by B. B. Hamel
Caroline sighed and shook her head. “Sorry, Dr. Hood,” she said. “This is for the best.” She followed after Gina, glancing at me with pity in her eyes.
I stared at Piers, not sure what to say.
“They were coming sooner or later,” he said, staring down at the beige patterned carpet. “And I guess it was sooner.”
“They can’t do this.” The words tumbled out, but I knew they weren’t true as soon as I spoke them. I felt like an impotent child—the teachers had taken away something I cared about, and now I wanted to rage at them and shout about how unfair the world could be.
And still nothing would change, no matter what I did.
“They can,” he said. “We both know they can.”
“How are you standing there taking it? Why aren’t you doing something?”
His gaze came up, hot and angry. “What do you want me to do? Run around the hospital, complaining?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Something, anything. You can’t let them toss you out of here.”
“It’s just a suspension.”
“We both know that you’re never coming back from this.”
He flinched away from me like I’d punched him in the gut. He leaned up against the door to his office, one hand on the frame, and hunched over slightly. I thought he might be sick, but instead, he looked at the floor for a long, quiet moment.
“The notes they’re talking about. It’s bullshit. It’s not real.”
“I believe you.” I stepped closer to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “So what are you going to do about it?”
“Nothing right now,” he said, shaking me off and moving away.
I felt like he’d kicked me in the ribs. I clutched at myself like I really did feel pain. I wanted to help him, desperately wanted to do something that might change whatever was happening—and yet he didn’t seem to want to do anything about it.
That hurt most of all. Now that he really had to fight, he was turning away and giving up.
Which was such a waste. He was a gifted surgeon, one of the best in the world, definitely the best I’d ever seen. He could do things that I didn’t even think were possible, and with the lightest touch, leaving the smallest scars, the gentlest traces of his scalpel. He was a magician in the operating room, and yet these people were forcing him out for political expedience—and for money.
“What am I supposed to do now?” I asked, feeling unmoored and adrift.
“Go find Dr. Baker,” he said. “Join the other residents. Keep moving forward.”
“Piers—”
“Juist go,” he said, not looking at me. “I’m finished. There’s nothing I can do about this. I tried to change, but that wasn’t enough. So just go.”
I took a step back away from him, heart thudding. I didn’t want to leave him, but he wasn’t acting like himself—like the confident, strong man I’d grown so close to over the last few months.
He sounded hollow and broken. It wrecked me and I thought my heart might rip itself out through my throat.
“Piers—”
“Just go,” he said, his voice hard. “Go before you say or do something stupid.”
I turned and walked away. I didn’t want to and each step felt like it burned my lungs, but I kept going, away and away, until I left him there alone in the hall, and I went to find the other residents, numb and swirling with emotion. The rest of the day was a blur—questions from Dr. Baker, a brief visit from Gina, but none of it seemed to stick.
All I could do was think about Piers, and it felt as though the world had come to a stop, and I was flung out into space.
24
Piers
I did the only thing I could think of—
I got shit-faced drunk.
It was pretty easy. As soon as Lori left, I went to a bar around the corner, and started drinking. I didn’t stop drinking, not even when Dr. Baker showed up for a while, not even when a couple of the nurses stopped by to check on me, apparently at Baker’s behest. I kept drinking until I woke up the next morning with a splitting fucking headache in my apartment, on the living room floor, missing a shoe, my mouth tasting like a sewer, and completely unsure of how I made it home alive.
Maybe next time, I wouldn’t. That might not be so bad.
I got up and made breakfast. I retched in the shower, but recovered. I went out, drank coffee at a nice spot near my house, and watched people walk past. Any other day, and I’d be in the operating room, doing what I did best.
Doing the one thing I’d trained my whole life for.
The fucked-up part of it all was, I didn’t feel bad for myself. I was angry, and I felt as though I’d failed, but it didn’t have to be the end of my life. I could find another job somewhere else, or even leave the state if I had to, start over in a new city across the country. I had savings and options and a skill that was very much in demand. I’d be okay, if I wanted to be.
But no, I felt bad for Lori.
I let her down. I was supposed to be her teacher and her mentor, and maybe something more than that, but I’d gotten my ass thrown out, and now she was stuck with Baker and the other surgical clowns. They were good people, but I knew I could turn her into something better than they could, into something that truly shone—into a goddamn star.
Instead, none of that would happen, a bright future lost.
Still, it bothered me. That two-bit hack Gina and pencil-pusher Caroline somehow got the better of me felt like a red-hot poker getting shoved down my throat. I was angry about it, angry as hell, but I didn’t know what I could do.
They had documents, supposedly. I knew it was made-up bullshit, forged to look like my handwriting, but that wouldn’t matter. No court would take my word over their word, regardless of how much I’d tried to rehabilitate my image. I could get a thousand patients in there to attest to my honesty and integrity, and it still wouldn’t matter: the hospitals always won. They had the money and the connections, and now they had the Tippett family, too.
I’d lose, as soon as I got called in front of a judge. I’d lose, and the hospital would throw me out to the carrion birds, glad to be done with me.
