Our Wicked Lies by Gledé Kabongo (story read aloud TXT) 📗

a job in his private practice. She didn’t care what it paid. This was about her journey of self-improvement, and what better way to start than earning a dollar?

Upon entering the office, she smiled at Monica, the receptionist. “How are things this morning?”

“Insane. The phone has been ringing non-stop, and it’s only eight o’clock,” she replied in a voice that sounded as if she was hosting a garden party, while keeping her eyes trained on the computer screen.

Like Alicia, Monica had dropped out of college, but during the interview almost two years ago, there had been something about the girl’s cheery disposition that had prompted Alicia to convince Jack to hire the girl on the spot.

With Monica clearly swamped, Alicia turned away from the desk and swept her gaze over the packed waiting room, carefully observing the women of various ages and ethnicities. Some popped chewing gum, others flipped through magazines, while a few just stared at the pictures on the walls. A young mother bounced a fussy baby on her lap and scowled at a friend who had accompanied her. Alicia leveled an encouraging smile at a teenage girl in a ponytail and ratty sneakers. The girl’s fearful gaze traveled across the room. Probably her first time seeking gynecologic care, Alicia thought.

“By the way, all the items you asked me to purchase for Zoe are ready for her to pick up,” Monica said.

Alicia returned her attention to the receptionist. “Great.”

“Alicia.” Monica looked up from the screen and met Alicia’s gaze. “You don’t have to do this, you know. It’s not your fight.”

“What’s wrong with helping out?”

“It moved beyond helping out when you offered to pay for pediatrician visits the first year of the baby’s life.” Monica lowered her voice. “A year’s supply of diapers and a gift card to purchase a crib? If you don’t stop this, people will think we’re a free clinic and a baby services and supplies depot rolled into one. Can you imagine the stampede?” Monica shuddered as though it had already become a reality.

“Jack would kill me if that happened,” Alicia said. She felt a lopsided grin part her lips.

“I’m telling Zoe this is all you. Otherwise, she’ll think it’s from the clinic. I know you don’t want me to, but—”

Saved by the bell. Monica picked up the ringing phone, and Alicia headed down the hall to her small, makeshift office, and bumped into Jack on the way.

“You’re here,” he stated, as they crossed in the corridor. “I want to talk to you about something.”

“What is it?” she asked.

“I’ll tell you when we chat,” he said as he continued to walk down the corridor toward the waiting room.

“Okay. There’s something I want to ask you, as well,” Alicia called after him.

“Yes, fine. I’ll come by once I’m finished. I have some time in between patients at nine-thirty.” He disappeared, and Alicia heard his booming voice as he called out to his medical assistant.

Shutting the door of her office, she hung her double-breasted trench coat and purse on the coat rack. Officially, Alicia was just an administration volunteer, but in reality, she was essentially the office manager for Howell House. She handled patient scheduling, registration, medical records, and data entry. Jack did have a financial accountant who managed the finances for his private practice, and Mary also kept track of the operating costs for the clinic.

Alicia didn’t mind the small office. With only a few wealthy donors keeping the clinic afloat, there was no room for the impractical or frivolous. The space comprised of a desk and chair, a computer, and a black filing cabinet. She had spruced it up with a couple of small plants and photos of Boston landmarks on the wall.

Alicia booted up the computer and busied herself with some data entry and then checked the schedule for the next few weeks. The clinic opened two years ago, and the patient load skyrocketed immediately, and continued to do so. She hated to think there would come a time when they would have to turn patients away because resources had been stretched too thin.

As promised, Jack appeared at her door at nine thirty—without knocking—and closed the door behind him. His stethoscope dangled from his neck. Jack was barely five foot six, in his late fifties with dark hair that grayed at the temple, pale milky skin, and cynical brown eyes. Once upon a time, Jack was her gynecologist, but once they’d forged a friendship, she had switched to another physician at Jack’s private practice. He stuck his hands into his lab coat and leaned up against the file cabinet.

“What’s up?” she asked.

“Thanks for referring Katalina DeLuca to our private practice. We’ll take good care of her. Any friend of yours is a friend of ours.”

That was odd. Kat never mentioned she was looking for a new doctor. She had never asked Alicia about her experience with Witherspoon OBGYN Associates, and she still hadn’t returned Alicia’s calls, either.

“Um, I can’t take credit for recommending Kat. I didn’t know she was looking to change doctors.”

“Oh. I assumed she came to us because of your friendship. Her regular gynecologist is retiring in a few months,” Jack said.

“Thanks for telling me. Although Kat and I live on the same street, we sometimes go weeks without catching up. She has a lot on her plate, making her agency a success. She probably thought she’d already told me.”

Her voice lacked enthusiasm for the explanation she just invented on the fly. She wasn’t sure what to think. Did Kat just forget to mention it, or was her action intentional?

“How are the grandkids?” Alicia asked, attempting to ward off Jack’s curiosity. His arms were crossed over his chest, his gaze laser focused on her face.

Jack sidestepped the question. “Is everything okay, Alicia? Do you want me to refer her to someone else? She specifically requested me, asked if I was accepting new patients. I’m not, but when she mentioned your connection, I made an exception.”

“Oh nonsense. It’s fine.”

He cast a