Grumpy Doctor Read online

“Only stating a fact.”

  “Then listen to this fact—” The light turned again, and people began to cross. “Go fuck yourself. Don’t follow me.”

  I stalked off, moving with the flow of pedestrians, and thankfully he listened.

  I was fuming as I made my way back to my small apartment. I lived in a studio tucked in the back of a building at the far edge of Rittenhouse, closer to the Schuylkill River. It was a decent building, and one day when I wasn’t buried under a mountain of medical school debt, I’d be able to afford something even better.

  Standing there, looking at my entire world, I wondered if I was making the right choice.

  That Tippett family could change my life. I could give them what they wanted, and it might not even destroy Piers. Maybe his premiums went up—he’s still survive. He was skilled enough that it wouldn’t matter.

  But as a matter of principal, I wouldn’t give in to their bribes or their threats.

  I couldn’t believe I got sucked into such an ugly game. I knew Piers would be livid if I told him, and I decided to keep it to myself. That wouldn’t be the last time Ted approached me for information, and I wasn’t going to give him a damn thing, not if I could help it at least.

  I didn’t know what I’d do if they called me into court. I wouldn’t lie for him, and I knew he wouldn’t ask me to, he’d already made that clear. Still, if they asked me if Piers was reckless, if he was an asshole, I didn’t know what I’d say.

  I flopped down onto my bed and stared up at the ceiling, exhausted from work, ground down by my uncertainty, and angry at everything in between.

  10

  Piers

  I leaned over Lori’s shoulder as she closed up the final stitch. She looked back at me, a bead of sweat on her forehead, and I nodded once.

  She did a perfect job that time.

  We scrubbed out as the nurses broke down the OR and took the patient to recovery. I’d go over and check on the patient later, make sure he was doing okay, but I felt a strange thrill, like my heart wouldn’t calm down.

  I got like this sometimes after a particularly good procedure. It was like a high, like I’d taken a bump of cocaine or something, and I felt like I could run around the hospital a thousand times or smash through a wall with my forehead.

  “Let’s go get a drink,” I said.

  Lori laughed a little. Her cheeks were flushed and she looked almost as good as I felt. “I don’t know.”

  “Come on. We’ll check on the patient later.” I grabbed her hand, not thinking, and pulled her along.

  She went with me. I released her after a few feet, realizing that I was crossing a line again, but I couldn’t help myself.

  I lived for this. Surgery was an incredible, delicate art. Humans had only been able to successfully complete the sort of surgery I did regularly for the last fifty years or so, and before that, surgery was about as barbaric and simplistic as possible. It was an incredible gift, to be able to open up a living human body, fix what was broken inside, and to somehow put it back together in such a way that it would heal, and survive, and even thrive.

  Every patient that left my OR and went on to live a happy life made all of this worth it.

  I took Lori to a little dive around the corner. The tables were sticky, the floor was covered in dirt, and a few nurses were crowded in the back. I sat at the bar, ordered a gin, and sipped it when it arrived. Lori asked for a beer, but didn’t touch it.

  “What are we celebrating?” she asked.

  I lifted my glass. “A perfect closing.”

  She laughed a little, and her cheeks flushed more. God, I loved that. “What do you mean?”

  “Today, you did it right. I mean, you did it perfect. You’ve always been good at it, but I’d say today was the first time there was nothing to critique, not even if I wanted to be as nitpicky and severe as possible.”

  “Good for me then.” She lifted her glass in a salute, and we both drank. “It was a rush though, you know what I mean? I just felt right. Like everything locked into place.”

  I nodded rapidly. I knew exactly what she meant. “That’s what I feel when it all goes right. It’s like a drug.”

  “Like getting high.” She laughed a little. “Not like I know much about that.”

  “You don’t? Never even smoked a joint in college?”

  “No, never, wasn’t my thing. What about you?”

  “Same here, actually.”

  She gave me a look. “Come on, it’s fine. I’m not going to run off and talk to that private investigator.”