All because of money.
So, yes, goddamn it, yes, it pissed me off. I wanted to fight, wanted to burn that whole place to the ground. I wanted to expose Gina and Caroline for what they were—liars, fakes, obsessed with climbing the ranks, uncaring frauds. And yet the more I sat, the more I spent the day doing nothing but turning the problem over and over in my head, the more I knew that I couldn’t do a thing.
And still I started to search for lawyers.
It was around six that night when my phone buzzed. I was sitting on the top floor of Barnes & Noble in their little cafe, drinking bad coffee, using the free Wi-Fi, flipping through page after page of local attorneys that might be able to help. I picked up and answered, not thinking about it.
Lori’s voice. It was the sweetest thing I’d ever heard.
“Hey. You’re alive.”
“Barely,” I said. My hangover still throbbed at my temples. I wasn’t a young man anymore.
“Dr. Baker is boring,” she said. “You’re a better teacher.”
“Of course I am. Is that why you called?”
“No.” A short silence. I watched the barista make a latte—espresso, steamed milk, lots of froth and noise. “I think we should go meet with my cousin.”
“Rees? How do you know he’s not in on this?”
“When I talked to him, he didn’t seem to be a part of it.”
“But he encouraged you to go work somewhere else.”
I could practically see her squirming, wherever she was. “True, but still. What other choice do we have?”
“I’m looking at lawyers.”
“That’s a good idea.” She sounded oddly hopeful, and I immediately regretting telling her that. I didn’t want her to think that I was going to fight this tooth and nail. I’d pursue it, but only to a point. I wouldn’t burn down my lif
e for revenge.
“If your cousin can help, I’m open to it. I’m just skeptical.”
“Where are you right now?”
“In the Barnes & Noble in Rittenhouse.”
“I’m not far. What if I called my cousin and had him meet both of us there?”
I laughed a little. “It’s hard to picture that guy in a bookstore cafe.”
“I know, but the sooner we get going, the better it’ll be.”
I stared at the computer in front of me, then down at the greasy, dirty tile floor. An announcement came over the loudspeaker, fuzzy and indistinct. Muzak was punctuated by coffee gurgles.
“I’ll do it,” I said. “Call him.”
But I didn’t add: only for you.
“Stay where you are. I’ll see you soon.”
I hung up and squeezed my eyes shut.
Maybe this was cruel. I shouldn’t let her stay involved in all this. I’d only drag her down with me, and I wanted to avoid that at all costs. Maybe the smart thing would be to leave right now, to walk away and start over—and let her have a life free from stain and heartache.
Because I knew that was how it would end, as much as I wanted something more.
Despite all that, I didn’t move. I had a thousand chances to get up and walk away after that phone call, but I kept sitting in my uncomfortable metal chair, until Lori appeared at the top of the escalator, followed a beat later by her cousin, a gruff man in an expensive suit.
I stood as they approached, shook his hand, nodded at her. They sat, and Rees looked more annoyed than anything.
“Thanks for coming,” I said to him, and shut my laptop lid. “I appreciate you taking the time.”
“Lucky for you both, I was in town.” He frowned at her, then at me. “Lori tells me that Caroline suspended you.”
“That’s right.”
“For some notes you took?”
“Fake ones,” I said. “And yes, apparently they’re not nice, but they’re not real.”
“So you’re saying Caroline, hospital administrator, and Gina, your direct superior, both worked together to forge documents, and are using them against you?” He spoke slowly, but his tone suggested he didn’t find it so implausible.
“Yes,” I said. “They did it, or they hired someone to do it, or someone in the hospital did it. But I know I didn’t make those notes.”
He looked at Lori and she leaned toward him.
“He’s not lying,” she said. “I’ve been with him long enough to know, he doesn’t operate like that.”
“Even patients he doesn’t like?” Rees asked, glancing at me.
“Even them,” she said. “And there have been a few. One spit in his face.”
“Being a doctor must be difficult,” Rees said.
“Getting spit on isn’t so wild,” I said. “It’s happened a few times. I still don’t write something nasty about them in my notes. It’s unprofessional and worthless.”
“I believe you,” Rees said, which surprised me. The fact that he’d even entertain my accusation said a lot about him, and his faith in me. “But the problem is, you have no proof. In a situation like this, it’s he said, she said, and typically the big institutions have better lawyers.”
“I know,” I said. “And I wish I could do something, but I’m at a disadvantage here.”
Rees nodded slowly, and glanced at Lori again. There wasn’t much he could do, and now that he was here, I regretted agreeing to this.
“I’ll tell you something,” Rees said, speaking to Lori, but the words felt like they were directed at me. “The Tippett family is offering a very, very large donation to the hospital.”
“I figured,” Lori said.
“I think maybe I should be more specific. Robert Tippett is offering that donation, not his sister.” Rees leaned forward. “I know Robert quite well, and I know that he’s not above getting his hands dirty to get what he wants.”
I exchanged looks with Lori.
