon the latter.
"Hey, guys!" Trevor turned his entire body in the direction of the voice, his skin almost appearing to change into a new shade of red. I cocked my head to the side, though already aware of what I would find.
"Hi, May."
"Logan," she addressed, playfully giving me a dirty look. Her expression turned warm as she glanced to my bashful friend. "Hi, Trevor. How are you doing?"
"H-hey," he stammered. "May, how are you?"
"I'm pretty good. Thanks for asking."
"Yeah." I looked back over and saw his head hanging low, embarrassed beyond words. Seeing him like that made it hard not to feel bad for the poor guy.
"What's up?" I asked, refocusing my attention back to my head nurse. "I don't have any appointments right now, yeah?"
"Well, you didn't," she admitted, brushing one of her golden locks behind her ear. "However, Mrs. Johnson arrived a few minutes ago, demanding to see you."
"And she didn't make an appointment?"
She rolled her eyes, "Does she ever, Logan?" With an exasperated sigh, I crooked my neck back and shook my head.
"Bad client?" Trevor asked curiously, emerging from the shadows.
"On the contrary," I corrected, tilting my head back down to face him. "Johnson actually is a very generous client and I guess can be considered a regular."
"Is she sick?"
"Not at all," May said with a grin. "I think she has a thing for the doctor here." I grunted in response.
"Is that right?" I could not help but grimace when I saw his lips curl.
"Yep," May laughed, clicking her tongue. "She will only see Logan, no other doctor. It's pretty sweet, actually."
"Well, whatever," I groaned, running my fingers through my black hair. "I guess I should go and see what she wants this time." With the box in my hand, I nodded to my friend. "I'll see you later, Trev." Starting to the door, I turned and raised the box to him. "And thanks, by the way."
"Later, Logan." With a flick of his wrist, he waved goodbye with a brilliant smile. May skipped beside me, reaching the door first.
"Nice to see you take responsibility for a change," she laughed, holding the door open so I could pass.
"You act as though I've never done my job before."
"Well…" her words faded, in a sarcastic manner.
"Shut up."
Just as soon as I walked into the waiting room, Mrs. Johnson was already in my face, impatient as always; I prepared myself for the worst.
"Logan, why do you always insist on making me wait," the old woman bantered with tiny arms flailing. "All of these young people just come in here and see you as they please while I stand here waiting. My patience is just running thin with their inconsideration. I could've died while you were slacking off."
"I'll see you later, doctor," May whispered to me.
"Wait, take these," I ordered, shoving the box in her hands. She nodded and darted in the opposite direction.
"It's nice to see you, too, Mrs. Johnson." I nodded to May and headed toward my office, the nagging woman following.
"You are a terrible doctor making your regular patients wait like that."
"Well, then why do you only request me as your doctor?" I questioned with half of a smirk playing on my face.
The old lady paused, thinking of a good excuse, "I suppose it's 'cause you got a cute face." She topped it off with a devilish grin and slightly narrowing her eyes.
"I'm just going to have to keep an eye on you, aren't I?" I said with a grin, opening the office door and heading in.
"And why's that?"
"Because, wherever you go, you seem to bring trouble along with you," I smirked, taking a seat at my desk.
"Oh, you know you like it," she teased, taking the appropriate seat across from me. "That's why you always flock to me."
"I think you got that backwards."
"You sure didn't hesitate to get here."
"How contradictory," I criticized, leaning back in my chair. "Didn't you just get on my case because I made you wait?"
"Pish posh." The woman shook her head and waved her wrist, completing ignoring my point.
"What brings you in today, Pamela?" I asked with a sigh, knowing it would be pointless to argue with such a stubborn person.
"I have a fever," she explained, fluffing her cottonball hair.
"Yeah? You look perfectly healthy to me."
"You're not a good enough doctor to confirm that just by looking at me," she barked, crossing her arms. "You'll just have to perform a full examination."
"Oh, joy," I groaned, smiling as I searched the bottom drawer of my desk for the necessary tool. "So, you're telling me you didn't have your own thermometer at home?"
"Of course I do!"
"So, what did your temperature read then?"
"How am I supposed to know?" she asked, rummaging around in her purse.
"What? You didn't check your temperature?"
"Course not," she replied, unwrapping a stick of lime-green gum; the scent of spearmint filled my nostrils. "I don't trust any old medical contraption."
