Although Dr. Knight’s assignment is completely in my wheelhouse, I take care with the paper. I want to prove myself to her that although she sees me as a country redneck, I deserve my BSN, my MSN, and maybe my doctorate in nursing one day. I am fully devoted to patient care and empowering other nurses. I truly love my job. It sounds cheesy, but I believe I can make a difference.
After proofreading my paper over and over again, I press submit and turn it in. I feel good about what I’ve written. It certainly will be a perfect way for Dr. Knight to get to know me. I might even impress her.
I look at the clock on my laptop. Nine thirty on a Friday night. My thoughts return to Grant. His broad shoulders. His big strong arms holding me. The sexy look in his eyes. I groan.
Whenever I'm feeling down, I talk to Mom. I get my phone and call her.
"Hello, honey. What are you doing home on a Friday night?"
"Just finished a paper. Kinda bored."
"A paper? I'm sure you'll get an A. You always have. We are all so proud of you."
"Thanks, Mom." I pause as I flip through channels on the TV. "What are you guys doing?"
"Oh, honey. You know we don't do much. Your father is in the garage, and I'm sitting her watching this week's episode of The Voice." I hear the TV show in the background, and then it quiets. "You sound glum."
"No. I'm okay. Mom, you don't have to pause your show. I was just checking in."
"Ok, well, Candy. We miss you and love you so much."
"I love you, too, Mom."
"Go out and have fun tonight, okay? You deserve it."
I hang up with my mom and consider my options. Shark Tank's on. I could sit at home watching this show I love to hate, or I can go and do something. I text Becca.
"What are you up to?"
She texts back right away. "Candy! Going out for drinks! Come out!"
I stare at the text trying to figure out if I really want to go out and interact with people. I guess I wait too long to respond.
Becca texts, "DO IT! DO IT! DO IT!"
I watch as Mark Cuban and Lori Grenier discuss a housewife's soap entrepreneurship. I text back, "K!" Becca is always cheerful and upbeat. I could use some happy company.
When I get to the bar, JJ Peckers, Becca runs up slinging her arm around my shoulders.
She screams, "It's my study buddy! Candy Kane!"
The crowd cheers. I've never made an entrance like that before. I admit it's nice to be welcomed.
"We got to get you some drinks!" Becca scampers away to the bar.
I sit down at a table and take in the scene. People are laughing, drinking, and having a good time. There is no reason I shouldn't too. I have to look forward to my future and not backwards. Who is Grant anyway? Some guy? That's all.
Becca comes back with a margarita. I take a sip: sour and tangy. The way I like it.
A few hours later and more drinks deep, Becca is on stage singing Karaoke, but it isn't Karaoke night. For an impromptu performance, it's pretty good. She sings Beyonce's "Put a Ring on It" dancing the original choreography perfectly. The crowd loves it.
"Hey!" I hear a voice beside me. I look up. It's the new CT surgeon at work, Dr. Newton.
"Oh. Hi! Charles, right?" He nods and takes a seat.
"Entertainment is awesome tonight. You know her?"
I nod. "She's one of my classmates."
"You're in school?"
"Yup. Getting my BSN."
"That's awesome." He takes a sip from his beer bottle.
"If you liked it then you shoulda put a ring on it!" Becca croons.
Charles has that cute goofy grin on again watching Becca sing. He's adorable.
Much later that night, Charles is in my bedroom. It's two o'clock in the morning. He lies on my bed fully clothed completely content with just cuddling me and giving me little sweet kisses on my cheeks. It’s endearing, but I think about Grant and our wild nights together. Something comes over me.
I climb on top of Charles. I pull off my shirt and bra letting my breasts fall right down in front of his face. Charles gasps in surprise. With trembling hands, he softly touches them while looking up into my face.
“You’re so beautiful,” he says sweetly.
I lean down and kiss him, devouring his mouth and tongue. I grind my pussy on his hardening cock. I pull down his khaki pants and boxers. I grip his heavy cock in my hands before shoving it into my wet cunt. Charles’s face is a mixture of shock and pleasure.
I raise myself up slowly until the tip is nearly out. I slam my pussy back down on him. His tongue is all over my breasts: licking and sucking.
“Do you like my big titties?” I ask.
Charles’s eyes watch me fuck him with wonderment and awe. He says nothing but nods his head slowly, grimacing when I slam my dripping cunt back on his dick.
I swivel my hips the way Grant taught me to do when riding a cock. The movement makes me come hard. I squirt my pussy juice on Charles’s dick. Quickly after, Charles comes too spurting the hot cum into my throbbing cunt.
I lie next to Charles out of breath and tired. I turn over, and Charles spoons me. Something Grant never did. He laughs, “I’ve never had sex like that.” He pauses letting out a long sigh. “I still have my shirt on,” he says. He squeezes me tight. “That was fucking awesome.” I just nod my head before I fall asleep.