“I spoke with Robert,” she said, glancing down at the table. “He tried to recruit me, you know, to help with their side. He told me that this whole thing is basically so that he can end up with the inheritance. It’s complicated, but he needs to prove that his father wasn’t in his right mind at the end, and that his will should be invalidated, or something like that.”
Rees let out a hard grunt. “That was my guess from the start.”
“Goes to show how much I’m worth,” I said bitterly. “Caroline and Gina are willing to toss me away for a donation. Seems inhuman.”
“Don’t underestimate how many lives money can save,” Rees said. “Trust me, I don’t agree with what they’re doing, but adding millions of dollars to the hospital’s budget can go a long way. And you’ll be okay, sooner or later. Once this legal issue is cleared up, some other hospital will take you on.”
“But it’ll never be the same,” I said. “There will always be that stain.”
“There’s not much you can do about that.” He watched us both carefully, then shook his head. “Sorry to have wasted your time, but as you can see, this is beyond my power to solve.”
“Can’t you speak with Robert?” Lori asked. “Since you know him.”
“I could, but I won’t. He wouldn’t listen to me, and it would only insert me in the middle of his ugly business, when I’d much rather be very far away from it. I hope you’ll forgive me for that, but I’m being honest here.”
“Thank you for coming,” I said. “I understand you position.”
He stood up and looked around like he’d stepped in something disgusting. We shook hands again, and he left, not looking back.
Lori leaned back in her chair and watched me carefully. “Thanks for trying,” I said.
“Are you okay? You look like garbage.”
I laughed, unable to help myself. “I’m fine.”
“Seriously. You haven’t shaved and I think you’re still wearing the same clothes from yesterday.”
“I’m fine,” I said again. “How as work? Baker being good?”
“Dr. Baker’s fine.” She leaned toward me. “I don’t want you to unravel over this. It doesn’t have to be over.”
“Lori,” I said, “please, we can move on.”
“I can’t.” Her eyes were hard, her tone rough, and god, I wanted her. I loved that passion, and the way she looked at me, the way she walked, everything about her. I wanted her taste again, but I didn’t know how this could end well between us. Sooner or later, I’d have to leave, and I couldn’t uproot her in the middle of her residency.
She was stuck here, and I was going to have to leave.
“I should go.” I put away my stuff.
“You’re really going to walk away?” She sounded hurt, like I was doing this to spite her.
I wished I could explain. “It’s better this way,” I said. “Believe me.”
“I don’t think you have any clue. I think you’re being a coward.”
I felt a surge of anger. “I’m not a coward.”
“Then why are you running away?”
“Because I’m a goddamn surgeon,” I said, keeping my voice quiet, but unable to keep the heat from it. “I’m not a lawyer. I’m not a detective. I can’t prove that they’re cheating me, and I can’t prove that Tippett is behind it all. I can’t do a goddamn thing. All I know is surgery.”
“You can try.”
“I can, and when I fail, it’ll only hurt more. Why do you want to do that to yourself?”
“It’s not for me,” she said, but she looked away, and I knew that was a lie.
“I’m sorry, Lori. Go learn from Dr. Baker. You’re going to be a great surgeon. Hell, I think you already are.”
And I left. I hated myself with every single step, and I felt sick the further away from her I got, but I knew I shouldn’t turn back. I couldn’t look over my shoulder. If I did, I’d turn into a pillar of salt—and I’d curse her on top of it.
I rode the escalator down, eyes locke
d on the grainy metal slats beneath my feet, and began to mentally estimate how much alcohol I had at home—and how much more I needed to get so drunk I couldn’t think anymore.
25
Lori
The hospital looked gray.
I didn’t notice it before, when Piers was around. I think I was too busy. But Westview was almost entirely gray: the walls, the floors, the accent colors, all shades of gray. Not fifty of them, but hundreds, maybe thousands.
I drifted through the day after meeting with Piers in that cafe like I was a raft on a still lake.
“You look depressed,” Milo said on our lunch break. We sat out in the courtyard. Greg, Omar, and John were in a tight huddle over a case study Dr. Baker had assigned earlier that morning, idly eating while discussing the best course of action, but Milo seemed uninterested in the whole exercise, and I couldn’t bring myself to care about much of anything.
“Thanks,” I said. “That’s nice.”
He shrugged like he wasn’t trying to be nice. “I’m guessing because Dr. Hood was suspended.” He frowned a little. “Was he really that amazing?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Dr. Baker’s good too, you know.”
“Dr. Baker’s pedestrian. I mean, he’s skilled enough, but Dr. Hood was on a whole different level.”
Milo gave me an odd look. “You really liked him. I thought he was an asshole.”
“He was,” I said. “But he was also a very good teacher.”
And a good kisser. And his hands felt amazing wrapped in my hair.
“Baker’s probably a better teacher than he is a surgeon. I mean, he’s got way more experience than Dr. Hood did.”
“If you’re trying to cheer me up, you’re doing a shitty job.”
He laughed a little and shook his head. “I don’t know what I’m doing. It’s just, you look so fucking depressed, it’s hard not to say something, you know?”
I glared at him. “Maybe you need to try more.”