“Don’t worry, Francisca, I’m happy to help. Let me go inside and wash my hands. I’ll be right back to take a look.”
The burn was barely an inch in length, and only superficial.
“The good news is, you don’t have to go to the doctor,” I said to her with a smile.
“And the bad news?” Mrs. Garcia said, her brows furrowed.
I laughed. “No bad news. You just need to keep it clean and covered until it heals. If it’s nice and pink, it’s good. Once it scabs, it’s good. But if it turns any other funny color, or gets any type of smell, we’ll have to take a look at it again.”
Mrs. Garcia stuck her tongue out at her daughter, and I couldn’t help but laugh. “See?” she said. “I told you it would be nothing.”
“Ramiro!” I called for my friend. “Do you mind grabbing my first aid kit from the upstairs bathroom? I also need a notepad and a pen.”
He nodded and ran inside. I followed, leading Mrs. Garcia into the kitchen, where I washed her forearm with soap and water. Ramiro came back with the supplies, and I applied antibacterial ointment to her burn and bandaged it. I wrote down the name of a cream to use to treat it on a piece of paper and took it outside.
Ramiro and I walked Mrs. Garcia back to her chair. She wasn’t too old or frail yet, but we knew she’d been dipping into the beers as usual. We sat her down, and I handed Francisca the piece of paper.
“It’s really no trouble,” I reassured her. “I’m always happy to help your mom. She feeds me when Dad is busy working.”
It had been true once, though not so much since I’d moved out to my own apartment. But I still had a lot of love for the woman next door who had kept an eye out for us after Mom died. Like many at the party, she was more family than neighbor.
Not much longer after fixing up her mom, Francisca caught my attention as she chatted it up with Dr. Medina. And no, I was not jealous. Not one little bit. I loved Francisca almost as much as I loved her mom. Francisca was a single mom, sure, but she was a super-hot single mom. Not that I was jealous.
And because I wasn’t jealous, I walked up to them to see what they were chatting about.
“It was great to see you,” Dr. Medina said, “but I have to get going. Happy birthday.” He said his goodbyes to Francisca then found Dad to do the same before parting.
“He is very handsome,” Francisca said with a twinkle in her eye.
“Sure. If that’s your type,” I said dismissively.
“What? The tall, dark, and handsome type? Or is it the hot doctor type? Or the sexy Spanish accent type?”
I said nothing.
“So, you are not into him?”
“No! He is my boss.” I was getting tired of having to tell everybody that.
“So you wouldn’t mind if I gave him my number?”
My head snapped to her so quickly, she threw her head back with laughter and walked back to her mom, who was seated alone and happily kept company by a nice cold one.
Dad went to bed shortly after the last guests left at one in the morning, with promises he would pick up tomorrow. I remained to, at the very least, throw out the leftover food.
Grabbing my last beer of the night, I laid down on the hammock under the tree, looking up at the lights Ramiro had hung. The smell of the citronella candles had diminished now but was still detected by my strong sense of smell.
It had been a good night, as much as I had fought it. I liked seeing my dad so happy; he was in his element cooking for his friends. It still hurt that Sara couldn’t be a part of it, but Dr. Medina showing up when I hadn’t imagined he would made up for any shortfalls of the evening.
It was in this reverie that I found myself when the sound of a chair being dragged across the grass, and landing next to me, distracted me. I turned to meet Ramiro’s handsome face.
He clinked my beer with his.
“Salud,” he said.
“Salud.”
“Was it a good birthday?”
“Yeah. Mostly.”
“Mostly?”
I shrugged. “Just some drama with Sara. I’ll talk with her about it tomorrow—err . . . today, I guess.”
“I noticed she wasn’t here. Was surprised.”
Shrugging again, I took another swig of beer and placed my hand behind my head, looking up at the sky. I was definitely downplaying what had happened with Sara, but I wasn’t sure how much she would want Ramiro to know.
“I was also surprised,” Ramiro said, “that you brought someone else from work. That was a first.” I glanced at him. We both knew what he was dancing around.
“You know Sara and her big mouth. She mentioned the party, and he heard. It was rude of her not to invite him, so she did. Trust me, I was just as surprised when he actually showed.”
A small noise that sounded almost like an “uhuh,” escaped him.
“You like him?” he asked.
“No,” I said automatically. This was starting to sound rehearsed, it was asked so often.
“I saw the way you looked at him.”
I sighed. “I looked at him the way you would look at David Beckham. He was my hero when I first started thinking about medicine. Now, I’m over the moon he will be my mentor.” I didn’t even notice when my tone turned. “And, quite frankly, I’m sick and tired of everyone assuming I’m in love with him or something. Maybe I’m in love with his work, but I want mentorship. That’s all. If he were a woman, we wouldn’t be having this discussion.”
“Okay, okay. I give,” he said with a gesture of surrender.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped. I’ve just been getting a lot of that recently.”
“I bet,” he said.
I sat up on the hammock and dangled my legs off to the side so I could face him. I kicked off my sandals, and he tried to grab my foot and place it on his lap, but I bounced it back toward the ground.
“Ramiro—” I said before he cut me off.
