“I didn’t want to say it in front of your peers and make things tough for you, but I’m only here because of your research.”
My jaw dropped. Had I heard him right? I shook my head, blinking. Keith Richards basically just told me he sought me out because of my guitar solo. I could have died right then and there and been happy about it.
“Excuse me?”
“Where you took your grant. It was brilliant. Well, don’t get too cocky. It was brilliant for a resident.”
Was this man trying to tease me? My hero. Teasing me? Here for me? I must be dreaming. And had my boss just called me cocky?
“We can do great things together, Dr. Ramirez. You are wrapping up year one of the trial, right?”
He said together. I relaxed in my chair, realizing my earlier fears were unfounded. They had to be. I wrote them off as parasitic ideas deposited by one Dr. Keach.
Dr. Medina was here to mentor me.
“Yes. It’s a five-year grant.”
“I have a feeling it will be successful.”
“We won’t have statistically significant data until at least the conclusion of year three.”
“Yes, yes, I know. But I’m confident. You should be too.”
My heart swelled with pride. If my mother could be here now, she would be so happy. I refocused my attention before my eyes became watery at the thought. I couldn’t very well cry in the presence of my boss.
“I would like to propose that we write your follow-up grant together. Dr. Ramirez, what you are doing with this trial reminds me of why I got into medicine in the first place.”
“I’m honored, Doctor. I honestly don’t know what to say.”
“Say thank you. With my name as a co-investigator, you will get as much funding as you want. Once we get year three data, I want us to write a proposal for lifetime follow-up with the patients from this trial. We can design other trials as well if you’d like, but that’s the one I’m most interested in.”
“That would be amazing. Thank you.”
“That is all, Dr. Ramirez.” He opened his laptop, dismissing me as if he hadn’t just changed my life.
As I turned the knob to the door, he called after me. “Oh, before I forget, Dr. Ramirez, if anyone asks, just say I wanted to be brought up to speed with your trial.” He put his index finger to his mouth conspiratorially before saying, “Our little secret for now.”
Chapter 3
Day Off
Sunday mornings off were a rarity, even more so when those mornings off aligned with Sara’s, which meant I would inevitably be coerced into going on a run with her.
She ran in front of me, fast little thing that she was, and I couldn’t help but stare at her cute little behind. Her short, blonde ponytail bounced with her stride. We often laughed together because we both knew people always wanted something other than what they had, especially when it came to a body. I’d kill for a tiny body like hers, and she wished for my Amazonian physique complete with muscular thighs. I wished my hair was blonde like hers, and she lusted after my thick, dark brown hair.
I was stronger and could lift way more than she could, but her low body weight made her fast. So fast. I could barely keep up with her on our runs.
When we finished, we splayed out on the grass and stretched. Sara took her earbuds off and pulled mine down as well to grab my attention. The weight of my hair pulled the hairband loose, so it was sliding down my ponytail. I took it off and regathered the ponytail, tightening the hairband more securely.
“What are the chances I could persuade your dad into making chilaquiles for us?” She grinned so wide it was hard to deny her, but I had to. At least this once.
“Rain check?”
“Um, okay. That’s a first. I’m guessing you don’t want to go elsewhere for breakfast, either?”
I shook my head and brought my water bottle to my lips, buying time from having to answer.
“Caro? What is it? Should I be concerned?”
Damn her and her closeness with my family. Dad loved her like a second daughter, and he’d never say no to her if he could help it, especially if she was asking him to cook for her.
Sara basically lived with Dad on her days off. I think the only reason he survived me getting through med school was that she kept him company when I was studying nearly twenty-four hours a day.
“Fine,” I said finally. “I haven’t told Dad, okay? I don’t want you to be a nosy ass and spill the beans before I have the chance to talk with him.”
“What on earth are you talking about?”
Sitting on the ground, I massaged my calves and tried to answer nonchalantly. “I haven’t told him Dr. Medina is my new boss.”
“I didn’t know that was something to tell him.” She crossed her arms in front of me.
“Okay, I’m going to tell you, but you have to swear to take this to your grave.”
“You very well know if you ask me to, I will.”
“Okay, here it goes. When I was in high school, I was a bit obsessive about Dr. Medina—or rather, his research.”
“God, you were such a nerd,” Sara teased.
“Anyway, Dad knew about it. I just want to tell him in person without anyone there to sway his thoughts about it.”
“What? You mean, like mention that you actually combed your hair, and you wore something other than scrubs to meet him?”
I eyed her menacingly and pointed with one finger. “Yeah, something exactly like that.”
“I doubt Mr. Ramirez remembers. And if he does, why would he care anyway?”
“You don’t get it. I had three posters on my wall growing up. One was of Industrial November. One was a vintage cover of Jane Eyre, and the last was the abstract of Dr. Medina’s published paper on his first clinical trial.”
“You are such an enormous nerd that if it weren’t for the Industrial November poster, I don’t think we could be friends.”
I introduced Sara to my favorite band during our freshman year in college when I met her. She hadn’t listened to much music before that, so it would be a stretch to say she had any sort of musical taste, but after hearing Brenner’s deep, raspy voice, she was a goner for heavy metal. “Yeah, Industrial November has saved me more times than I care to admit.”
