Officer Murphy stuck his head around the corner. “Not to interrupt you, ladies, but it's almost time for noon lecture.”
Clarissa sighed, “Yuck. It’s one of the morbidity and mortality ones. They're so depressing.” Some of her enthusiasm faded, and Lillian reminded herself that Clarissa’s last shifts had left her with the need to get her spirits boosted.
“It could be worse. Internal medicine does a public humiliation thing when they want to punish residents and fellows in their department,” Avigayle said. “I hear they’re bloodbaths.”
The two residents left, and Lily saw Murphy examining her flowers. “Do you have an opinion on this?”
Murphy glanced around. “Me?”
“Yes, you. Possessor of the Y chromosome.”
“Oh, it doesn't matter what I think,” he said, and she barely noticed the lisp on his ‘K.’
“Why?”
“Because nobody's opinion matters in this except yours.”
“Yeah, must be the only one.” She touched one of the lilies.
“If you want to see him again, text him. And if you don't want to see him again, don't text.” Murphy adjusted her stack of limes.
“It sounds so simple.”
“We possessors of the Y chromosome are kind of simple.”
“Then am I being a jerk for not contacting him? He sent flowers twice.”
“Who called the shots during your date?”
Calling her evening with Gene a ‘date’ was a stretch, but she’d go with it. “Me.”
“Who invited him in?”
“Me.”
“Did you ask him for his number or mention you might want to see him again?”
She thought about it. “I guess not.”
“So he tried to get in contact with you, and you’re giving him silence.”
“I didn't think about it that way.”
“So the ball is in your court. Besides, aren’t you liking this a little bit?” Murphy stepped back from the limes.
His comment had her grimacing sheepishly. She definitely did. More than a little bit. “Okay. It is kind of nice.”
“Then there you go.”
“Wow, thanks. Maybe I should talk to you about all of my problems. First, you had the flower texting idea and now this. Your girlfriend has to be really lucky.” The words were out of her mouth before she considered their highly personal nature.
“I don't have a girlfriend,” he said.
“Oh, sorry. I’m single. Or I'm mostly single,” she stammered.
“I'm not single,” he said.
She blinked and understood what his implication was. “Oh. Oh. I didn't mean to imply. I mean there's nothing wrong.
