Person of the Year

Paul wedged his Camry into the only available parking space in the lot. Either the news of Dr. Shakti's award had resulted in an uptick in new patients or she really was as good as her reputation. Probably both. After his article came out, they would probably have to construct an additional parking lot; his laudatory prose would send every ailing person in the city to the hailed doctor. Assessing his reflection in the rearview mirror, he smoothed a lick of light brown hair and straightened his glasses. The Gazette wasn't a huge paper, but everyone had to start somewhere. This article could be the gateway to something bigger. Dr. Shakti was clearly up-and-coming and if her success continued its upward trajectory, he would hopefully be taken along for the ride. The doctor's first media profile would be forever tied to him. After confirming that his collar was straight, Paul grabbed the tools of his trade – cell phone, printed list of questions (never rely on a phone, he'd learned the hard way) and manual tape recorder (again with the phone issues). He tucked a pen behind his ear for good measure, thinking it made him look more journalisty. Ready.

The waiting room was full, but not chaotic. The space was roomy with potted plants forming a miniature jungle in each corner, a few tables of magazines, and outlets that were laden with patients' cell phone chargers. Everyone sat quietly. Patiently, even. He liked the vibe. He strode to the desk, where an older woman wearing scrubs and too much makeup smiled warmly at him.

“Hello dear, sign in and let us know if your insurance has changed.” She tapped a clipboard with a long red fingernail.

“Uh no, I'm not a patient.”

“Oh sorry, we're not accepting new patients at this time.”

“No, um, you don't understand. I'm a journalist. From the Gazette.”

She stared blankly at him.

“I'm here to interview Dr. Shakti. For the Person of the Year profile. I have an appointment.”

She smiled slightly more warily. “A journalist...let me just check Mr...what is your name?”

“Paul...I mean, Paul is my first name. My last name is Seaver. Paul Seaver.”

He felt his face redden. If this was how the actual interview was going to go, he would soon be looking for a new job. His editor already thought he was too skittish. Maybe he was. The woman whispered into an adjacent phone. “He says...Paul something...Yes. Okay.”

She hung up the receiver and offered a strained smile. “Someone will be right with you. Take a seat.”

He returned her smile, then swiveled toward the room. Everyone was staring down at their phones, hopefully none of them having witnessed his bumbling introduction. There were no seats to be found. He tucked himself against one of the corner topiaries and pulled out his own phone. He checked his emails and his socials and watched the door into the internal office open and close several times, scrub-laden nurses armed with folders whisking patients into the inner sanctum as the external door opened and new patients poured in to restore the balance. An ebb and flow of humanity.

Eventually a small blond woman in a dark purple pantsuit poked out from the sanctum and scanned the room. “Paul? The journalist?” He looked up from his phone and in the split second before her eyes found his, he studied her. She radiated beauty and confidence, and he wanted nothing more than to go anywhere in the world with her.

He thrust his phone into his pocket and emerged from the corner terrarium. “Hi, that's me.”

She motioned for him to follow her through, navigating identical hallways with ease, until she showed him into a neatly appointed office. There was an imposing oak desk accompanied by a large-backed office chair, and two chairs in front of the desk that looked like children's play furniture in comparison. An ornate bookcase in the corner was filled with what he assumed were medical texts, and the walls were adorned with nature photographs and diplomas. The office was meticulous, every paper at home in one of several neat piles stationed along the edges of the desk. A large fern commanded the one paper-free desk corner.

She, however, was all he could truly focus on as she shut the door and took her place behind the desk. He'd never been much for talk about a person's “aura” but this woman definitely had one. She was physically beautiful, yes, with inquisitive green eyes, impeccable skin, and a warm smile. But there was something else about her, an essence, that made him want to know her and be around her. He felt both at ease and incredibly nervous. She motioned to one of the small chairs.

He scrunched his tall frame into a sitting position and smiled. “Hi, Dr. Shakti, my name is Paul...”

