How Much I Feel

by Force, Marie

  On Friday, the board meets for the day as scheduled. According to Mona, who helped to prepare for the meeting, the matter of Dr. Jason Northrup is not on their agenda. I process that information with the sinking feeling inside that’s become all too familiar to me during this seemingly endless week.

  The one bright spot is that I get my first real paycheck and stare at the details with a sense of disbelief. I always did well at the restaurant, but this is even better, especially after how hard I worked to get through school. I pay my rent, pay down a chunk of my credit card balance and wallow in the sense of accomplishment that comes with ridding myself of debt.

  I spend the weekend alone, holed up in my apartment, licking my wounds and wondering if Jason meant it when he said he’d be back. I relive every minute we spent together, wallowing in details I never want to forget. I watch Desiree’s interview with him a hundred times and scroll through the photos I took of him playing dominoes with the old men, eating at Giordino’s, drinking at the Fontainebleau bar and sitting on Miami Beach.

  When I realize I don’t have a single photo of the two of us together, I’m gutted by a feeling of loss so intense it takes me back to the darkest days of my life. I hate returning to that place, even if I continue to tell myself this is nothing like that. I’m learning that heartbreak is heartbreak, regardless of what causes it. With all the photos I took of him for Instagram, how could I not have thought to take a selfie of us together? I call in “sick” to Sunday brunch because I just don’t have it in me to answer questions from each of my overly concerned family members.

  It doesn’t surprise me when my parents and grandmothers arrive at my door Sunday afternoon bearing brunch leftovers, enough food to get me through the week without having to hit the grocery store. That’s a welcome relief, as I don’t feel like doing anything.

  I appreciate that they stay for only half an hour, during which we talk about everything other than the elephant sitting on my chest, before they depart to open for dinner at the restaurant. Once again they give me reason to thank my lucky stars to have been born into a family that cares the way they do, even if there are times I wish they cared a tiny bit less.

  By the following Wednesday, I’m convinced my relationship with Jason was nothing more than a figment of my overactive imagination. If it hadn’t been for the clothing and personal items he left at my apartment, I’d think I dreamed the entire thing. I’ve taken to sleeping in one of his dress shirts that still bears the faint scent of his cologne. Don’t judge me. I’m trying to be strong, but I miss him, even if my rational self is convinced it’s absolutely crazy to feel this way about someone I spent one week with.

  It was a really, really good week.

  I’m at my desk on Thursday when Mona comes into my office and closes the door. I can tell with one look at her that she’s bringing me a scoop.

  “What’s up?”

  “The board is meeting in executive session.”

  “About what?”

  “Mr. Augustino said it’s a personnel matter and that he couldn’t say anything else.”

  “Okay . . .”

  “Debby in the cafeteria said she heard it’s about Dr. Northrup.”

  My heart stops. “Really?”

  Mona nods. “She heard he requested the meeting.”

  I can’t. I just can’t. If I allow myself to go there . . . “Thanks for letting me know.”

  “Have you heard anything?”

  “I haven’t.” Mona is dying to know what went down between me and Jason, but I’m not telling her or anyone about that. It’s our business, and it’s in the past now, anyway.

  Her cherubic face falls with disappointment. “Oh. Okay.” She clears her throat. “I’ll, ah, let you get back to work.”

  “Thanks, Mona. Close the door when you leave?”

  “Of course.”

  When the door clicks shut, I release a long exhale. My skin feels hot and tight, my heart is beating fast and my mouth is dry. I want to text him and ask if the rumors are true, but if he wanted me to know, he would’ve told me. I haven’t heard anything from him since that one text more than a week ago.

  I stand and stretch, walking over to the window that looks down upon the circular driveway where we first met. I think about Priscilla and Betty and my trip to jail, about Jason bailing me out and asking for my help in restoring his damaged reputation. I dream about kissing him and touching him and making love with him, of sleeping in his arms and waking to his handsome face on the pillow next to mine.

  I blink back tears and give myself yet another pep talk, the hundredth one in the last week. I was fine before him. I’m determined to be fine after him. It was fun, and I’m glad I met him. I’m relieved to know I can have feelings for a man other than my late husband. These are all good things, and maybe if I keep reminding myself about them, I might just survive this.

  CHAPTER 23

  JASON

  This has been a week straight from hell. The surgery was a cluster that included two follow-up surgeries, and we still didn’t get it all, which complicates the child’s prospects for recovery. Sometimes it comes down to a choice between getting all the tumor but leaving the patient with no quality of life. I did the very best I could for her, but sometimes my best isn’t good enough. At those times, this job can be tough to take.

  I met with the new chair of the New York hospital’s board of directors, who issued a formal apology for the way I was treated and offered my job back along with a promise that I’ll be appointed head of neurosurgery when the current chief retires late next year.

  It’s a good offer, and I promised to give it careful consideration. I think she expected me to jump at the opportunity to come back. She has no idea that my heart now lives in the Miami sunshine. I miss Carmen so much. More than I’ve ever missed anyone. I think about her all day every day. I dream about her at night, and I marvel at the way she came stampeding into my life and wiped just about every other thought out of my head that doesn’t involve her.

