by M. K. York
Pete was staring at him, looking baffled and alarmed simultaneously.
“I don’t understand you two at all,” he said after a moment. “You get along like a house on fire and then you fight like he called your mom a whore, and you’re acting like somebody died.”
Neil shrugged one shoulder, tense with rage. “I appreciate that you care, but for God’s sake, leave it alone.”
“All right.” Pete’s voice had gotten quieter. “All right.”
He left. Neil turned back to the fridge. He’d just been getting out a snack. He shoved the Tupperware back in; he’d lost his appetite completely.
Chapter Eighteen
That November, he didn’t even try to get Thanksgiving off to see his family. He didn’t want to talk to anyone who was going to hug him and ask him how he’d been. Mark was on, too, back on the same rotation. He hadn’t talked to Mark about Eli; it seemed like Mark had too much on his mind. Mark didn’t even seem to notice that Neil wasn’t going out or having fun or fucking smiling anymore.
Once, Mark dropped down into the chair next to his at one of the dictation booths. “Neil. Buddy.”
Neil glanced up. “What is it?”
“I just heard a nurse say that you’ve been a real asshole since you got back from that conference. What’s up?”
“Nothing. Just fucking sick of this place.”
Mark frowned at him, but then sighed. “Yeah. Me too.”
They left it at that.
* * *
Pete cornered him into a cup of coffee the day after Thanksgiving.
“You know,” Pete said casually, “the work group really needs somebody to describe a personal experience with discrimination in medicine.”
Neil shrugged, staring at his cup. “What a shame.”
“Neil, they’re going to cut this group if they don’t hear from people who are loud and angry. And, if you’ll pardon my saying so, photogenic.”
“What, you mean white? You can fucking say it.”
“I’m not going to pretend I don’t think the admins are racist.” Pete jerked his chin up. “Get a white gay man up there, and at least some of them are going to be more sympathetic to you than to Chaudry. Hell, Chaudry still has an accent. You, on the other hand, look and sound like their handsome nephew. You’re hard to say no to.”
Neil found himself squeezing the coffee cup so hard that, even double layered, the waxed paper was starting to give. “Thanks a fucking million, Pete.”
“I’m serious. Get your head out of your ass and do this. If you don’t want to talk to Eli, fine. Talk to Chaudry.”
“What makes you so sure I’ve had an experience with discrimination?” Neil snorted. “God knows I never talked to you about one.”
Pete raised his eyebrows, unimpressed.
Neil went back to glowering at his cup.
“Fine,” he said. “Fuck. Fine. I’ll talk to Chaudry.”
Pete clapped him on the shoulder. “Good man, Carmona.”
A trickle of coffee oozed out the bottom of the cup. He drank as much as he could in one gulp; it burned.
* * *
“Get us a Cardio consult,” said Dr. Landry. “I want to know what’s going on with this guy.”
“Are you sure Vascular wouldn’t be better?”
“Did I ask for Vascular?” Landry glared at Neil over his glasses. “Get Cardio.”
Neil called the Cardio page line and left the number of the main Gen Surg line. A minute later, the call came through.
“Hello?” asked Eli, all business.
“This is Gen Surg,” said Neil. It was unnecessary, when Eli knew his voice, and Eli’s sharp little intake of breath meant it hurt. Good. “We’ve got a sixty-four-year-old male with suspected cardiac dysfunction, no substernal chest pain but severe left-arm pain. Could be aortic or valvular in origin, pulse is acting funny, pressure is up in the left arm but not the right. We need somebody to take a look at him.”
Eli was silent for a beat. “I’ll be right over.”
Neil hung up without saying anything.
He snagged one of his junior residents. “I’m going to check on an ER patient. Think you can take Dr. Newcombe through our patient when he gets here?”
“Uh, yes.” The resident was—was he a fourth year? Neil thought so. He should be able to handle it.
He went down to the ER and checked on a patient he’d been called for a consult on earlier. He’d already seen the patient, and there were no new developments. He hadn’t expected there to be, wouldn’t have gone down except to avoid Eli.
Eli wanted distance, fine. Eli could have all the fucking distance.
He went back up after a bit. Eli had been and gone.
“He looked rough,” said the resident, who looked shaken himself. “Is he sick?”
“I don’t know,” said Neil. “Tell me about our patient.”
* * *
Pete called Neil.
“How did you get this number?” Neil sassed, trying to hang on to the phone without losing his grip on the handle of the pan he was trying not to burn.
“Some asshole resident gave it to me.”
“Sounds like a jerk.”
“Are you seriously never going to the work group again? Chaudry says you’ve been emailing but not showing up.”
“I told you what I was going to do. I’m doing it.”
“That’s fucked-up.”
“You don’t even know.”
“Yeah, because neither of you assholes will tell me anything!”
Neil sighed grimly. The pan was definitely burning. His first attempt at pancakes in months was going to be a bust. He set it on a cold burner and cranked the hot one off. “Why do you care so much whether we’re friends, anyway? It’s not like either of us stopped talking to you.”
Pete was silent for a minute. “Look. Eli doesn’t... He’s a good guy, but he doesn’t make a lot of friends. You guys seemed to get along. And God knows residents need friends. You’re a hermit.”
“You’re worried about me? That’s what you’re saying? Shit, Pete, I’m halfway through fifth year. I think I’m doing all right.”
“Shut up and let me give a shit.”
“And as for worrying about Eli, that’s a lost fucking cause.” He slammed the freezer door viciously as he pulled out a TV dinner.
Pete let another moment of silence go by. “See, when you say shit like that I worry more, not less. Is he all right?”
