Braxton couldn't find anyone to come out that day to replace his broken window so he had to settle for Monday. He would have to cancel his patients for that day, but it couldn't be helped. Fortunately, none of them were in crisis and were able to skip a week. He told them to call him if they needed him and he'd make time for them. Next, he took Marissa to get her wrist x-rayed. Afterwards, he suggested they get a bite to eat at a restaurant, as she had not wanted lunch and he hadn't eaten either as he was busy calling around to see if he could get the window fixed that day.

“I'm not hungry, Braxton.”

“You need to eat, Marissa. I think it would be good for you to do something social, even if it's just a meal at a restaurant. When was the last time you did that?”

“A few weeks ago, when I was out of the country.”

“That was for work, right?” She nodded, not wanting to give out more info than she had to. “You need to get out for more than just work. What do you say? I know a good place that has a wide variety on the menu – unless there's somewhere you'd like to go?”

“No, that would be fine.”

To her surprise, Marissa enjoyed the lunch, though she didn't eat everything on her plate and had to ask for a doggy bag. She had a nice chat with Braxton – who kept it light and stayed away from the topics of her cancer and her secretiveness. It was relaxing to forget all about the Cartel, the beating from Tomas and the shooting at Braxton's for a bit. It had been a very long time since she'd had a social outing with a friend and it made her realize all the more how much she missed it.

“I told you all about my family, but I know nothing about yours”, she said to him over their meal.

“My parents are in Boulder – that's where I grew up. They are retired. My sister is in LA, she's a teacher and single. No other siblings.”

“Did you have a happy childhood?”

“Yes, pretty much. The usual ups and downs of growing up.”

“What made you decide to become a psychologist?”

“I wanted to help people with their problems. It was either psychologist or psychiatrist, but the latter takes too long. I didn't want to be in school and residency for 11 or 12 years. Besides, I would rather do talk therapy than drug therapy. Pharmaceuticals have their place, but I believe more in talking it out – unless there is a pathological cause for the behaviour or issues, in which case, medication is called for.”

“I bet you are a good psychologist.”

“I hope I am. For the sake of my patients.” They both laughed.

“What do you like to do for fun?”

“I read a lot. Watch a little tv. Sometimes I'll go see a movie on the weekend or go to some yard sales. Not that I need to buy that way, but you can find some really cool things. Gavin keeps telling me I need to get out more, but it's not all that fun going by yourself. What about you, Marissa? What did you do before you came down here?”

“I was an office manager for a law firm and trying to save up enough money to go to veterinary school.”

“You didn't go?”

“No, I only had another year or two to go with saving but then things happened.”

“You mean having your tendons cut?”

“Yes. After that, I had to give up my dream. A vet needs to be able to stand on her own for long periods.”

“So you came down here?”

“Not right away, but eventually, yes.”

“Did coming here have anything to do with being kidnapped?”

Marissa's eyes got wide. “H-how did you know about that?”

“Your father told me.”

“He had no right!”

“He had every right. You disappeared on him. He's worried about you.”

She was getting agitated. “Please take me home, Braxton.”

“Just relax, Marissa.”

“I want to go home. To my apartment.”

“No. We are going to stay here and finish our meal.”

“Never mind, I'll take a cab.” She got her purse, which was hanging from the back of her chair. “How much do I owe you for the meal?”

“You can't go to your place, I have the keys.”

“Can I please have them?” She held out her hand, palm up.

“I don't have them with me. Marissa, let's just finish our meal.”

“I can't, I need to go. I can't breathe.”

“Yes, you can.” She started rocking back and forth in her chair. “You're having a panic attack. Slow down, take a deep breath. Marissa, I know what I'm talking about. Please trust me.” She stopped rocking and took a deep breath. “Good. Now another. Slow, deep breaths.”

Within minutes, her panic attack had subsided. “I'm sorry”, Braxton said to her. “If I had known my question would elicit such a response, I wouldn't have asked.”

“I-I just can't talk about that. I'm sorry.”

“It's okay. We will change the subject. Let's not end our outing on a bad note, okay? I've enjoyed it, being here with you.”

The waitress came along and they ordered coffee. Marissa couldn't eat any more so she asked for the rest to go. They were drinking their coffee and talking about current events, when they heard a familiar voice. “Everything okay?” Looking up, they saw Gideon Maynard approaching their table.

“Hi, Gideon”, Braxton answered. “Yes, everything is okay. Marissa was just a bit anxious, she's not used to being out like this.” Marissa gave him a grateful look. She was thankful he hadn't told her oncologist the real reason for her panic attack.

“How are you feeling, Marissa?” Dr Maynard asked her.

“Okay”, she answered.

“Just okay?”

“We had a rough night last night”, Braxton told him.

“What happened?”

“Have a seat, this will take a few minutes.” Maynard sat down and gestured to his wife and daughter at another table that he would be with them in a few. Braxton told him about the events of the night before, including Marissa's flight from his house and of Gavin adding another antibiotic to the one she was already on. “It was delivered to the house just before we left to get the x-rays done, so I will start her on it tonight. That is, if she will come home with me. She wants to go to her place.”

“You can't, Marissa”, Gideon said to her. “You need Braxton's help. And I have not cleared you to go home yet.”

