The Best Friend (13 page)

Glancing at his sneakers as he followed her inside, he could only think,
Damn
he did not want to do this
. He saw a couple across the room, and a single woman to his left, reading. He threw himself into a chair, very much alone, on the other side.

Gretchen spoke in subdued, quiet tones to the receptionist. She smiled and tapped the counter before turning and approaching him. He hated how well modulated Gretchen’s tone of voice always was. And how she smiled so kindly to everyone around her. And how her legs seemed to go on forever past the edge of her conservative skirt. He glared down at his feet. He was slouched in the chair, his legs outstretched and his ankles crossed. His scruffy, once-white sneakers, nervously bounced.

“So, you’re all checked in. It should be only a short wait. Dr. Hart is running a few minutes late. I don’t have any appointments right now, so you can just knock on my office door when you’re done.”

He didn’t raise his eyes or respond. She sighed. Her hips, thighs and feet were the only parts of her in his line of vision. She finally turned and gave up.

He sat there for a long while, glaring angrily at his feet, and only turned when he felt a new presence.  A little girl stood there on scabby-kneed legs, wearing jean shorts and a t-shirt, beside him. She smiled sweetly before taking the chair next to him. He frowned and glanced around. There was plenty of other seating. Why would she sit next to him?

After only thirty seconds, she asked, “So, how did that happen?”

He glanced down. She had dark, black hair, that was long and straight and drawn into a scraggly ponytail. Her big, blue eyes were staring right at his left shoulder, wide open and curious.

“War,” he mumbled.

Her mouth formed a giant “O.”  “Really? Like Afghanistan? We were learning about that in social studies.”

“Yeah, like Afghanistan.”

“So, you’re a soldier?”

“I was. Not anymore.”

“And… you lost your arm? That sucks.”

She smiled and kept staring at his sleeve, which was pinned to his side. He finally sighed. “Yeah, it really sucks.”

“Is that why you’re here? To talk to Gretchen about it?”

“No. I’m not here to talk to Gretchen about it.”

She bit her lip. “Why not? She’s really, really nice.”

“I take it you’re here to talk to her?”

She shook her head, sending her ponytail flopping from one side of her head to the other. “Oh no. Not anymore. I used to. Now, we’re just real good friends. I come here after school. I should probably go to her office. I just wondered why you didn’t have an arm.”

The girl hopped up, then smiled and waved as she walked into the door Gretchen disappeared behind. He stared after her, a little surprised, and the ghost of a smile curled his lips. He wished all people could be that easy, open, interested and at ease with his missing arm.

He scowled once again, however, when he heard his name called by an older man with glasses and short, gray hair.

****

“Arm-guy!”

Tony cringed while standing in the half open door of Gretchen’s office. He barely arrived there before the dark-haired, little girl spotted him and made the exclamation. She hopped up from the floor where an explosion of paper surrounded her.

“Olivia. You mustn’t talk like that.” Gretchen stood up from her desk hastily. She went around her desk with a quick, weary glance his way. “That’s not nice.”

Olivia’s little face fell and she bit her lip. “I didn’t mean for it to sound mean.”

Gretchen’s face softened as she got down on her knees before the girl, while adjusting her skirt so it stayed properly together over her legs. She gently stroked the girl’s down turned head. “I know, honey. But you really mustn’t talk that way.”

Gretchen turned towards him. “I’m sorry, Tony. She didn’t mean anything by it.”

He stepped into Gretchen’s office and his eyes darted around for a quick survey, instantly feeling conspicuous. She was so impressive, and he
so
wasn’t. Her office was a large room with windows that faced the courtyard, and allowed the light to flood inside. The carpet was a soothing, light blue, with matching walls and photos of pretty landscapes decorating them. Gretchen’s desk was a dark-wooded, massive thing that was neatly organized and sat on one end of the room. The other end looked like a cross between a rec room and a kid’s playroom. A wide variety of toys lined the shelves, with plenty of books and a huge array of colorful, educational playthings. A table and chairs took up one side, with a couch and chairs on the other. Beanbag chairs were haphazardly strewn about, as were baskets of more kinds of toys and an assortment of stuffed animals.

“It’s okay,” he mumbled.

“How did you two meet?”

Olivia jumped up. “I sawed him in the waiting room and asked where his arm went.”