“You know, if he had been a woman, and you were in love with her, I might’ve been into that,” he said, trying to lighten the mood. This was the problem. We knew each other too well. It muddied the waters, and it had to come to an end.
I kicked him playfully, and we both laughed. “Ramiro, we need to talk—”
“Not this again, corazón. Please. Not tonight.”
“It’s never a good time. You never let me talk because you know me so well, you know exactly what I’m going to say.”
His gaze dropped to the ground, and he buried the beer bottle in the grass. “On your birthday. That’s when you want to do this?”
“It’s one in the morning. It’s not my birthday anymore.”
Ramiro gulped a big breath and motioned with his hands for me to lay it on him.
“Ramiro, you need to move on. I’ve never seen you as anything other than my brother. What do I have to do for you to believe that will never change?”
“It’s because of him—”
“No. It’s not because of anyone. This might hurt for you to hear, but I may never end up with anyone. I’m not someone who needs a relationship. I’m not saying it will never happen, but even if it does, there is one thing I am sure of. It will never be with you.”
Because I loved him so much, the look of pain on his face crushed me. He winced as though I had stabbed him in the gut, but he wasn’t surprised. He couldn’t be. He’d known how I felt all along, but he wanted to pretend. I couldn’t let this go on any longer. I wouldn’t let a disease spread because the treatment might cause temporary pain, but somehow, I’d let it go unchecked in Ramiro.
“I want nothing more than for you to be happy,” I continued. “You need to stop distracting yourself with women who aren’t worthy of your love and find someone who is. You need someone who wants to care for you the way I know you will care for the woman you end up with. I wish—I wish with all my heart that woman could be me. It would make things so much easier—for both of us. And I do love you. More than you know, but I love you li
ke a brother. It will kill me if what I’m saying takes you out of my life.”
He didn’t say anything as he let my words sink in. Instead, he stood and offered a hand as he had done earlier in the evening. I stood, and we were about an inch apart. He looked into my eyes, finding the same truth there that had come out of my mouth. He kissed my forehead, and I brought up my hand to his cheek so I could look at him again.
He was too manly to cry, but the glistening glare hurt as much as if he had shed tears.
“You will find someone, Carolina. You are too spectacular not to have a million men fall at your feet.”
“Ramiro—”
“Maybe years from now I won’t feel this way, but right now, the very thought of the man you choose in the end, well, I think it will kill me to watch. Though I have a feeling I just met him tonight.”
“Don’t do this, Ramiro. Please. We are family.”
He shook his head. “No. I mean, yes. I will stay away. For a little while. Please do me a favor, huh?”
“Anything,” I said, and I meant it.
“Don’t reach out until I do? I’ll be in withdrawals from you, and you know my ego can’t take you seeing me as anything other than the virile man that I am.”
We both laughed, but it was forced, and I punched him playfully.
“You’ll come back to us?” I asked.
“You are my family, first and foremost,” he said, reassuring me.
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
Chapter 8
Assumptions
Where once there were two men in my life, now there were none. Three months had passed since the cookout, and I hadn’t seen Ramiro at all, and I’d barely spoken to Dr. Medina.
Ramiro went to join his parents in Florida, Dad told me, but then stayed there when his parents came back. He asked Dad for extended leave from the garage, and considering it was his daughter who propelled him away—his words, not mine—he found himself obliged to consent to the request.
Dr. Medina, on the other hand, had pulled a one-eighty on me. He withdrew from the friendly banter we had started. I was given no attention at rounds, and it was almost as if he couldn’t stand to look at me. I had no clue what was up his ass, but I refused to let it affect my work. Never meet your heroes—the best piece of advice I ever got that I stupidly ignored.
Focus on work, I told myself. It wasn’t easy on this particular day. I’d drawn the short straw, though I suspected foul play from Dr. Keach, and had gotten stuck teaching a sensitivity training to our year-one residents.
“We’ve had four complaints this month,” I said to the packed conference room, “of poor bedside manner.” Some of the residents had the decency to feign some semblance of shame, and some shifted in their seats. “So,” I said, “we are going to practice.”
Groans skipped down the row of doctors like stones on water, so I lifted a hand to silence them. I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I don’t want to be here any more than you do, but this is your fault, not mine, so take it up with the chief if you don’t like it.”
They shut it at that. Even among these baby doctors, I could tell which ones had issues with women doctors or women telling them what to do in general. It was the ones who took out their cellphones when I spoke or started hushed side conversations. I narrowed my eyes and called on that type first.
“One of the complaints was from a woman who said the doctor, and I quote, ‘walked in the room, didn’t so much as say hello, read my chart, and never even looked up at my face. Then, he took a thermometer and shoved it in my mouth. He didn’t say what he was doing, and he didn’t even ask me to open my mouth. He was very rude.’” I glanced up from the screen when a couple of the doctors cackled. They shut it immediately and straightened their postures.
One hour of hell later, I dismissed all but one of the residents.
“Dr. Dennis, why don’t you join me? We have a patient who was admitted a bit late this morning, so we haven’t been to round on her.”
