What's Left of Me (12 page)

“Oh, don’t act like I just wounded you,” I say as I push past him slowly and make my way into Jason’s office.
 
Once I’m there, I start to pant, trying to catch my breath.
 
That short distance just felt like a marathon, but I don’t let that stop the smile that so badly wants to come out.

“I would have made it worth your while!” he calls down the hallway, which causes my smile to grow bigger.

Jason is in the process of converting the practice to electronic records.
 
I didn’t realize all the formalities a vet clinic takes in ensuring the privacy of its animal patients.
 
I have to sign privacy forms indicating I won’t share or copy any of the information I’m seeing after I finish the proper paperwork to make me an official employee.

Shannon is extremely helpful, answering all my questions and showing me what needs to be scanned and where.
 
After two hours, I’m ten charts in and finally getting the flow.
 
Apparently, ten charts in two hours aren’t a lot, considering Shannon has done triple that amount.
 
While I’m slowly working away, a light knock comes from the office door.
 
I figure it is Shannon coming in again, so I don’t take my eyes off the computer screen or my hand off the mouse that is clicking away.

“That doesn’t look like scanning to me.”

I jump at the sound of the voice coming from over my shoulder.
 
“Parker!
 
You scared the shit out of me!”

He lets out a small laugh, making his way to the opposite side of the desk.
 
I watch as he takes a seat, leaning back and putting his feet on the desk, making himself at home.

“I didn’t picture you as a hockey fan.”

“Excuse me?”

He points at the computer.
 
“The Minnesota Wild website.”

“Oh, um, yeah, I’m a fan.”
 
Why do I always sound incoherent around him?
 
I can’t seem to think or speak clearly.
 
And, to make matters worse, I blush easily.
 
It’s as if I’m constantly on fire around him.

“Me too.”

“Really?
 
I begged my parents to let me play when I was younger, but I couldn’t skate for the life of me, so I did the next best thing and became a fan.”
 
I don’t know why I tell him that, but I can tell by the way he is smiling at me, that he wants to add to the conversation.
 
It’s not one of his sexy I-want-you smiles, but the smile of a little boy who is excited about a new toy.

“I played all through middle and high school.
 
Then, when I got to college, I did private league stuff around my schedule.
 
I’m a Tampa Bay Lightning fan myself.”

“You just said you were a fan.”

“Yeah, of hockey.
 
Not the Wild; Tampa.”

“What!
 
Tampa?
 
Come on.”

He sits up now, taking his feet off the desk.
 
“Seriously.
 
You’re going to give me crap about being a Tampa fan?
 
At least we won a Stanley Cup.
 
You can’t say that of your sweet Minnesota Wild.”
 
His eyes challenge me for a response.

“Yeah, that may be true.”

“May be true?
 
It
is
true, honey.”

“Okay, that is true, However, Lightning has had a lot more years to develop a team.
 
Wild has only been around for, like, twelve years or so.
 
Tampa has maybe ten years on them!”

“Oh, come on, sweetheart.
 
Twelve years is plenty of time to develop a team.”

 
What is up with calling me honey and sweetheart?

“No.
 
You need good general managers to make a team stronger each year.
 
It’s their job to find players that contribute to the team.
 
To build the team up.
 
With the Lightning being around much longer, I would expect them to have had the time to develop a strong team.
 
But mark my words, the Wild will rank higher this year in our conference for playoffs then your Tampa in their conference.”

“Oh, baby.
 
Something to know about me is that I love a good challenge and I never back down from a bet.
 
I don’t lose.
 
Ever.”

There is another one of
those
words: baby.

“It’s on.”
 
I feel as if there is more behind our words than just the bet on hockey.
 
His eyes are dancing with mine and his stupid grin is back.
 
I know he’s thinking the same thing.

Parker winks at me before leaning back in the chair. “Tell me something else about yourself.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to get to know the new employee.
 
Think of it as a delayed interview.”

I laugh.
 
“Delayed interview?”

“Yes.
 
I was informed when I was taken on that I would have a say in all hiring.
 
I didn’t get much of a say when it came to you.”

“Is that so?
 
Well, what would you say so far,
Doctor
Jackson?”

“So far, I’d say I like what I see. And hear.
 
But I need to know more, so please, tell me about yourself.”
 
The smile never leaves his face.

I blush.
 
I have no idea why I can’t control it, but I feel the heat spread over my chest and I’m thankful for the t-shirt I’m wearing today so that he can’t see the red splotches forming.

Tell me about yourself.
 
It’s the one question that is so open-ended I never know exactly what they are looking for or wanting to know.
 
In an interview, it’s supposed to be about my work and educational experiences.
 
In personal life, it can be anything.

“Don’t you have animals to see?”

“Nope. Lucky for you, I’m all done for the day.”

Knowing I won’t get out of this, I cross my arms and lean away from him in the chair.
 
If there’s anything I learned in psychology, it’s body language.
 
Maybe my unwelcoming gesture will give him the hint that I’m not in the mood for discussing my personal life.

