Page 70 of Brain Damage

He seems much more upbeat after that, until the next time he walks, when he practically falls flat on his face.

49

BEFORE

It’s raining.

Pouring, actually. It almost feels like buckets of water are being dropped on my head from the heavens. Also, the weather report for today was full of lies, claiming that the rain wouldn’t start until midnight. But here I am, jumping around puddles at eight o’clock, feeling more like I’m in the shower than the streets of uptown Manhattan.

Ever since I got out of the subway station, I’ve been keeping my eyes peeled for one of those guys selling umbrellas on the street. I finally saw one when I was two blocks from home, but the vendor was insultingly price gouging at twenty bucks for an umbrella, and I figured I could be wet for two more blocks.

Clark texted me he would be working late tonight, so I hung around the clinic after hours, catching up on my overflowing inbox. I can access the clinic EMR from home, but it’s flaky from my own laptop, and Kitty loves to walk over my keyboard repeatedly. It feels like I can move twice as quickly—signing off on labs and answering patient queries forwarded by the nursing staff—when I’m in the office. Although if I’d known about the rain, I would have hightailed it after my last patient left at five-thirty.

As I near the front door to my building, I notice a man huddled in the small alcove by the entrance, trying to keep dry. Through the dark and rain, it’s very hard to make out his face. I assume it must be a visitor, waiting to be buzzed upstairs. It’s only when I get a couple of feet away that I finally recognize him.

It’s Stan Leroy.

What the hell is he doing here?

“Hi, Dr. McKenna!” he says innocently, as if the man isn’t stalking me in front of my own apartment building.

I just stand there for a minute, not sure what to say or do. The rain is still coming down hard, and all I want to do is duck into my building and dry off. But I don’t want to get any closer. A voice in the back of my head is telling me to run.

“What are you doing here?” I finally blurt out.

“I’m so sorry to bother you,” he says. “I honestly wouldn’t have if it wasn’t important.”

I swipe at the wet strands of hair plastered to my skull. “What is it?”

“I have a mole.” He points to his upper flank area, which is covered by a rain jacket. “I’m worried about it, and I was hoping you could take a look.”

I stare at him, stunned by his nerve. “This is my home. You need to make an appointment at the clinic.”

“Well, I can’t. I called, and the staff told me I was discharged as your patient.”

That’s right. After I ran into him while I was with Clark, I told them that I was officially discharging him as my patient. He was not allowed to see me as a doctor ever again.

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly, “but it’s very inappropriate for you to be here, Mr. Leroy.”

“Stan,” he corrects me.

“Mr. Leroy,” I say through my teeth. “Like I said, this is my home, and you should not be here.”

“But I—” He takes a deep breath. “Look, I know this is going to sound weird, but I… I feel like you and I have a connection.”

“A connection?” I repeat.

“The thing is…” He smiles shyly. “I’m in love with you, Dr. McKenna. Charlotte.”

I barely feel the rain pelting down on me because this man’s confession has left me reeling. I’m in love with you, Dr. McKenna. Is he out of his ever-loving mind?

“You’re not in love with me,” I say firmly. “You don’t even know me. I saw you as a patient, in a professional capacity. Once.” For groin fungus.

“It was love at first sight.” His brows knit together. “The whole reason I got in shape and lost weight was all because of you. I wanted to be better… for you.”

“Mr. Leroy.” I am struggling to keep my composure. “I’m a married woman.”

“But your husband cheats on you.”