by Deja Voss
I shake my head.
“Three more days,” I tell her, a thin smile forming across my face. Three more days and I will officially be a trauma surgeon. My boards are passed and I just have to finish up my fellowship. I had always pictured my graduation celebration would be more champagne and stilettos than milkshakes and truckers, but I don’t have it in me right now. Nothing in my life feels like a celebration. More like an arranged marriage.
“I know. I’m so proud of you. You think they’re gonna offer you a job?” she asks eagerly. “Or are you going to explore some other options?”
I KNOW they’re going to offer me a job. It’s already been discussed in depth. Dr. Peterman started hinting at it a few months ago, and the board of directors seems to agree that we need two of us at the hospital. In three days, my life will be exactly the same as it has been for the last seven years, except now I will be getting paid.
I thought I would be a lot more enthusiastic.
“Maybe,” I lie through my teeth. I don’t want to have to tell her my actual thoughts on the situation. Not just yet.
She flips through the menu and slides it to the end of the table.
“It’s been so long since I’ve talked to you. You’re like impossible to get ahold of anymore. How are you doing with everything else?” she asks. Part of me was hoping she wouldn’t bring it up, the other part was really dying to hear if she knows anything.
“I’m fine,” I shrug. “Nothing really to report here. Just trying to keep my head down and my nose clean. I’m sorry if I caused you drama at work or whatever, Ollie. You warned me and I fucked up. I hope it didn’t blow back on you.”
She lets out a deep sigh. “I didn’t warn you. I told you everything was going to be ok. Once I saw how well you guys were getting along, I thought you really had something going. Maybe it was just wishful thinking. Maybe I was just being selfish for wanting you to be around more and be a part of my life.”
“In a vacuum, it would’ve worked out perfectly. There’s too many moving parts to that machine up there. I’m not one of them. He would’ve never been able to fully love me knowing what I did or where I came from. His family was waiting to rip me to shreds the first chance they had, and I know he has to take their side for the sake of the club.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. You never gave him a chance to love you fully. You wrote him off before he had a chance to love the real you and everything that comes with it, Sloan. He’s a really good guy. He would’ve done anything for you. It doesn’t matter what his family says, he knows right from wrong.”
I haven’t cried to her yet, but Lord knows I’ve spilled a ton of tears over the last nine months. I keep waiting around, thinking Olive would be the one who would rip him to shreds for being a jerk and we could just go about our lives as two single chicks who always seem to end up on the losing end of relationships. Instead, she’s been distant and aloof.
It’s been a reality check.
I know I fucked up. I lost the first man who ever really made me feel like myself. Trying to justify letting him go has been challenging. I’ve spent the last nine months grasping at every straw I could possibly use to try and rationalize why things would’ve come crashing down eventually.
“I can’t be affiliated with people like that anyway, Olive. You know how it goes. He’s from a completely different world. I’m a surgeon, for fucks sake. Could you imagine what would happen if I showed up with him at a hospital function? When they ask what he does for a living what am I supposed to tell them?”
“You’re ridiculous, Sloan. That all ya got? You’re better than him? That’s the lamest line in the book. He graduated from college. Gave up law school so he could take care of his family. You would’ve known that if you cared about anybody but yourself. Now he runs one of the most successful businesses in town, but as long as you love each other how is that even relevant? You’re always so quick to remind me of how we ‘came from the same trailer park,’ and now you’re suddenly better than ‘people like that?’ People like ME?”
People are starting to stare in the booths around us, and our waitress is shooting us a look that is less than amused.
“You know what I mean,” I say, immediately putting my foot in my mouth. I know I’m coming across as a brat, but I don’t ever want to hurt her. “I didn’t mean it like that, Olive.”
She looks noticeably hurt. She purses her lips and just shakes her head at me as she begins to stand up.
“I’ve spent our entire friendship putting you on a pedestal, Sloan. Telling you that you have so much going for you, that you’re a good person, pushing you to finish school, standing behind you no matter what choices you make. You constantly drill me to have confidence in myself, that you don’t think you’re better than me, that you would never judge me, but right this second, I think you’re full of shit. You’re just an entitled brat.”
“And you don’t care about anything but dick. I’ve spent our entire friendship watching you jump from guy to guy and trying to keep my mouth shut. Obviously you’re going to take his side. It’s not the first time you picked a guy over me. For all I know, you guys have been fucking since the day we broke up. Knowing your track record, I wouldn’t be surprised.”
I know I’m talking like a crazy person. Internalizing what she’s saying isn’t making this any easier.
“You’re disgusting,” she says, staring into my eyes, grabbing her purse from the stool. “Maybe I’m brutally honest, but you’re just plain hurtful. Just because you hate yourself doesn’t mean you have to drag us all down to your level. Have a nice life with your ‘people,’ Sloan. I’m perfectly happy with mine.”
She storms off, not even looking back, and I make zero effort to stop her.
I one hundred percent know she’s right.
I one hundred percent know I’m just being hateful because I’m mad at myself.