She chuckled. “Oh no, I'm not Dr. Shakti. Something came up with a patient, and she's running behind. She apologizes for the inconvenience and has asked me to make you as comfortable as possible while you wait. I'm Jessica and I handle the nuts and bolts of the business – balancing the books, hiring, advertising, all that boring stuff. I'm sort of the stagehand, handling everything behind the scenes.”

No, you're the star! You should be on center stage! Paul wanted to yell. Instead, he stuck out a sweaty hand. “Oh okay, well it's nice to meet you Jessica. I guess a remarkable person like Dr. Shakti must have a remarkable support system behind her.”

Jessica wore a slightly puzzled expression for a fraction of a second before covering it with a warm smile. “Paul, would you like coffee? Tea? I believe there are still some doughnuts in the break room if you'd like one?” Her eyes danced, waiting for a response.

“No, that's okay. If I have a doughnut now I'll just be dealing with a sugar crash in an hour and you don't want to see me when I've had a sugar crash...” He trailed off. She cocked her head, amused. Then she sat in the chair that, while already substantial, now looked comically gigantic with her small frame resting in it.

“Okay, well then let's just chit chat until the Person of the Year arrives.” She laughed again, that beautiful laugh that he longed to hear again and again. Did he know any jokes? Nothing came to mind.

He let the joke idea go and decided to warm up for his big interview by lobbing a few get-to-know-you questions at the beautiful goddess across the desk. In a purely professional capacity, of course. He was a serious journalist, after all.

“Okay Jessica,” he leaned back in the tiny chair in a way he hoped implied confident relaxation, “Tell me about yourself. How did you end up here?”

“Basically, I'm a glorified accountant who ended up doing other things out of necessity. I have been with Dr. Shakti for years now, and I do whatever I can to support her mission...OUR mission.”

“How long have you known Dr. Shakti?”

“We met in college. We were often the only two people in the library in the middle of the night. Eventually she came over to my work station to meet the other crazy person who never slept. We've been inseparable ever since.” She smiled wistfully.

He was transfixed. He knew very little about this “glorified accountant” but he wanted to know everything and breathe her in and never stop being around her. He gave a half-smirk. Time to summon some cool confidence. “So, Jessica, what do you do for fun?” He loved the way her name felt in his mouth, like something sweet and a little forbidden.

She took a sip from a large to-go mug. Coffee? Tea? She seemed like a tea person. “Well, the business takes up a lot of time obviously. But when I'm out of the office I like to be really out of the office. Rock climbing. Kayaking. Anything that involves the outdoors and a little bit of adrenaline.”

He nodded rapidly and loosely like a dashboard bobblehead. “Cool, yeah, that sounds amazing. Maybe we could...I mean, I kayak too.” He had never been kayaking a day in his life. He wasn't even sure he knew the difference between a kayak and a canoe.

Her eyes widened slightly. “Isn't it just amazing? Very freeing, right? What kind of kayak do you have?”

He felt like a cornered rodent. There was more than one kind of kayak? “Um, well, I actually don't have a kayak at the moment. It...er...broke. I need a new one.”

“Oh, bummer. I might be able to get you a deal on a used one if you want. A buddy of mine is constantly upgrading, a little obsessed, really. He gets rid of his kayaks after one or two times out, nothing wrong with them, he's just always on to the next thing.” She spoke rapidly, hands rising and falling onto the desk.

He nodded like he had even a slight idea what she was talking about. She reached for a pen from the collection of writing implements arranged in a lavender-colored mug near her elbow. She grabbed a business card from a small pile and scribbled something on the back.

“Here, this is his number. Give John a call and tell him I sent you. Money's not really a thing with him... neurosurgeon...so he'll probably cut you a deal.”

