Dreams of Us (5 page)

Chapter 5

Dr. Crawford did not have an eye patch on when he came into my room the next morning. That didn't stop me from assuming he had been asking about one for my sake.

"I heard you know how to do origami," I said after we spoke about my latest set of x-rays. I knew I should probably refrain from saying too many personal things like that to my doctor, but I just couldn't help it with him.

"I do," he said. "I'm not a master or anything, but I've got a few things memorized—enough to impress most eight-year-olds."

"I'm easily amused," I said.

He smiled. "You want me to make you something?"

"I thought you'd never ask," I said.

He sat on the foot of my bed and began rifling through my chart for a piece of paper. "I'm just gonna do the crane since it's fast, and they'll get on to me if I take too long in here."

Less than two minutes later, he handed me a paper crane, complete with wings that moved up and down when you pulled the tail.

"This is so cool!" I said.

He smiled again, but it was tinged with something odd.
Regret? Disappointment?
"I'm glad you like it," he said simply.

He left as soon as he finished folding it for me. I thought he was acting standoffish compared to our other conversations, but I had to remind myself that he was a doctor and I was his patient, and I should not set my expectations too high. He had come and gone so quickly that I began to doubt whether or not the whole eye patch thing had anything to do with me.

My mom, who had been at my apartment getting changed and showered, came in not long after Dr. Crawford left. I caught her up on everything he and I talked about, letting her know my x-rays looked good.

"I'm gonna go down the hall to the lounge to get some coffee, do you want to come?" she asked.

"Sure," I said, anxious for the opportunity to stretch my legs.

We set off down the hall toward the lounge. She stayed right by my side even though I was in no danger of losing my balance or falling over.

"It feels good to be up and around," I said once we arrived at the lounge. I gestured down the long hallway. "I'll walk to the end and back while you make your coffee."

She shot me a concerned expression. "Are you sure?"

I smiled. "Mom my legs are fine. I'll be leaving here in a day or two. I better be okay to make it to the end of the hall and back by myself."

She sighed as she gazed down the hall.

"I'm fine, Mom," I said, laughing.

"Okay, I'll be right here. Just holler if you need me."

She went into the lounge to make her coffee, and I ventured down the long hallway, planning on looking out the window when I got to the end.

I slowed considerably about halfway when I came to an intersection with another hallway. I thought I heard someone say my name in hushed tones, and it caught my attention.

"The girl with the broken hand in 402," a woman's voice said.

402 was most certainly my room, and I turned to the side so I could concentrate on hearing what they were saying.

"What about her?"

"Your man was asking Dr. Nelson about her yesterday afternoon, and I nipped that in the bud."

I heard a frustrated sigh.

My heart was pounding.

"What'd you do?" she asked.

"I heard him asking about her, and I told him that she didn't date men."

One of them gasped.

I grew instantly nauseated.

"Were you
lying
?"

"No, it's true. She's some superstar athlete. She has a girlfriend who's a TV host or something. I saw them in the Chicago Tribune. They're like the Ellen and Portia of the Midwest, only both of them are girly and beautiful."

"Thanks a lot!" she said, sarcastically.

"It's not like it matters. She's obviously off the market."

"Are you
serious
?" she asked, after a brief pause.

"I'm totally serious."

"What'd he say? I hope that didn't make him want her
more
."

I heard laughter.

"Yeah right. You know Dr. Crawford. He's not like that."

My heart sank. I could barely breathe. I wanted to burst into tears.

"Did he say anything?"

"Not really, but I could tell he was shocked."

"What are you doing?" I heard from several feet behind me. It was my mother.

Horrified, I turned and began jogging toward her. "This way, this way," I whispered, pushing her to turn around.

"What in heaven's name is wrong with you?" she asked, struggling to balance her coffee. Thankfully, she took a cue from me and was whispering. "What's the matter, Bailey?"

"Nothing," I whispered frantically. "I just need to get back to my room."

"You're gonna hurt yourself," my mom scolded.

"I'm fine."

We shuffled around the corner and down the hallway that led to my room. I was breathless when we finally made it there.

"Are you going to tell me what happened, Bailey?"

"No ma'am." I said, sitting on the edge of my bed.

"And why not?"

"Because, Mom, I overheard someone's private conversation, and I don't really want to talk about it."

"Was it inappropriate?"

"I said I really don't want to talk about it!"

My mom sighed and walked to the other side of the room leaving me on my bed. If she hadn't been there I would have lost it. I felt like I wanted to lose it even with her standing there staring at me.

What are the chances that I would walk up on someone having a conversation like that?
It didn't seem real. I knew they were talking about me, but I didn't identify with that person at all. I didn't think of myself as someone who didn't date men, and hearing them say that out loud made me feel sick and defensive.

It was no wonder Dr. Crawford seemed distant earlier. I thought back to our interaction—thought about him making the crane.
What must he have been thinking?
I wondered what he was saying to that other doctor before that woman told him about me.

I hung my head. I didn't want to be defined by my past choices, but there I was, unable to get away from them. Everything that woman said was true. I made my bed and now I had to lie in it. I sat there wondering why God had brought someone like him into my life only to have this happen.

Maybe it was just to show me that I could be attracted to a man. Maybe he was the first one to stir my attraction, but there would be someone else even better to come
.

"You're gonna have to tell me what's the matter, Bailey," my mom said after giving me ample time to space out and overthink everything.

