I turned the car engine off and checked my makeup in the rear view mirror. Deciding it was not good enough for the company I was about to keep, I dug through my purse for my compact and lipstick, quickly applying a thin layer of burgundy shimmer to my lips. I studied myself in the rear view again, pushing my bangs this way and that until I realized how ridiculous I was being. I shook my head and smiled. I just couldn't help it. Jonathan Tillinghast was the kind of person who made you want to look your best.
He is what I would call the perfect gentleman. When he asks you how you are doing, he truly wants to know the answer. If you are well, he is supremely happy for you. If you are not, he is instantly affected and wants to know what is wrong, and if he can do anything to cheer you.
Jonathan is the most loyal person I have ever met. He was here when I made my first visit some twelve years ago, and he never misses a day. He will stay late without a blink of an eye if some emergency comes up. I often get the feeling that Jonathan lives here, that this is his home.
I entered the brick building and walked down the hallway to the second suite on the left. Inside the serene waiting room, soft music played as I gave my name to the receptionist. I settled into a chair along the far wall and leaned forward to browse through the esoteric collection of magazines on a low table. Several other people waited with me, quietly reading or gazing into the large fish tank under the picture window. There was no television blaring commercials. A gentle reminder hanging near the entrance to the office asked that all cell phones be shut off. My yoga class was not this relaxing.
It is a large practice consisting of four doctors, but only one audiologist. Jonathan handles the volume of patients easily without making anyone feel that they have been rushed through their appointment. If you are forced to wait, it is only briefly, and no one would ever complain. Jonathan is worth waiting for.
The first time I met him was during a heat wave. I had left work early, but not enough to prevent me from hitting cross-town traffic. By the time I arrived, I was uptight and a few minutes late. I burst into the waiting room. Jonathan was sitting with his legs crossed, reading the newspaper. I assumed he was another patient. I rushed to the window to check in, but before I could give my name to the white-clad woman on the other side of the glass, Jonathan was at my elbow.
"Mrs. Gardner?" he asked, bending forward at the waist.
I was captivated. Jonathan had, and still has, the most alarming grey eyes. They remind me of the smoke of a recently extinguished flame. You can almost still feel the heat. He was wearing a long sleeved white dress shirt and a tie. I couldn't believe how anyone could dress like that in ninety-degree heat, but Jonathan looked perfectly cool and collected.
"Ah, yes, I... I'm sorry I'm late," I stammered.
"Please don't concern yourself, Mrs. Gardner. It's no trouble at all. Did you have difficulty finding us?" he asked. I swear if I had said I had gotten lost, he would have drawn me a map detailing all possible routes for future reference.
"No, I got caught in traffic."
"That can be so frustrating, especially when you're trying to be somewhere on time. But you're here now. And I forget my manners. My name is Jonathan Tillinghast, and it is a pleasure to meet you."
He shook my hand and held it longer than was necessary. He ushered me through the office door as if I was royalty. As I followed him down the corridor, I couldn't help but notice his shirt was without a single crease and the taper of his haircut was flawless. I looked down at my summer dress, crumpled from the humidity and the hours sitting behind a desk. My hair was carelessly twisted up on top of my head and held in place by, of all things, a pencil. I made a mental note to begin paying closer attention to my appearance.
I was completely taken in. Several years later, I moved to the suburbs but I did not even consider switching to a different practice. The longer drive doesn't matter to me. Jonathan knows my history, and he cares for my well-being. I trust him implicitly.
Now as I waited with the other patients, I felt eyes upon me. I raised my head to find Jonathan standing before me holding the office door open. He did not speak. It was almost as if he was waiting for me to see him first, so as not to disturb my reading.
I crossed the room to where he was standing. We greeted each other as old friends might.
"Mrs. Gardner, how are you today?" he asked. I extended my arm, and he closed both of his large hands over my smaller one, squeezing gently.
"I'm fine, Jonathan. How are you?" He insists on being called by his first name, although he would never address me as Elizabeth.
We exchanged pleasantries as we made our way to the familiar examination room. Jonathan waited for me to be seated before he sank into a low stool before a computer workstation.
"Did you have an opportunity to try the Portuguese restaurant I mentioned?" Jonathan asked. He smiled and waited patiently for my response. My chart lay unopened on his lap.
"Yes, and it was marvelous. I had the most wonderful shrimp appetizer," I said.
"Ah, yes. I know exactly what you are talking about. The shrimp is skewered, and swimming in a spicy butter sauce." Our eyes met and together we relived the decadence of the flavorful dish.
After several minutes, the discussion turned to the reason for my visit. Jonathan scrutinized my records as if he were trying to memorize them. He squinted and nodded his approval.
"Well, how are you feeling, Mrs. Gardner? Any residual dizziness? Nausea?"
"No, I feel much better," I responded.
"Any discomfort at all?"
"No. I think I have made a full recovery." I laughed softly.
"You don't know how happy I am to hear that. Some patients are troubled by vertigo for months," Jonathan said soberly. "Of course, Dr. Silva is an excellent surgeon. You were in good hands."
"As I am now," I said without a hint of modesty. My beaming smile must have conveyed the genuine affection I felt for this caring man.
"You are too kind," Jonathan said quietly. "But let's see how things look today, shall we?"
The hearing in my left ear had been deteriorating for twenty years. I had sat through so many of these exams that I probably could have performed the tests myself. Of course, having Jonathan perform them was preferable. I enjoy his company. I appreciate his concern.
Jonathan picked up a large pair of headphones and carefully cleaned the earpieces with an alcohol wipe. He stood before me, holding the bulky contraption in both hands.
"Now, I am going to place these headphones over your ears." As he spoke these words, Jonathan lifted the headphones to my eye level, just in case I hadn't noticed them before now. He stepped in close to my left side and slid the cool plastic covers down over my head. The large earpieces not only made it difficult to hear, but they partially covered my temples, cheeks and jawbone. A wire ran from the left earpiece to the computer at the workstation.
"Comfortable?" Jonathan asked. I nodded my head while he adjusted the metal strap that spanned the top of my head, ensuring the headphones would fit snugly. "Are you sure? I could loosen them a bit," he said. I laughed and told him I was fine, that he should stop worrying about me.
Jonathan turned to the computer. I watched him as he worked, feigning interest in what he was doing. My true intention was to look at his left hand, which was closer to me. Jonathan was focused on his work and didn't notice me sneak a glance at him. Still no wedding ring. I couldn't understand it. I had wondered in the past if he was gay, but I had come to the conclusion that he was not. Something told me this man would make one lucky woman very happy someday.
He could have had anyone. Jonathan was not young anymore, but his classic good looks were improving with every passing year. He was tall, slim and moved gracefully. He had mentioned once that he liked to dance. Occasionally, I fantasized about being held in his arms and waltzed around a ballroom.
"Alright, we're ready to begin. I'll put some tones in your left ear first, and then the right. When you hear the tones, press the button." Jonathan handed me a small wand that fit in the palm of my hand. I readied my thumb over the button located on top.
Jonathan left the room. He slammed the door behind him, and the heavy lock clanked into place. I was alone in the small, dimly lit room with padded walls that looked as if they were papered with tan corduroy. Jonathan appeared in the window on my right, placing a smaller pair of headphones on himself and sitting down at a desk. I settled back in my chair and dutifully squeezed on the small wand when a tone sounded in my ears.
Jonathan returned to the sound room to place a small bone conductor on my head that would transmit sound directly to my inner ear. I sat patiently as he adjusted another strap over my head. Again, Jonathan instructed me to press the button when I heard the tones.
I looked up at him, crinkled my nose and giggled.
