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“You think I don’t have it now?”
“Why can’t I talk to her? What if she needs me or something’s wrong?”
“Will, she’s fine. I relayed everything she said last night on the phone. She’s okay. She misses you and she loves you. We’ve talked about why we advised severing communication.”
“Because of this bullshit you’re trying to pass off as your evaluation? Thinking that she’s a trigger?”
“Will—” he starts.
I raise my hand, effectively cutting him off.I can’t listen to this shit anymore.“No. Okay? I’m done. I’m fed up with this. It’s like you’re all in cahoots to punish me a step further than the suspension. I don’t want to hear anything else from you or anyone here. Just leave me be for the next three days.”
I begin running again, and hear him call after me. I let my mind drift back to the session on the second day where they informed me that they hadn’t been letting Charley’s calls through and that there would be no communication between us for the next five days. My blood begins to boil as I pick up the pace.
Two days prior:
“How did you sleep, Will?” Tuck asks as he sits across from me, sliding his frames over his eyes.
“As expected,” I sigh as I run a hand over my face. It’s been a little under twenty-four hours since I’ve seen or spoke to Charley and I already miss her. “Before we start today, can I have my phone back? I want to call Charley.”
“Will, you know that’s not how this works; phone calls are between four and six.”
“Yeah, I know. On the main lines. Give me my cell, Tuck,” I say holding my hand out.
“Will, I don’t have it.”
“What do you mean you don’t have it?”
“I mean it’s in Patterson’s office just like everyone else’s phones, away from patients so they don’t get themselves into trouble.”
“What?” I narrow my gaze into slits. “I’m a doctor, I certainly don’t expect the same treatment as everyone else here. Once upon a time I was the on-call doctor here.” I shake my head. “Go get it!”
“Will, you’re not a doctor right now, you’re a patient. And you’re in rehab. It’s the time to separate from your life and recover. You need…space, to get better.”
“Are you fucking with me right now? This is a joke, right?”
“Will, do you want to get better?”
“I want to talk to my fiancée.” He blinks his eyes a few times before I see him jot something down on his notepad. “For Christ sakes, Tuck, she’s pregnant…and I’m not there.”
“I’m aware of that. Tell me was this pregnancy planned?”
“Tuck, I swear to God, I’m not kidding around, give me my phone.”
“Will, I’ll see what I can do. But for now, can we just talk?”
My knee begins to bounce nervously that he’s so adamant about me not talking to Charley. And now he’s changing the subject. I know these signs. “About?”
“You know what about. Will I thought we had a handle on this?”
“We do…I do!” I cross my arms over my chest. “It’s been a rough few weeks.”
“I know.”
“I can’t practice for two years,” I say, the burn in my throat returning both from the words and as a reminder that I haven’t had any alcohol in a few days.
“Do you think that was fair?”
“Ummm,” I rub my forehead. “I don’t know, I think two years is a bit harsh.”
