Immortally Yours Read Online Free Page A

you meet him
there?”
    Lizette gasped. “You want me to go to a hospital?”
    “Well, you did say it was an emergency. Can you wait until
this afternoon?”
    She sighed. “If I lasted until now, I guess I’ll live until
this afternoon. Damn it.”
    There was a hesitation. Finally, the secretary said, “Okay,
he can work you in at four. Is that okay?”
    “Fine.”
    “Fine,” the secretary answered.
    “Fine!” she huffed.
    That afternoon, Lizette had walked all over Seattle in the
rain, including down First Avenue, where the sex shops and hookers stood. Rain
made her hair frizz and for once she didn’t get propositioned but she hardly
noticed. She was ready to rip her doctor’s secretary a new one. And by the time
she was through with her the woman wouldn’t have an asshole at all—just a shoe
where it used to be. Okay, so that was a little too harsh, but she felt like
lashing out at someone .
    Her confrontation was thwarted, because by four the
secretary had left and the doc’s door was ajar.
    She knocked on it. “Can I come in or what?”
    “I’ll be with you in a moment, Lizette. Have a seat and I’ll
come get you.”
    She knew he meant for her to sit in the waiting room, but
she was in a rebellious mood. She pushed her way into his office and sat on his
couch, wet raincoat and all. He had been writing at his desk and whirled his
chair to face her. “Um, I meant sit in the waiting room and I’ll call you when
I’m ready.”
    She stayed, scowling, with arms folded. “I’m fed up with
waiting. Give an old lady a break, will you?”
    They eyed each other, immobile, both determined to get their
own way. At last, Lizette rose and stomped off to the waiting room. About five
minutes later, Dr. Brayer invited her in. She flopped back on the couch and
pouted.
    “So what seems to be the problem, Lizette?”
    “I’m immune to your stupid medicine and I barely slept all
weekend.”
    “It may take a little longer to work. You just need to be
patient for now.”
    “Be patient. Now I know why they call us patients.”
    He smiled. His voice had been gentle. His smile looked
genuine, as if he were glad to see her despite how rotten she was being to him.
Was this the unconditional acceptance she had been hoping to find all her long
life?
    She gentled her own voice. “You said to wait until next week
and now it’s next week.”
    “I don’t want to change the medication just yet. Let’s give
it a few more days. Did something happen over the weekend that kept you awake?”
    “No. It’s probably nothing. Bad dreams, that’s all. But I
kept trying to sleep and I couldn’t so I stayed awake and watched TV. I had a
chance to go to the opera, but I told the kid who asked me out that I had to
wash my hair and then kill myself, so he took off. Then I stayed in all weekend
because it was raining—again.”
    “I thought you were lonely. Scaring off a potential date
doesn’t sound very friendly.”
    “Frankly, I’m not feeling very friendly right now. I’m
feeling pretty lousy. Actually, you could say I feel like crap. An absolute
pile of steaming shit.”
    The doctor’s face took on a strange expression and he
adjusted his position in his seat. “I’m sorry you feel that way. I think you
should see me a little more often than weekly. Perhaps three times a week to
start.”
    She rolled her eyes. “Terrific. I want to kill myself and
you want to torture me.”
    “Torture you? How?”
    “By spending more time on this friggin’ couch, looking
across the coffee table at your annoyingly perfect face and forking over a
hundred dollars an hour to do it.”
    Dr. Brayer leaned one elbow on his armrest and set his jaw
into his cupped hand. He said nothing. He simply stared at her.
    “What’s the matter, doc? No snappy comeback?”
    “I’m trying to help you, Lizette. If that’s not what you
want, then what do you suggest I do?”
    She shrugged. “Go look in your shrink’s manual. I’m sure
there’s some