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Gene shook his head. “I’m not trying to fix anything. I just want to make sure she’s fine.”
“Then do that without shattering her reality.”
Gene scoffed. “I don’t want her to keep worrying about this girl if she’s only a figment of her imagination. She’s convinced the girl needs help, that she’s running from something.”
“Then help her find the girl. You and I both know Amanda’s not gonna rest easy until she tries everything she can to find the girl. If, in the end, there really isn’t a girl, then Amanda might listen to your medical suggestions.”
Gene had a headache just listening to his mother. But his middle school teacher of a mother made some sense in a very roundabout way. He liked solving problems, and he got frustrated when some matters were beyond his power to remedy. In Amanda’s case, he couldn’t just fix her the way he would treat a trauma patient in the ER.
“You’re saying I should just accept this?”
“Sometimes a girl just needs to know you have her back.”
Gene had some time to burn after his mother left for work. He also had a list of things to do, like find temporary lodging that wouldn’t mind a short lease. Though he loved his parents and enjoyed their company, he couldn’t see himself living under their roof, in his childhood room, for three months.
He found some prospective places and checked them out. It’d be nice if he could move in before he started at the clinic on Monday. He grabbed his keys and headed out.
I was supposed to take Amanda to the car rental place today.
Staring at his phone, Gene contemplated texting or calling Amanda. Would that be a good idea?
What would I say? I’m sorry, but I still think you need a CT?
Gene stowed the phone away and started driving. He decided against contacting Amanda for now until he deciphered his mother’s advice. He still couldn’t understand why he was wrong to want to figure out a problem? In this case, Amanda’s head injury. He never said he wanted to fix her.
Well, maybe.
Even if he wasn’t her official doctor, he was still a doctor. Confabulation was something he could understand, even if he wasn’t a neurologist or a psychiatrist. But he needed more information about her brain, and he could only get that if she got a CT. Whatever they’d find, he could figure out a solution.
But she’s not your patient. You made sure she didn’t see you as her doctor last night, you asshole.
Amanda’s passion filled face appeared in his mind eye. She’d been so responsive to his touch and so trusting of his intention that the hurt in her voice at the end of the night had done him in.
He turned into the parking lot of an apartment complex and got out to get the feel of the place. But his head and heart weren’t quite ready. He got an application form, a brief tour of the one-bedroom unit, and headed out. He’d been driving toward downtown to get some lunch when he spotted the red-brick building.
The police department.
Gene might not know how to find a missing person, but the police should. Though, the officers who had responded to Amanda’s accident hadn’t put much stock into her story, either. He would’ve bet they’d been the ones spreading the lady in the blue dress sighting story instead. He had to deal with the police more often than he’d like working in an ER. Believe it or not; the police didn’t just listen to chatter for info; they liked to gossip, too.
Gene pulled into the police department parking lot and pulled out his phone. He dialed a number.
“Detective Alden,” the man on the other end said gruffly.
“Do I have to call you detective now?” Gene ridiculed.
The other man didn’t reply. Sounds of ringing phones and the low buzzing of people talking in the background filtered through the speaker.
“Only if I have to call you doctor, you prick,” Patrick Alden finally answered in a more lighthearted voice. “I heard you were in town. In fact, that’s all I’ve been hearing for two days. About time you call.”
“As you might’ve heard, I’ve been preoccupied,” Gene said lightly. Though he wasn’t happy, he was still the subject of interest around town. “You’re free for lunch?”
“I only have a pile of paperwork. Sure, I can do lunch.”
Fifteen minutes later, Gene sat opposite Patrick in the Collegiate Grill, ordering cheeseburgers and fries.
“You look good, man.”
Gene sat back and studied his old buddy. Though he still had impressive muscles on his shoulders and chest, the retired Marine looked leaner since his return from Iraq four years ago. But there was a more relaxed aura around him.