  If I’m not working, I’m thinking about her. I wanted to reach out to her, to text her, to call her, to let her know I’m thinking of her and missing her and basically dying for her, but I can’t do that until I’ve made some decisions about where I’m going to work and live. More than anything, I want to be fair to her.

  When I learned that the Miami-Dade board took my petition for privileges off their agenda last Friday after hearing New York wanted me back, I panicked that Miami was no longer an option. What did Carmen think when she heard that? Does she even know? Of course she does. Mona knows, so she would’ve told Carmen if Mr. Augustino didn’t.

  And then it occurred to me that I needed to take control of this situation and stop letting others make decisions about my career for me. I reached out to Mr. Augustino, told him what I wanted and asked if he could help to make it happen. He said he’d do his best, which is why I’m back in Miami in an Uber on my way to the hospital to meet with the board.

  My driver, a young man named Carlo, has the radio cranked to a light rock station and is singing rather loudly in broken English. What he lacks in talent he more than makes up for in enthusiasm.

  The traffic is bad as usual. Thanks to Carmen, I know what usual looks like around here, and as we make the slow crawl toward the hospital exit, all I can think about is seeing her again, holding her and hoping she still wants me as much as I want her. And more than anything, I hope the presentation she put together on my behalf will sway the Miami-Dade board and convince them to allow me to join their team so I can live and work in her town—the only place in the world where she can truly be happy.

  That’s what I want for her—happiness. She deserves it more than anyone I’ve ever met, and I want to be the one to give that to her for the rest of our lives. Of course, I can’t tell her that. Not yet anyway. But that’s what I want, and if things go well today, I may be able to offer her the first steps toward forever.

  I just hope she still wants me after th
e turmoil I’ve brought to her life since we met.

  A new song comes on the radio, something familiar, but I can’t quite place where I’ve heard it before. Probably in my mom’s minivan back when she was driving my brother and me to school and practices and everywhere else. We used to make such fun of the “dorky light rock” she made us listen to in the car. “My car, my music,” she used to say, telling us we could pick the songs when we had our own cars.

  The song tells the story about a guy whose girl left him because she thought he’d been untrue to her, how he’s haunted by her, would give anything to be with her. I’m riveted as I listen to Carlo sing the chorus, “That’s how much I feel.” But it’s the last verse that really gets to me, the part where we find out the guy is married now, has been for years, but sometimes when he makes love to his wife, he still sees the face of the one who got away.

  I’m struck by complete and utter panic, knowing that’ll be me if I lose Carmen. I’ll be haunted by her forever.

  No matter what happens today with the board, I have to find a way to work it out with her. After spending this last week without her, I have no doubt that what I feel for her is a forever kind of love.

  “Sir?”

  I snap out of my thoughts to realize Carlo has been trying to get my attention.

  “We’re here. Miami-Dade General Hospital.”

  “Thanks, Carlo.”

  “My pleasure.”

  I grab my backpack and get out of the air-conditioned car into the stifling heat that I’ll forever associate with Carmen and my first week in Miami. I’m wearing a light-blue dress shirt with a navy tie and khakis. Inside, I find the first men’s room and pull the white coat I brought from New York out of my backpack. It has JASON NORTHRUP, MD embroidered on it. I put it on and check my reflection in the mirror. If I’m going to meet with the board and ask for a job on their neurosurgery team, I’m going to do it looking like the highly qualified physician I am.

  I want to go straight to Carmen’s office to tell her what’s going on, but I recall my vow to stay away until I have something definite to report. I take the elevator to the executive offices on the fifth floor and take a right toward the boardroom when everything in me wants to go left to her.

  First things first.

  With my hand on the boardroom door handle, I take a deep breath and release it before entering the room where Mr. Augustino asked me to meet him ahead of the board members joining us.

  He shakes my hand. “Good to see you again, Dr. Northrup.”

  “You as well. Thank you for seeing me and arranging the meeting.”

  “I’ll confess to being surprised to hear that you still wanted to meet with our board. I was under the impression that you’d be resuming your duties in New York.”

  “They’ve offered me my old job back and promised a promotion to department head when the current chief retires at the end of next year.”

  “That’s a pretty sweet offer. Our department head is around your age, so I’m afraid she’s probably here to stay for a while.”

  “I understand.”

  “You have the chance to be the department head next year in New York.”

  “Yes.”

  “And you still want to meet with our board?”

  “Yes, sir. Very much so.” I suppose he’ll find out soon enough why I want so badly to work here.

  He gives me a curious look before nodding. “All right then. Have a seat. The board will be joining us in thirty minutes.”

  “And the presentation Ms. Giordino put together?”

  He points to the spot above us where a camera is trained on the screen at the other end of the long table. “It’s set to go.”

  “Thank you again.”

  “My pleasure. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be back shortly.”

  While I wait, I pace the length of the long room, thinking about what I want to say to the board and wondering if I’ll have something to report to Carmen as soon as today. I sure as hell hope so. I can’t wait another day to see her.

