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I lived for this. Surgery was an incredible, delicate art. Humans had only been able to successfully complete the sort of surgery I did regularly for the last fifty years or so, and before that, surgery was about as barbaric and simplistic as possible. It was an incredible gift, to be able to open up a living human body, fix what was broken inside, and to somehow put it back together in such a way that it would heal, and survive, and even thrive.
Every patient that left my OR and went on to live a happy life made all of this worth it.
I took Lori to a little dive around the corner. The tables were sticky, the floor was covered in dirt, and a few nurses were crowded in the back. I sat at the bar, ordered a gin, and sipped it when it arrived. Lori asked for a beer, but didn’t touch it.
“What are we celebrating?” she asked.
I lifted my glass. “A perfect closing.”
She laughed a little, and her cheeks flushed more. God, I loved that. “What do you mean?”
“Today, you did it right. I mean, you did it perfect. You’ve always been good at it, but I’d say today was the first time there was nothing to critique, not even if I wanted to be as nitpicky and severe as possible.”
“Good for me then.” She lifted her glass in a salute, and we both drank. “It was a rush though, you know what I mean? I just felt right. Like everything locked into place.”
I nodded rapidly. I knew exactly what she meant. “That’s what I feel when it all goes right. It’s like a drug.”
“Like getting high.” She laughed a little. “Not like I know much about that.”
“You don’t? Never even smoked a joint in college?”
“No, never, wasn’t my thing. What about you?”
“Same here, actually.”
She gave me a look. “Come on, it’s fine. I’m not going to run off and talk to that private investigator.”
I smirked a little. “I believe you, but it’s true. I’ve always liked for my mind to be my own. Drugs always felt like I was relinquishing control to something else.”
“A lot of people like that.”
“I definitely don’t.”
“Can’t say I’m surprised.” She frowned at me a little bit. “Were you always like this?”
“Like what?” I took a long drink as more folks from the hospital filed in. I nodded at a couple I recognized, and they waved back, but nobody approached.
That was fine. I’d built a bubble around myself over the years. I was friendly with most of the doctors, on good enough terms with the nursing staff, and ignored everyone else. I knew some of them disliked me, and more than a few hated me, but it didn’t matter, so long as we got the job done.
Surgery was my calling, and it was my only friend. I was the best, but sometimes—I wondered if it was worth the price.
Then again, days like today made me think yes, absolutely yes, it was all worth it, so long as I could feel this way, and save these lives.
“You know. Surly. Difficult. You hold people at arm’s length. I’ve seen you do it.”
I looked down into my drink. “Not always,” I said. “I grew up in the suburbs around here. Went to a decent high school. Got decent grades. I had friends, ran track, was kind of popular.”
“Popular?” She laughed a little. “I could see it. I bet you wore Hollister.”
“Gelled my hair. Flipped it up in the front.”
“Oh my god. That was such a look.”
“It was before your time.” I glanced at her, grinning. “I guess I’m not that much older than you, though.”
“Ten years, right? I mean, that’s not so long. Close to Rees’s age.”
“Ten years,” I repeated, shaking my head, drinking my gin. “I used to be the young hotshot. Now I’m the old man, taking his resident out for a drink.”
“Don’t get all maudlin on me.”
“I won’t, don’t worry,” I said.
“Tell me more about how popular you were,” she said. “Did you steal alcohol from your parents and get drunk on weekends?”
“Absolutely,” I said, smiling a little. “All that changed in college though. I got more serious, realized that I wanted to do with my life, and fell into medicine. I never really looked back. It’s been my whole existence ever since.”
“Sounds almost lonely.”
“But it’s not, not really.”
“Are you close with your parents?” she asked.
“I talk to my mom on the phone once a week. And I try to get lunch with my dad at least once or twice a month.”
“What, your mom doesn’t come?”
I shook my head. “Parents divorced and she lives out near the shore. Too long of a drive.”
“Ah, I’m sorry,” she said.
“Don’t be. What about you? Parents? Siblings?”
“Mom passed five years ago,” she said. “I have one younger brother who is a total shithead that still lives with my dad, even though he has an accounting degree.”
