Doctor-Patient Confidentiality: Chapter Twenty-Two (Role Play Edition)

 

You’re pacing around your apartment like a madwoman, tossing around piles of papers and clothes and everything else that’s in your way.

 

Your keys. Oh God, where the hell are your keys?

 

Your movements are getting more and more frantic with each passing second that you can’t find them.

 

You don’t understand. You just had them.

 

Where the fuck did they disappear to?

 

Ugh! Of all the fucking times for something like this to happen!

 

You run your hand through messy hair, disheveling it even further as you try to remember where you last put them.

 

You walked in, took of your shoes, came over to the kitchen for some water and then took your duffel bag out of the closet and then…

 

Dammit, you can’t remember!

 

You groan in absolute frustration, standing in the middle of your mess of an apartment and looking around at the even bigger mess that you’ve created with this unplanned and anything-but-fun treasure hunt.

 

You place your hands on your hips as you shift your weight onto your right leg, feeling like you’re about to just give up, when you feel a slight bulge on your right hip. You look down at it and see the bulge sticking out from within your pocket, and you want to kick yourself in the head as both memory and realization set in. You reach into the pocket and pull out a slew of keys, and they jingle ceremoniously as they dangle and move against each other.

 

You can only shake your head and sigh again as you look at the bundle of keys in your hand.

 

You want to roll your eyes a million times at yourself for being so spacey, and then at your stupid keys for conveniently hiding right under your nose even though you’re the one who put them there.

 

You breathe out a deep sigh of relief, leaning against the kitchen counter with your shoulders slumped forward as your manic heart proceeds to apply its brakes.

 

The week’s finally over, and you feel absolutely burnt out. You can barely remember most of it, but your mind is obviously still reeling. And it hasn’t let you forget about your visit to the surgical center and everything that went along with it. Especially Doctor Frost.

 

You literally have to shake your head at yourself. You think it’s absolutely ridiculous that you actually have the time—or energy, for that matter—to keep thinking about how hot he is in spite of everything else going on in your life; including the very real possibility that you may be sick. Seriously sick.

 

Maybe it’s your subconscious’ way of trying to get you some comic relief so you don’t fall into some bottomless depression. Lord knows you could use quite a bit of humor at this point, however unconventional it may be.

 

You look at your watch, noting that it’s almost six, but you’d think it’s midnight with how dark it is outside already. God, you really hate winter, and you hate it even more in Wisconsin. If you leave now, you can get to La Crosse before yet another snowstorm hits the county tonight.

 

You head back into your room, quickly digging through your closet to find something appropriate to wear for the memorial.

 

You key in on a nude dress hanging way in the back. You run your hands down the length of it, loving how flowy and silky the fabric feels against your palm. It’s a simple dress, yet elegant, and its conservative cut is perfect for the occasion.

You can’t even remember where you got it.

 

You pull the dress off the hanger and fold it haphazardly, shoving the bundle of formal wear into your duffel bag. Your toothbrush, some extra clothes and pajamas, and a few other essentials follow in after it. Ten minutes later and the bag is in the backseat of the car as you pull out of the apartment parking lot.

 

You figure if you don’t run into too much traffic, you should be at Gran’s before ten. She’s an early sleeper and you hate coming over late and waking her up. Especially on days like today.

 

You’re only on the road for fifteen minutes before Trixie’s calling your phone. You tap on the answer button and put the phone on speaker even as your eyes stay focused on the long stretch of snowy road ahead of you.

 

“Hey, you,” you say. “I was wondering when you’d finally call back.”

 

“Hey. Yeah, I just got back home so I could charge my damn phone,” she says.

 

Your brows furrow at her statement. “What do you mean you just got back home? From where?”

 

“Jordan’s place,” she says in a casual, matter-of-fact tone.

Your brows shoot up your forehead this time, your eyes widening at hearing Trixie mention Jordan’s name and the obvious implication attached to it.

 

“Get outta here, you’re lying,” you say, waving off her supposed, silent claim.

 

“I’m serious,” she counters.

 

And her tone tells you she really is. You go still for a second, trying to fully register what your best friend is telling you right now. A second later, your mind goes bonkers.

 

***

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