Page 201 of True Blue

Dr. Minkus looks gobsmacked, and I wonder if it’s the first time someone has called him out on his bullshit.

“No more questions from me,” he says, his voice tight and quiet.

Dr. Halloran then clears her throat.

“Dr. Miller,” she starts, her quiet voice unsettling me more than Dr. Minkus’ smug questions. “Would you say you had a strong support system when you began your residency at Hyde?”

I swallow. “No.”

“Family?”

“No.”

“Did Eleanor know this?”

My voice stops working, and I nod.

“Speak up, Dr. Miller.”

I have to swallow three times before I can answer, my voice quiet.

“Yes.”

“So when Eleanor Ambrose showed you affection,” she says, peeking at me over her glasses. “That must have meant a lot.”

My lip wobbles, my eyes and nose sting with tears I try to breathe back.

“Yes,” I stutter, before clearing my throat. “It meant a lot to me.”

“Did Mrs. Ambrose ever refer to you as family?”

“Yes.”

“And did you correct her?”

My throat tightens. “No.”

“Why not?”

Because I wanted to be.

I bite down hard on my lip to keep that answer in, no matter if it’s the truth. It’s not going to sound right to them. They’re not going to understand.

“Did you ever consider that a terminally ill woman facing her own mortality might have been vulnerable to forming an inappropriate attachment to a young doctor who had disclosed a lack of family support?”

It’s not the way they’re talking about me that’s truly bothering me—I hate the way they’re talking about Ellie. As if she’s weak, as if she wasn’t her own person with thoughts and feelings that still matter. Because she was older, she was seen as delicate or vulnerable. And it’s the furthest thing from the truth.

“You misunderstand who Eleanor Ambrose was,” I say, my voice firm and even. Several expressions shift around the table. “She was over seventy years old, yes, but she was competent. Sharp as a whip. My professional opinion as a physician is that Eleanor Ambrose was competent until her last day on earth. She was of sound mind. She passed away from pneumonia that she battled quietly because she didn’t want to be a burden on her family. I told her to go to a doctor more than once, and she didn’t listen.”

Dr. Vale’s eyebrow raises.

“I have to disagree with the idea that Eleanor Ambrose could be made to do anything she didn’t want to do.”

Dr. Minkus looks at me with such condescension that it makes me grit my teeth.

“Dr. Miller, you must know as a physician that despite how strong our patients seem, anyone can be a victim of coercion. While we agree that Eleanor died of complications from pneumonia, that does not negate the concerns regarding the closeness of your relationship with her, or how recently your physician-patient relationship with her had ended before you began a romantic relationship with her grandson.”

It’s as though I’m already guilty in their eyes.