Bad For You: An Enemies to Lovers Romance

by Taylor Holloway

  I pulled away from him and retreated to the bathroom for a long, long time. I stared at the mirror and tried to figure out what to say to Brandon. But when I came back to the living room, he was gone. It was for the best. I had a call to make.

  39

  Brandon

  The next day, I reported to the board meeting at two p.m. just like Melinda instructed. She met me at the door.

  “Ready?” She asked.

  I nodded. “I guess so.”

  I’d spent the night tossing and turning in my bed. I might have washed Aimee’s sweet scent off myself as soon as I got home, but it couldn’t erase the memory of her. It also couldn’t erase the feeling that I was making some kind of a huge mistake.

  I almost called my dad and told him everything. Just the thought was shocking. If he had done something as horrible as Melinda insinuated, and Aimee’s behavior had all but confirmed, he hardly deserved it. But at the end of the day, he was about to be ambushed, and that felt a bit shitty despite my long-standing feelings of animosity, abandonment, and anger. My therapist had been trying to convince me that a lot of my feelings toward my dad were actually misplaced resentments that I had toward my mom’s cancer, but even if that was true, those feelings were still there. I couldn’t quite bring myself to tell my dad what was about to happen and figured Aimee would do it for me anyway. When I arrived to the board meeting to see both Aimee and my dad already seated, I knew I’d been right. Even Lucy was there. Apparently she was going to take the meeting minutes.

  “They’re here,” I whispered to Melinda. “You said they’d be at Lucy’s party.”

  I still needed to keep up appearances with Melinda.

  “It doesn’t matter,” she whispered back.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, just sit down.”

  I was basically reduced to being her pawn, at least for the moment. I sat down. Because I wasn’t even on the board, there wouldn’t be much for me to do until summoned or asked to speak.

  I stared around the table at the members of the board, trying to place them. The membership consisted of six doctors, two nurses, and Melinda. A few prominent donors were also present, sitting around the room the same way Aimee and I were.

  The board meeting was called to order and the next fifteen minutes were so mind-numbingly boring that I barely even registered what was being discussed. Something something motion. Something something aye. Something something point of order. God, it was dull and far more long-winded than it clearly needed to be. It seemed structured to waste time. Was this what business people do all day? It was fucking intolerable. Medicine might have its drawbacks, but at least it was relatively efficient. I was not a patient person, in general, but it would have taken a saint not to be impatient when my father’s livelihood and legacy was being delayed by Robert’s rules of order.

  My dad used to bring me to these meetings when I was a kid sometimes, but I would just color in the back of the room. Now that I couldn’t color, I had to listen. And listening was almost impossible. Finally, when I was considering nodding off out of desperation to escape the monotony, Melinda raised her hand.

  “The committee recognizes Melinda Charles.”

  “Thank you, Mister Chairman. I move that an item be added to the risk review agenda before we proceed. It’s a risk item that was not previously disclosed to this committee and I also motion it be put first in the agenda for this section.”

  The chairman, a sleepy looking man that I recognized after a moment from my childhood as Edwin Edwards, Chief Legal Officer, blinked at her. The unfortunately named Mr. Edwards had to be almost a hundred years old. He was old in the nineties when my dad used to bring me to these meetings. He used to give me stale peppermints.

  “I second the motion.” The seconding of the motion came from Mr. Mounce, the head nurse. He looked excited. My blood pressure shot up. This was it. Whatever “it” was, it wouldn’t stay a secret much longer.

  “The question is on the adoption of the motion of an additional agenda item. All those in favor of the motion say aye.” The committee voted 9-0 to approve the motion in what was clearly a perfunctory vote. “The floor is yours, Ms. Charles.”

  Melinda nodded solemnly. “Thank you,” she said formally. “I want to preface this risk item by saying that I spent a lot of time deciding whether or not to bring this before the committee, but I feel it’s necessary to do so for the safety of patients at this hospital and the integrity of this board.” Melinda’s face was a mask of concern, but she was probably dancing inside. “Our Chief Medical Officer, Dr. Koels, is no longer fit for duty and has been concealing his MS diagnosis for the past two years with the assistance of Dr. Ford. This puts patients at risk and calls into question his judgement and abilities.”

  I was totally unable to breathe. In the wake of Melina’s pronouncement, the room had gone pin drop silent. My dad stared impassively at Melinda, but if looks could kill, Aimee would have struck her dead. Aimee looked like she was about two seconds from lunging across the table and slapping a bitch. I thought Aimee hated me, but clearly, she could get much, much angrier.

  “Point of order,” said Dr. Alvarez into the stunned silence around the table. “Why is this being brought to the committee and not Dr. Koels?”

  Melinda didn’t bother to wait for the Chairman to respond. “Because it’s a matter of patient safety,” she replied, drawing herself up to her full height and staring Alvarez down. “I have proof that not only does Dr. Koels have MS, he’s been hiding it, willfully, for years. Dr. Ford has aided and abetted those efforts in an attempt to secure her own promotion.”

