His smile drops. “Ah. Sorry, man.”
I wave that off. I don’t tell him I’ll be okay, because I’m not sure I will be. I’m not just wallowing, either. That would imply I’ve been listening to sad music and sitting in my dark bedroom, but I’m making efforts to move on, and I still can’t. I’m honestly not sure how to proceed.
I made myself better, and it still wasn’t good enough. I don’t even blame her. This is karma come full circle—I’ve done this to myself.
I overhear George with one of his patients. I’m not eavesdropping, but the door is open. “I don’t think the physical therapy is going to work,” he’s saying. “But you have to do it before we can get an MRI.”
I roll my eyes. I really hate this man.
I catch him later that day when he’s out in the hallway on his computer.
“Hey, man,” I say to him, and he looks at me. “I don’t think you should tell patients that PT ‘isn’t going to work’ before you send them. It’s possible it will, but they won’t buy in or do any of their exercises if you say that up front, you know?”
His face becomes a stiff mask. I’ve hit a nerve, apparently.
“I have some things I could say to you as well.” He folds his arms across his chest. “Starting with you fucking a nurse who works on the unit where you’re doing your rotation and then recommending she get admitted to medical school?”
My face heats. “There’s a lot going on in those accusations you’re slinging around. I’ve known Kendall for a long time. We went to high school together, and she’s brilliant.” I tick off items on my fingers. “I didn’t write a letter or anything. I talked to Dr. Sanders, who I know very well, and told her what a good job Kendall does. Which is true. And lastly, I had barely had any interactions with her at that point.”
I don’t say the other part, that we’ve had lots of interactions since then. I don’t need to.
He opens his mouth to speak, but I talk over him. “Besides that, there’s talk about you fooling around with an intern last year. So do you really want to go there? Glass houses and all that.”
George’s mouth snaps shut. His face pales. He thinks he’s so slick, but I’ve been holding onto that one. He all but confirmed it. Nurses and residents getting together is at worst ill-advised, but a younger resident in your own program? It’s even more rife with potential problems.
“Fine,” he says. “You made your point.”
“She’s going to be an excellent physician,” I say. “If anything, I’ve only gotten in her way.”
I turn around. With any luck, he’ll leave Kendall alone for good now.
Two weeks after my last conversation with Kendall, I go home to Blacksburg. It’s not what I want to do with a weekend off, but it’s my paternal grandmother’s eighty-fifth birthday, and since she’s my only grandparent left, I feel like I should celebrate with her.
We’re at my parents’ house, and thankfully the party is winding down. My grandmother’s friends have all gone home, and only family members are left milling about. I’ve got a few cousins who came in for the occasion.
I stand in my parents’ cavernous kitchen, sipping on a sherbet punch boasting a level of cloying sweetness that might give me an instant cavity. I take a nibble of a chicken salad croissant, though it’s been sitting out for a while and now it’s gotten a little stale and dry. I glance around. Mom and Dad have decorated the kitchen in that country-rich-person kind of style—not that it takes much to be rich around here—with a few rustic accents and kitschy little signs. There’s a wooden one with white block lettering above the cabinets that says “welcome.” It feels kind of bullshitty, honestly. They definitely wouldn’t welcome everyone here.
My grandmother ambles over to where I stand. She’s thin, perhaps painfully so since the last time I saw her a few months ago. Her makeup has settled into the deep lines in her face, and her smile seems a little tired, but she’s still well-dressed, and her posture is perfect.
She’s my only grandparent who grew up poor. She’s talkedabout it a little, the type of poverty that leaves a mark on one’s psyche, though I never probed any further. I’m reminded of Kendall’s grandmother, who apparently had to use dirty bath water from a well, and I wonder if my own mamaw had to do that. If she did, she hasn’t ever talked about it. She and my grandpa started a furniture company together and never looked back.
She pats me on the back. “How’s the doctoring going?”
I smile at her. “Terrible. But I think I’m stuck now.”
“Ah.” She waves that away. “If you want to quit and run off to Hollywood, I wouldn’t blame ya. I always thought you’d make a good movie star.”
I laugh. “I have no charm or acting ability, but sure.” I take another sip of my drink and wrinkle my nose.
“I did wonder if you might know what to do about this hip that’s been bothering me. Since I broke it last year, you remember.” She gestures at her hip joint.
I nod. She had a hip replacement on the left side.
“It’s still paining me.” She grimaces.
“Yeah.” I wince. “I’ve seen that before. I can get you in to see one of my colleagues if you want.”
She squeezes my arm. “Good to have a doctor in the family.” She grins at me. “You got any lady friends nowadays?”
