I guess that explains why he came to Somerset instead of staying in Montreal; he was trying to get out of his dad’sshadow. “They were probably just jealous. You were the best resident in the program, Ethan, and everyone knew it.”
He scrubs a hand through his dark hair, which is badly in need of a cut. “I’m being sued, Luke.”
“I heard. I’m sorry.”
Ethan shakes his head. “It was a high-risk operation, but there was no good alternative. Everyone knew that, but I’m still fucking getting sued.”
“Most doctors get sued at some point. It doesn’t mean you did anything wrong. With a different surgeon, the outcome might have been worse.”
“I doubt it.”
“I’m sorry.” It seems inadequate, but I don’t know what else to say. We eat potato chips in silence for a couple of minutes.
“What did your lawyer say?” I finally ask.
“Not to talk about it with anyone,” Ethan says with a quirk of his lips. “She thinks it’s defensible, and might even get dismissed before going to trial.”
“That’s good, right?”
“I guess,” he says. “But sometimes I wish they’d recommend a settlement, so it would just go away.” He rakes a hand through his hair again. “A trial could last years, Luke, and I’m just so sick of reliving it.”
Regardless of the outcome of the lawsuit, Ethan’s already convicted himself.
“Have you talked to anyone about it?”
“You,” he says with a chuckle.
“I mean like a professional. The Medical Association has counseling programs?—”
“The lawyer suggested that too,” he interrupts. “But I don’t want to talk about it, Luke. I’m trying to forget about it.”
“Is that why you’re drinking?” I debated whether to bring it up again, but he won’t be able to go on like this much longer. Sooner or later, he’ll operate drunk, or with an awful hangover, and he’ll make a mistake. And if it comes out that he was drunk at the time, his career will be done.
“It helps me get to sleep, okay?” he says defensively. “I can’t operate if I’m sleep deprived.”
“The Medical Association has programs for that too.”
“What, for insomnia?” he quips.
“No, like AA.”
“You think I’m an alcoholic?”
Yes.“I’m worried about you, Ethan.”
“Most people drink, Luke,” he says with a scowl.
I nod. “Just promise me you won’t drive drunk. Or operate, either. You know you can call me to cover you, right?”
“Luke, I’d never. You know that.”
I wish I could be sure.
Ethan yawns and stands up. “I should go home.”
“You’re welcome to crash on my couch,” I offer. “Or I can drive you home.”
He shakes his head. “Thanks, but I’m fine.”