"Then why bother having one?"
"What are you trying to imply?" She chewed the candy loudly, clicking her tongue each time her jaw snapped.
"Nothing, I guess." I found the thermometer and swapped the reusable pad. "I think you're trying to find an excuse to come and see me."
"Tch, you're the ones you don't sell your fancy shmancy tools in stores."
"I'm pretty sure it's the same thing." I rolled the chair over to her, flashing her a friendly smile. "Now, say 'ah'."
"Anything for you, doll." She did as I asked, allowing me to take her temperature. "So, how sick am I?"
I focused on the screen, watching the numbers settle and stop: 98.5 Fahrenheit, "You're perfectly healthy, Mrs. Johnson." I sighed aloud, taking the thermometer and throwing it back on my desk. "Just as I had thought."
"Well, that's surprising," she snorted, smacking her lips. "Now that the leaves are falling again, everyone seems to be starting fires. All that smoke ain't good for my ol' lungs. Oh, and haven't seen a single kid hold a door open for poor me in ages. The youth of today is a bunch of bastards, I tell ya." It was amazing how easily she seemed to wander off subject and complain about everything at once.
"What, were kids nicer back in the day of five cent slaves and legal prostitution?"
"I'm not that old, you prick," she laughed until she started hacking; I sneered in response.
"I'm not a big fan of this season, either, to be honest," I admitted, closing my eyes, ruffling my fingers in my hair.
"You're a pessimistic guy, aren't you?"
"And how is that different than your nagging, Pamela?"
"Nagging?" she cried, crackling. "Only old hags nag."
"My point, exactly."
"You're a petty piece of trash."
"Aw, I love you, too."
My head turned when I heard a knock from the open door and found May standing in the doorway, with a cup of coffee, according to routine.
"Doctor, is now an okay time?" May asked, providing a warm smile to my patient; Mrs. Johnson turned her head away in response.
"Yeah, that's fine." The nurse nodded, sweeping inside and delivering the cup into my hands. "Thanks." She gave me a small wink, shifting her gaze between the old woman and me before exiting the room. Mrs. Johnson turned around to watch her leave.
"She's quite a piece, ain't she?" The hag mocked, leaning forward, then back in her seat.
"Huh?" I blew the top of the liquid slightly, cooling it off before sipping it. "What's that suppose to mean?"
"Well, she's quite a looker."
"Yeah, so?" I set the mug down, staring peculiarly at the woman.
"So, how far have you gotten?" Her face turned into a devilish smirk, biting her lip suggestively.
"I haven't," I laid down bluntly, crossing my arms. "She is my employee and a friend." I added, "Just a friend."
"Logan, are you a gay?" she questioned, revving her eyes at me suspiciously.
"No!" I answered a bit too defensively. "Why would you even ask that?"
"You sure? I heard you and Wright's boy are pretty close."
"Again, friends."
"Then why is it a handsome devil like you never has a pretty girl hanging off your arm?" she asked, crossing her legs. "Maybe you're just too afraid to admit how you feel to the girl of your dreams?" My glance moved toward the desk as I saw her leaning closer to me. I looked in the reflection in my mug.
"I don't care about that crap," I said, taking a long gulp of my coffee. "I just want to focus on my work."
"There ain't no need to get all shy with me," she snorted. "Ya know, I'd take you home, Honey."
"Oh, you're too old for me, Grandma. Plus, you're not really my type."
"So tell me, what gets your fancy then?"
"Well, I prefer a lady who was born after the dinosaurs."
"I prefer a man that still practices chivalry, but I guess I'll settle with you, ya smart ass. You're lucky yer a doctor because that money makes you look a helluva lot more handsome," she sneered.
"And that money is coming right out of your pocket," I retaliated, taking another swig of coffee. "You're in here so much that I don't think your insurance is even covering your visits anymore. I'm starting to feel guilty for taking an old granny's retirement fund."
"Well, surely you ain't talkin' 'bout me! I'm still as strong as a prized racin' horse!"
"Nope, definitely not you, Mrs. Johnson."
"Why bother calling me by my last name?" she cooed, leaning so close, I could feel her breath. "Just call me Pamela; it's much sexier."
"I feel uncomfortable with that," I stated, shaking my head. I paused for a second and smirked. "Pamcakes."
