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"Yes, sorry," Kim said, forcing herself to focus back on Tony. "
I just… I'm surprised," she stammered. "I didn't know about that." She thought back to the child her father had tried to save. "Why did the parents sue?" Kim asked. "Without a transplant the child would've died, right?"
Tony nodded. "Yes. But people are so upset when someone they love dies that they don't always think rationally. They were angry that their little girl was taken away, and they blamed the doctor. Unfortunately, it's not that unusual." He sipped his coffee. "Your father has taken some risks, operating on people that other doctors refuse to touch—simply because they feel the patient's chance of survival is not all that good. Your dad believes that every patient deserves a chance. If he succeeds, he's lauded as a hero. But if he fails—and occasionally we all do, not necessarily because of an error but because the patient simply wasn't strong enough—the doctor is often viewed as the villain. We're used to it. But in that particular case involving the little girl, there was a lot of publicity—negative publicity. If your dad had been anyone else, he probably would have been fired. But he was… and is, one of the best surgeons in the country. The hospital couldn't afford to lose him."
Kim had always thought of patients as the enemies. They took her father away from her. But now she was realizing how immature and selfish she had been. She had never given the patients names or faces, nor had she imagined them as husbands, wives, sons, and daughters whose only chance at life might be held in the hands of their doctor—her father. She felt as though she should say something, in some way atone for some of her immature thoughts, but the best she could do was to say, "I guess you guys have a pretty stressful job."
Tony nodded. "It can be."
"I mean, in most jobs when something goes wrong, or when you make a mistake you can say, 'Well, at least it's not life or death.' I guess you can't really say that, can you?"
He laughed. "Not really." He paused, looking at her. "What kind of work do you do?"
"Me? I'm an artist."
"Really," he said, leaning forward slightly as if fascinated by her response. "What kind of an artist?"
"A painter. An oil painter. Basically abstract, although I do some portraits."
"Are you commissioned to do them?"
"Some of them. And some I just paint and hope that I'll sell them. As a matter of fact, I've got a show coming up in a couple of weeks at an art gallery in Miami."
"Congratulations." He nodded, impressed. "So you must be good," he said.
"Well, I support myself, but not in style. I just stopped waitressing a couple of years ago."
"I like to think I appreciate art. A beautiful painting always seems to remind me that there's more to this life than work—and I definitely need to be reminded of that sometimes."
"So you're a collector?"
"I wouldn't go that far. I just know what I like. I can't tell if a painting's any good or not."
"If you like it then the artist succeeded."
He nodded. "Are you working on anything right now?"
"Actually, I brought a piece with me. I've been having trouble finishing it. And a bunch of supplies. I always have to have my supplies with me."
"I'd love to see your work sometime."
Kim nodded, feeling a slight blush creep over her face. "Sure," she said as casually as she could.
"Hi, Tony." A bubbly blonde in blue scrubs appeared at the table. An attractive tall brunette, also in scrubs, stood beside her. "We waited for you last night. How come you never showed?" the brunette asked.
"I had to work," Tony said, shrugging his shoulders.
"You missed a lot of fun, Teddy," the blonde said, winking at Tony as she called him by what was obviously a nickname. "Well, we've got to run. We're due in surgery in two minutes. Call me later?"
Kim felt a pang of jealousy tug at her heart. She forced herself to sip her coffee, avoiding Tony's eyes.
"Those two are doctors here," Tony said self-consciously. "More surgeons."
"I should have known by the way they were rushing out of here," she said calmly. "Is Teddy your nickname?"
"No," he said. "She calls me that. She thinks it's funny."
Kim put down her coffee. You have nothing to feel jealous about, she reassured herself. You have no claim on this man. He's simply your father's doctor. "She's cute," she said, nodding toward the blonde. "Do all your girlfriends give you nicknames?"
