Page 17 of For the Record
“What about changes to your diet?”
“Sure. I’m limiting the sugar.” Truth was, there wasn’t much Sawyerwasn’tlimiting these days. Nausea was an ever-present dragon to be bested.
Dr. Cooper jotted notes down in Sawyer’s file. “And how much sleep would you say you’re getting each night?”
Sawyer huffed, not liking where this conversation was leading. George should know her well enough to respect that some conversations were off-limits. She checked her watch again, not having time for this. “I get enough, George. Now please, don’t we have something other than my day-to-day to cross-examine?”
Dr. Cooper studied her, wariness clouding his features. Sawyer tracked his movements, watching as he raised his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose between his fingers. He seemed pretty stressed himself, but Sawyer didn’t comment on it. Silence stretched out in the small space as the doctor looked overSawyer’s file, and as the seconds ticked by, the pulse in Sawyer’s throat began a steadily increasingthump-thump.
“Well?” she prodded, gesturing to the file with a flick of her wrist.
“Your blood test came back showing elevated levels in your cholesterol. On account of this, I’d like to begin treating it with statin meds.” Dr. Cooper glanced up from his notes to look at her. “And if it’s alright with you, I’d like to arrange for you to have a stress test done.”
“A stress test,” Sawyer repeated, trying the words out. What would that entail? “Would it be in the office here? I can’t miss more work because I have to travel across the city.”
“It would be with a specialist. I’ll refer you. And Sawyer, this is the kind of thing you’ll want to miss work for. It’s important. Work isn’t the only thing in life, you know?” The sympathy in Dr. Cooper’s eyes was too much. Sawyer couldn’t take it, and she ripped her gaze from his, but still, he continued. What was with everyone in her life overstepping? “Alia told me Bree often posts beach pictures on Instagram. Have you thought of going on vacation at some point? You could go and see her. After losing Olivier, and before that, losing—”
“That’s enough.” Sawyer jumped to her feet, shooting him a glare before she hastily shoved her arms into her raincoat. Her hands shook slightly as she snatched her purse from the floor. “Refer me wherever you need to, but I have to go now.”
“Sawyer, wait—”
“Bye for now,” Sawyer interrupted, a forced smile gracing her lips as she walked past him and left the exam room. She kept her head held high as she passed the reception desk, and it wasn’t until she’d enclosed herself inside the elevator that she let herself truly breathe again.
“Merde,”she whispered into the silence. Her back pressed against the elevator wall, and she leaned into it, letting the added support hold her up.
A good routine was a must for someone like Sawyer. It was predictable, safe. She liked knowing where she and everyone else were supposed to be and when. Predictability and structure had given her a semblance of power in a life where she had so often felt helpless. Living with Olivier, she’d learned over time what made him tick, what caused him to explode, and her rigid routine each day helped thwart most of the impending aftermath.
Unfortunately, her desperate need for control eventually became so extreme that the simplest wrench in her schedule could sometimes throw her entire day off.
“And how much sleep would you say you’re getting each night?”
What a joke. Two or three hours if she was lucky, five on Saturday nights if she took a sleeping aid before going to bed. For years, she’d been haunted bythatnight, and frankly, some things were better remembered in the dead silence of an empty house.
Some people.
“... You could go and see her. After losing Olivier, and before that losing—“
“God, pull it together,” Sawyer brokenly whispered, squeezing her eyes shut as the hot shower water pelted over her face. A sob escaped from the crushing weight in her heart. She pressedher hand over the spot, trying to lessen the agony threatening to capsize her.
She turned away from the water, leaning her forehead against the slick tiled wall as she cried. Fucking days like today. Sawyer loathed them with a passion, hated how off-balance and hormonal they made her. It was times like now when she struggled the most to keep the past where it belonged.
Her other hand rested against her stomach as if wishing for her pregnancy would suddenly bring back what she’d lost. Turbulent images of her life fifteen years ago mocked her, cutting her so deeply it was like it was happening all over again. Sawyer moaned, sinking to the shower floor. She pulled her knees against her chest and cried her heart out.
Snot and tears mixed with the water raining down on her, but she didn’t notice. She was a prisoner of a different time, lost, just like all her could-have-beens.
“Chef, you wanna check this before it goes out?”
Sawyer blinked, slowly peering down at theblanquette de veauandtarte pine aux pommesin front of her. Heading to table eight and thirteen. Right.She cleared her throat, reaching for her towel to tidy up the caramel sauce. “Good.” She nodded to Amber, one of her part-time servers, and flicked her wrist to send the young woman out front.
Sawyer was off her game tonight. Not enough to be noticeable, she hoped, but the lack of her usual precision to detail was nagging at her. Fatigue had her shoulders drooping and her brain cells sizzling like a steak left on the grill too long. Between her episode that morning and her inability to think of little elsethan Dr. Cooper’s planned stress test, she was ready to throw in the towel. Sawyer pulled at her collar, the heat in the kitchen too much tonight.
She snatched the incoming chit from the machine, always a few seconds late this shift, and hollered, “Four orders offèves au lardall day with mustard pickles OTS!”
“Heard that, Chef!” Barb returned.
“How’s thebouillabaissecoming for twenty-six?”
“Less than a minute, Chef. I’ve got about five more servings, and then we’ll have to stretch it,” Leon said behind the seafood line.