Chapters 4-6

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(4)

            Three days passed as swiftly as a hundred years, as if the humidity in Jacksonville had altered time. The rental car had been returned, my luggage unpacked, and I’d met with human resources at the Florida Times Union to fill out more paperwork. As I prepared to leave the Estelle sisters for my psych evaluation, I fantasized Father Time retiring to Florida, like everyone else, and this was the reason life moved so slow down here.

            Dr. Lewis’ office, according to Grams, was a ‘hop, skip, and jump from our house’ inside a tiny creek-front residence at the opposite end of the Square. Many businesses—real estate, law offices, caterers—housed themselves in historic homes flanking San Marco Boulevard. It was the chic thing to do, apparently, in an area where residents walked to their daily appointments more than they drove a car. I found it highly amusing that the adjacent house was an acupuncture parlor and wondered if I might have better luck solving my problems there. My paranoia had risen to new levels around graduation, and I’d known even then I could no longer explain it away with the old excuse about stress.

            The one-story white and green clapboard house for which I was looking sat like a quiet kid in the corner, its main entrance off to the side, shaded by an awning. Brass accents brightened up the place here and there—a lamp post on the walk, a door knocker, window latches, and the lettering on the front window that read, Dr. Edward Lewis, M.D. I drew in a deep breath and contemplated the potted flowers around the entrance before pushing on the door. A bell tinkled somewhere and the sound of trickling water reached my ears. About the same time my eyes settled on an elaborate salt-water tank with fish as brilliant as the flowers outside.

            “Good afternoon. May I help you?” a pleasant voice chimed through the clacking of my heels on the parquet floor.

            “Yes, hi. I have a two o’clock appointment with Dr. Lewis. I’m Stasia Moreland.”

            The receptionist smiled from behind a computer monitor, her petite features glowing in the blue light reflected off the screen. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a tight bun, and red-rimmed glasses hid her small brown eyes. She regarded the screen with furrowed brows.

            “Oh, here you are. Sorry,” she said, smiling again. “I’ll let him know you’re here.”

            I thanked her and took a seat in one of the antique chairs in the reception area. Watching the fish float past the front of the tank, I forced my drowsiness away by grabbing the first magazine on the table next to me. I opened it but hadn’t focused on a single word of it when a man came bursting through another door. It startled me and my mouth hung open like the fish. He was broad-chested, tan, wearing jeans and a plaid shirt. I wondered if he was a patient. Or maybe he was the gardener, I thought, as bronzed as his skin appeared. He must have spent a great deal of time outdoors. Thankfully he paid me no attention and walked straight to the receptionist with a thick file in his large hands.

            “Maggie, can you set a follow-up appointment with Mr. Longman for two weeks out. That should allow enough time for the meds to take effect.”

            She nodded meanwhile the man’s eyes fell on me. I clomped my mouth shut, regretting that the sound of my teeth snapping could be heard in the relative silence of the room. He stepped toward me. I vaguely remember the receptionist saying my name, distracted by the crooked smile on his face and then his outstretched hand.

            “Hi, I’m Eddie.”

            I shook his hand, not entirely sure what was happening. Who was Eddie and why was he greeting Dr. Lewis’ patients? His eyes drifted down to our clasped hands. I pulled mine away the second I realized I was still holding on.

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