Page 14 of The Doctors Will See You Now

“Marlene,” I called, and she jumped from her spot in the corner. She hadn’t been avidly participating, at least not at that particular moment, but she’d been listening intently. She just hadn’t thought I’d be including her in this awkward little tête-à-tête.

“Get the room ready, please.”

“Of course, Dr. Cummings.”

I nodded with a smile and turned to leave. Then, and only then, did I turn back, my voice soft and smooth like butter. “For the record…” They all jumped at the sound of my voice again. “I didn’t say the vagina was a beacon of anything. That was a forty-minute speech on fertility that they spliced together for a fifteen-second clip of nonsense. So let’s get back to work, okay?”

Aggravated that I had to explain myself to people who’d been working with me for years, I stormed back to my office—stopping briefly to get my goddamn mug—slammed the switch for the coffeepot on and listened raptly as it started to brew. I needed to take my ten minutes, have my coffee, and get my shit together before I went out there and started seeing patients.

The last thing they needed was a doctor whose head wasn’t in the game. My priority was their health. Period.

I tucked the picture of Julia back into my briefcase and checked my phone one last time before setting it to silent and shutting it inside of my drawer.

There was only one message, from Thatch no less, so I figured now wasn’t the time to read it. Not when I was trying to calm myself down.

Thatcher Kelly was a goddamn incendiary device.

I pulled off my suit coat and hung it on the hook in the corner, and then I pulled out my chair to sit down and look through patient files. I liked to get a jump on the day by reminding myself of their history before they even darkened our door. Once the day was rolling, I’d barely have any time at all, and patient care was at least fifty percent knowledge.

Each person needed and expected different things, and I tried my best to give it to them.

It didn’t take me long to let go of my personal troubles and take on the burdens of my patients. Whether it was fertility issues, a cancer scare, or endometriosis, each of them had something they needed my help with. Something they came to me to make better, bearable, or even just offer some support.

A knock on the doorframe of my office pulled my attention from the file I was studying and up to Marlene.

I lifted my eyebrows in question.

“Just brought your first patient back, Dr. Cummings.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

She jerked her chin and turned to leave, but I called her back. “Oh, and Marlene?”

She stepped back into the door and listened. “I’m going to be expecting more from you going forward. You’ve been here long enough, and you’re experienced enough, to know that someone needs to hold down the fort, keep the rumor mill under control, and make sure that patients are the first priority. That someone should be you. It should be all of you, but you should know better than anyone.”

She ground her jaw, but she didn’t talk back. Perhaps a first for Marlene. “Is that all?”

I smiled, an attempt to smooth the water under our bridge, but when she turned without waiting for me to answer, I knew I’d probably be paying for that little speech for quite a while. I was technically the boss, but according to the Life and Times of Marlene Donahue, no one was her boss but herself.

I sure hoped someone packed my life jacket.

Three raps on the door to exam room one later, my first patient called out for me to come in.

I stepped through the door and moved to the counter, where Marlene had already run a urinalysis that indicated, as designated by the birth control note on her file, the patient lying on my exam table with nothing more than a paper gown on was maintaining her preferred status of not pregnant.

“Hello, Alyssa,” I greeted, opening her chart on the counter and scrolling through some of the particulars one last time before turning to face her.

“Hi, Dr. Cummings.”

“How are you today?”

“Good, thanks.”

“Any problems we need to talk about, or is everything pretty much business as usual?”

“No problems.”

It wasn’t surprising that her answers were curt and simplistic. I found that was how it usually was while they were undressed and vulnerable. Once the clothes went back on, most patients were much better at chatting.