  I smirked a little. “I believe you, but it’s true. I’ve always liked for my mind to be my own. Drugs always felt like I was relinquishing control to something else.”

  “A lot of people like that.”

  “I definitely don’t.”

  “Can’t say I’m surprised.” She frowned at me a little bit. “Were you always like this?”

  “Like what?” I took a long drink as more folks from the hospital filed in. I nodded at a couple I recognized, and they waved back, but nobody approached.

  That was fine. I’d built a bubble around myself over the years. I was friendly with most of the doctors, on good enough terms with the nursing staff, and ignored everyone else. I knew some of them disliked me, and more than a few hated me, but it didn’t matter, so long as we got the job done.

  Surgery was my calling, and it was my only friend. I was the best, but sometimes—I wondered if it was worth the price.

  Then again, days like today made me think yes, absolutely yes, it was all worth it, so long as I could feel this way, and save these lives.

  “You know. Surly. Difficult. You hold people at arm’s length. I’ve seen you do it.”

  I looked down into my drink. “Not always,” I said. “I grew up in the suburbs around here. Went to a decent high school. Got decent grades. I had friends, ran track, was kind of popular.”

  “Popular?” She laughed a little. “I could see it. I bet you wore Hollister.”

  “Gelled my hair. Flipped it up in the front.”

  “Oh my god. That was such a look.”

  “It was before your time.” I glanced at her, grinning. “I guess I’m not that much older than you, though.”

  “Ten years, right? I mean, that’s not so long. Close to Rees’s age.”

  “Ten years,” I repeated, shaking my head, drinking my gin. “I used to be the young hotshot. Now I’m the old man, taking his resident out for a drink.”

  “Don’t get all maudlin on me.”

  “I won’t, don’t worry,” I said.

  “Tell me more about how popular you were,” she said. “Did you steal alcohol from your parents and get drunk on weekends?”

  “Absolutely,” I said, smiling a little. “All that changed in college though. I got more serious, realized that I wanted to do with my life, and fell into medicine. I never really looked back. It’s been my whole existence ever since.”

  “Sounds almost lonely.”

  “But it’s not, not really.”

  “Are you close with your parents?” she asked.

  “I talk to my mom on the phone once a week. And I try to get lunch with my dad at least once or twice a month.”

  “What, your mom doesn’t come?”

  I shook my head. “Parents divorced and she lives out near the shore. Too long of a drive.”

  “Ah, I’m sorry,” she said.

  “Don’t be. What about you? Parents? Siblings?”

  “Mom passed five years ago,” she said. “I have one younger brother who is a total shithead that still lives with my dad, even though he has an accounting degree.”

  “I’m sorry about your mom,” I said, tilting my head. I could only imagine what it would be like to lose a parent so young.

  “It was a bad time,” she said, and I could tell she didn’t want to get into it.

  “I know why you went with surgery, but how’d you end up in medicine to begin with?” I asked.

 
“I don’t know. I guess I always wanted to be a doctor.”

  “And you’re lucky to have a cousin on the board,” I said, teasing her.

  “I guess so,” she said, staring down at her hand. “I don’t really know Rees all that well, honestly. He got into tech when he was like eighteen and founded this company—I think they do like cloud storage.”

  “Strange that he’d go to such lengths to get you placed as my resident,” I said, frowning a bit. “If you’re really not close, I mean.”

  “I agree,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t understand, and I didn’t ask him for it. We haven’t really talked since I was a kid.” She tapped her fingernail against her glass. “Can I admit something to you?”

  “Of course.”

  “I used to want to be a vet.”

  I leaned back and studied her, then laughed. I couldn’t help myself. Picturing her working on animals, instead of people—it would’ve been such a waste of talent.

  And it was right then, laughing with her in the bar, that I realized she was a very gifted surgeon. Maybe I knew it, on some level, the whole time—maybe that was why I let her close for me so quickly, or maybe that was why I agreed to train her at all. I could’ve pushed back harder and maybe even won that argument.