The redhead nodded. I purposefully selected Dr. Dennis because I remembered a distinct smile on Valentina’s face when he was around. If she had to be back in her hellhole, at least she’d have a friendly face.
Valentina had been discharged, had been feeling a bit better, but then took a bit of a turn. Now, she was back, and I’d had to admit her for major surgery. I told her last time I discharged her that I hoped not to see her until her next round of chemo, but my wish was not granted.
We found Valentina standing at her bed, facing away from the door. She rummaged through a duffle bag, muttering something to herself. She was in her hospital gown, and the part down her spine provided just enough of a peek to see her light pink underwear. I cleared my throat to announce our presence. She whipped around and smiled at the sight of me.
“Doctor Ramirez!” Her grin broke mid-sentence when her eyes drifted over my shoulder, undoubtedly seeing Dr. Dennis. She drew her hand toward her backside to seal the mighty hospital gown gap. She turned chili-pepper red, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. I was happy to see some color on her. “Rory—I mean, Dr. Dennis. Hi.”
“Hello, Miss Almonte,” he said.
“Valentina. Please.”
“Of course. Valentina. Hello.”
I let a moment pass between them before speaking again. “So, I thought I told you to stay away, young lady.”
“I’m trying, Doc. I’m trying really hard.”
“Are you ready for tomorrow?”
She nodded. “I remember the drill vividly.”
“I know,” I said. “But I still have to go over the procedure with you. Risks, all that.”
Valentina rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I know that drill too.”
In that second, I got paged to Dr. Medina’s office. What now? It felt like I was being called to the principal’s office. We had barely spoken since my birthday and at work, had only interacted when absolutely necessary.
“Well, missy, if you are that bored of my rambling, maybe I’ll have the capable Dr. Dennis go over the paperwork with you. Do you mind, Dr. Dennis? I was paged.”
“Sure,” he said, taking the clipboard with the consent forms from me.
I took a deep breath before knocking. Hector’s mood lately had all of us in the oncology department avoiding him. I wasn’t prepared to go into the lion’s den.
“Come in,” said Dr. Medina’s gruff voice from the other side of the door.
“You paged?”
“Yes, please sit down.” He smiled at me, but it wasn’t the same smile as before. There was no playfulness in his eyes, and his lips were tight.
“What’s this about?”
“You haven’t seen your email today?”
“Not since two in the afternoon. I was in charge of a training with the residents today—”
“Yes, yes,” he said, cutting me off. “Statistics got back to us. The preliminary data of the trial is in.”
“It is?” My heart raced. This step of the trial wouldn’t make or break it, but if it improved outcomes, it could mean . . . I couldn’t go there. Not without the numbers to back it up. Dr. Medina simply nodded.
“Yes. A lot of it looks promising, but I have some questions, and I’d like to go over the data with you,” he said.
“You looked at the data already?”
“Well, yes,” he said, his brow furrowing.
“Why did they send it to you?”
“I asked the statistics department to cc me when the results came in—”
My pulse quickened with a rage I knew I wouldn’t be able to tame. “You had no right. That is my data—”
“I thought you agreed we would work on this together?”
Dr. Medina looked aghast as if he couldn’t understand where I was coming from. I counted to ten to suppress the anger building. He was overstepping on my trial. He wasn’t used to people telling him ‘no,’ I could tell. But someone had to.
Taking a deep breath, I said, “Dr
. Medina, from now on, I’d appreciate being the first one to see the results of my trial.”
“A sensitivity training is not more important than this,” he countered.
“No. But I won’t set aside my other hospital duties. Research is one big part of the whole. I’m also expected to teach—”
“I don’t see the problem here,” he said.
Clearly, I thought. “You are overstepping on my trial, Dr. Medina.”
He leaned back in his chair and scratched at the stubble on his jaw. “I’m not sure what to do here.”
“Look, moving forward, I’d like to be in charge of the trial I wrote. I’m grateful for your mentorship, but that doesn’t mean you can just take over—”
“I see—”
“I mean no disrespect, Dr. Medina.”
“Well, what’s done is done. I’d still kill to go over the preliminary data with you.”
He offered no reassurances, but I was already on dicey ground with my boss, so I let the matter go. We could always re-visit the conversation if he continued to overstep.
“Fine. I have time this evening,” I said.
“No, I can’t this evening. I’m on call tonight.”
“Oh.” I slumped back in my chair, thinking about my schedule.
“How about Friday night. You’re off, right?” he asked.
“I am. But I can’t Friday. I have plans.”
He cocked his head to the side as his eyes narrowed. I could swear a storm was brewing there.
“Cancel your plans,” he said between gritted teeth.
“I’m sorry. I can’t. I can work with your assistant to find a time that works for both of us if you’d like—”
“No. I can do it this Friday. I want to get it over with as soon as possible.”
Over with? I hadn’t asked him to do this. He wanted to work on the trial. I never asked him to, and now he was trying to make it seem like some great inconvenience while at the same time overstepping on it?
“No,” I said. I took a deep breath. “I’m afraid the plans I have on Friday can’t be canceled.”
My shift was over, so I stood to leave. “I’ll find a time with your assistant.”
Remission Page 7