The next week, while I’m at work, I check online for my grade on Dr. Knight’s paper. What I see on the screen stuns me. D-. I’ve never gotten a D before. Ever. I don’t even know what a D means. What the hell does a D- mean?
I push away the impulse to fall over and cry about it. I decide I will meet Dr. Knight in office hours. There has got to be a perfectly good reason why I have a D-. Maybe it’s a mistake.
I click off the computer and walk to the nursing station. I hear loud voices. It’s nightshift, which is really unusual for anyone to have raised voices. I see Grant and Charles staring each other down.
Grant says, “Just a request. When you are on call and covering my patients, can you maybe not make drastic decisions? If you do, can you run it by me?”
Charles says, “I did the right thing for your patient. And it’s not just your patient. It’s our patient. We are a team.”
Grant pokes a finger into Charles’s chest. “We are not a team, ok?” He storms off.
I walk up to the nursing station and give Charles a sheepish smile. “What’s up with that guy?” Charles asks me.
“He doesn’t play well with others.”
Charles gives me a confused look. I say, “I would guess he is upset the hospital has restructured the CT department. You are his equal, and he is used to having people beneath him.”
Charles shakes his head. “What a dick. I’m going to have to go to the Executive Board about this.”
I nod in agreement. “He can be a dick, but he is a great surgeon. You are, too. Give it some time.” Charles heaves a sigh as he walks into Bed 14 to examine his patient.
I wonder to myself if Grant knows about Charles and me. That would be impossible. No one knows, right? It’s too early in our relationship.
The next day, I go to see Dr. Knight. She sits at her desk regally with an expressionless face.
“Ms. Kane, I assure you that I have been more than fair with your paper.”
I nod slowly. “Ok. Can you tell me where it is I can improve?”
She laughs derisively. “If I have to tell you, maybe you shouldn’t be here.”
“No, ma’am. I want to be here,” I say as sternly as I can, hoping my voice isn’t shaking.
I printed out my paper to look over Dr. Knight's grading comments carefully. I hold up the stack of papers in my hands.
"I saw that you took off a considerable amount on the bibliography." I flip through the papers to the last page. "Twenty points off?"
Dr. Knight smugly says, "APA format, Candy. You forgot a period. How can you demand to be taken seriously when you can't even get APA format correct?"
I flip to another one of her comments. "And what about this? You wrote, 'Paragraph hardly coherent.'" I hold up the paper pointing at her comment. "Can you tell me what about it is incoherent?"
Dr. Knight just laughs. “Let me ask you something, Candy. You ever take a nutrition course at your good ol’ community college?”
“Yes, Dr. Knight. It is a requirement for the nursing program.”
She nods thoughtfully looking away. She then looks at me coldly. “You must have not paid attention.”
Confused, I ask, “I’m sorry?”
“Overweight nurses are not good examples of health. If you don’t care for yourself, how will you ever care for anyone else?”
“What does this have to do with my paper?” I ask.
She laughs. “A BSN isn’t for everyone, Miss Candy Kane.”
I stand glaring at her. “Maybe, but it is for me.” She looks at me with casual menace. I walk out of her office uncertain of my nursing future.
Becca and I have lunch together. I am still shaken from Dr. Knight’s cruel comments.
“That fucking bitch!” Becca screams. Other people in the café look at us. “Sorry!” she says to them. She takes a bite of her sandwich and says, “But, you can’t quit the program.”
“I don’t know. She will make it impossible for me. She is the Dean of Clinical Studies.”
“Fuck. Her.” She takes another bite. “All you have to do is pass. Then, you can move on, and never have to deal with old bitchy cunt again. I don’t want you to give up. She has no right to pick on you like that. Stuck up bitch.”
I give Becca a weak smile. “I won’t give up.”
She smiles broadly and claps me hard on the back. “There you go, Study Buddy! That’s what I want to hear!”
I try to let Becca’s words inspire me. I take a small bite of my Reuben sandwich. The sauerkraut tastes too sour to me. Dr. Knight has managed to ruin my favorite sandwich.
The next week, I show up for Dr. Knight’s class. When she stomps up to the front of the classroom and sees me in the front row, she pauses with astonishment on her face. She quickly recovers flitting her eyes away in annoyance. Becca nudges me. I smile at her. I’m not going anywhere.
The next week, I work night shift all week. I’m on my third night in a row when my grade for Dr. Knight’s last assignment posts online. My chest tightens as I hover over the link. The assignment was to critique a recent research article. Dr. Knight was explicit that the article could be about anything. It was up to our discretion.