  But she was good. I knew she was good the first moment I saw her touch those instruments. Even if she wasn’t perfect, there was still talent lurking beneath her skin, and I knew I could coax it out if given some time.

  I felt proud of her. It was strange, and something I’d never experienced before, but her accomplishments felt like my own. I wanted her to succeed almost as much as I wanted to succeed.

  I finished my gin. And shook my head. “I want to make a deal with you.”

  “Another deal?” She grins and drinks down her beer. “I’m not sure I can handle more.”

  I gave her a look and shook my head. “Hear me out, okay? You’ll like this.”

  “Fine, go ahead.” She looked skeptical, but she was smiling.

  “I’m going to let you off laundry duty,” I said slowly.

  “Oh, really?” She leaned toward me, eyes wide. “Are you going soft, Dr. Hood?”

  “Would you let me finish,” I said, glaring at her. “I’m not going soft.”

  “Sounds like you are. I thought the laundry thing was a hazing ritual. Honestly, I got sort of used to doing it, and I like having all that time to read.”

  “I can let you do my laundry forever if you really, really want to.”

  “No, no, that’s okay. What’s the deal?”

  “I’m going to let you off laundry duty if you promise to bring me coffee every morning. And not some cheap bullshit coffee from Wawa. I want the good stuff. Starbucks or better.”

  She snorted in that cute way she did when she thought I was being a total dick, but still, she was smiling. “That’s not a great deal. Sounds like swapping one stupid task for another.”

  “You want off laundry, this is your way out.”

  “Fine,” she said, and thrust her hand toward me. “That’s a deal.”

  I took it and shook. “Starbucks or better,” I repeated. “No garbage.”

  “I know a good spot. How do you take it?”

  “Milk, no sugar.”

  “Easy.” She nodded to herself, and our hands lingered together a bit longer than necessary—before she pulled hers away and seemed to rub her palm with her other fingers absently.

  “We should get back,” I said, and paid for the drinks. “Seriously, good job in there. I’m thinking about giving you more responsibility.”

  That perked her up. “Really?”

  “But you’d better not fuck up. If I have to fix your mistakes, you’re back to doing laundry in the hospital and getting dirty looks from the janitorial staff.”

  “I won’t fuck up,” she said, tone serious. “I promise.”

  I stood up and gave her a look. Strangely enough, I believed her.

  We headed back to the hospital together, chatting aimlessly, and for the first time in a long time, I actually enjoyed talking to someone about nothing at all.

  11

  Lori

  Piers sipped from his coffee cup and looked pleased as we walk together down the hall. Ahead, the patient rooms stretched out along the wall, their glass sliding doors and curtain-covered windows filled with so many different lives and different worlds. Sometimes I get a little overwhelmed, out on the floor, just picturing all the people that want to leave the hospital feeling better and happier than when they came in, and how much hard work it took to fix even a small number of them.

  The nurses gave Piers a look as he walked past them. I smiled, but the girls didn’t smile back. I wasn’t used to that—usually, everyone was nice to the residents.

  Except for when I was around him, apparently.

  “This is Mr. Swanson,” Piers said, stopping outside of a room. “He’s in for a pacemaker, relatively standard stuff. You ready?”

  I stared. “I’m going in with you?”

  “Time you started seeing patients,” he said, and slid open the door without any more discussion.

  I plunged in after him. Of course, I’d seen patients in med school, although always in a group and always supervised. I knew how to talk to them, understood how to be professional and succinct, but it was a different thing now that I was getting more and more responsibility. This man’s life could be in my hands, or at least a life like it would be.

  Piers didn’t seem troubled. He went right inside, grabbed the chart, and stood looking down at Mr. Swanson with a small frown on his face.

  Mr. Swanson looked back, and did not seem amused. “You realize I’m watching my favorite program?” he said.

  I glanced up at the TV. Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives was playing. Guy Fieri took a bite of an absolutely enormous hamburger stuffed with what looked like every conceivable fried object imaginable, and he seemed to truly think it was taking him to Flavortown.

