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I liked that. Showed a little spark.
I still didn’t want anything to do with her, but I knew Gina would be up my ass if I kept fighting it, so fine, all right, I’ll teach the girl.
I won’t make it easy. But I’ll teach her.
“Her cousin’s on the board,” I said. “That’s how she ended up with me.”
“Lucky her then.” Franco raised his glass. “Here’s to new residents and a good year.”
I grunted, clinked his glass with my own, and drank down my beer. “I should get going. Got an early one tomorrow.”
“You making the girl come in on your hours?”
“Absolutely.” I slid out of the both and stood. “She’s got to learn.”
“Poor girl,” he said, shaking his head. “I got these. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I waved and headed out, stepping into the early Philly evening rush. I drifted into the crush of people heading home from work, surrounded by business suits, briefcases, backpacks, men rushing with their heads down, the tick-tock of high heels as women elbowed their way through crowds. I loved this city, even all its squalor and its poverty. Philly had something New York never would: grit and determination. New York was all spread out, broken down into boroughs, but Philly was a walkable city, compact, shoved in between the Delaware and the Schuylkill. I liked the beat-up storefronts, the groups of kids sitting around Rittenhouse Square, the buskers in the park playing guitars, juggling, singing, anything for tips. I even liked the homeless guys, especially the ones that heckled people. I always gave them cash when I could.
My condo was on the top floor of a building overlooking the Square. I rode the elevator up, unlocked my front door, and tossed my bag onto my kitchen table. It landed on top of a magazine and knocked it onto the floor.
I stooped to pick it up. It was Time from a few months back, and my own damn smirking face stared back at me, with the big, bold headline beneath: DR. MAGIC HANDS WORKS MIRACLES.
Embarrassing. I threw it back onto the table.
Gina pushed me into that one. Some reporter from Time had heard about my track record and wanted to do a story on me, and I turned it down initially. Gina said it’d be good publicity for the hospital, and great for my career, so I gave in and went for it.
I wished I hadn’t. For a while afterwards, it wasn’t so bad, and getting recognized in the street was fun.
But then I operated on Nil Tippett, and it was like my whole life changed afterwards.
I went through my evening routine. Dinner alone, an hour of television, an hour of reading, then bed. Lights out at exactly ten.
I stared at my ceiling, thinking about Lori.
I didn’t know what I was going to do with her. I wasn’t in any state to take on a resident, not right now. Maybe last year, when things were still going well, or maybe a year from now, after I got a chance to pick myself back up. But a month after losing Nil Tippett felt too soon.
It felt like I didn’t deserve to teach a damn person.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
One lost patient in my five years as an attending was damn good. Especially considering Nil was eighty, and the surgery was a risk to begin with.
Even still. One dead patient was one too many.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
And saw Lori’s face again.
“Good morning,” I said as my new resident came into the lobby of Westview looking exhausted and slightly haggard, but awake at least.
The sun wasn’t up yet. Most of Philly was still asleep, though not Westview. The hospital never slept, because medical emergencies never stopped. It was a twenty-four-hour job, and not for the weak. That was something I loved about it: the rush, the pressure, the intensity.
I’d seen a lot of residents burn out over the years since I started, and I wondered if mine would go down that path.
“Morning,” she said, sounding chipper.
Maybe she had it, maybe she didn’t. I looked forward to finding out.
“Walk with me.” I turned and stalked to the elevators.
She kept pace. “I got shown around by Monica yesterday,” she said. “Just so you know.”
“That’s good, since I wasn’t going to do it.”
“Where are we headed?”
“I have your first task.” I got into the elevator, punched the third floor button, and let it ride.
She kept looking at me. I wanted to ask her what was up, but I kept silent. I didn’t know what I was doing with this girl or why I was going along with it. Maybe it was easier, not fighting against Gina, although I’d been fighting her for the last five years. Maybe losing Nil Tippett had me rocked more than I realized, or maybe I just liked her.
