Coincidences

Act XXXV

"You guys should be better now. It's been a long time since that day, so your bodies have most probably recovered. You can tell the difference, don't you?"

Dr. Reed called me today, said he was on some kind of "marketing conference" ('no, no, not my job, on behalf of my sister, I have enough jobs already,' he said), and was taking a break, which wasn't going to last very long. I bet he called me to kill some time; he keeps on complaining to me every once in a while in between dialogue, about how neck-breaking the meeting was.

"Well, that's an adult life, Martin. Never underestimate that. Live it young," he said, and I could imagine him raising his hand with confidence.

"Well, Mr. Reed―," I started to converse, but was interrupted.

"Dr. Reed. I'm calling as your doctor."

How the heck was I supposed to know? "Ok, doc. What do you want to tell me?"

He cleared his throat, audible from the speaker, "I'm supposed to call my patients to check on them constantly. I couldn't find anything else to do, aside from the cursed conference, talking about financial strategies and etcetera. It's killing me, Martin. I think I need another doctor over here. Well, good news. You guys should be better now. It's been a long time since that day, so your bodies have most probably recovered. You can tell the difference, don't you? Don't answer. I already know." I felt my vein pop on my forehead, feeling stupid after opening my mouth to speak. "You should still take it easy. I'll give you further information, if one of you two suffer from any other symptoms. Any questions?"

Why are you such a douchebag? "Um, one question, Mr., no, Dr. Reed. Zoey still isn't well at all. Do you think it's the shock, the trauma or maybe, something else? I may have told her a few things to her before we were electrocuted, and I think it may have stuck on her.

"What are you saying, Martin?" he asked.

"I, um," I stuttered. "I'm a bit embarrassed to say this, but I feel like I must." Deep breath. "I confessed to her, out of the blue."

"You confessed to her?" he gagged. There were some muffled hints of laughter, held back merely by a few snorts.

I already feel my hot face blushing and sweating.

"Well, what am I supposed to know? I'm a doctor, not a psychologist. Call me mister."

"What?"

"Call me Mr. Reed."

"Why?"

"Just do it, for crying out loud."

"Ok, Mr. Reed," emphasis on the mister.

"Thank goodness!" he screamed, and I'd be surprised if he hadn't called anyone's attention with that volume. "You called the right guy. Mr. Jonathan Axel Reed, love expert to many."

"Love expert?" I spat.

He snickered, "Yes, yes, the love expert, no other."

"But you're single."

"No, I'm not," the love expert said, quite offended. "I'm married, Martin? What in the world?"

"I never ever saw your wife, Mr. Jonathan."

"Business trip," said he, briefly. "Back to the point, you confessed to her? You're telling me, you like her?"

I'm beginning to hate this guy.

"Oh, boy. This is quite the scoop." A pause. "Sorry, Martin. Gotta go. The break's over." The fun's over. You made my day, kiddo."

"What the heck, Mr. Reed? I told this to you, and you're just leaving? I regret ever saying tjis to you."

"No, no, just so you wait. At least, after I am free from the hellhole. I'll help you all I can with your situation."

"What do you exactly mean?"

"I think she really is troubled. With what you said, I can easily tell."

"How―."

"Don't ask." That's the gazillionth time he's interrupted me.

"Gotta go. Seriously. Hanging up now."

Beep, beep, beep, beep.