Thread: Trust the Good Doctor [T-Howell and skittish_butterfly]

Grace was already sitting in Dr. King's waiting room with a magazine, five minutes early for her second session, prompt as usual, when the front door opened unexpectedly letting in a nerdy looking guy, solid but clearly not athletic or fit. He sauntered in and seemingly thumbed his nose at unwritten social convention by plopping down in the one chair right across from Grace. It wasn't a waiting room really designed for many people. As Grace learned leaving her previous session through the separate exit door from his office, the doctor went out of his way to protect patient privacy, so even departing patients wouldn't worry about acquaintances spotting them coming out through the waiting room. And Dr. King wasn't sharing office space with another doctor, so why was anyone else here in the room with her at all? Not that Grace was worried about her privacy or anything like that, really, since she didn't know too many people away from campus, not on this side of the country so far from home. But it was just her nature to pay attention, to notice things, and to puzzle over them, the celebrity mag lying in her lap unopened. There was also the disconcerting way the guy was looking at her after having passed up the 3 other chairs in the room to sit directly in front of her. Grace suddenly felt a little uncomfortable in her pretty summer shorts that had felt so very comfortable just moments earlier, the colorful floral pattern not nearly as important now as the fact the guy's eyes were all over her legs. Grace crossed her legs and held the magazine as much in front of her bare legs as she could, but her light white tank top just seemed to attract his attention next. Even though it didn't show off any of what cleavage she had, her top didn't do a thing to stop him from ogling her bare arms and her chest. But he wouldn't meet her eyes, maybe realizing he was being rude and knowing she was about to call him on it the moment she caught his eye. Grace thought about getting up to knock on the door and call the doctor out, but it was all to easy for her to imagine the guy just staring at her butt even more if she stood up, and she didn't like the fact she'd have to walk within arm's reach to get past him to the doctor's office door. She cleared her throat, then again more loudly. Can I help you? Is there something you're looking for? Because I'm pretty sure you're looking in the wrong place for whatever it is. The guy coughed, glanced at her eyes for a split-second and then back to the floor, or at her suede ankle boots, Grace couldn't be sure. I... I like your shorts. And your hair. I like dark hair, long like yours. You're really pretty, except your chest isn't so hot. You work out a lot? You're so slender I want to.... would you go out with me? The guy was insane, maladjusted, warped, and Grace felt her leg muscles tensing nervously, her eyes glancing to the doctor's door. She really wanted it to open and for the doctor to call her in, and make this guy go away. I... I sort of have a boyfriend. The guy smirked, gave one short chuckle and looked her in the eyes, which turned out to be more unnerving than having him stare at her legs. Sort of? Do you or don't you? If you only sort of have a boyfriend, then you could sort of go out with me. His face looked like he thought he was very clever and funny. Grace was taken aback, and her fingers clutched the magazine more tightly. No, I definitely have a boyfriend. She said it like she might be dating a football player or a jealous frat guy with a volatile temper, when in fact her boyfriend was the sweetest guy, a 1st year grad student in the Engineering department, probably even nerdier than this guy. Besides, I have a strict policy against dating crazy people. Grace immediately regretted letting her mouth get the better of her, which happened all too often in recent years, especially with her mom. But it was obviously the truth, not the truth would shield her if the guy was upset enough by her remark. The guy deserved it, but it just didn't feel so smart now that he was staring at her again and frowning. Well, you must be crazy too if you're sitting in this office, so we're perfect for each other. I'm not crazy. My mom is making me come here, or she won't contribute to my tuition anymore, that's all. I'm just here to humor her. Now Grace was frowning as well and she really wanted this to end. Why oh why had her mother done this to her? Grace could still hear her mom's high New Jersey voice. He's a good doctor, Mrs. Lewinsky's son sees him -- you remember Ralph -- she swears by him. Give the good doctor a call, you can't go on like this Grace, with the hostility, and not coming home for holidays. Something's wrong. Trust the good doctor, I'm sure he can help. Did I mention Mrs. Lewinsky swears by him? Absolutely swears by him. It was infuriating. Grace was almost 20, too old for her mother to still be ordering her around like this, but university was expensive. So now to preserve her college tuition she was stuck here in the good doctor's waiting room, ticking off all the reasons again in her head why her mom was so wrong about her as usual, and hoping this wasn't Ralph Lewinsky leering at her. The guy didn't seem upset at all. Ok, then I'm not crazy either. I'm just a sex addict. Well, porn addict actually, but I wish I was a sex addict. You could help me with that though, if you'd... Finally grace heard the door open and the good doctor stepped out, thankfully interrupting the strange porn addict before he could get any more specific or embarrassing. The doctor looked at the two of them, as if he could sense the tension in the air right away. The porn addict turned and looked up at him sheepishly, like he was his dad busting him for some minor offense. Sorry, Doc, i know you said I should always call first to make sure it's ok, but I'm going on vacation and needed a refill on my prescription. The doctor wrote a quick note on his prescription pad, handed it over, and escorted him to the door with a firm but kindly hand on his arm. Thanks, Doc, nice meeting you too Miss? I didn't get your name... he winked at Grace with a parting leer on his way out the door. Grace waited until the door closed before getting up to follow the doctor into the office. Grace Bellefleur. We said 2 o'clock? She said it as if she wasn't totally sure now after the disconcerting interactions in the waiting room, like maybe she'd caused that mess herself by coming at the wrong time. She sat down on the very edge of his long couch practically hugging the leather arm and crossing her legs right away as he sat down in the chair facing her just like the previous week. He was just leafing through sheets of paper in a folder, saying nothing, and making her feel very awkward. You don't remember? We were talking about whether or not I was stifling grief about my dad's death still -- which is crazy -- and hating my mom -- which makes total sense. Is that ringing a bell? He should be paying her, instead of the other way around, the way he was still looking through his notes like he didn't even know who she was yet. At least that's how it seemed to Grace as she sat uncomfortably on the couch, wishing evil things on her mother for even making her go through this at all when there was nothing wrong with her, nothing wrong at all.