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Ask me how I knew.
I didn’t have much personal stuff in my office after less than two months here. The banker box held my David Beaufort statuette, Phil and whatever paperwork my replacement wouldn’t need. Phil’s white striped leaves spilled out of the box, so I left the lid off.
The elevator by Urban Health seemed to be stuck on the second floor. As far as I could recall, the next closest elevator was that death trap by Infectious Disease.
I wasn’t sure what to make of the impulse, but the idea of not seeing Cassie again burned a hole through my chest. I already knew how hard it was to not see her, because despite my wounded trust, my mind kept wandering back to her every day.
I didn’t have to avoid her like the plague. Or anthrax. It wasn’t like I could forget her, even if I weren’t still taking a medication with her name on the bottle.
Actually, saying goodbye would be the right thing to do.
How could I tell her I was leaving? How could I tell her I almost hoped she’d follow?
That was ridiculous. She had her whole career ahead of her, starting with her perfect job at the NIH.
Maybe she wasn’t hurting like I was. But the least I could do was say goodbye.
Apparently my subconscious had already decided: by the time I’d talked myself into it, I was already at Infectious Disease’s door. I didn’t have to go farther, however, because the door swung open and out stepped Cassie, wearing a backpack and carrying a banker box of her own.
The sight of her evaporated whatever words I’d been planning right out of my brain. “Hi,” I managed.
“Hi.”
Seemed safe to assume she wasn’t seeing patients with that box. “Can I walk you to the elevator?”
“You sure you want to?”
“Of course.”
We reached the elevator lobby of the jankiest elevator in the building, and I nodded at her box. “Going somewhere?”
“Home. My fellowship ends today.”
“Next stop, the NIH?”
She looked down at her own box. “No.”
“No?”
She sighed. “I withdrew. I don’t belong there.”
Was... was she thinking of leaving medicine after what she’d done with my phone? Yes, she’d made a huge error in judgement, but I could hardly imagine she’d ever repeat the mistake of meddling in the personal life of her almost-friend-turned-patient-turned-nothing.
Her gaze shifted to my box. “You?”
“It’s my last day too. I quit.”
She blinked rapidly, her eyes widening further each time she opened them. “I—I thought you liked helping people through Urban Health.”
“I do.”
Her amber eyes searched my face. “But—”
The elevator arrived, cutting her off. We stepped on the ancient car, and I pressed the button for the parking garage, Cassie for the lobby. “What will you do with yourself now?” she asked.
I noted she didn’t specifically mention work. “I’m starting my own company—an app to help people match up with friends. Calling itConnect.”
Cassie contemplated that for a second too long, and I braced myself for her judgement. “I know,” I began, “I’m trying to use it well, but I still have a lot of privilege—”