“Me too,” Sara said with a broken voice. College was a dark time for her. Her family had been neglectful of her as a child—her parents were drug addicts—and she was just starting to break ties with them our freshman year. There was an anger in Industrial November lyrics that I think reflected what she was feeling, and she could finally let it out after bottling it up for so long.
“Fine, just tell Mr. Ramirez he owes me chilaquiles because of you.”
“I will. Oh, and my shift ends at ten tomorrow. Want to grab drinks?”
“Woo, drinks on a Monday night. What a party girl.”
Sara was standing now, and I threw my water bottle at her, which, of course, she caught before walking away with it.
Dad would take the news well. I had no doubt about that. He would actually be very proud Dr. Medina was so interested in my work. Most fathers wouldn’t know the first thing to do about their daughter having an idol as strange as Dr. Medina, but Dad always understood and fostered my drive. I think he always realized how important Dr. Medina’s work was to me. To a certain extent, his work was also important to Dad.
Still, I didn’t want Sara or anyone there to suggest anything nefarious. It was strictly a professional relationship. One that I was getting very excited about. If Dr. Medina had been a woman, no one would have questioned my interest in her mentorship.
When I got home, I pulled my cell phone from my leggings pocket and texted Dad that I wanted to have breakfast with him.
Dad: Claro, mija! I’ll cook for us. Smile emoji, laugh-cry emoji, wide grin emoji.
I shook my head with a laugh.
Me: I’ll be there in about an hour.
Dad: Besos.
I drank a tall glass of water and
picked out my clothes before heading into the shower.
It was unclear to me if it was the endorphin high from the run, the conversation I’d had with Sara about Dr. Medina, or the steam fogging up the glass shower door, but I couldn’t tear my thoughts away from him. It would be hard for anyone with a pulse not to notice how handsome he was.
I lathered my body with soap as I thought of his gaze and those dark eyes roaming the conference room and landing on my face. He had rolled up his sleeves, revealing muscular, veiny forearms, and I bit my lip at the memory. I remembered his lips grazing his finger as he hinted at our secret—a secret we now shared.
Bringing my hands to my breasts, I circled my nipple gently. The hot water ran down my body, gliding the suds away from my skin. A flashback of his gaze with those dark eyes entered my brain, and my hand trailed away from my breast and down my soft stomach. I could nearly hear his voice in my head with that slight Spanish accent. The image of him taking off his tie and rolling up his sleeves would be etched on my brain forever—that handsome of a man starting to undress? I’d nearly reached my goal between my thighs when I snapped out of it.
What are you doing, Carolina? I slapped my own hand with a reprimand. I had just texted my father of all people with those very hands.
It had to be the suggestiveness of everyone around me. I had been a fangirl, and Valentina, Sara, even Keach, would all use that to insinuate something inappropriate. I didn’t like him like that; I was only susceptible to those jerks placing ideas in my head.
But who was I kidding? I was lying to myself. I found Hector Medina very attractive. I needed to stop thinking of him that way.
I washed my hair much too vigorously and turned on the news to turn off my body as I got dressed in my standard jeans and white t-shirt. I didn’t brush my hair. All that went on my face was sunscreen and lip balm before I grabbed my car keys.
The smell of chilaquiles hit my nostrils the second I entered Dad’s tiny house. It was as if he could read Sara’s mind. My mouth watered, and I felt only the slightest bit guilty about Sara not joining us for breakfast. This was probably the only time during our entire friendship that I had uninvited her from my family table.
Before me, Dad set a heaping plate of the reason I’ll never have a body like Sara’s: chilaquiles, fried beans with a fried egg on top, and avocado slices. I loved this man so much I could cry.
“Gracias, Papi,” I said.
“Que gracias, ni que nada. I’m not the one you need to thank.” I rolled my eyes but took his hands in mine—his head already bowed. He said grace in Spanish and finished it off with a cross over his chest. “Amen.”
“Amen,” I echoed if only to appease him.
We ate, and we chatted about work, mostly.
My dad had owned Tavo’s Auto Repair since before I was born, and though it was hard work, I knew he loved his job. “How’s work?” I asked.
“It’s doing great. I’m getting older though, and I have to tell you, I couldn’t do it anymore without Ramiro’s help running the business side of things. He’s a great manager.”
I ignored the comment about Ramiro; at this point, I was used to him mentioning Ramiro casually to me, always making sure not to leave out his many amazing qualities. As if I hadn’t known Ramiro my entire life. I shook my head.
When we finally finished our breakfast, I refilled our coffees and sat back down to give him my news.
“Papi,” I said. “Do you remember that doctor I used to look up to back when I was starting to think about going to med school?”
“Hector Medina,” he said right away. “How could I forget?”
Well, he wasn’t going to make this easy for me. “Yeah. Him.”
“I remember you wouldn’t shut up about him.”
“That’s the one. You see—”
“Said you were going to marry him when you grew up—”
“What?” I nearly spat the coffee over the dining table.
