I read her note for the fifth time. I have to give her credit: Ally’s got more class than the last woman who broke up with me. If I remember right, Elyse said she was bored, and that she doubted I’d ever love a woman as much as I love my job.
But that situation was different, obviously. Elyse and I had been together for almost two years, and we’d talked about getting married. Whereas Ally and I had a time-limited, no strings arrangement that started out fake.
And the other big difference? When Elyse broke up with me I was relieved, but this hurts like a kick in the nuts.
I pull out my phone to cancel the hotel reservation I made for this weekend. I guess I won’t be taking Ally for a romantic weekend in Toronto.
I go down to the gym and lift weights until my muscles scream in protest, then run on the treadmill until I’m about to collapse. It’s an okay distraction, until I come back to my condo to shower. And I’m reminded of all the things Ally and I did in the shower on Friday night.
I have insomnia again. And since I can’t sleep, I go down to my storage unit and bring Ally’s stuff back up to my condo. All of it, including the boxes of kitchen stuff that we never brought upstairs, because I had enough plates and cutlery already.
It takes me three trips with the moving trolley, but it’s not like I’ve got anything better to do. I make space in my closet for Ally’s blouses and pants, and tuck her winter boots on the shelf next to mine. I’m not sure what I’m hoping to achieve with this, but it gives me something to do.
I don’t get to sleep until after three A.M., and my alarm goes off less than three hours later. Fortunately, I make it through my OR day without any major problems.
On Wednesday, I’ve scheduled an extra day in the clinic to try to clear the backlog of referrals, and I show up in a bitch of a mood.
“Why is the clinic so overbooked?” I ask Celine.
“You told me to fit people in, Drew,” she says, pointing at the computer screen defensively. “You flagged these consults as urgent, and there were a bunch of post-op follow-ups.”
I glance at the screen and see that she’s right. “Okay,” I say sheepishly. “Yeah. Sorry, Celine.”
But she doesn’t look annoyed; instead, she’s looking at me like I’m a fragile creature that needs careful handling. I must really look like shit.
“I heard Ally quit,” she says gently.
News sure spreads fast around here.
“Yeah, she took a job as a personal assistant to a tennis player. She’s at Wimbledon right now.”
“Ah,” Celine says curiously. “So . . . you guys are doing long-distance?”
I wonder what I’ve done to make Celine think I’d like to discuss my love life. “Well, I’m not in England, Celine.”
It doesn’t answer her question, but she has enough sense not to push. “Right, of course,” she murmurs gently. More gently than I deserve, given the way I’ve been snapping at her.
The clinic drags. Not only is it overbooked, but Celine seems to have managed to book all the most irritating patients on the same day. One man wants me to renew his anti-depressant prescription, and another woman tries to set me up with her granddaughter.
I tell her I’m in a relationship.
To put the icing on the cake, Heather Larkin drops by the clinic and corners me in the back room.
“We were all so surprised when Ally quit,” she remarks.
“Uh huh,” I grunt. Heather’s staring at me so intently, it’s unsettling. I wonder if I missed a spot shaving, or if there’s spinach between my teeth.
But there can’t be spinach between my teeth, because my lunch was a protein bar. Because Ally left. I should really reactivate the premade meal subscription, but that would mean admitting she’s not coming back.
I’ll probably end up with scurvy soon.
“But Ally’s doing well?” Heather asks vaguely.
“Uh huh,” I grunt again, brushing past her into the hall. “Sorry, Heather, I’ve got patients waiting.”
That evening, Breanna texts to invite Ally and me to dinner on the weekend, and when I don’t reply, she calls. I consider telling Breanna we’re busy all weekend, but she’ll eventually figure out that Ally’s gone. Better not to lie about it, or Breanna might think I’m in denial or something.
“Ally and I aren’t together anymore,” I tell her casually. As though it’s no big deal.
