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"What? You haven't heard of me?" I teased. "Darling, I'm the clumsiest man you'll ever meet."
"Not something you should be proud of," she sighed. "Let's see. Doesn't know how to keep documents properly, is late for interviews, and doesn't watch where he's going. I'm willing to bet you're the type of guy who forgets his fly is down."
At her last observation, my eyes went down to my pants to be sure I had zipped it up. I let out a sigh of relief when I noticed that it was in place.
"Before we start the interview, can I help you organize this?" she offered. "I still feel bad that you want to repair my phone's screen. Let's take this as a way to settle the score."
"Thank you, I'd like that," I said with a warm smile. "We can do it later."
"Now," she insisted.
"Right," I agreed.
Am I the one getting the job, or is she?
We got to work and started clearing and sorting through the files. It was the first time. For a while, someone besides my family helped me declutter. Most times, the ladies take my clumsiness as a cute quirk or something like that. But Stacy wanted to help me out, and we had just met.
"Even if we do all this, it will still end up like the way it was," I sighed in defeat. "Sorry to waste your time."
"Don't say that. You're not naturally clumsy," she said. "You're Ethan Sullivan, the most skilled hands of the Sullivan brothers. You three are like gods in the medical field, and it's an honor to work with any of you. I refuse to believe that…" She paused and took my hands in hers. "Someone whose hands have saved countless lives balanced on the edge of scalpel blades is a klutz. You might just be thinking that."
She said it with the warmest and most genuine smile I'd ever seen. "But then again, what do I know?" She let go of my hands and handed me the copy of her CV that I had been looking for earlier. "I don't even work here yet."
I looked at her cover letter and CV. She was looking for a position as a gynecologist.
"What is your goal here, besides working as a gynecologist?" I asked.
"I want to know how to run a successful hospital," she replied.
"Can you be my assistant?" I asked. "That way you can learn how to manage a hospital and help me make sure this place doesn't look the way it did a few minutes ago."
"If it's not any trouble, then okay," she replied, "I'd love to help."
That was the first day I met Stacy—the woman who became an intrusion in this disorganized life of mine.
Chapter two
Never Meet Your Heros
Stacy
Glen Allen, located northwest of downtown Richmond in Henrico County, is my home. Not just a home to me, but home to Roberts Hospitals, a failing hospital–but also my parent's pride and joy. At least, my father's after Mom died.
I loved the hospital. Ever since I was little, I looked forward to taking over and turning it into a place suitable to help people get healthy. That's what I thought it'd be. But as I got older, I got to realize how hard reality was when it came to dreams.
As a kid you want to be an astronaut when you become older, but you realize you have to be smart, and tall. If you want to become a medical doctor, good universities are way too expensive. You want to become a runway model, but you aren't thin enough or tall enough or hold enough of societal standards of beauty.
Something's always going to stop you. For me, who had a father who sold off most of his possessions to ensure I got the education that would land me my dream job, it was already obvious that things were going downhill. There weren't many patients; most would rather go downtown to Richmond and get treated at the big high-tech hospitals there. I was going to be different.
I believed that if the hospital operated like those downtown did, there would be a chance at success. I just needed to become good. Extremely good. As good as…the Sullivan brothers. If you were a medical practitioner in the US, you must have heard of them: three billionaire brothers, who were also doctors. Ben Sullivan was the oldest and an expert in transplant surgery.
Ethan Sullivan, rumored to be clumsy, was a skilled surgeon so good with the blade, you'd think he was a machine. Ian Sullivan, the man who could change faces, was an expert in plastic surgery.
I heard rumors that you had to pay them to work in their respective hospitals. I had even started saving up to pay for it until I realized it was a false rumor and the hospitals only accepted people, who were either outstanding at their work or wanted to learn. I was going to be the latter by all means. But first….
"You'll be better if you take your medications," I said to a patient who was experiencing dysmenorrhea.
Most of the cases were like this. Maybe because I was the only person in town who went to the best medical school in the country, but we were able to maintain or retain a few of our customers.
