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JOHN
Click.
In the bio lab, I turn to my left and find Amada pointing the camera of her phone at me.
“What are you doing?”
“Documenting your misery.”
“Why?”
“I’m considering sending a picture to your ex as proof of your contrition.”
I sigh. “I doubt it’d help. She’s told me in no uncertain terms that she wants me to stay out of her life.”
Amada drops her phone. “Then I suggest that instead of staring out the window with that forlorn expression, you put your woes to good use and bury yourself in work. As of now, you’re a waste of brainpower and lab space.”
I ruined my relationship with Marissa to get the best possible medical education. The least I can do is apply my degree to scientific advancement.
“What do you want me to do?” I should be the one to tell Amada what to do. But she’s right, I’ve been out of it for the past week. Since Marissa shot down my apology so vehemently.
“Start with those Petri dishes. We need pH readings for each.”
I grab the first glass cylinder, ready to get to work, when the lab door flies open and a panting Carla makes her way in. “Oh, there you are.”
I point a finger at my chest. “Moi?”
Still slightly out of breath, she nods. “Dr. Quinn wants to see you in his office immediately.”
I frown. The clinic director wants to see me?
“Do you know why?”
“No, I was only told to get you to his office ASAP.”
That doesn’t sound good.
Amada peers at me over the microscope. “What did you do?”
“I’ll be damned if I know.” I’m still new here, so I haven’t really made a mark yet.
“Well, in case they fire you and I don’t see you again, you were one of my least sucky bosses.”
“Thank you, Dr. Gonzales. The depth of your appreciation keeps me going at moments like this.”
My associate smirks. “Just remember, I’m allergic to mawkishness.”
Carla clears her throat. She’s holding the door to the lab open for me. I straighten my white coat and follow her out, down the corridor, and up the stairs that lead to the clinic director’s office.
With a worried nod, Carla leaves me at the door and scurries away.
I knock and wait.
“Come in.”
I enter the office and rear in surprise when I find Marissa occupying one of the chairs in front of Dr. Quinn’s desk.
A million possibilities rush through my head. Has she filed a complaint? No, she wouldn’t, would she? Nah, Marissa is not mean. No matter how mad she still is at me, she wouldn’t mess with my job. Did something go wrong with her IVF cycle? If that were the case, her doctor would be here, not me.
