There is a certain feeling I get when I am lost for words. I cannot describe it to the best of my ability but I always feel a sharp tingle that slices through my toes and irritatingly makes its way to my brain.
"I'm sorry?"
For the first time, my words come out loud and clear as I speak to the doctor who made every look directed towards me very awkward and intense. I cannot seem to appreciate his request and I need to hear it one more time before I can confidently reject his offer.
"I asked if you could meet me for a coffee." He repeats with a bit of annoyance behind his voice. I have always been good at sensing people's moods in the way they speak so he couldn't have hidden his annoyance no matter how hard he tried.
I chuckle a bit amused that he has the audacity to ask me out to coffee and be annoyed that I didn't get the sudden intrusion.
"Why?"
"I have a few questions." He responds shortly and ends his speech as if I am supposed to figure out the rest for myself.
I blow out my held breath with irritation before I continue.
"A few questions?" I stop for a moment as my brain begins to come up with all sorts of scenarios. "Wait... is Emma really sick."
"No." he is quick to reply but he doesn't say any more. His silence is beginning to piss me off but I am kind enough not to yell at him.
"Is it me?" I question fearing the worst...
"No." is his response. "It's something else..."
"Something else... is it serious."
He decides to disregard my next question completely by stating something that is completely irrelevant.
"Michello's."
"What?"
"Michello's is a few blocks from where you live meet me there tomorrow morning at 9... don't be late I have work... its important."
"Wait wh-"
What follows next is the flat tone indicating that he has hung up. I am left with my mouth hanging wide open because I have never been treated so rudely before.
I scoff watching my phone as if it has an answer for what just happened. "Who the hell does he think he is?" I utter out loud with disbelief. How somebody can be so cocky, I'll never know. "Wait a minute." I stand from my chair and look towards the door. "How the hell does he know Michello's is round the corner?
*****
This morning, I have been debating numerously on whether or not I should be seated in Michello's waiting for Dr Foxwell. I arrived 30 minutes early hoping that I would have made my mind up 15 minutes prior to him arriving.
When I finally determine what I need to do which is not to meet him, I clump down on my curiosity, grab Emma's breakfast and begin to pack it into her lunch box. I came prepared with a lunch box knowing that I would need to make a quick getaway and the only way I can do that without wasting any food is by packing it. What the hell were you thinking coming here. I think to myself unable to understand what could have possessed me into meeting a stranger with my daughter in tow.
"Mummy's sorry Emma... you'll finish eating at home." I say as I take the sausage from her hand and place it into the lunch box. I am about to take the untouched drink from her when a voice comes from behind me making me jump about 10 feet in the air.
"Am I late?"
I compose myself quickly and look back at Dr Foxwell. He is wearing a well-tailored suit today that fits so well my stare lingers for more than a second.
"You shouldn't stare." He says, holding up his left hand. "I'm married."
To say that I'm embarrassed and confused would be an understatement. There are a lot of questions troubling my mind as I wonder what I expected from this meeting. Why had he asked me to coffee if he is married and why is he now looking at me with laughter in his eyes.
Up until our last meeting he had almost killed me with his laser beamed stare.
"Please take a seat." He instructs, with such politeness I have to question him on it.
"I'm sorry... what?"
He doesn't respond but slightly brushes past me to go for Emma who leaps into his arms in a fit of giggles.
"Uncle Adam." She laughs as he begins to tickle her tummy.
Uncle what? When did this happen? I am puzzled, perplexed... call it what you will because the man I am staring at- at this moment is not the one I had spoken to last night and the one who wasn't very fond of me even as I was recovering from hitting my head on the germy concrete hospital floor.
Dr Foxwell proceeds to sit where Emma was sitting and places her on the table opposite him before he opens her lunchbox and begins to feed her. I am swimming in so much confusion that I stand there like a statue unable to move or speak.
"Did you miss me?" he asks her to which she nods with a mouth full of sausage. "How much." Emma spreads her hands above her head and draws an imaginary circle around her. She goes back to eating and that's when he looks my way... the man with bipolar.
"Please sit... I don't have long... shift starts in 10 minutes." He says and for some peculiar reason I am running to sit before him.
I wish to question my brain on its actions but right now isn't the time.
"How are you feeling." He begins.
"Fine... yourself?" Too quick a response don't cha think? Comes that voice again heating me up
"Good." He replies formerly, leans back and folds his hands just below his chest. I look down to catch the gold band that indicates he is married and begin to feel uneasy about our meeting.
"Why?" I initiate but he cuts me off.
"I spoke to your mother." He stops and looks at me as if asking for permission to continue or looking for a sign that I comprehend what he is saying.
"Yes."
"She was really worried about you." He sighs as more confusion sinks into my brain.
"Is something wrong with me?" I question.
He pauses then looks at Emma before gazing at me.
"She says that you worry about Emma so much that you have given up working."
I cannot see the connection in any of the words he is saying and I do not like where this conversation is going. Mum really does talk too much. How can she easily discuss my private life with a stranger?
"I do not understand."
"I will cut to the chase..." he says, adjusting himself in the seat. As I watch him closely I notice that he is trying to find the right way of saying what he needs to say. He swallows more than once in a few seconds and he keeps moving around in his seat like a child that needs to go to the toilet.
"There is a job opening up at a friend's house and I think it will be the perfect one for you."
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