"Because," I say, checking my watch to hide the fact that my own hands are shaking, "Mr. Henderson is a human being. Not a line item."
I turn to walk away.
"And Jax?" I add.
He looks up.
"Do not ever yell at the Chief of Surgery again. It is unprofessional. And it wrinkles my coat when I have to step in front of you."
I walk toward the elevators.
I don't look back, but I can feel his eyes on me.
I enter the elevator and press the button for the top floor. The doors close.
I lean my head back against the metal wall and exhale a breath I didn't know I was holding.
A physiological error.
That’s what I told him.
But as I think about the look in Jax’s eyes when I stood up for him, I realize the complication is much worse than I thought.
The infection has spread. And it’s going straight for my heart.
Lying is exhausting.
Physiologically speaking, deception triggers the same stress response as physical danger. Elevated heart rate. Dilated pupils. The sudden, desperate need to vomit.
I am currently experiencing all three.
"Dr. Sterling wants the abstract by 5:00 PM," my assistant says, placing a sticky note on my desk. She looks apologetic. "He said something about 'verifying the grant eligibility window.'"
I stare at the note.5:00 PM.It is currently 1:00 PM.
I have four hours to invent a revolutionary surgical protocol that does not exist, for a robotic arm we do not have, to justify a surgery we have already performed.
"Thank you," I say, my voice sounding hollow.
I look across the blue tape line.
Jax is eating a burrito. He is currently dissecting it, pulling out the jalapeños with surgical precision and flicking them into his trash can.
"We have a problem," I announce.
Jax looks up. "We're out of coffee? That is a problem. I can make a run to the cafeteria, but I can't promise I won't punch the barista if he burns the milk again."
"Sterling wants the abstract," I say. "For the Henderson study."
Jax pauses. He drops a jalapeño. "The fake study?"
"Thetheoreticalstudy," I correct. "He wants a five-page summary of our methodology, hypothesis, and expected outcomes. By end of day."
Jax whistles low. "Short notice. Classic Sterling power play. He’s trying to catch you in the lie."
"Obviously," I snap. "I need to write it. Now."
"Okay," Jax says, wiping his hands on his scrubs. "So write it. You’re the word guy. I’m the knife guy. Use a lot of syllables. Throw in 'synergy' and 'paradigm shift.' He loves that crap."
