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I glance at my resident, Carla, who’s standing on my other side.
“Nope,” she says. “Dr. Knight is very precise.”
“Yup,” I say. “I take pride in my hands, or maybe I should say my fingers. I know which exact spot to touch, to open up, to prod.”
I hear Ellis draw a sharp breath behind her mask.
“That’s more like it,” I say. “Anyway, as I was saying, whatever I want, I get. Isn’t that right, Dr. Lane?”
She nods.
“And whatever you don’t want, you throw away without a second thought,” Ellis says.
I ignore the remark.
“By the way, you did well on your first thoracotomy.”
“Thank you,” Ellis answers. “Apparently, I’m not a complete klutz.”
“I never said you were.”
“I’m grateful to Dr. Keller for giving me every chance to learn. I’m not going to make her regret it.”
Is that another stab at me?
“Banks looked very happy earlier,” I change the subject. “Before you stole his surgery, that is.”
“I didn’t steal his surgery,” Ellis argues. “You gave it to me. He knows that.”
“Oh, don’t worry. He’s not going to get mad at you. You two are sleeping together, after all. Right?”
Ellis lets out a deep breath. “Dr. Knight…”
“Unless there was another reason for his joy.”
“He was just being happy for me,” Ellis says. “But don’t worry. After he sleeps with me, I’m sure he’ll even happier. Why shouldn’t he be?”
“Has anyone told you that you interns should focus more on saving lives and less on having sex with each other?”
“Well, we can’t have sex with attending physicians, so who are we going to do it with?” Ellis retorts.
“If it helps, I had sex with a fellow intern, too,” Carla pipes in.
“No, Dr. Lane, it doesn’t help,” I tell her. “I’m trying to dissuade Smithson here from going down the same path.”
“Because?” Ellis asks.
Carla shrugs. “It’s just sex, Dr. Knight.”
“That’s the thing. Smithson doesn’t do ‘just sex’, do you, Smithson?” I meet my resident’s gaze. “She takes everything seriously. I believe she’s going to marry the next man she has sex with.”
“That is so unfair,” Ellis protests. “I never said that.”
“Oh, you’re barking up the wrong tree. It’s not me who said that. It’s the Chief.”
“The Chief?”
He said the part about her taking everything seriously, at least.
“He has high hopes for you,” I say.
“Ooh,” Carla croons. “Chief’s pet.”
“I am not,” Ellis says. “And I can have casual sex. I’m not clingy, okay? I just want to be respected, to – ”
“Dr. Lane, I saw that scarf you were wearing this morning,” I start a new topic. “It looked nice.”
“Thank you,” Carla says.
“I seem to have misplaced mine,” I say.
In truth, I believe I left it in Ellis’s apartment.
“Really?” Carla looks surprised. “You strike me as someone who’s completely organized.”
I shrug. “Even I misplace things sometimes. I guess I’m hoping it will just turn up.”
“Unless you never had it. You just thought you did,” Ellis says. “You can’t get back something that never existed.”
Fair enough. I just thought I’d try since that was my favorite scarf.
I sigh. “Well, I guess whoever finds it can keep it as a souvenir from me.”
“I wouldn’t,” Ellis says. “I don’t like scarves. They’re suffocating.”
“Maybe you’re just wrapping them too tight,” Carla says. “Then again, to each her own. Some people like scarfs. Some prefer shawls or ponchos. And speaking of ponchos, you know who looks good in one? Suzannah Northup. I saw her on a TV show and she was such a horrible actress but that red poncho of hers? To die for. Also, she had on a cute one when she appeared on Ellen.”
“Suzannah Northup?” I ask. “There’s nothing cute about her. Trust me.”
“Well, I didn’t say her. I said her clothes. Wait. Do you know her, Dr. Knight?”
“I know the family,” I answer.
My father and Samuel Northup were in the same country club once.
“Ooh. Must be nice,” Carla says.
“To know rich people?” I shake my head. “Trust me, Dr. Lane. They’re a tough crowd.”
Just then, I hear the door open.
“Dr. Knight?” an intern asks.
“What is it?” I ask without looking.
“Dr. Brown would like to know if you’ve come to a decision on whether or not you’ll agree to do a pro bono procedure on Howard Keaton.”
Right. He did ask me about that.
“No,” I answer.
“No, you haven’t come to a decision or – ?”
“No, I won’t do the procedure pro bono,” I say. “It was the man’s own fault he got injured. I’m not going to fix it for him.”
The intern leaves.
“Rich people are a tough crowd, alright,” Ellis remarks.
I look at her. “What? You have a problem with my decision?”
“Most people who come to us are sick or hurt because of something they did. It’s their fault. But we do our best to fix them anyway. Isn’t that what being a doctor is about?”
“I didn’t say I’m not going to do the procedure. I’m just not doing it for free.”