Gretchen bit her lip and Tony could tell she was trying to restrain a grin. “Uh, probably not the most polite thing to ask someone either, honey.”

“Why? I just wanted to know.”

Tony stepped inside, feeling lulled by the earnest question in the little girl’s eyes. Gretchen met his gaze briefly before she turned back to the child. Olivia looked up at Gretchen with big, honest eyes.

“Because… it can hurt people’s feelings when you say something so forward regarding things that are… different about them.”

“But, I just wanted to know. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings.” She glanced up at him.  “I didn’t want to make you feel bad about it.”

“You know what? Gretchen’s right, and usually, you probably shouldn’t draw attention to people’s differences; but with me? I like it. I’d rather have people ask me about it and be honest.  So you don’t have to be sorry to me. I appreciate your interest.”

She grinned, and the smile exploded up into her eyes. “Do you mean that? Mr. Soldier, I promise I won’t ever ask questions about it again.”

“You can call me Tony.”

Gretchen slowly rose to her full height. “Tony, this is Olivia Carver.”

Olivia stuck her hand out. He glanced down with surprise, and raised his hand to shake hers. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Tony.”

“Tony. Just call me Tony. I’m pleased to meet you too.”

“Does it hurt?” She nodded her head towards his empty shoulder.

He blinked in surprise, thinking, in a strange way, it was kinda nice to meet her too. It had been a long time since he felt even remotely interested in anyone new. He wondered why she was seeing Gretchen. Olivia was direct and easy to tolerate because there was no wishy-washy discomfort regarding his arm. Just youthful curiosity.

“Uh… well, no. It doesn’t really hurt. It just kinda feels weird.”

Gretchen’s gaze rose to his face. He could feel her eyes on him, searching for something more to clarify his statement.

“How could it feel weird if it’s not there?”

“Olivia,” Gretchen warned.

“No, it’s okay. It feels weird because I sometimes think it is still there. But I know it’s not. I get sensations, like I can move my arm. But I really can’t. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Kinda like you know you feel things in your heart, but you can’t see them? You just feel those feelings are there, even if they’re not?”

He stepped back. The kid was sharp. Intuitive. He never heard it described that way before. “You know what? Yeah, kinda like that.”

“Why don’t you wear those fake ones? Or a hook? Those are cool! Like Captain Hook! You could look like Captain Hook.”

Gretchen’s mouth dropped. “Olivia, no. Don’t talk like that.”

Tony chuckled and dropped to a knee so Olivia and he were eye-to-eye. “Captain Hook is bad-ass, isn’t he?”

Olivia was red-faced from Gretchen’s rebuke and slowly raised her eyes before a tentative smile rounded her cheeks. “You can’t say naughty words like that!”

Tony ruffled his hand in her hair. “I can’t wear those. They need more of a stump than I have. You know, if I lost my arm here or here,” he said, indicating two lower positions, “it would have been easier to use the fake ones or hooks. I don’t like the feel of them anyway, so I just go one-armed.”

She nodded her head. “My friend’s sister has a retainer for her teeth, but she hates it and won’t wear it because it bothers her.”

Gretchen bit her lip and Tony could tell she was trying to restrain a grin. A smile slipped over her lips as she said finally, “Yeah, almost the same thing.”

He met her gaze over Olivia’s head. She pressed her lips together and shrugged as if to say,
sorry, she couldn't resist
. He finally tilted his head in understanding. “And I did wonder why you don’t wear a prosthesis. Aren’t there some that respond to your nerve endings, or some such thing?”

“There are. Most work better with a larger stump to attach them to. What I have isn’t the best for most of them.”

Her eyes ran down his face, and over the side of his injury. “I didn’t realize that. So, it would have been a lot better to have some kind of…”

“Stump?” he supplied when she glanced away, blushing. “Yes, it would have been a degree better to have lost it a few inches lower.”

She licked her lips. “That’s not what I meant. I don’t mean better…”

“I know what you meant,” he interrupted. She pursed her lips together in a frown.

Gretchen cleared her throat finally and said, “Start to clean everything up, Liv. We need to take Tony home.”

He finally met her gaze and she stared at him for a long moment before going to her desk and shuffling papers. He followed closer. “You chauffeur all your patients?”