“But the biopsy site is fine, Dr Maynard.”

“I know it is. I may be an oncologist, but I'm still an MD and qualified to treat infections. In fact, I do treat infections when my patients get them. So I can extend the requirement that you stay at Braxton's until your infection is cleared up and I say you can go home. Don't roll your eyes at me”, he said in a stern voice. “Neither Braxton or I would be doing this if we didn't care about you.”

Marissa's shoulders slumped in defeat. “I know, Dr Maynard. I just got panicked.”

Gideon was sitting next to her. He put his arm around her and gave her a hug. “It's going to be okay. I know you have a lot on your plate, between your broken wrist, the infection, and knowing you have cancer. It's quite a bit to deal with. Talk to Braxton about it, he can help if you will let him.”

“Her boss is trying to find a therapist for her – someone who will see her online instead of in their office. She's agreed to let me refer her to someone if he can't find anyone”, Braxton told him.

“Good. I think you need it”, Maynard said to Marissa. “You aren't the only one of my patients who needs therapy.”

“I'm not?”

“No. In fact, a fair number of them are seeing someone. It's not easy to deal with cancer. And I insist on my terminally ill patients seeing a therapist, one who specializes in death and dying. But you are not one of those – you have a very high chance of being cured just by surgery alone. Speaking of which – have you decided which procedure you want?”

“Yes – the one where you just take the tumour.”

“Shall I schedule it then?”

“Okay, but can it wait a while? I need to work for a bit after my wrist heals, so I don't get evicted from my apartment. How long will I be off after the surgery?”

“About six weeks. I will look at what's available for slots, it will probably be a few weeks away anyway. When can you go back to work?”

“After my wrist is healed and I can use my hand. It's my dominant hand.”

“Are you able to manage your rent while you're off now? If you aren't, we can find you some help.”

“I'm fine. I've saved a bit up for a rainy day. But I will need to work and save up again for when I'm off after the cancer surgery.”

“I don't want you to wait too long. The longer we wait, the bigger the chance it will spread and then you would need chemotherapy and maybe radiation. If you don't have time to save enough, we will get you some financial help.”

Marissa knew she could not accept the offer of help. She was pretty sure he was talking about social assistance and even though she had ID in her fake names, she did not want to risk being asked questions about who her employer was or having to apply for unemployment benefits first. Her pay was cash “under the table”, so there was no employment record. Besides, she had more than enough saved to pay her rent for a few years, she was just looking for an excuse to postpone scheduling the surgery. At any rate, she was pretty sure that Brian was going to transfer her before her any date Maynard set up, regardless of whether that was 3 weeks or 3 months away, so she didn't protest.

“All right, Dr Maynard.”

“Good. Now I better get back to the wife and daughter before they order the most expensive items on the menu. Stop by on your way out and I'll introduce you. It's not conventional to introduce a patient to your family, but I'll make an exception for you.”

Marissa and Braxton chatted some more, then he asked for the check. “This is my treat”, he said to her. “Put your wallet away.”

The waitress got Marissa's wheelchair, which she'd put out of the way for them. On their way out, they stopped at Gideon's table as he'd requested. “This is my wife, Paula and my daughter, Caitlin.” Caitlin, like typical tweens, had her face glued to her phone, but she set it down to say hello. They exchanged a few pleasantries, then Braxton and Marissa went on their way.

“They seem nice”, Paula said to Gideon after they had gone. “Is one of them a patient of yours?”

“Marissa is”, he replied. “But this goes no further than this table.”

“Of course.”

“Caitlin?” She was glued to her phone again. Gideon doubted she'd heard, but he had to make sure she wouldn't repeat it if she had.

“Of course, Daddy.” Oh, she did hear, after all. “Why is Marissa in a wheelchair?”

“She walks with crutches but her wrist is broken so she can't use that hand right now.”

“Why does she walk with crutches?”

“You know what? I don't know. She hasn't told me.” His daughter went back to her phone.

“Did you ask her?” Paula inquired.

“I did, but she wouldn't tell me. Said it was not relevant to her cancer case and she was right about that, so I didn't push it.”

“It's a shame, whatever the reason. She's so young. And so young to be having cancer. I hope it's curable.”

“It is. She has an excellent chance of a full recovery.”

When they were in his car, Braxton turned to Marissa. “I've been thinking about this. If you aren't comfortable being at my place anymore, I can take you home and come twice a day to attend to your medical needs and bring food. I can't stay with you as I'm not comfortable being away for too long with just plywood covering that window.”

“Oh, Braxton – you shouldn't have taken me out!”

“No, that's fine, you needed to get the x rays and I thought you would benefit from being out a bit longer. It's okay, I just don't want to spend the night away from home.”

“I'm okay to come back with you.” She didn't want him to have to go out of his way to come do her infusions and incision cleaning.

“Are you sure? I know you were scared last night.”

“That was last night. I think I'm okay now.”

“We can hug each other while we're cowering in the corner of the bedroom if we need to.” He was trying to make light of it. Marissa giggled, then the giggle turned to a laugh. She laughed heartily, more than he'd thought the joke warranted. It was good to see her laugh, though. She needed it. He reached over and gently squeezed the fingers of her left hand. “We're going to be fine – both of us”, he said, referring to their fear that the shooter would come back.