Page 13 of Doctor Clause
“Leeona?”
The room fell silent, a half-dozen sets of curious eyes glaring back at him. Most were probably wondering what his relationship with Leeona was. There were also a few slowly undressing him. The difference between the two types of leers was obvious.
“She’s not here,” one woman stated firmly. “We haven’t seen her all morning. Might I ask, are you the newest calendar doctor?”
He nodded. “Do you know where I can find her?”
“Have you tried her son’s room?” another woman suggested. “She spends a lot of time there. It’s to be expected, of course.”
“Thank you,” he replied, backing out rather than turning around. Part of him was quite leery about the group, which was intensely eyeing him up and down. There was even a bit of drool action happening. His butt certainly wasn’t there for their amusement. Smacking or pinching was strictly prohibited, at least by that group. For Leeona, allowances could be made.
Ever since he joined the staff at Eastport General, there’d been plenty of cougars chasing him. One elderly group in particular, staying at the SunSleep, actually mistook him for a role-playing stripper. Once grandma latched on, she wasn’tletting go. That night was going to haunt the corridors of the hotel until the end of days as their biggest scandal. It took four large security guards, and a call to the local police, to clear up the misunderstanding. The mishap ended all future group discount rates, hen parties, and stag-and-doe events on the property.
Dirty old ladies aside, he wasn’t opposed to nakedness. Looking at another human form was a healthy part of life. Being aroused by an attractive body was a normal response. Touching without permission was a totally different situation. There lay his dilemma with Leeona. She’d consented, but to what? He wasn’t sure she even knew. Until she directly asked him for his involvement, it was hands-off.
“Look don’t touch,” he mused, arriving at his destination.
Leeona’s son’s room was easy enough to find. In fact, he’d already located it during the long walk to the moms’ support team at the very end of the corridor.
Despite being semi-private, there was only one bed occupied. That wasn’t uncommon for any cancer ward. It was a brutal disease, which resulted in a large turnover of patients. One day there’d be a neighbour to chat with, the next an empty bed with new sheets. Sometimes there wasn’t even enough time for neighbours to exchange names.
“Hi,” he gleefully said, entering as if he were visiting one of his own patients. “How are you today?” Instantly, the visit became less about Leeona and more about her son. Maybe it was the child’s appearance; the delicate skin under his eyes unnaturally darkened, sunken, and hollow. That was the only colour to be found on an otherwise pale complexion.
“Who are you?” the boy replied, face expressionless. “A new doctor? No one mentioned anything about seeing someone new.”
“You’re Tommy, right?”
The thin child nodded slowly, without saying a word.
“I’m a friend of your mom’s,” he said, pulling up a chair. The physician in him glanced over at a chart hanging on the end of the bed. It wasn’t his place to look though. He had no right to interfere. “Has she been in today?”
“No.” Chapped lips pursed together. “She was supposed to be here a while ago.” He shrugged. “Something probably happened.”
“Like what?” he asked.
“I dunno,” the boy snapped. “Maybe the car broke down again. Maybe she got a speeding ticket. Maybe she just got caught up in some charity work.” He went back to staring out the window at nothing in particular.
“You’re pretty calm for your age,” he said.
“Not really,” Tommy sighed. “I’m just bored. There’s nothing to do here but wait for the next dose of medicine. The meals aren’t even worth looking forward to. I hate food now. I used to love my mom’s cooking.”
“She’s a good cook?” Stephen asked.
His head slowly nodded, expression remaining blank. “From what I remember.” He paused, heaving a sigh. “It all tastes like cardboard now.”
His thumb jutted out, pointing toward the door. “Do you want me to grab you a book or maybe get you a puzzle?”
“Nah,” Tommy replied. “I’ve read them all, and the puzzles are missing pieces.”
“Oh.” Once again hospital protocols of not throwing anything away were in full play. “What about a toy?”
“There aren’t any,” Tommy answered. “Unless you count the waiting room ones. I don’t. Most of them are broken, or for really small kids.”
“Right.” He never considered what it meant to be a child stuck in Eastport General before. The hospital prioritizedmedical needs over books, toys, artwork, and even magazines. It never crossed his mind or anyone else’s, other than the moms’ club, how dull that was.”
For adults, there was no need to provide activities. They came, waited, had their appointments and, for the most part, left. Those who needed extended stays owned smartphones or tablets to pass the time when they weren’t resting.
“Can I get you a magazine from the shop in the lobby?” he suggested, thumb sticking out, pointing toward the door.