Monday morning arrived with the kind of clarity that only comes from necessity.
I woke at 6:00 AM. No alarm needed. The body was adapting to new patterns.
Coffee. Shower. Button-down shirt and tie. The uniform of a professional who needed to project stability even when he didn't feel it.
The subway was crowded. Monday morning rush. Everyone pressed together, maintaining the careful distance New Yorkers had perfected—physically close, emotionally miles apart.
I got off at West 4th Street.
The walk to the clinic took eight minutes. I had timed it yesterday.
Bleecker Street was waking up. Delivery trucks double-parked. Shop owners rolling up gates. The smell of fresh bread from the bakery two doors down.
Linda was already there when I unlocked the door.
She looked up from the desk. Coffee in hand. Appointment book open.
"You're early," she said.
"So are you."
"I wanted to prep before the patients arrived." She gestured to the schedule. "I rearranged the week. Moved the procedures requiring sterilized instruments to Thursday and Friday. That gives us time to get the valve installed Wednesday."
I looked at the revised schedule. She had done more than rearrange—she had optimized. Grouped similar procedures together. Minimized gaps. Added buffer time for emergencies.
"This is good work," I said.
She smiled. "I've been wanting to suggest changes for a year. Never seemed like the right time."
"It's the right time now."
I walked to my office. Small. Window facing the alley. Desk covered in paperwork I'd been ignoring.
Original Barry had let mail pile up. Bills unopened. Medical journals still wrapped in plastic. Continuing education requirements untouched.
I started sorting.
Bills: One stack. Junk mail: Recycling. Medical journals: Keep pile. Important documents: File.
Thirty minutes later, the desk was clear.
I could see the wood grain.
Linda appeared in the doorway. "Your 9:00 is here. Mrs. Chen."
Mrs. Chen. Age sixty-three. Patient for twelve years. Routine adjustment.
I remembered her from original Barry's memories. Reliable. Paid on time. Always brought cookies at Christmas.
"I'll be right out."
I grabbed my white coat from the hook behind the door.
Stopped.
Looked at it.
Original Barry had worn this coat like armor. A costume to project authority he didn't feel.
I put it on.
But this time it felt different.
Like a uniform for someone actually doing the work.
Mrs. Chen sat in the treatment chair, purse in her lap, smile warm.
"Dr. Farber! I heard about the wedding. I'm so sorry."
News traveled fast.
"Thank you, Mrs. Chen. But it was for the best."
"Still. That must have been difficult."
"It was the right decision."
She studied my face. "You seem... different. Calmer."
"I'm trying to be."
I examined her bite. The adjustment from six weeks ago was holding. No issues.
"Everything looks good," I said. "The alignment is progressing nicely."
"When will I be done with the retainer?"
"Another three months. Then we'll reassess."
She nodded. "You know, Dr. Farber, I've been coming here a long time. And I've noticed something."
"What's that?"
"You used to rush. Like you were always thinking about something else. Today you're... present."
Linda's words from yesterday echoed.
You've been absent.
"I'm working on that," I said.
"Good. It shows."
At checkout, she paid cash. $150.
First revenue of the week.
Linda entered it into the ledger immediately.
"One down," she said.
"Many more to go."
The 10:00 appointment was a new patient. Walk-in from last week.
David Porter. Forty-five. Investment banker. Referred by his colleague.
He sat in the consultation chair with the posture of someone used to evaluating risk.
"I'll be direct, Dr. Farber," he said. "I've been to three orthodontists. They all want to sell me cosmetic work. Veneers. Whitening. Invisalign. I don't need cosmetic. I need function. My jaw clicks when I eat. It's getting worse."
I examined his bite.
Severe malocclusion. The kind that develops over decades. His jaw had compensated by shifting, creating stress on the temporomandibular joint.
"You don't need cosmetic work," I confirmed. "You need realignment. Your bite is off by approximately four millimeters. That's causing the joint stress."
"Can you fix it?"
"Yes. But it'll take eighteen months. Traditional braces. Possibly a night guard to prevent grinding while we correct the alignment."
He leaned back. "I'm forty-five. Isn't that too old for braces?"
"You're too old to care what people think about braces. And young enough to prevent twenty years of chronic pain."
He laughed. "Fair point. What's the cost?"
"$4,500. I can offer a payment plan—$1,500 down, $150 per month for twenty months."
"Why so reasonable?"
"Because I'd rather you actually get treatment than walk away because of cost. And because I know you'll refer others if the work is good."
He extended his hand. "When can we start?"
"Thursday. I'll have Linda schedule you."
We shook.
At the desk, he wrote a check for $1,500.
Linda's eyes widened slightly as she processed it.
"Thank you, Mr. Porter," she said.
After he left, she turned to me.
"That's the easiest four-thousand-dollar case I've ever seen closed."
"He knew what he needed. I just listened instead of selling."
"Old Barry would have pushed veneers."
"Old Barry was an idiot."
She grinned. "I'm starting to like new Barry."
By lunch, we'd seen four patients.
Revenue: $2,100.
Better than expected.
I ate a sandwich at my desk while reviewing the afternoon schedule.
Linda knocked. "Dr. Farber? Your 1:00 canceled. Equipment emergency at their office. Want me to call the waitlist?"
"Yes. See if anyone can come in today."
She disappeared.
Returned five minutes later. "I reached two people. One can come at 2:00. The other asked about evening appointments."
"Evening appointments?"
"She's a paralegal. Works downtown. Can't make daytime appointments. Asked if we had evening hours."
We didn't.
Most dental offices closed by 5:00 PM. Catered to people with flexible schedules or who could take time off work.
But what about the people who couldn't?
"What if we added evening hours?" I said.
Linda blinked. "What?"
"Two evenings a week. Tuesday and Thursday. 5:00 to 8:00 PM. Capture the working professionals who can't make daytime appointments."
"That would require staff working late."
"I'd compensate for it. Time-and-a-half for evening hours."
She considered. "That could work. But it's a big change."
"Start small. Offer it to that paralegal. See if there's demand. If it works, we expand."
Linda made a note. "I'll call her back."
She paused at the door. "You're really doing this."
"Doing what?"
"Fixing things. Actually managing the practice."
"Better late than never."
"Much better."
END CHAPTER 3 (1)
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