"Oh, nuh uh! That ain't gonna fly with me!"
"Pammy?"
"I know you is just messin with me now, Collard." She leaned back in her seat, slouching while she sulked. "Ain't very nice, either."
"I apologize sincerely," I promised, slightly bowing my head in truth. I set the cup down and slanted my eyes, restfully.
"Thank you." She glanced at her watch and nearly jumped out of her chair at what she saw. "Hell, I'm late!" I watched her zip her purse and gather herself before she stood.
"What are you late for? A date?"
She snorted, "You're my one and only, Doctor."
"My, that's a scary thought." She laughed as loud as her frail lungs would allow her, unzipping her purse and sticking her hand to pull something out.
"This is for you, Logan," she said with a smile, directly placing a wad of bills tenderly in my palm. "For being such a perk to my day."
I only took a glance at the money before flatly saying, "No."
"And why not? My money not good enough for you?"
"You know very well why," I answered, shoving the bills back in her hand. "This profession does not allow tips as it is and you're always trying to give me money. If I accepted every tip you tried to lay on me, you'd be broke."
"It's not like it's much," she muttered, staring me in the eye. "I just thought I'd give you some money so you'd get yourself a hair-cut or something. Yer lookin mangy there, Logan."
"What, me? It takes a lot of hours to put myself together in the morning," I said defensively, combing my fingers through my matted hair.
"Oh, would you look at the time!" she burst out loud, looking at her watch, shocked. "I'm late, very late. I need to be going. Buh bye, Logan dear." She hurried out the door before I could possibly think of another snide comment. However, I then noticed a large sum of cash that had been thrown on my desk, though it was hardly a surprise.
I grasped the mug handle firmly in my hand, leaning back and admiring the mountain of paper that had taken over my desk and moved toward invading my entire office; it was no easy task to be so organized and I could not help but to silently congratulate myself for such a feat. It was amazing how nice and relaxing one slow sip of coffee could be with its slick velvet taste and robust aroma: Columbian Roast. May knew how to make a good pot of joe.
With a deep breath, I stood from my seat, not interested in working another minute or even thinking about attempting to fix that mess. I finished the last drop of my beverage before reaching the door and flipping off the switch, leaving after securely locking it. The hallway was quiet, besides the electric current in the overhead lights. It was a certain kind of peace that I could not obtain anywhere besides here. Even home, where it was nothing but solitude, did not have such the stillness the clinic did.
I reared around to the front of the clinic and noticed Leah, a certified nurse and usual receptionist, at the front counter, scribbling in a notebook. She seemed to notice my presence as she peered over, her eyes burning into me.
"Off so soon, doctor?" she asked, lowering her pen as she crossed her arms. "How about staying until close sometime instead of, I don't know, leaving whenever you see fit?" Leah raised her brow, smirking as though she made a comment that actually insulted me.
"If I had to stay here a second more, I might die," I responded, leaning against the counter. "Maybe I would stay longer if I wasn't stuck with you."
"Very clever, Collard," she congratulated, peering in my eyes. "Whatever would we do without you?"
"Probably fail miserably." I rummaged in my pocket and pulled out the money Mrs. Johnson had forced upon me and laid them on the desk. "Will you add this to the Johnson fund please?"
"She did it again?" Leah slid the money to her and examined it. "This is two-hundred and thirty today."
"Just see to it she gets it back," I ordered, sighing. "I'm not going to accept that woman's unwanted and unneeded charity."
"That's just it," she exclaimed, nearly hopping out of her seat, her straight brown hair sliding from her shoulder. "That's why you always act this way."
"What is?" I asked skeptically.
"You use this rough persona as a defense, don't you? You're not actually as bad as you try to convince others."
"What crap are you trying to believe?"
"You're actually a nice guy, aren't you, Logan? You don't need to act like a jerk, you know."
"You're crazy," I blankly stated. "I never said I couldn't be nice," I muttered in a hushed whisper. I loudly planted my mug on her desk and smiled coolly. "Be a doll and take care of this for me, will ya?"
"Huh?" She took one look at the empty cup and made an intolerant face. "Why do you have to act like such an ass, Logan?" I turned away from her without another word and strode to the front exit with my hands in my coat pockets. "You're easy to read, you know," she called after, her blood boiling. "There's no point in hiding!" I paused only for a second before gripping the door's handle and making my way to freedom.