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And then I saw him as he walked up to the door.
He was dressed in 'church clothes'—a button down shirt tucked into slacks. He had his hair combed with gel, looking just like he did every Sunday morning at Stanley's church.
It made me so mad to see him here in my new environment. I could not believe he was in Memphis. When I first left Montana, I had threatened my mother, Stanley, and John with restraining orders.
My mother reached out and tried to explain herself at first, but it had been a month since I had heard from her. She had been in touch via email, but I had no idea any of them knew where I was living.
It made me feel enraged to see John walking up to the door. It felt like such an invasion of privacy. And he had been here since Friday.
"Oh, he's handsome," Leah whispered from next to me.
"No."
"No, what?"
"I know him. Hang on, I have to take care of this. He's not coming in here."
The clinic was beautiful with a two-story set of glass windows for an entryway. John could see me and I could see him as I walked through the lobby. I rushed to intercept him at the door so that he wouldn't come in. I didn't get to him in time, and he opened the door and smiled at me by the time I made it there.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, not smiling.
"It's good to see you, too."
"John, you can't be here."
"Why not?" he asked, looking around like it was a free country.
My heart raced. I just wanted him to turn around and walk away without saying another word to me.
"Why are you here?" I asked.
"To talk to you."
"Why did you make an appointment at this place of business?"
"Because I wanted to talk to you," he said again, as if that were obvious.
"You can't be here. You can't be in Tennessee at all."
"Sure, I can."
I looked back over my shoulder and glanced at my coworker, shaking my head at her as I pushed him outside. I held up a finger, letting Leah know I would be right back.
"Wait, I have an appointment," he said, pushing against me. "My back is really bothering me. That's why I'm here."
"You can see someone in Billings, Montana."
I pushed against him, and he relented, putting up no fight. I stopped walking once we cleared the window and were no longer in plain sight of any of my coworkers. I stared straight at him, pretending to be unintimidated.
"You can't be here."
"Listen, Corey, we need to talk. I need to talk to you. I made an appointment, fair and square. I wanted to catch up with you while I'm in there."
He was trying to explain himself in a calm, reasonable tone, but I just shook my head.
"You're not going to a physical therapy appointment, John. We're not doing that. If you need to tell me something, just say it right now."
"I… I… " He showed me his outstretched hands, looking innocent. "I'm not Stanley," he insisted.
