“Ah, it was awful, as usual. It’s so much better on our side of the river.”
I give Marie a small smile, as I know she’ll be forever loyal to New Jersey.
“You look tired, Dixon. Are you unwell?” She reaches across the table and feels my forehead.
Usually, I would shy away from such motherly tendencies, but it’s Marie, and I’m used to her babying me.
“Yeah, Dix, you do look a bit off-color. Everything okay?” Hunter teases, looking at my lap. “Is everything where it should be?”
I roll my eyes at his idiocy and ignore him.
“I’m fine, Marie. Work is just crazy at the moment.”
“Yeah, lots of loons out there, that’s why,” Ralph innocently says, taking a sip of his ice tea.
“Ralph!” Marie scolds, throwing a reprimanding look his way.
“What?” he asks with a shrug.
Her eyes dart my way discreetly, and I know she’s subtly attempting to play facial charades, drawing attention to the fact that one of those loons is my father.
“It’s fine, Marie,” I insist with a wave of my hand.
I haven’t seen my father since the day I admitted him, which was close to four months ago. Seeing my once healthy, vibrant father wither away into a shell of his former self is a sight I can’t stand. Call me a bastard, but I would rather remember my dad being happy and well, as opposed to the medicated zombie he most likely resembles nowadays.
Marie must read my expression as she softly says, “I saw your father the other week. He’s looking better.”
Better? Better than what? Better than the drooling basket case he was when I admitted him? I hate to break it to Marie, but being dead is the only “better” in this scenario.
But I give her a small nod, and try to appear unmoved, as I don’t want to hurt her feelings. “That’s great. I’ve been meaning to go see him, but I’ve just…work has been busy,” I conclude unconvincingly.
She smiles. “I understand.”
Clearing my throat, I propose, “Maybe you could tell him I said hi? Next time you see him?”
“Of course. I can do that. You know, maybe you could call? I think he’d like that,” she softly suggests.
“Yeah, maybe,” I reply, not meaning a word.
Thankfully, the waitress interrupts our awkward conversation and puts an end to me justifying why I’m not a terrible son.
The evening is still young, so we decide to walk down to Central Park.
Ralph and Marie are at a vendor’s cart buying pretzels when Hunter pulls me aside and asks, “What’s up with you?”
“Care to be a little more specific?” I say, while reading through the emails on my phone.
“You haven’t checked out one single girl all night. That pixie waitress was basically offering her tits as a plate for your steak, and you hardly noticed. What’s up, dude? I’m worried. You’re not about to go ‘Livin’ La Vida Loca,’ are ya?” he asks seriously, and I can’t help but chuckle, as Hunter is never one to mince his words.
“First of all,” I state, holding up a finger. “You call me a man-whore. And now—” I add a second finger “—you’re questioning my sexuality. Hunter, your overactive imagination never ceases to amaze me. Maybe you’re in the wrong profession. I heard Walt Disney is hiring,” I say with a grin.
“Joke all you want, but I know something is up. So spit it out.”
Sighing, I run a hand through my disheveled hair, and I know the only way to shut him up is to tell him the truth. “I met this chick at work. Actually, I met two chicks,” I correct.
“You do remember your workplace isn’t a brothel, right?”
“Ha, very funny. I met girl number one, Madison, on Friday night,” I explain, unable to keep the affection from my voice.
“I thought she was just a random hook-up?”
I pull a grossed-out face when I realize he’s talking about the blonde. “No, not her. I fucked her to get Madison out of my system.”
Hunter grins. “But I’m guessing it didn’t work?”
“You guessed right. She was so incredibly…sweet.”
“And girl number two?” he asks, folding his arms across his chest.
I sigh. “Girl number two is the complete opposite to Madison. For starters, I met her at work.”
“Uh oh,” Hunter butts in, but I hold up my hand, telling him to zip it. Thankfully he complies.
“She’s a patient, and before you start with the third degree, I didn’t do anything.”
Hunter nods, his lips pulled in tight.
“She’s trouble, man, I know it, but I can’t stop thinking about her. She wrote her fucking number in bright red lipstick across my bathroom mirror,” I confess.
“She what?” Hunter says incredulously. “No way!’
“Yes way,” I counter, because it’s very true.
“So, what’s she seeing you for?” he asks, totally ignoring patient/doctor confidentiality.
“I can’t tell you. That’s between my patient and me,” I reply, half serious.
“Oh, bullshit! If you’re thinking about screwing her, then I think that rule is entirely void.”
He’s right, so I sheepishly reply, “She’s addicted to sex.”
Hunter’s mouth pops open. He shakes his head animatedly and jams his finger into my chest. “You need to stay away from this little nympho, Dix. With your man-whoring tendencies, and her out-of-control libido, you’ll end up fucking one another to death. Not to mention, she is your patient, Dr. Mathews.”
“I know, I know. And you’re right. But Hunt, I’m intrigued by her.”
“You’re intrigued by her zeal to fuck anything in sight more like it,” he replies with a smirk.
“That’s not it. This isn’t about sex.”
Hunter raises an unconvinced eyebrow.
“Okay, it’s a little about sex. But there is something more to her. There is something more to both. I haven’t been interested in a chick since…” but I remain mute, not wanting, or needing, to finish that sentence.
Hunter runs a hand down his face and blows out a breath. “Look, bro, this nympho sounds like trouble. Personally, I would refer her to another doctor and forget you ever met her. This will get sticky, and I mean that in every literal sense there is.”
I nod, defeated, and also, disappointed. I don’t want there to be any truth in what he says, but there is. I need to stop this before things spiral out of control. “You’re right. That’s what I’ll do,” I say with a firm nod. “Treating her is not good for either of us.”
“’Attaboy,” he says, playfully punching me on the arm. “You’ll forget you ever met this little sexual deviant in no time.”
“Dr. Mathews,” a voice says from behind us.
Both Hunter and I turn around and are faced with Juliet Harte. My memories of her have paid her no justice at all, and with the super tight jogging outfit she’s currently wearing, I’ve just made new memories, which I plan on revisiting later tonight.
“Ms. Harte,” I reply, hoping I appear calm while I check out her gorgeous rack in the white crop top she’s sporting.
Hunter clears his throat loudly, ruining my ogling, and I sigh. “Hunter, this is Ms. Harte. Ms. Harte, Hunter,” I say, waving my hand between the two.
“Please, call me Juliet,” she says with a small smile.
“Very well.” I nod.
And then, there is silence.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Juliet,” Hunter says, totally saving my ass, as I have no idea what to say to her. “O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou, Romeo?” he teases, placing a hand over his heart dramatically.
Juliet giggles, while I shake my head at my friend’s stupidity.
The Chihuahua at her feet begins yapping, thankfully cutting through the silence, and Juliet sighs. “I better go. Marcia gets cranky if her walk gets interrupted.” The Chihuahua yaps in agreement. “I’ll see you Monday?” she says, but it actually sounds more like a question.