Page 83 of Fighting

This small townin Pennsylvania makes Peacock Springs look like a major city. The dark wood police precinct has faded yellow letters painted into grooves spelling out the town name. There is one cell holding a man sleeping off a bender along the sole bench, so Officer Douche Canoe let me sit in the visitors chair with my left wrist handcuffed to the plastic armrest.

I made my one call to my lawyer father and waited.

Finally, Aba arrives. Mateo waltzes in beside him, chatting like old friends.

I give a tiny smile and wave with the hand that is not attached to the chair as they approach. Aba steps in close and speaks Hebrew to make sure our conversation is private.

“You didn’t say anything to them without me, correct?” His question is firm. This is my attorney, not my father.

I shake my head, sighing.

“You make any smart-ass comments?” he asks with narrowed eyes.

Another head shake, my gaze on my shoes.

Switching to English so Mateo understands, I say, “I just asked to be called Doctor instead of little miss.”

Our eyes connect briefly, only for me to look away quickly. All of the rage I felt earlier is mixed with sadness.

I hear Mateo’s loafers click against the tile floor, and a fluorescent light flickers and buzzes nearby. Placing a hand on my shoulder, my dad tries to reassure me.

“Mateo will clear up the matter with the car. That should be enough, but I’m here if not.”

I raise my eyes, pressure from unshed tears building, and nod. I’m so lucky to have this man as my father. His footprints leave an impossible space to fill, and despite thinking that Mateo was able to come close, he was just a distraction. He led me astray, and when my focus dropped from the people I care for, we all suffered.

Trying to break the tension, Aba asks, “Is your client okay?”

“I don’t know,” I say as a sob breaks. An ache ripples across my shoulders and down the center of my chest, causing my shoulders to slump and my arms to fall.

“I had only gotten through the first voicemail when Satan started to call. I used to block his number, so he got a new one. After so many times I gave up. He won’t go away. Then, whenthe officer brought me in, he confiscated my phone.” The tears stream down my face hot and fast now.

My dad strokes a hand down my back and kisses the top of my head. I want to hug him, but I’m immobilized by emotion—and this stupid handcuff.

“Oh, sweetie. I am sure the doctors on call can use your notes to help until we get this cleared up,” he murmurs.

That only causes the tears to come faster. “My notes are vague, and I use codes to protect the client because of the abuse involved. I can’t risk the abuser getting access to them, because. Because—” I stammer and stop there. If I don’t, I’ll break confidentiality by blurting out “because the abuser is a hospital board member with major connections who could easily pull strings and manipulate the situation.” And not only would that put my patient’s life at risk, but also my job.

Officer Douchebag, whose nametag I can now see says Officer Doughterberg—close enough—approaches Mateo.

Mateo’s dimple and grin are on full display, but I’m in no mood to be swayed by his pretty-boy antics right now. He’s a big part of the reason I am in this mess in the first place. I let him distract me and took my eye off the ball.

“Doctor R, I apologize for the confusion this morning. I’ve spoken to Mr. Santos-Manolo, and he’ll be retrieving the vehicle from the impound lot after it’s been processed. We appreciate the generous donation to the precinct, and I’ll have Linda in finance get you those tax forms today. However, Miss?—”

Mateo clears his throat.

The officer side-eyes him and straightens. “Excuse me, Doctor. You should consider taking your boyfriend up on the suggestion to put both your names on the car’s title to protect you moving forward. It’ll take a bit to process your possessions out, so just hang tight.”

At this, my father rises to his full five feet, eleven inches. He may not be overly tall, but he’s broad-shouldered and intimidating, nonetheless. He extends a hand to the officer.

“Hello, I didn’t get to introduce myself. I’m Attorney Gabriel Rabin, her counsel and her father.” He eyes me, then turns back, giving that statement a moment to sink in. “Given my daughter isn’t being charged with any crimes, I’m not sure why her items are being processed at all. Seems like it’s a pretty quiet morning, and given this misunderstanding has delayed her from handling a safety emergency for her client, it would be prudent of you to expedite her release. You have no reason to hold her.”

The men engage in a staring contest, my gaze ping-ponging between the pair and Mateo.

“I just need my phone,” I say quietly.And my wrist.

“I’m happy to sit and wait if I can have my work phone. I need to check in with the team in the ER and my client.”

“Surely we can make that happen. Right, Officer?” Mateo breaks into his signature wide smile.

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