Read Online Checked by Jennifer Jamelli - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jennifer Jamelli
Tags: Humor, Romance, Literature & Fiction, Contemporary, Romantic Comedy, Contemporary Fiction, Contemporary Women, Women's Fiction, New Adult & College
Ads: Link
appears on the screen.
Would you like to add this number to your contact list?
No. Click. Phone down.
FINISHING MORNING PREPARATIONS. FOR ONCE, I’m glad I have to do such a long, structured routine. Keeps my mind almost busy enough to not obsess about 2:15 p.m.
Almost.
12:45 p.m. Done. I stare at the text of Crime and Punishment for a half hour. I read none of it.
1:15 p.m. Preparations to leave the house. Thirty-three checks. Bathroom shower: water off. Bathroom sink: water off. Hair dryer: unplugged. Hair straightener: unplugged. Bathroom counter: empty. Mirror: clean. Toilet: not running. Air vent: uncovered. Light: off. Bedroom floor: clean. Air vents: uncovered. Bed: made. TV: off. Light: off. Mandy’s room: clean…ish. Air vents: uncovered (at least). Light: off. Hallway light: off. Thermostat: 70 degrees. Laundry closet light: off. Laundry closet: closed. Hallway bathroom sink: water off. Toilet: not running. Air vent: uncovered. Light: off. Kitchen sink: water off. Stove: off. Refrigerator door: shut. Air vents: uncovered. Light: off. Living room floor: clean. Air vents: uncovered. Light: off.
Repeat.
Repeat again.
Out the door. Door locked. Handle twist. Handle twist. Handle twist. Locked. And I’m off. Just like that.
2:14 p.m. I discreetly (I think) use my own clump of tissues to open the main door to his office building, catching the door with my foot and hastily discarding the tissues in the outside trash can. I begin to move past the blue waiting room chairs to check in with Annie. Before either of us can say anything to the other, however, the brown door to her left opens. We both freeze as we hear a deep, quiet voice.
“Miss Royce.”
Annie looks shocked. {Cue Michael Jackson singing out her name in “Smooth Criminal.” } I’m sure my face looks much the same.
One. Two. Three. I allow my eyes to move from Annie’s face to his. Our eyes are all knotted together before I even have the chance to inhale.
Annie interrupts. “Oh, Dr. Blake. Is there something you need me to do? Miss Royce just arrived, and I was just about to lead her—”
She rambles on. It seems that Dr. Blake doesn’t make a habit out of escorting patients to his office. He looks at Annie briefly, saying, “I don’t need you for anything right now, Annie.” He pauses. Even quieter voice now. “I might need you to transfer some records later.
“Miss Royce, if you’ll follow me back…”
He has put his back against the door so I can walk right by. Annie is staring at me. Gotta move. I hug my purse close to the side of my body and instruct my black heels to start moving. I don’t look up as I pass him; I’m too busy mentally scrunching up all of my limbs and praying that I don’t accidentally brush against him.
Made it. I stop in the hallway, wait for him to shut the door and then lead the way down his ridiculously long hallway. {Michael Jackson’s song begins to morph into a reprise from The Beatles with—}
NO! Concentrate, Callie.
Grey pants today. Dark purple dress shirt. He walks slowly but with large strides. I match his pace. Two small steps for every large masculine stride.
One. Two. Three. Turn. One. Two. Three. One. Two. Three. Twist. One. Two— We are here. He twists the silver bar handle and again leans back on the door to let me through.
One. Two. Three. Body scrunch. In. Standing in the same place as before—just far enough inside that the door won’t graze my body as it closes. If someone closes it.
He does. Then he walks around me to his gigantic desk.
Silence. Again. Didn’t we do this already? I can’t believe I’m standing here again. Looking down at my purse. Again.
“Thanks for coming.”
I nod. I don’t even know if he can see it. Recalling his history of time actually spent looking at me, I decide he probably can’t.
I don’t say anything. I wait.
Still waiting.
“I haven’t had a patient like you in a very long time,
Would you like to add this number to your contact list?
No. Click. Phone down.
FINISHING MORNING PREPARATIONS. FOR ONCE, I’m glad I have to do such a long, structured routine. Keeps my mind almost busy enough to not obsess about 2:15 p.m.
Almost.
12:45 p.m. Done. I stare at the text of Crime and Punishment for a half hour. I read none of it.
1:15 p.m. Preparations to leave the house. Thirty-three checks. Bathroom shower: water off. Bathroom sink: water off. Hair dryer: unplugged. Hair straightener: unplugged. Bathroom counter: empty. Mirror: clean. Toilet: not running. Air vent: uncovered. Light: off. Bedroom floor: clean. Air vents: uncovered. Bed: made. TV: off. Light: off. Mandy’s room: clean…ish. Air vents: uncovered (at least). Light: off. Hallway light: off. Thermostat: 70 degrees. Laundry closet light: off. Laundry closet: closed. Hallway bathroom sink: water off. Toilet: not running. Air vent: uncovered. Light: off. Kitchen sink: water off. Stove: off. Refrigerator door: shut. Air vents: uncovered. Light: off. Living room floor: clean. Air vents: uncovered. Light: off.
Repeat.
Repeat again.
Out the door. Door locked. Handle twist. Handle twist. Handle twist. Locked. And I’m off. Just like that.
2:14 p.m. I discreetly (I think) use my own clump of tissues to open the main door to his office building, catching the door with my foot and hastily discarding the tissues in the outside trash can. I begin to move past the blue waiting room chairs to check in with Annie. Before either of us can say anything to the other, however, the brown door to her left opens. We both freeze as we hear a deep, quiet voice.
“Miss Royce.”
Annie looks shocked. {Cue Michael Jackson singing out her name in “Smooth Criminal.” } I’m sure my face looks much the same.
One. Two. Three. I allow my eyes to move from Annie’s face to his. Our eyes are all knotted together before I even have the chance to inhale.
Annie interrupts. “Oh, Dr. Blake. Is there something you need me to do? Miss Royce just arrived, and I was just about to lead her—”
She rambles on. It seems that Dr. Blake doesn’t make a habit out of escorting patients to his office. He looks at Annie briefly, saying, “I don’t need you for anything right now, Annie.” He pauses. Even quieter voice now. “I might need you to transfer some records later.
“Miss Royce, if you’ll follow me back…”
He has put his back against the door so I can walk right by. Annie is staring at me. Gotta move. I hug my purse close to the side of my body and instruct my black heels to start moving. I don’t look up as I pass him; I’m too busy mentally scrunching up all of my limbs and praying that I don’t accidentally brush against him.
Made it. I stop in the hallway, wait for him to shut the door and then lead the way down his ridiculously long hallway. {Michael Jackson’s song begins to morph into a reprise from The Beatles with—}
NO! Concentrate, Callie.
Grey pants today. Dark purple dress shirt. He walks slowly but with large strides. I match his pace. Two small steps for every large masculine stride.
One. Two. Three. Turn. One. Two. Three. One. Two. Three. Twist. One. Two— We are here. He twists the silver bar handle and again leans back on the door to let me through.
One. Two. Three. Body scrunch. In. Standing in the same place as before—just far enough inside that the door won’t graze my body as it closes. If someone closes it.
He does. Then he walks around me to his gigantic desk.
Silence. Again. Didn’t we do this already? I can’t believe I’m standing here again. Looking down at my purse. Again.
“Thanks for coming.”
I nod. I don’t even know if he can see it. Recalling his history of time actually spent looking at me, I decide he probably can’t.
I don’t say anything. I wait.
Still waiting.
“I haven’t had a patient like you in a very long time,
Similar Books