  I stand at the window, looking out at the driveway where I first laid eyes on her, and think about the conversation I had with my mom last night. I told her about Carmen, caught her up on the goings-on in New York and told her of my plan to ask the Miami-Dade board to consider hiring me after all.

  “You’re making an awfully big decision based on a woman you’ve known a very short time. After what happened with Ginger, I just hope you know what you’re doing.”

  I smile, recalling her concern and how I set her mind at ease. “Carmen is nothing like Ginger,” I told her. “You’re going to love her. This feels right to me, Mom. Nothing has ever felt as right as being with her does. That’s all I can tell you.” I can’t wait to introduce the two most important women in my life to each other.

  The minutes go by slowly, as if the clock is moving in the opposite direction. Twenty-five minutes after Mr. Augustino left the room, the door opens and Mona comes in carrying a tray of cookies and other snacks for the meeting. She lets out a gasp when she sees me there.

  “Debby in the cafeteria was right! The meeting is about you!”

  I’m not sure how I feel about being the source of cafeteria gossip, but after withstanding the New York tabloids, that’s nothing. “It’s good to see you, Mona. Do me a favor?”

  “Anything.”

  “Don’t tell Carmen I’m here. I want to surprise her.”

  “Of course. My lips are sealed.” She leans in to whisper. “Good luck, Doc. I hope you get whatever it is you want.”

  “Thank you.”

  A short time later, Mr. Augustino returns, and the board members begin filing into the room, a mix of races, genders and ages. I’ve done my research and know that half of them are physicians, the other half prominent members of the community.

  The board chair, a black woman named Dr. Felicia Rider, calls the meeting to order after everyone is seated. “Dr. Northrup, welcome.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Rider. I appreciate the opportunity to meet with you all.”

  “You asked for this meeting, so the floor is yours.”

  Well, here goes nothing. Or everything . . . “Just over two weeks ago, I arrived at Miami-Dade after leaving behind a bit of a mess in New York. You know the details of what happened there. Since that time, the other party involved has reached out to the boards here and in New York and provided updated information about what transpired, so I won’t belabor the point. Upon my arrival at Miami-Dade, I was told the board wanted some time to consider my application for privileges. Mr. Augustino assigned the supremely competent new director of public relations, Carmen Giordino, to assist in helping me to acclimate to the local community and to make a case for my employment at your hospital. What follows is the presentation Ms. Giordino prepared for that meeting.”

  Mr. Augustino signals the person in the AV room. The lights go dark and the screen comes to life with the presentation, which now includes music to accompany the photographs, testimonials, NBC 6 footage and details about my research project.

  Then, in a part I haven’t seen before, Carmen’s voice is recorded to accompany the next few slides. “The American Board of Neurological Surgery defines neurological surgery as constituting ‘a medical discipline and surgical specialty that provides care for adult and pediatric patients in the treatment of pain or pathological processes that may modify the function or activity of the central nervous system.’

  “Certification requirements by the ABNS include eighty-four months of neurosurgical residency, two years as chief resident, as well as training in a wide variety of disciplines, such as neuropathology, neuroradiology, endovascular or pediatric neurosurgery, to name a few. Neurosurgeons undergo months of training in general patient care areas including trauma surgery, orthopedic surgery, otolaryngology and plastic surgery. To achieve board certification, a neurosurgeon undergoes written and oral exams. In preparation for the oral exam, a neurosurgeon has to log one hundred and twenty-five cases
and, after successfully completing the exam, must embark on a quest for lifelong learning and continuous certification.

  “Dr. Jason Northrup became board-certified two years after completing his residency and is considered one of the nation’s foremost experts in the area of pediatric medulloblastoma, overseeing cutting-edge research into the cause and treatment to combat these common pediatric tumors.”

  The presentation ends with a photo of me smiling at the group of men at the dominoes table in Little Havana, the picture taking me right back to that wonderful day with Carmen. As the lights come back on, I hold my breath, waiting to hear what their reaction will be.

  “Thank you for that outstanding presentation, Mr. Augustino, and pass along our compliments to Ms. Giordino,” Dr. Rider says. “Dr. Northrup, I have one remaining question for you, one that I’m sure must be on the minds of my fellow board members. With an offer on the table to return to your previous position, why is it that you’re still interested in working here?”

  I anticipated this question and thought about how I might reply on the two-hour-and-twenty-minute flight from LaGuardia to Miami. I go with the answer that occurred to me then. “My reasons for wanting to live and work in Miami are personal.”

  “Fair enough. We appreciate the information as well as your interest in joining the team at Miami-Dade. We’ll discuss your application in executive session. Mr. Augustino will notify you of our decision. Thank you, Dr. Northrup.”

  “Thank you all for your time today.”

  With Carmen’s incredible help, I’ve done what I can. It’s out of my hands now.

  CHAPTER 24

  CARMEN

  Concentration is nonexistent when your whole life and any chance at true happiness are on the line. I’m dying to know what’s happening in that boardroom, and I’m getting less than nothing done while I wait. Surrendering to the reality that I’m completely useless today, I’ve again turned my desk chair toward the window that overlooks the parking lot and the activity at the main entrance.