"I'm sorry, but I can't, Mom. Let's just leave it as I overheard something that hurt my feelings."

"Was someone talking about
you
?" she asked defensively.

"It's fine, Mom. It's really no big deal. I'm just ready to get out of here."

"Who in the world would talk about you? What'd they say?"

"Nothing. It doesn't matter. I'm just overly sensitive since I've been cooped up in here. I don’t even think it was about me."

"Well, I sure hope not," she said.

***

I left the hospital two days later. Dr. Crawford came to see me every day, but both of us were somewhat guarded and kept the conversation on a mostly professional level. He told me before I left that he wanted to get an eye patch and come into my room looking like a pirate, but he'd been busy and never had the chance to follow through. I thought it was sweet of him to mention it, but somehow it just bummed me out even more.

I requested Dr. Ross when I set up my follow-up appointments. I remembered that nurse mentioning something about a case study, but I figured Dr. Crawford had enough information on me as it was. I really didn't want to see him again. He had done me a favor by letting me see I had it in me to crush on a guy, and I was thankful for that, but seeing him continually during my recovery would be like salt on an open wound.

Months passed.

I changed from a splint to a cast, to another cast before finally having my hand back. Dr. Ross was extremely pleased with my progress and said as long as the pins and wires weren't bothering me they could stay where they were.

I started going to the physical therapist as soon as I got my cast off. I did everything they told me to do and felt like a full recovery was well within my reach. The scar on my forehead healed up beautifully. I knew it was there, but it was really hard to notice unless you were looking for it.

It had been several months since my accident, and my scars were fading, but Dr. Crawford was still etched into my memory. I'd gone out with a few different guys—all of whom I compared to Dr. Crawford, and none of them measured up. I stayed positive, though. I held onto the idea that someone else would eventually be able to affect me the way he had.

I thought, in fact, that tonight might be the night I'd meet the man of my dreams. Ben Knowles, my boss and the owner of the ad agency where I worked, asked me to accompany him to one of Chicago's largest charity balls. He had just broken up with his girlfriend of five years, and didn't really feel like going at all, but had already agreed to it. He and I got along great, and he asked me if I would do him a favor by coming along.

"You should have gone to a salon," Lexie said, wiping the sweat off her brow.

She had come over to help me get ready and was knee deep in hairspray and bobby pins.

"You'll do fine," I said. "Just follow what they're doing on YouTube."

"They're professionals!" she said. "They make it look easy. I think your hair's too clean or something."

"I'm sure it'll be fine," I said. "I'm really not worried about it."

"You should be," she said. "It's not every day someone gets to go out with Ben Knowles."

"We're just going as friends."

"Well, he might not think so after he sees you in this dress. What if he kisses you? Are you going to kiss him back?"

I let out a squeal at the thought. "He's my boss!"

"So? Lot's of people go out with their boss."

I imagined kissing Ben—thought about whether or not that would make things awkward at work. "Actually, I rarely ever see him at work, so it probably wouldn't matter."

"Uh-huh!" she said, pushing at me playfully. "I knew you were thinking about it."

"I'm not
thinking
about it. I'm just saying… he's not the worst match in the world."

"Not the worst match? Try one of the richest, hottest guys in Chicago! Your standards must be out of control, chica."

I didn't mention that my standard was one specific man.

We goofed off for the next hour as she continued to curl, tease, and pin my hair. By the time she finished, I looked just like the model on YouTube. My hair was loosely pinned up in a classic, timeless up-do that was fit for the red carpet. I had applied my own makeup while she worked. I kept it simple, but put on a bit more than usual since it was a formal affair. (When in Rome, after all.)

I told Lexie she was a miracle worker and gave her fifty bucks for saving me the trouble of going to a salon. She helped me into my floor-length, gold sequin dress and left me with words of praise saying I looked like a movie star and other super-sweet things like that.

Ben called when he was five minutes from my apartment, and I met him downstairs. He was looking extremely dapper with a fresh haircut and a fitted tux. "I'm gonna be the envy of every guy there," he said, sweetly when he first laid eyes on me.

I smiled. "I was just thinking I was the lucky one," I said.

He gave me a one-armed hug and kissed me on the cheek before ushering me outside. It was a crisp, spring evening, and all I had to keep me warm was a sheer shawl that went with my dress, so we walked quickly from the door of my apartment to his car, which was waiting right outside.

"A chauffeur?" I said, making an
I'm so impressed
face when a guy in a black suit opened the door for us.

Ben shrugged as if it was nothing. "Why drive when you can ride?"

He and I shared easy conversation in the backseat on the way there. Traffic was bad, so it took us nearly an hour, but he had planned for that. We arrived fashionably on time. It was being held in one of Chicago's finest hotels. We made our way to the ballroom, which was elegantly decorated. Ben and I walked arm in arm as we entered. Several people were standing near the entrance with cameras, and we both smiled as they took pictures of us. Ben handed his invitation to one of the hostesses who showed us to our places at a large round table.

"There are two sets of restrooms—one down this hallway, and the other upstairs on the balcony." She gestured to a huge set of double doors on the right side of the room. "There's a silent auction set up in the Vines Room through these doors. You'll find complimentary drinks at the bar and servers are walking around with trays as well. The band will begin playing shortly; feel free to dance. These are your seats for dinner, which will be served promptly at eight." She smiled and motioned to her nametag. "If you have any questions or need assistance, just look for someone with one of these. Otherwise, enjoy your evening."