Doctor-Patient Confidentiality: Chapter Two Hundred and Nineteen

Trust me.

I look at him. Searching his eyes. Or perhaps I’m just searching my mind. For the latest signs of psychosis. Because, of all the insane things he’s said to me, that is, by far, the most insane. I want to tell him I trust him as far as I can throw him. But then…that would be a lie, wouldn’t it? If I didn’t trust him on some level, I never would have agreed to come into this pool knowing I can’t swim. Or let him teach me how.

Nah. It’s not him I trust. Maybe not even his hands. It’s his pragmatic sense. It wouldn’t do him any good to let me drown. “That would be inconvenient, Ramona. Not to mention, it would end our agreement rather prematurely.” I could totally picture him saying that.

Instead, he gestures towards the buoy. “Try mounting it,” he instructs, his voice low and husky. “It’ll help you get used to the feeling of being supported by the water.”

I eye the large white float with a mix of trepidation and curiosity. It bobs gently on the surface, looking deceptively stable. “Are you sure about this?”

“Just try it,” he says, his gaze lingering on my face.

I take a deep breath and let him float us towards the buoy, the water cool against my skin. I reach out, my hands gripping the smooth plastic. It wobbles precariously, threatening to tip me over.

He steadies me, his hands firm on my waist. “Here,” he murmurs, guiding me closer. “Lift your leg.”