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A rush of heat skitters across my neck, and I scratch the irritated area.
“The truth doesn’t make you vain, Prue.” Michelle, who knows my history, waves her hand in the air. “I fucking hate that you still think like that.”
On the outside, my boss gives off vibes of a dainty woman who wouldn’t dream of uttering profanities. She looks incredibly pristine, wearing her voluminous blond hair straight, dyed without a hint of gray or brown on her roots. Her surgeon fingers are long and delicate. Her age of forty-five years hardly shows on her masterfully made-up face.
It’s all surface-level, though. The lucky few, like me, get to see the inside of a ruthless beast of a woman who takes no crap from anyone. She built this clinic by herself and didn’t accept a single dime from her parents or her wealthy husband.
Even when she cusses, which I obviously don’t—or try not to—she’s a woman I look up to. A woman to admire.
Being like Michelle is a goal I pray to attain someday. To be more independent than I am today. To speak my mind freely, unburdened by my past and the constricting values weighing me down.
Since I’m not her, though, not yet, I have this strong, unrelenting urge to tell my boss she’s wrong. That it makes me vain. That I don’t deserve her raving gratitude.
I open my mouth and—
“No.” She shuts me down before I start. We’ve had this back-and-forth dance many times in the past. She already knows what’s coming. “And to prove a point, I’m not the only one who appreciates your work. I see other surgeons sniffing around me during conventions, trying to find out if I pay you enough so they can offer you more.”
“I’m perfectly content here—” I start, meaning to reassure her. Yes, I have been approached by a couple of doctors. I also turned both down.
“So, I decided to give you a mid-year bonus. And a raise.”
My lips go numb, the flames in my neck climbing to my cheeks. Incapable of looking at Michelle, my eyes dart around the office. They focus on the cream-colored walls, the wooden bookcases holding the medical books behind my boss.
I don’t deserve this. I don’t.
In the four years I’ve been her assistant, Michelle has been more than fair to me. My starting salary was higher than I expected. Bonuses and annual raises were compensations I never had to ask for.
Michelle values my work ethic and the clients’ constant positive feedback of me, and she shows it. My salary climbed over the average of one in my profession of $150K a year.
It’s too much. More than I know what to do with.
I completed the physician assistant program for the financial freedom this job allows me, and I accomplished that mission.
I’m staying in Michelle’s practice for the person she is. I have to make it clear to her. Otherwise, she’ll think I’m a gold digger. Sure, other physicians pretty much bent her hand to do it, but I can’t just accept it. It’ll give her the wrong impression. One I have to rectify.
“I don’t have any plans to leave anytime soon.” I find my voice, placing my flute on the desk. I seek an extra boost of courage, sucking in a deep inhale of the office’s vanilla and lavender scent, and look at Michelle earnestly. “I love working with you, and the pay is great. Beyond great. Please, it’s not necessary.”
“Oh, I’m aware it isn’t.” She shuts down the discussion.
“Michelle.”
“Not hearing you…” She casts her gaze on her black scrubs.
Her bionic eyes focus on a tiny piece of lint on her sleeve almost no other human would’ve been able to discern. In a smooth, skillful movement, she tears it off without disturbing the rest of the garment.
“I’m not leaving,” I repeat.
“I’m aware you wouldn’t.” Her lips curve into a rare, soft, genuine smile. “You deserve it, nonetheless. You’re the yin to my yang. And I can afford it. So, there.”
The wordhumilityrings between my ears again, repeating itself, scolding me for keeping quiet. I wring my hands beneath the desk as every bit of my earlier confidence is sucked out of me, and I do my best to regain it.
“I don’t spend half my salary as is. Please, Michelle…”
“Then maybe you should.” She cleans off her flute, effectively ending the conversation about the money she’s about to throw my way.
“Okay,” I sigh.
“To other interesting news.” Michelle smirks, pausing for the dramatic effect, I assume.