  Piers only grunted. “Mr. Swanson, your chart looks good. We have your procedure scheduled for later today. I was wondering if you had any questions?”

  “Oh, I’ve got questions.” Mr. Swanson shifted in his bed. He was a skinny man, dark hair, big nose, lots of hair poking out of it. He looked like he was in his fifties, maybe a healthy sixty, I couldn’t tell. “First of all, when am I getting that pillow I asked for? I asked for it ten minutes ago, still not here. It’s a pillow, not a hard thing.”

  I stared at him, wide-eyed, then looked at Piers. I’d seen difficult patients before, and more of the doctors I was with dealt with them as gently as they could, but Piers was not known for his diplomacy. I braced myself for him to open up on poor Mr. Swanson.

  Instead, Piers smiled. “I’m sure we can find you a pillow, although they’re kind of shitty.”

  Mr. Swanson barked a laugh. “You’re telling me. Been lying on this thing all morning. Why’d they have me come in so early, anyway?”

  “We needed to get you prepped. Drugs and such in your system. But mostly we like to torture our patients first. We’re a real sick bunch.”

  Another barked laugh. “Damn right you are. This surgery, am I gonna feel anything? You know, during it. You’re gonna cut me open, right?”

  Piers shook his head. “You won’t feel a thing. From your perspective, one second you’ll be in there, getting prepped, and the next it’ll all be over. You might feel groggy, like you had a really bad night’s sleep or something, maybe some post-surgical complications, but otherwise, no pain during.”

  “That’s good at least.” Mr. Swanson sighed, stretched his legs. “Maybe I won’t feel this stupid, uncomfortable, scratchy sheet anymore, either. I don’t know how I’m gonna sleep in this place. You know it smells bad, right? Like body odor? And chemicals, so many chemicals, and there’s that nurse with the perfume? Big hair, lots of perfume, keeps coming in here and poking me.”

  “I’ll see what I can do about the smell,” Piers said, smiling. �
�I’m sure if you came closer, you’d get a big whiff of my cologne.”

  “Come on, doc, you don’t wear no cologne.”

  “I do, it’s very smoky. Want to smell?”

  Mr. Swanson cackled. “No, thanks, doc.”

  “All right, your loss. Any other questions?”

  “I don’t think so.” He hesitated, glanced at me. “Who’s the girl?”

  “That’s Dr. Court, she’s my resident. She’ll be watching your procedure, but I’ll be handling everything.”

  “Right, right, that’s good, nice to meet you, doc. Not a lot of lady docs around here, I noticed, well, maybe not many lady doc surgeons, I don’t know.” He laughed, and I realized it was a nervous laugh.

  From the start of this conversation, I thought Mr. Swanson was a cranky old asshole, and Piers was going to rip him a new one. But as Piers smiled down at Mr. Swanson and flipped through the chart one more time, I realized something.

  Mr. Swanson was terrified, and all the babbling was his way of coping. Piers didn’t take it out on him, because Piers clearly understood that fact already. Instead, he’d done everything to make the man laugh, to try and calm him down a little bit.

  I should’ve seen it from the start. I knew what sort of surgery he was getting later, and of course he’d be afraid. Getting a pacemaker placed was a serious thing, and he must’ve been terrified.

  “Okay, Mr. Swanson,” Piers said. “If you have any questions, you tell a nurse and she’ll come find me.”

  “And don’t forget the pillow,” he said.

  Piers laughed. “I won’t. Promise.” He put the chart away and we left.

  In the hell, he flagged down a nurse, and had her go get a pillow. She didn’t look happy about it, but she listened. He started walking again and I hurried to keep up.

  “What did you notice in there?” he asked.

  I chewed on my lip. “He was nervous,” I said. “Afraid. Distracting himself with crappy TV.”

  “Good. What else?”

  “I’m not sure. I didn’t see his chart.”

  “Next time, ask to look. Some of his labs were elevated, so we’ll have to be aware of that moving forward. I’m going to check again before we get started.”