Total pages in book: 13
Estimated words: 11957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 60(@200wpm)___ 48(@250wpm)___ 40(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 11957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 60(@200wpm)___ 48(@250wpm)___ 40(@300wpm)
“It’s a deal. So if you’re indoorsy, what do you do for a living? Office job?”
We began walking down the Mall toward the national monument. “No. I’m an art therapist. I work with combat veterans. PTSD and head trauma patients mostly.”
Josh stopped and rested his hand on my shoulder. “For real? That’s your job?”
I couldn’t tell for sure if he was going to make fun of it or not. I’d had many, many people over the years discount it as frou-frou fake therapy.
“For real. That is my job,” I said carefully. “It’s very rewarding.”
His face softened. “Cam, my sister was at Children’s National for five months after being diagnosed with leukemia. Art therapy was one of her favorite things. I think that’s amazing.”
I felt a wash of relief soak through me. “Is your sister okay?”
“Yes. The care team is amazing up there. She was treated successfully and has been cancer free for five years. She’s graduating from high school this year and wants to be a nurse.”
I couldn’t help but notice his warm grasp still on my shoulder. “That’s fantastic. Nurses are truly angels on earth,” I admitted. “I don’t know how they do it.”
We continued walking away from the Capitol, down the long straight stretch of the Mall. The sun was out and the open areas of grass were filled with people enjoying the mild weather. As we walked, I noticed a few people stare or double-take once they caught sight of Josh’s prosthesis, but he seemed to be oblivious to the attention.
Soon the conversation turned away from healthcare when I asked what he did for a living.
“I’m a television news reporter,” he said with a grin. “But I guess I’m not as famous as I thought.”
The pieces slammed together. The beautiful, brash hottie who was known for aggressive, hard-hitting political interviews. “Holy fuck. You’re Joshua Lede.”
He laughed and shook his head. “No. You don’t get to recognize me retroactively. It doesn’t work that way.”
I reached out to grab his arm to stop his momentum. “Wait. Holy crap. You’re really Joshua Lede from Bury the Lede?”
“It’s a stage name, but yeah. That’s me. You watch my show?”
I felt heat bloom in my face. “I… yeah. I watch your show. Doesn’t everyone around here?”
Josh’s grin grew astronomically. He had dimples. Joshua Lede had fucking dimples. Who the hell knew?
“I like to think at least the liberals do. If only more of the policy-makers and voters watched, we might all be in a better place.”
“Y-you never smile on TV,” I stammered. “Why not? You have the most amazing smile.”
Our eyes locked together, and I wondered if it was possible to fall into a trance because someone was so magnetic.
Josh’s voice softened. “It’s hard to break news about political corruption with a grin on your face and be taken seriously.”
I wanted to feel how soft his lips were. I wanted to run the pad of my thumb across the smooth expanse of his cheek.
I shook my head to clear it. We hardly knew each other. The man was a stranger.
“I guess you’re right,” I admitted, turning forward to begin walking again. “But now I’m going to be brainstorming funny news pieces to pitch to you just to see your dimples on the show.”
As we continued down the path, I noticed Josh walking a little closer to me. Every few steps, the sleeves of our shirts would swish together and I’d catch the scent of sandalwood coming off him.
“Are you an artist?” he asked. “Is that what drew you to art therapy?”
“Not really. I was always interested in psychology and sociology. I went to college for a psychology degree. In one of my classes I had to do a group project combining psychology and physiology. There was a girl in my group who suggested we do an experiment using art therapy to test its effect on blood pressure. I’d never really heard of it before, but it sounded easy enough. For the experiment, we went to one of the big office buildings in downtown Boston during the lunch hour. We took people’s BP and then had them do a simple coloring page for fifteen minutes before taking their BP again.”
“I guess their blood pressure dropped significantly?”
“Well, yes, but that’s not the amazing part. And, by the way, it was a pretty shitty experiment all things considered. Too many factors involved. But what was so incredible was the difference in mood and sociability. The smiles and conversations around the table as these corporate types took fifteen minutes out of their busy day to do something frivolous. It was really something. I realized art therapy, even in small doses, was enough to help people hit the reset button on their day. They could relax, breathe, connect. There was value in that moment of recharging without having to talk or listen or do anything other than put colored pencil to paper.”