Paul leaned over to grab the card as she rose to give it to him. She was close enough that he could smell the light, tropical scent of her shampoo. Intoxicating. The exchange of the piece of cardstock was all too brief and he sank back into the chair, reeling. Her writing was loose yet magical, like casual calligraphy. He flipped the card over: Jessica Cannell, Office Manager. There was a phone number, email address, and a logo with the words “Dr. Juniper Shakti” encircling a heart and a hand. He bet Jessica had designed that logo.

Paul summoned what he hoped was a charming smile. “And this is your number on the front?”

Again, the amused look. “Yes, that is generally how business cards work.”

He laughed nervously. “Right, right, of course. So, can I call you then?”

Her smile faded a little around the edges but her eyes were still warm and slightly mischievous. “To go kayaking? Or with follow-up questions for Dr. Shakti?”

Right. He'd forgotten about Dr. Shakti. The whole reason for him being there. He wondered if the doctor would come to the wedding of a journalist she barely knew. Of course she would, because it would also be the wedding of her closest friend since college. They would all laugh about how the small gears of fate had intersected just so, to bring about this most joyous of unions.

There was a crisp knock at the door before he could formulate a response. A tall woman with a dark ponytail nearly down to her waist poked her head around the corner. “Hello?” Her brown eyes found him and her face transformed into an uninhibited grin. Her white teeth were flawless. “You must be Paul! The journalist! Thank you so much for waiting!”

She came into the room fully, and energetically extended a lean hand toward him. He half stood from the chair to shake it. She was like a walking exclamation point, both in stature and enthusiasm.

She grasped his hand with surprising strength. “Juniper Shakti, you can call me Juni. I see you've met my partner Jessica.” She scaled the room in what seemed like a single step until she towered behind the desk, placing a hand on Jessica's shoulder.

Paul cleared his throat. “Yes, it's an honor to meet you Dr....Juni.” Her name, on the other hand, felt awkward. He hoped he didn't have to say it aloud too many times.

Jessica turned her face upward toward the doctor. She looked so tiny, like a doll. “We were just discussing kayaking. I gave him John's info.”

Juni squeezed Jessica's shoulder briefly. “You and John can have it. I'm happy to stay at home with the cats.”

“When you're not working...” Jessica ribbed teasingly.

“Yes, I get enough excitement at the office. When I'm home, give me a mug of tea, a good book, and a blanket of cats and I'm happy.” She smiled down at Jessica.

Jessica didn't break eye contact as she propelled the chair back from the desk and stood. “Well, I'll let you two get to it. I'm going to make sure everything is covered up front and then go to lunch.” She patted the seat of the chair. Paul felt a surge of disappointment rising within him.

As Jessica moved from behind the desk, Juni grasped her hand gently. The tall woman stooped slightly and near-whispered, “I managed to reschedule my surgery so I'll see you for dinner tonight.”

Jessica beamed. “Wow, how magnanimous of you...doctor,” she teased.

Paul shifted in his seat and his shirt fabric rustled against the chair's arms. Both women turned toward him, seemingly reminded of his existence.

“It's our anniversary tonight,” Juni explained.

“Ten years, in business and in life,” Jessica added.

In business and in life? Suddenly the reality of the situation crashed into Paul. Partners. He had thought they were business partners. And they were. But....his eyes landed on a photograph on the desk edge right in front of his face, a photo that had somehow escaped his notice, the two of them kissing in parkas in front of what looked like Niagara Falls. “Jessi and Juni” read the elegant caption on the bottom of the photo. He felt hot all of a sudden. He grappled to roll up his shirt sleeves and his vision filled with patchy blackness. The voices around him grew muffled as he slid to the floor.

The two women rushed to his crumpled body.

The doctor measured his pulse and checked his vacant eyes. “It looks like he just fainted. Probably dehydrated or hungry. He seemed anxious too. When he comes to, let's put him in a room, run some tests just in case, and reschedule the interview.”

As Juni hoisted herself to a standing position, Jessica placed a hand on the small of her back. They stood silently over the pale, gangly reporter.

Jessica sighed. “He should have had a doughnut.”