“Damn, you didn’t waste any time.” He returned the paper back to the desk, his eyes serious but his mood not sour.
I didn’t inform Dex about the high demand for his care, that there was a wait list longer than my arm with people who were desperate to see him, that people sobbed on the phone as they pleaded for me to get them in sooner. But the truth was, everyone who called was just as urgent, so there was nothing I could do. There simply wasn’t enough time, and since Dex had taken on these other roles at the clinic and the university, we had even less time. Unless I scheduled him on the weekends. “Because we don’t have time to waste.”
I approached the door to his lab then poked my head inside.
Dex was there, sitting at one of the tables in the lab, entirely alone, his head down as he looked over his paperwork. There were a couple trays beside him, a microscope, and then his computer station with three monitors. It was freezing cold inside, but he didn’t seem affected by the frigid temperatures.
He was so focused on his work that he didn’t even notice me step inside, didn’t notice my heels as they clacked against the tile floor. I moved to the opposite side of the table so I could face him.
He continued to make his notes, his scribbled handwriting totally cliché for a doctor.
“Dex?” I asked quietly.
He looked up when he heard me, and his eyes narrowed like he’d literally had no idea I was there until he heard his name. “What’s up?”
“It’s time to take a peek at the apartment—if you’re willing.”
“What?” He dropped his pencil and turned on his stool to look at the clock on the wall. “Fuck, I didn’t realize the time.” He turned back to me, slightly confused, like he didn’t have a good grip on reality at the moment.
“Time flies when you’re having fun, right?”
He grabbed his pencil again, using his left hand. “I really need to finish this. Can you give me some time?”
“Of course. Take all the time you need. Can I get you something? Coffee or water?” I noticed he didn’t have anything.
“I can’t eat or drink in here, but I’m starving.”
“I’ll run out and grab something. Any requests?”
His hand was already scribbling on the paper, the monitor in front of him showing some kind of radiology imaging. He didn’t say anything, like his mind had already flipped back to what he was doing.
I silently excused myself and let him be.
He ended up taking an additional two hours to finish his work, and he ate on the go, eating the sandwich with one hand as we left the facility and approached the private driver waiting. “What’s this?” he asked after taking a bite.
“Your mother said I should hire a driver since you’ll be running around so much. You didn’t have one before?”
He shook his head. “I just jumped in a cab.”
Probably because he didn’t have an assistant organizing everything for him like the rest of his family. We got inside and made the drive, and I didn’t say anything as I let him enjoy his food and coffee.
When he was done, I spoke. “You didn’t have an assistant before?”
He shook his head and looked out the window.
“Why?”
He shrugged. “It just seemed like too much work. My mom tried to make it happen a couple times, but I wouldn’t budge. I also didn’t want one…for other reasons.”
“What other reasons?” I asked, unsure why a man like him would be against having someone to make his life easier. His brother did it; his father did it.
He was quiet for so long that it was obvious he wouldn’t answer me.
“Well, I’m glad you made an exception for me.”
He turned back to me. “Well, it’s not really an exception anymore. But, yes, it’s nice.”
I still had no idea what that meant, but I didn’t ask.
We pulled up to the building, and Dex took a look at it. “Of course, my parents decided to put me in a palace…” He opened the door and got out.
I followed him, and we entered the building. I introduced him to the door greeter and then the receptionist at the desk that kept track of the mail and packages that came in for the residents. We got into the elevator and began to rise. “Your mom said she wanted something a little more secure than just a regular apartment. You know, that way, a disgruntled patient can’t try to get into your apartment or take your mail or worse.”
“I get it.” His phone vibrated in his pocket, so he pulled it out and took a look at a couple emails before he sheathed it again.
His new profession had barely begun, and he was already weighed down by constant commitment.