“Yeah. You were on the phone with your Tía Jacinta. You didn’t know I heard—”
“Dad!”
“I wasn’t eavesdropping, I swear!” His hands drew up defensively. “I was walking past your room, and your door was open. It’s not my fault you have a big mouth sometimes.”
“Oh my god, Dad.” The truth was, I had zero recollection of ever having said that about Dr. Medina but knowing how big of a fangirl I had been, it did sound like something I might have said.
“A dad doesn’t forget something like that,” he said. “It broke my heart to think of you one day marrying someone and leaving me. I knew you wouldn’t marry him, mind you, he was too old for you, but the mere thought of it drove me crazy.”
“You don’t make things easy for me,” I admitted.
“What are you talking about?”
“I have a new boss.” Better to rip off the Band-Aid, I figured.
“Don’t tell me—”
“Yep.” I swung my arms back and forth nervously. “Dr. Medina is the new attending at Heartland Metro and my new boss.”
“Well, that’ll teach me,” he said.
“What?”
“When you said you wanted to marry him when you grew up, I comforted myself with the knowledge—or what I thought at the time was knowledge—that you’d never meet him.”
“Please don’t worry, Dad. He is married,” I said, remembering the gold ring on his finger. “You know I would never—”
“I know, sweetie.” My dad patted my hand with a reassuring smile spread wide on his face.
“There’s more, though,” I said. “He is here because of my research.”
“¿Cómo?”
“I didn’t know he was a grant reviewer at the FIHR. He read my proposal and came to Heartland to work on the trial. He wants to mentor me.”
I’m not sure what I was expecting. Perhaps teasing like what Sara had done, or if not that, congratulations on this exciting next direction in my career. Pero no. Dad could still surprise me.
“Of course he wants to work with you. I’m sure he is very grateful you are willing to work with him.” He stood to take our coffee mugs to the sink, and I could only blink after the man I loved most in this world.
Chapter 4
The Long Shift
The first day of rounds with our new attending ran smoothly. Dr. Medina was mostly quiet; we all knew he was assessing us, making his mind up about our worth as doctors. The other residents were shifty and insecure with their answers, but not me.
Having a secret with him gave me armor. He felt human to me now, no longer the god he still was to my peers. My confidence must have shown through because he was receptive to all my treatment plans and encouraged me to keep speaking. In short, I was killing it. Poor choice of words for a doctor, but I didn’t care. I was.
I would have been on cloud nine if it weren’t for the dark cloud Dr. Keach kept sending my way. He stood next to me always, so I could clearly hear his heavy breathing and puffing. I get it, Keach, I get it. You are pissed.
But his fragile little ego wasn’t my problem. If he wanted attention from his mentors, he’d have to work hard for it, just like anyone else. I pushed him out of my thoughts, so I could focus on what was important—caring for our patients.
Dr. Medina looked down at the list on his tablet. “Did we cover everyone for rounds who is not on Dr. Ramirez’s clinical trial?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said. “We have five potential trial participants left to assess and one participant already on the trial.” I always called them participants. I hated the term ‘subjects.’ It made patients feel like lab rats, which they most definitely weren’t. I had a hard enough time educating the public on what clinical trials were, persuading them that they would still get treatment even if it wasn’t the experimental one, without making them feel like things.
“Great. I will join you. The rest of you—get to work. You have your marching orders,” said Dr. Medina.
The circle broke, leaving me standing t
here awkwardly with him.
“Whenever you are ready,” he said.
“Excuse me?” I asked.
“Lead the way, Dr. Ramirez,” he said with obvious impatience in his voice. My first slip of the day.
“Yes, of course, Doctor. This way.”
We saw my first three patients, and Dr. Medina introduced himself as a new member of their care team. He was confident and charismatic, so each of them instantly fell into a trust with him. I was most impressed when he lingered in Valentina’s room and got her to warm up to him. She was so guarded, she hardly let anyone in.
I opened up the rounds, even though it was just the two of us in the room with Valentina.
“Valentina Almonte. Age twenty-four. Diagnosed two months ago. Accepted into the trial last month. Blinded standard treatment protocol for the last week.” Valentina’s arms danced like a symphony conductor’s, and I paused speaking long enough to pin her hands down with my own. I arched an eyebrow as a warning.
“Okay, okay,” she said. “I give.” She squealed in her bed.
“Patient is responding well to chemoradiation.” I let go but continued to pin her with my stare.
“You have a good team of doctors here, Miss Almonte,” he said.
“Valentina, please.”
Dr. Medina took his time in the room, reading her chart. He set it down on the counter in front of her bed, and Valentina took the opportunity to turn to me. She mouthed, oh my gawd, dropped her jaw, and fisted her hands to motion humping the air. My eyes widened with alarm, and I begged her to stop, waving her down as discreetly as I could. Dr. Medina didn’t notice a thing.
“Valentina, I look forward to being on your care team.”
“Thanks, Doctor,” she said while batting her eyelashes. She was so obviously flirting with him, and I couldn’t help but smile. I approved of anything that would bring her spirits up, and if that was Dr. Medina, then I would gladly throw him into the fire.
Remission Page 3