When I don’t speak, Parker takes it upon himself to start asking questions.
 
“Let’s start with an easy one.
 
How old are you?
 
I know you’re legal to drink.”

“Twenty-one.
 
How about you?”
 
I think it’s only fair to ask him the same.
 
Besides, I’ve wanted to know this question since the first night.

“Not so fast.
 
This is your interview.”

I roll my eyes.

“What brings you to Rochester with your sister and Jason?”

This is an easy question.
 
It’s one I’ve already thought about when I had to come here.
 
“School.”
 
I don’t elaborate any further.

“Huh.
 
What’s your major?”

“Astrophysics.”

“Wow.
 
That’s not one you hear every day.
 
What made you want to get into that?”

“Considering it’s the study of the universe, planets, and stars, I would say astronomy,” I say with a bite.
 
I have a tendency to be sassy every now and then.

“Huh, okay, smart ass. We’ll come back to that.
 
What interests you?”

You.
 
“Lots of things.”

“You’re single, correct?” he presses.

Whoa!
 
Not the question I was expecting next.

“That’s a personal question.
 
Last I checked, personal questions are
not
allowed during interviews.”

“This isn’t the typical interview.
 
You’re already hired, and I think I’m entitled to that one.” His voice dips down to a barely audible whisper before he continues, “After all, you did sleep with me.
 
I need to know who I’m up against … if anyone.”

Just then, Shannon walks in, “How’s it going in he—”

Saved by the bell!
 
She stops mid-sentence when she sees Parker.

“Oh, I’m sorry.
 
I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
 
She doesn’t hide the humor in her voice, or the wiggling of her eyebrows as she backs out of the office.

Before Parker or I can respond, she’s out the door.

“Well, looks like our time is up.
 
I gotta get finished up here before Jason gets back,” I tell him.

Parker stands.
 
He places both hands on the desk and leans over so he’s mere inches from my face. “This conversation isn’t finished.”
 
He winks at me and turns away.

I sink back into the chair, throwing my head back.

I’m screwed.

That evening, Jason is out for his volleyball league, so Genna and I decide to have ladies’ night.
 
This usually includes wine, movies, and gossip, but tonight it consists of watching Genna eat ice cream, and lots of it.

“You didn’t tell me about your day?” Genna asks from the opposite end of the couch.
 
She has her back against the armrest and her legs resting on top of my thighs.

“It was good.
 
I just scanned charts.
 
I didn’t get that many in, but Jason didn’t seem to mind.”
 
I realize I didn’t feel tired once when I was talking with Parker me.
 
It didn’t even faze me that my legs or arms didn’t feel like rubber.
 
I felt good.
 
Really good.

Genna holds out her spoon full of vanilla ice cream topped with chocolate syrup, gesturing for me to take a bite.

I shake my head no.
 
My mouth is still sore, and I don’t have much of an appetite.
 
Not even for ice cream.

“Well, from what I’ve heard, it’s taking everyone a long time to get those records transferred.
 
Have you decided what you’re doing tomorrow yet?” she asks, taking the bite she offered me.

“I think I might go in just for a half day.
 
Jason said he’d bring me home after the morning.
 
I didn’t see any of the other staff there besides Shannon or Parker, so it will be nice to see everyone before they get too busy.”

“Parker, huh?
 
How was he today?” she asks with glee.

“He seemed … good.
 
I mean … I didn’t really talk to him much.”
 
I fumble for my words.

“Interesting.”

“Why do you say it like that?”
 
I look up at her and see the smirk she’s hiding with the wine glass as she takes a sip.
 
Yes, my sister is strange, having wine with ice cream but, as she says, “It’s called dessert wine.
 
Ice cream is a dessert.”

“Nothing.
 
It just seems like maybe you’re into him.”

“What!
 
I am not.”

“It’s okay if you are.”

“I’m not.”

“Okay … but if you are, just know I will support you.”

“I know.”

“And, it’s okay to tell him about your cancer.”

Why?
 
So he can treat me like everyone else?
 
As if I’m fragile?

“Genna, I am not telling him, or anyone here who doesn’t know, about my cancer.
 
Don’t you get that?
 
I just want to be me.”

“Aundrea, you will always be you.”

“No, I won’t.
 
I will always be known as the girl with cancer unless I make it clear beforehand that there is more to me.”

“Aundrea, you don’t have to be scared to tell people about it.”

“I’m not!
 
Why does everyone always think I’m scared?
 
Is it too much to ask to just be treated normally for once?”

“Okay.
 
I’ll drop it.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

As if someone’s ears were burning, my phone beeps with a Facebook friend request.
 
Parker.
 
I can’t accept it.
 
I don’t want him reading the comments from my friends and family. My parents wanted me to start one of those blogs where I update my progress with my Hodgkin’s and where I’m at with treatment.
 
It’s too depressing having to write out all the details, so I don’t.
 
Instead, I get daily messages or posts asking how I’m doing.