  Melinda plugged a tiny flash drive into her laptop computer and took control of the meeting room’s projector. Up on the screen, a medical record popped up for us all to see. My father’s medical record. Aimee and my dad exchanged a look that said they were fully anticipating this exact outcome. I was torn between looking at their faces and what was up on the screen. Meanwhile, Melinda was still talking. “Do you deny it?” she asked my dad. He shrugged. “I move that Dr. Koels be removed immediately,” she said.

  The board members immediately began talking all at once. The apparent proof had broken the spell and suddenly we all had more questions than answers.

  My heart thumped against my ribs. MS?

  Fuck.

  Multiple sclerosis is an unpredictable, debilitating condition that affects the central nervous system. Often diagnosed in middle age, the origins of the disease are not well understood. It’s thought that both environmental and genetic factors influence whether or not someone will develop MS, and it’s also generally accepted that the immune system and various infectious factors trigger it. What isn’t debated is the fact that MS has no cure.

  Over time, the body’s immune system slowly and inevitably destroys the nervous system. The body attacks itself, breaking down nerves and synaptic connections, robbing the body of its sensory, motor, and eventually executive functions. What begins as tingling and numbness in the extremities becomes blindness, cognitive dysfunction, slurred speech, hearing loss, and even seizures. Eventually, it takes a person’s life, but usually not before it takes their dignity first.

  I couldn’t think. I couldn’t process anything.

  This would kill him. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but eventually. This would almost certainly be his cause of death.

  The board members were continuing to talk over each other. Multiple objections, questions, and angry statements were thrown out all at once.

  Edwards frowned, clearly perturbed by the interruptions. “Let’s take a short recess. Fifteen minutes.” He nodded at the minute taker, Lucy, who nodded and set down her pen. She looked exhausted from all the scribbling. Poor girl. I guess her party got cancelled.

  As soon as the meeting was officially on a break, my dad got up and walked out of the room. Aimee followed on his heels without a backward glance at me. While the board members stared around themselves in disbelief and confusion
, Melinda was the target of more than a few disgusted glances. Donors frowned and looked uncomfortable. Melinda may have lost the battle to publicly humiliate my dad and Aimee, but won the war. Everyone, including me, now knew my dad was—potentially—dying. No matter what, things were going to change.

  40

  Brandon

  Of all the dark secrets that Aimee could have been harboring on my dad’s behalf, him having an incurable disease was the one thing I couldn’t find fault in her for. I felt ill that I’d yelled at her the day before, although I couldn’t have known. I could never have even guessed. My dad seemed perfectly healthy.

  Then again, my mom had seemed perfectly healthy until her body was almost composed more of tumor tissue than healthy tissue. It’s incredible how resilient the human body actually is. We can go along normally for much longer than most people realize. Death gets us all though. Sooner or later.

  Objectively, I understood that it was the normal course of events for a child to bury his parents. It was, after all, much better than the alternative. It still didn’t seem right though. It wasn’t fair.

  Faced with the fact that my dad was dying, it was much, much harder to hate him. He might have a decade left; I hadn’t gotten a good enough look at the record to see if he had the type of MS that went periodically into remission. But whether he had a decade or a week, this was not how I wanted to find out about this. When Melinda turned to look at me, she withered under my gaze.

  “You should have told me,” I said to Melinda. She still thought I was on her side, so I couldn’t snap at her, but I wanted to. This was the cruelest surprise anyone had played on me in a long time. It was even worse than being assigned to this fucking hospital.

  “I couldn’t risk it,” she told me. Something about her mannerisms betrayed that she was running on adrenaline. I’d seen it in soldiers a thousand times. It made them stronger, but also stupider. Acting on emotions could easily snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. I banked on finding a weakness to exploit.

  “Risk what?” I asked condescendingly. The benefit of being a doctor who specializes in violent trauma is that it gives me an edge at controlling my emotions during the important moments. In my regular life I was a mess, but at work, I could focus absolutely. I channeled that ability now, looking for a chink in Melinda’s armor or a flaw in her plan. “What did you think I’d do?”

  She shrugged her narrow shoulders. She was wearing a bright red dress which didn’t suit her olive coloring at all. It did, however, make her look somewhat devilish, which was probably more appropriate. “Oh, don’t be hurt,” she said patronizingly. “I just worried that you’d chicken out when you learned the truth.”

  I bit back a foul curse word. That my dad was slowly dying of a horrible illness? Why on earth would that cause me an issue? I managed to keep my face straight.

  “I’ve been to war zones,” I said to her after battling my anger back into submission. “You thought I would chicken out? That I wouldn’t show up?”

  She sat back in her chair and regarded me seriously with pursed lips. “I simply couldn’t take the chance that you’d develop some feelings for your dad or Aimee all of a sudden when you learned about his condition.” She really was a frightening woman. “Besides, I’m going to need your help for this next part, and you not knowing was part of the plan all along. It makes you much more credible as my witness and expert.” She paused. “I didn’t think it would go down quite like this, but it’s going to work out.”

  “My help?” I asked. I attempted to keep my tone as neutral as possible.

  She smiled. “Of course, who better to tell the board the truth?”