I chose a research article entitled “Weight Bias among Healthcare Professionals.” The purpose of the research was to ascertain the level of anti-fat bias in healthcare professional and to identify characteristics that correlate with implicit and explicit bias. The researches used the Implicit Associations Test (IAT) and a self-report questionnaire to evaluate the healthcare professionals’ attitudes and personal experiences with obesity and obese patients. The research concluded professionals in the healthcare field exhibited significant anti-fat, pro-thin, implicit bias. Implicit stereotypes of obese persons being lazy, stupid, and worthless were prevalent in the subjects. The authors’ discussion addressed the concerns that obese patients may be too ashamed or reluctant to seek medical care because of anti-fat bias among healthcare professionals.
I critiqued the article carefully. I wrote with meticulous attention. Painstakingly choosing my words and structuring my sentences clearly. I proofread my work a dozen times, and then got Becca and Charles to do the same. I made Becca comb through my bibliography catching any missing periods.
I take long deep breath. My heart thumps in my chest as I click on the link. I shudder. F. I have never gotten an F before. I stare at the letter feeling the loss spiral around me. F for Fail. Failure. Fucked.
“Candy!” I jump and close the browser on the computer. It’s Grant. “When were you going to tell me?”
“What? Tell you what?” I walk away from him down the hall.
He grabs my arm. “You’ve been seeing Newton?”
I shrug my arm away. “I don’t feel like doing this right now, Grant.” I keep walking.
“No, you need to talk to me.”
I sigh. I’m exhausted from working the last three nights and drained from getting my first failing grade. “Don’t you have new piece of ass somewhere in this hospital to chase after?”
Grant shakes his head. “Hold on. Give me a chance to explain.”
“I’m too tired, Grant.” I walk into the med room even though I don’t need to get any meds. Doctors can’t enter medication rooms. It’s against policy. I hang out in there until I hear Grant walk away.
I have the weekend off, but Charles is on call the entire weekend. He stops by my apartment before he goes to the hospital.
“An F?” He shakes his head in disbelief. I hand him a cup of fresh coffee. “I read that paper. It was not an F paper. It was excellent. Well written, thorough.” He gives me a big bear hug. “What she is doing to you is illegal, babe. She’s a bigoted old bitch.”
I give him a kiss. “I don’t think there is anything I can do.”
“There has got to be something you can do.” His pager goes off. He takes a long sip of coffee. “Thanks for making this. I’m going to need it. Powell is such an asshole every time I’m on call and covering his patients.” His pager goes off again. He groans and says, “I wish I could stay here with you all night.”
“You are with me in spirit.” I give him another kiss. His pager goes off again. I squeeze his butt. “Go!” Charles smiles goofily and runs out.
Before bed, I print my paper out and read it again. It’s not an F paper. I was head of the nursing research department at Trinity Hospital. We regularly read research articles and critiqued them in our weekly meetings. I re-read the research article I critiqued. Weight bias can adversely affect outcomes of obese patients seeking healthcare. Reading the article again, I am more determined than ever to not let Dr. Knight win.
The next week, I go to Dr. Knight’s first available office hours. Her door is open so I walk right in. She looks up from her computer surprised to see me. She swipes her glasses off her nose.
“Miss Candy Kane.” I hate how she says my name as if it were a stupid joke.
“Dr. Knight,” I say closing the door.
“I’ve got to say, usually people like you are lazy, but you…” she laughs pointing at me. “You are something else.”
“Thank you, I guess,” I say. I pull out my paper. “Can we discuss my last assignment?”
“We can discuss, but I am not going to change your grade.” She flicks her finger at me. “That there is an F paper. It was disgusting.”
“Disgusting?”
“Yes. Weight bias in healthcare professionals? You critiqued a research article probably written by fat lazy imbeciles themselves crying about anti-fat bias. The assignment was to critique research. Research.”
“This is research.”
“I don’t know what you consider research in your little hick town, but this is not research. It’s filth. It’s propaganda to support the body image movement. An excuse for people to gorge and roll around in their fat.”
“Can I have another chance to find a better suited article to critique?”
Dr. Knight’s eyes are on fire with revulsion. “No. You may not. You know what you can do?”
“I’ll do anything,” I say sincerely with hope.
“You need to turn your fat ass around and go back to the country. I will never let you pass.” Tears stream down my eyes. I can’t help it. “There is nothing you can do about it. Give up now.”
I stand holding my paper in my trembling hands. I look at Dr. Knight who has returned to her computer. She doesn’t look up as I walk out.
When I get home, I extract the audio file from my iPhone. I am sure to clone the file and save it on my hard drive, the cloud, an external hard drive, and on a flash drive. I send the file to the University President
, the Provost, the Head Dean of Nursing, and the Mercer University Newspaper. It’s amazing how much an iPhone can do: make phone calls, check your Facebook status, and secretly record asshole professors.
Later that night, Charles comes over all smiles from my victory. He picks me up and twirls me around.
“Brilliant, Candy! Just brilliant!”
He takes out two bottles of champagne holding them up over his head cheering. “Two bottles?” I ask.
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