I leave him standing alone in the kitchen.
The rest of the month slips by the same. We play happy family in public, in front of Milo, but at the end of the day we sleep in separate rooms. Like roommates with shared custody of a five-year-old.
And honestly? It’s exhausting.
But home isn’t the only thing weighing on me right now.
Dr. Murphy wasn’t kidding about that new policy. One he implemented thesame dayhe announced it. Gail was pissed, obviously he was. He came in on his days off with the promise of getting to leave early for his trip, only that part never happened. At first, he was mad at Murphy, but that anger slowly bled into annoyance withme.
And it’s not just Gail.
The entire ER thinks the policy was made because of me, because of my “special requests,” which is hilarious considering I barely take five-minute bathroom breaks without getting called back. Now I’m getting attitude not just from the other attendings but from nurses too.
The residents and interns still have to listen to me, sure, but work has become hostile. A place that used to distract me now feels like it needs its own therapy unit.
The only one on my side seems to be Charlize. She was there when Murphy openly showed his hostility, and she’s convinced he’s icing me out because I was a contender for his job, if only I’d had a little more experience.
Even if that’s true, it doesn’t give him the right to act like a complete jackass. And if his planisto ice me out…
I’m not gonna lie. It’s working.
I even considered going to the Chief about it, but what am I supposed to say? “People aren’t being nice to me”? That’s not exactly an HR violation. Or at least not one they’d consider aspecial request.
I’m twenty-four weeks now. Maternity leave starts at thirty-four, if I don’t go into early labor from all this stress.
So, I just… have to tough it out. Keep my head down. Pretend I don’t hear the whispers or feel the annoyance radiating off half the staff every time I walk by.
I tell myself it’ll pass. They’ll realize I’m not the enemy. But every day I step into that ER, it feels tighter. More suffocating.
Ten more, weeks. Can’t go by quick enough.
Patrick
If someone had told me a month ago that sleeping in the guest room would become my new normal, I’d have laughed in their face.
Now I’m just grateful Lorelie hasn’t kicked me out of the house entirely.
Every night we tuck Milo in together, and every night we go our separate ways. I keep waiting for her to tell me I can sleep in our bed again, but that night hasn’t come yet.
Most nights she makes it home before Milo’s bedtime, and on those nights, to keep up appearances, I welcome her with a kiss like always. You’d think I’d like that, right? But feeling her tense before our lips even touch… it’s the worst feeling on the planet.
It’s been almost a month since I blew everything up. And even though she’s civil, warm, sometimes, there’s a distance now. A space I can’t cross.
Barry slides into the chair across from my desk without me even realizing he’s in the room. Not the only thing I’ve missed this past month.
“You look like shit, Sarg.”
I flick my eyes up. “Thanks.”
“Any progress at home?” he asks, leaning back with a grimace like he already knows the answer.
“Some,” I say. Then I sigh. “Not enough.”
He nods slowly, drumming his fingers on the folder in his lap. “Look, man… time helps, but only if you’re actually doing something with it.”
“I quit drinking,” I remind him.
“And that’s good,” he says. “Really good. But that’s not enough… obviously.”