“Olivia’s not a patient. Well, she was a patient, years ago. Since then, I became friends with her family, and I help them out sometimes. I babysit her after school most days. She hangs out here. It’s not real exciting for her, but she’s a good sport about it, especially when I have a patient to see, and she has to wait in the waiting room.”

“Oh.” He waited for her to ask about his session. He stood with his legs parted, and his hand on his hip, ready to tell her what he thought of her old, prying, annoying doctor-friend. Finally, he asked, “Aren’t you going to ask how it went?”

She lifted her eyes and took in his angry demeanor. Starting with his disreputable hair, she glanced over his wrinkled clothes and worn sneakers. “No. I doubt you’d have anything good to say. Nor am I the person you should share it with. I was just hoping you’d keep coming back for a while. Your decision to go brought tears to your mother’s eyes.”

He stared at her hard, and his eyes squinted. Finally, he snorted. “That’s low, using my mother.”

She flashed a smile. “It is. It is so low. But whatever works, I’ll use.”

He turned slightly and waved his hand around the office. “Impressive. This place. You.”

She stilled, holding a file in her hand. He felt like a jerk when he saw her green eyes looking deeply into him. “Thank you, Tony. For saying so.”

“Can we go, Gretchen?” Olivia called from across the now uncluttered office.

“I’m almost done here.”

“Ah, please? Can’t we go ride the elevator?”

“I can take her down,” Tony interjected.

Gretchen paused, biting her lip and scrunching her face as if in disdain.

“If you trust me, that is,” he challenged her.

Very softly, she said, “I trust you. Just, uh, you can’t talk how you normally do. She’s only eight. You can’t say the F-word every other word in front of her.”

He didn’t say it every other word. Just sometimes. Sure. It was an explicit, forcible way to get his point across. But he wasn’t a barbarian. He knew not to say it in front of a little kid. Jesus. He didn’t also sustain brain trauma in the Army.

“I don’t swear like that in front of little kids. Even
I
know that.”

Her shoulders slouched and she smiled. “Good. Here are the keys. I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

Olivia was full of questions. She talked during the entire elevator ride down to the parking lot and for another ten minutes in the car. She asked every conceivable thing a person could about his arm. How did he lose it? What did it feel like it? How could he brush his teeth? On and on, she asked while becoming fascinated at how he managed to do anything.

Gretchen soon appeared and slid into the car, her skirt riding up her thigh a few inches. Still respectable, but a bit more skin than she ever showed. He glared out the window. Her hair swung around her face as she looked over her shoulder and back up at him. He liked the dark strands of her hair against the lighter blond. It was kind of surprising for conservative Gretchen.

He soon noticed Olivia twitching around strangely in the back, reaching for the floor and across the seat. He glanced back at her. She was keeping her left arm tightly next to her body. Gretchen noticed it too.

“What are you doing back there?” she asked, peeking at Olivia in her rearview mirror as she merged into traffic.

“Trying to get my shoe tied.”

“Oh.”

Olivia wasn’t done. Tony already guessed what she was doing. He pressed his lips to hide the smirk.

“One-armed. It’s not easy,” Olivia commented.

Gretchen gasped. “Olivia!”

“What?” She met Gretchen’s gaze in the mirror, completely confused what she’d done now.

“Don’t mimic people. That’s rude too.”

“I’m not mimicking. I’m doing it. It’s really hard. How do you do it, Tony?”

Gretchen slid a horrified, apologetic glance his way.

He twisted forward and untied his shoe before deftly retying it. Olivia half stood and half leaned forward to watch. Even Gretchen wanted to see, glancing between him and the road.

“How did you do that?! Show me! Show me!”

He pulled his foot up. “Cross one lace over the other. Wrap it around from behind to form a knot. Good. I have to put my foot down to show you the rest.”

He leaned forward again and redid the process to that point, glancing back at Olivia. “Okay, now pull the inside lace toward your other shoe, and pin it down with that shoe.”

“Oh! That’s what I couldn’t get past. The other shoe.”

“Yeah, you have to use whatever you got. Okay, now pull the outside shoelace tight and wiggle your foot outward until the knot is secure. Now, tuck that lace into the tongue of your shoe. Take the first lace and loop it inside your back, and pull it through tightly, using your thumb, index and middle finger.” He skillfully finished it.