I don’t feel like groveling right now. Just wading around in self-pity. Wading around in my self-created misery just like I have so many times in the past. It doesn’t matter.
Her words are exactly what I needed to hear to solidify the choice I need to make, and pushing her as far away as possible was a perfect way to do that. When you cut ties with the only person you have left that cares about you, THEN you’re totally free. And that’s really what I need. I’ll never be able to move on from this chapter in my life until I have nothing left to lose, and sitting in this crappy diner all alone, I realize, I really have nothing left.
The tears sting my face, not because I’m sad for myself, but because I hate hurting my best friend. The waitress comes over and drops my check, and I slink out of the diner, head hung low. I walk out into the cool evening air, reality hitting me of how truly alone I am in this world, and it’s all my own doing.
CHAPTER 33
Sloan
“I t’s the big day,” Dr. Peterman says. I’m dressed in the best clothes that twelve dollars can buy from the thrift store, my fitted slacks long enough to cover my worn-out work clogs. I actually styled my hair and put on a professional and respectable amount of makeup. Today we are meeting with the board of directors at the hospital to hear their final decision about bringing me in full-time as a trauma surgeon so I can work side by side with Doctor Peterman until he retires.
I wish I could say I was more excited, but the feeling in my gut isn’t joy. It’s terror and anxiety. The feeling that this meeting could result in me settling for a life I didn’t choose for myself.
Sure the money will be great. I’ll have a chance to help people every day, which has always been my original intention. I’ll have security. I’ll have safety.
I’ll also have isolation, and definitely lots of regret.
“Dr. Peterman,” I barely manage to squeak as we stand outside the boardroom, “I need to talk to you about something.”
“Sloan, relax,” he says. “It’s a slam dunk. You have nothing to worry about.”
“It’s not that.”
Before I can say anymore, the door swings open. I’m greeted with a roomful of the most respected members of the hospital’s board. People who I have spent the last seven years trying my best to appease, trying to prove that I am the best at what I do and that I belong in their program.
I feel dizzy, my knees buckling. Dr. Peterman grabs me under my armpit, propping me back up.
“Dr. Sullivan,” the woman says kindly. “I’ll make this quick, because I can tell you’re anxious. We came to our conclusion and we want to welcome you to the hospital as a full-time trauma surgeon. We would be so fortunate to have you with us.”
I take a deep breath, trying to talk myself out of the decision I’m going to make.
“Congratulations, Sloan!” Dr. Peterman says. “You can celebrate now.”
The grave look on my face doesn’t fade.
“I’m sorry. Everyone,” I say, making sure everyone in the room can hear me. “I’m sorry for wasting your time. I’m going to have to respectfully decline, though.”
“What the hell, Sloan? After all I’ve done for you?” Dr. Peterman says, his voice dripping with disappointment. “Do you understand what a big mistake you’re making? This is career suicide!”
“Dr. Peterman, I’m eternally thankful for everything that you’ve done for me. For pushing me and having faith in me. For teaching me so many things about how to handle a traumatic situation and fix it without thinking twice. For putting up with the pile of baggage I came to you with. I owe you so much. But right now, a big mistake sounds like just what I need.”
“I don’t understand. I thought you wanted this more than anything in the world.” He looks genuinely disappointed, and it hurts my heart to let him down. I will truly miss spending time in the operating room with him.
“I thought I did too, Dr. Peterman, but my world is so small and I need to do something about that. Maybe I have no idea what I want yet because I haven’t experienced it yet. I need some time to figure that out.”
He wraps his arms around me, hugging me close to him. It’s the first time in seven years he’s ever done that and the tears start flowing once again. I’ve never seen him as a human before, just my superior, my idol even. At this very moment, though, he feels more like the father I never had than anything.
“So what’s your game plan, Sloan? What’s your next move?” he asks.
“I’m going to go be indecisive for a while. No game plan. No next move.”
“Well if you ever need a letter of recommendation or you feel like filling in for me while I’m on vacation, let me know. I’ll do my best to pull some strings. I’m very proud of you either way. Putting up with me for seven years through your residency and fellowship was no easy task. Neither is the lifestyle of a trauma surgeon. And you weren’t even getting paid to do it.”
“It was worth it,” I say sincerely. I might not have a dollar to my name, but I do have a lot of letters after it, including MD and F.A.C.S. I’m sure some day they will come in handy. “Well, I better go track down Carol and tell her the news,” I say to him. “I’m gonna miss that woman.” It’s true. She’s the closest thing to a mother I’ve had in years, but she acted more like the cool aunt who would promise not to tell your parents she found your weed as long as you promised to share it with her.
I catch her in the hallway, doing her rounds. She’s absolutely beaming when I approach her.
“Good news travels fast!” she says, hugging me tight. “I’m so glad I get to keep you here with me forever.”
I don’t hug her back. I just rest my head on her shoulder.
“What is this all about?” she asks. “Did they fuck you over? I swear I will walk out right now.”
“No, Carol,” I assure her. “They were very kind.”
“Did you get another job offer somewhere?” she asks.
“Nope.”
“You lost your damn mind, didn’t you?”