  I swallowed. In the shock of it all, I’d forgotten my own part in this. “What truth? What do you want me to do?”

  She grinned. “The truth. There’s only one real truth. You’re going to tell the board that in your medical opinion, and also as his son, you know that Dr. Koels is unfit to practice. You know him better than anyone. Even Aimee, who wasn’t supposed to be here, but whatever. No one could possibly dispute your opinion. You’re his son. Just play your part and they’ll both go down.”

  Melinda was smart. Evil, but smart. But the biggest flaw in her plot—aside from not planning on it being a fair fight with my dad and Aimee here to defend themselves—was in assuming that I had no objection to destroying Aimee. Even if I did hate my dad, and I kind of still did, it wasn’t like it had been before I walked into this room today and learned he was dying. I still had a lot to think about when it came to my dad. But that didn’t even matter, because Melinda was very, very wrong when it came to my feelings about Aimee. I’d do anything to protect her. Even protect my dad.

  41

  Aimee

  “The board recognizes Dr. Ford,” Edwards intoned.

  The break that was supposed to last fifteen minutes lasted two and a half hours. Lawyers were summoned and descended like a plague. Bylaws were scrupulously examined. Rights to due process were reluctantly waived. Discussions were had behind closed doors in hushed voices. For the sake of expediency, certain choices were made that sent us down a strange path. Then bargains were struck with handshakes, and rules of engagement were agreed upon that gave both emerging factions a chance to get some of what they wanted. At the end of it, Martin and Melinda were both going to bring ‘expert witnesses’ for ten minutes before the committee to discuss his condition before a vote by the board. It was highly unusual, only vaguely legal, and beyond bizarre. And lucky me, I was up to present first.

  “As most of you know,” I began, “multiple sclerosis is a progressive disease that causes neurologic symptoms. Martin has what’s called relapsing remitting MS, also called RRMS. This is the most common form of the disease. In RRMS, patients experience attacks followed by periods of remittance. These phases are termed active and not active, and during them symptoms are worsening or not worsening. Martin has been in remission for the past three and half years as confirmed by his most recent MRI’s. He has been under my care for the past five years, and in my medical judgement his reasoning and ability are not impaired.”

  I felt Brandon’s eyes on me as I spoke. For the past few years, I’d been treating my boss. Was that normal? No. But Martin didn’t trust anyone but me—he was a picky patient, to say the least. He also couldn’t take the risk that news of his condition would get out. It would hurt his pride and his reputation. But even in our discussions that this would one day come to light, we never thought it would be like this. He was practically being put on trial.

  “What symptoms does he suffer from?” Melinda asked. As the head of her faction—the anti-Martin group composed of herself, Mounce, and the ambitious Dr. Gupta—she was probably the least qualified to ask the questions, but she was doing it. It was a small bit of luck.

  “His primary symptom during his first and only active phase was acute extensor spasticity and pain.”

  “And what is that?”

  “In his case? His legs were painful and tight.”

  “What about the neurological symptoms?”

  “Other than the typical responses to pain and some mild sleeplessness and reasonable anxiety, he exhibited no impairment. He was referred to a psychologist in Florida who evaluated him and found no issues.”

  “How did you figure out he had MS?” she asked next, looking at me like I was about to betray myself. I leaned back in my chair and attempted to be casual.

  “Diagnosis of MS was confirmed via MRI in which a brain lesion was found and a spinal tap that showed antibody abnormalities associated with the disease.”

  “How can someone with a big lesion on their brain not be cognitively impaired?” She asked.

  “Easily,” I replied. Melinda was not a doctor and it was obvious. “And it was not a ‘big lesion.’ It was typical of MS, neither large nor small. But a great deal of the brain is devoted to controlling things like digestion, breathing, reproduction, smell, hearing, motor function, etc. Quite a bit of the brain isn’t e
ven understood well yet by science. Brains are delicate, but they’re also very complicated and still extremely mysterious. There are numerous famous cases where large parts of people’s brains are damaged or removed and they still function just fine. The area where the lesion was situated did not affect his higher brain function.”

  Melinda clearly didn’t like my answer, but if she’d spent five minutes on Google, she would have known. But she was banking on shock and awe. None of this was in her plan. I wasn’t even supposed to be here. If Brandon hadn’t told me what was going to happen today, neither me nor Martin would have stood a chance. At least this way, we might be able to defend Martin and give him some damn dignity.

  “How do you know he hasn’t gotten worse since his diagnosis?” Melinda asked.

  “He gets new scans every six months and has not reported significant worsening symptoms. He does have occasional inflammation and pain, which is typical for all MS patients.”

  “You’ve helped him conceal his condition, haven’t you?”

  “I’ve maintained doctor patient confidentiality, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You’ve been administering injections to him.”

  “I administer standard corticosteroid injections as needed for pain and inflammation.” I told her. It was easy to see how she could have spun this into some grand conspiracy.

  “But you do them secretly.”

  “The injections are done in his office, in private, or at his house. Private is different from secret. It wouldn’t be appropriate to do them in the doctor’s lounge or the cafeteria.”