“Maybe,” I sigh. “I just need some time to figure out what I want to do with my life. This is really all I know. Is that stupid?”
“Hell no, child!” she says, her blue eyes glimmering with her wrinkled smile. “I’ve always worried about you. When I was your age, I was out having the time of my life. I know you really love working. I know you have dedicated your whole adult life to school and medicine, but I always hoped one day you’d realize there’s more out there than just this. You know you will always have a place here. And you better take me out for drinks at least once a month so we can stay caught up.”
It’s all so clear now. Sure, Carol looks like she’s been ridden hard and put away wet, but she’s one of the most beautiful women I know inside and out, and it’s because she’s always lived life on her own terms. I hope that when I’m her age my face tells the same story.
“You got it,” I promise. “I gotta go before I start thinking rationally here,” I laugh. I hug her close to me one last time for now. “You’re awesome, Carol. I love you.”
CHAPTER 34
Gavin
“Holy shit, Gavin,” Brooks says, dripping with sweat as we heft the claw-foot tub from the back of my truck. “Are you really that into baths?”
It’s been a long winter finishing up the interior of the farmhouse. As much as the project had inspired me in the past, it took everything in me to find any motivation to press on much further. I spent a lot of nights laying on that mattress in the master bedroom just staring at the ceiling, drinking myself into stupidity and passing out. Being lonely alone was better than trying not to feel lonely amongst my brothers down at the clubhouse.
All that’s left are the finishing touches. I hate to admit that she’s right, but an outdoor shower is a logical addition for my lifestyle. After a day of working in the fields or hunting or fishing, being able to just strip down and leave the dirt outside makes perfect sense.
“You know if I help you put this in, I get full access to it anytime I want,” he says. “Forever. The ladies are going to love this shit.”
I roll my eyes at him. I know the ladies already love this shit. Dirty birdies have been flocking around nonstop, checking out the progress. Seems like everyone’s trying to play house with me, and all I want is to be left alone.
“I know exactly what kind of ladies would want to bathe with your nasty ass, and there’s not enough bleach or penicillin on this mountain to clean up that mess, dude.”
“You know I always bring my own bleach. Too bad hot doctor isn’t around anymore to prescribe the penicillin, though.”
I pretend like I don’t hear that. Nonstop for the past few months, he’s been hammering on me about her, reminding me of what an asshole I’m being.
“If you’re so obsessed with her, why don’t you go date her yourself?” I cringe as I say it, instantly regretting even suggesting he goes anywhere near her. It would completely destroy me knowing the two of them were together.
He laughs. “Maybe I will. Maybe I’ll bring her as my date to your housewarming party. Bribe her with a good old-fashioned Misfit mustache ride right here in this bathtub while you lay around feeling sorry for yourself.”
“The only way you’d be able to get anything remotely resembling a date with Sloan is if you chopped your damn hand off or something and she had to sew it back on.” He knows he’s getting me a little riled up, but I’m trying not to show it. She doesn’t want to be here; not with me, not with anyone.
Still, almost compulsively, I keep adding things to the house that I know she would like. I don’t know if it’s because I still have some sort of hope in the back of my mind that maybe things will change, or if I just like the same things she does. Probably a combination of the two. Maybe someday she’ll walk through that door and never want to leave. Even if that doesn’t happen, I’ll still have a really nice house.
I grab my drill and begin mounting the brass fixtures to the piece of barn wood while Brooks runs the drain line. We hook the plumbing up through the laundry room window. It’s a lot less effort than I
expected. I take off my boots and sit in the empty tub, overlooking the giant field in the backyard.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I ask as Brooks slides in on the other end.
“Just making sure there’s room for two,” he laughs.
“Well, I was gonna see if you wanted to help me with the bed frame, but apparently I’m giving you the wrong idea.”
“Oh, I know there’s room for at least three in your bed. Probably more like five,” he says, hopping out of the bathtub. “Do you want to know how?”
“I think it’s time for me to start drinking for the day,” I say, heading towards the kitchen.
“Good idea,” Brooks agrees. “Then we can build that big old beast of a bed frame that I know you would’ve never in a million years picked out for yourself. And then you can call that girl and tell her to come up here and pick which one of us she likes better.”
“I’ll do no such thing,” I say, pulling two beers out of the fridge and handing him one. “I’m over her.”
“Sure,” he says. “I can totally tell. Especially by the way you’ve been moping around all day every day. And the way you avoid all club functions unless I drag you there by the dick. The way you haven’t even so much as looked at a dirty birdie in months. You gonna live the rest of your life like this?”
“Maybe I will.” I shrug. It’s like he’s on a mission to piss me off today. “What difference does it make to you? You know what she said. You know what she did. My old man will spend his dying breath making our lives a living hell if she ever comes back.”
“How is that any different than how he acts now?” He starts picking up pieces of lumber from the living room and dragging them up the steps. “And really, what did she do that was so terrible? Avoided telling you about her body count? Did you just up and start rambling on to her about all the girls you’ve fucked?”
“Oh, you know it’s deeper than that.”
“Is it really, though?”