“I don’t know. I don’t fucking know. I do know he wouldn’t tell me if he wasn’t.”
“What the fuck, Neil,” said Pete evenly. He sounded weary more than anything else. “I was hoping this was going to blow over like last time.”
“It’s not.”
“You don’t want to tell me even a little what the fuck this is about?”
“Not even a little. Ask Eli. If anybody’s going to tell you, he should.”
“You mean that?” Pete sounded skeptical. “If Eli wants to tell me, you’re fine with that?”
“Hell, yeah. If he can work up the balls to do it, more power to him.”
“You fucking weirdos.”
“Big words from a bigger man.”
“Neil...” Pete sighed. “Would you do me a favor?”
“What?”
“At least go to the meeting when they’re going to talk about presenting stories of discrimination, harassment and abuse. It’s going to be tough on everybody.”
Neil’s microwave dinged softly.
“I’ll think about it.”
* * *
He was at work a couple of days later, just getting ready to crash in the call room, when Mark caught him. “Hey,” said Mark, “got a minute?”
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“For you? Anytime.” He fluttered his eyelashes, and Mark rolled his eyes.
“Real sweet, babycakes.”
“What is it? For real.”
“I’ve got a patient. I don’t even know what to do.”
“You want me to take a look?”
“Yeah, if you have a minute.”
“Sure.” He followed Mark back out and down to the ER. “How’s today going?”
“Ugh, it never ends. This is one of those shifts that feels like I’m going to die here.” Mark managed a little cracking laugh. “They’ll stuff me and end up using me as a coatrack.”
Neil took the time to really consider Mark; Mark looked tired, bloodshot eyes with circles under them, stubble coming in.
“How long have you been in the hospital?”
Mark shrugged, pausing with his hand on the stairwell door. “I don’t know. Couple of days now.”
“You need to go home, buddy.”
“Don’t think so. I’ll head home after tonight. I’ve got a case I need to be scrubbed in on coming in about twenty.”
Neil shook his head. “Shit, I thought I was in bad shape. Are you okay?”
Mark opened his mouth like he was going to argue, then let out a deep breath. “I don’t know.”
Alarm bells were ringing in Neil’s head. Suddenly he was on his Psych rotation again: patient may appear disheveled, withdrawn, flat affect. Symptoms may be persistent.
“You need a day off. When’s your next one?”
“Uh, shit. Saturday? I think?”
“Look, I’m going to—I’ll come over and bring dinner, and we’re just going to talk, all right? We’re going to talk about all the shit that’s going on.”
Mark nodded dully. “Okay.”
Mark pushed the door open, and they went into the ER to check out the patient, who wasn’t even that complicated; Mark could have handled it on his own.
After he got back upstairs, Neil texted Kristi.
Worried about Mark
She texted him back a couple of hours later. me too
I don’t know what to do
me either
That wasn’t the most helpful thing. But it wasn’t the least, either.
* * *
When he went to see Mark that weekend, he brought along enough takeout to feed a small army. Mark picked at it listlessly.
“Seriously,” said Neil. “You’ve lost weight. I can see it.”
Mark shrugged.
“You look tired. You sound flat.”
“Yeah.”
“Do you think you’re depressed?”
Mark visibly considered it, rolling the word around in his mind. “Depressed?”
“Yeah. I mean, I know we all get pretty down during residency sometimes, but I’m worried about you, man.”
Mark set his fork down, staring out his window. He was sitting on the couch, across from Neil. He was at home on his day off; it wouldn’t have been strange that he was wearing his pajamas after 5:00 p.m., except that it was.
Neil let the silence unspool. If Mark needed time to think, he could have it.
Finally, Mark said, “Yeah. I think I am.”
“Okay. What would you be willing to do about it?”
Mark frowned out the window. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I’m not going to, I don’t know, drag you into the ER against your will or anything. But I think something needs to change.”
“It will.” Mark shrugged. “Soon as I’m done with residency.”
“That’s six months and change away. You really want to wait that long?”
“Maybe.”
“And what if your job sucks too? How long are you going to wait to do something?”
Mark sighed, rolling his shoulders. “It’s just—I’m really busy. I don’t have time to deal with this on top of everything else. And I think it’s going to be okay.”
“Mark. Man. What if you’re wrong?”
Mark blinked, glancing at him in surprise. “About what?”
“What if it’s not okay?”
Mark rubbed his face, looking away again. “I don’t know.”
“Look, will you...will you think about seeing a psychologist?”
“I don’t know. It’s time I don’t have. For something that might get better.”
“How long have you felt like this?”
Mark’s eyes shifted. “A while.”
“Since—what, it’s got to be like a year now?”
“Maybe.” Mark shrugged again.
“That’s a long time. Buddy. That’s a long damn time.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“I just want you to think about maybe seeing a counselor. Okay? Doesn’t have to be anybody who’s part of Kingsland. Somebody private. Nobody needs to know if you don’t want them to. It’s none of their fucking business.”
Mark laughed hollowly. “You’re the expert on shit being nobody’s business, right?”
“You know what? I kind of am. So just think on it. You don’t have to decide anything right now, but it might be good to talk to somebody who knows what they’re doing instead of a jackass like me.”
“Best jackass in the program,” said Mark.
* * *
He didn’t end up telling Mark about Eli. He didn’t even know where to start. It wasn’t really about him, anyway. And Mark looked like he was far away, even when he was making eye contact.
They watched a movie—something stupid, with a lot of explosions. It didn’t seem to help much.
Chapter Nineteen
He didn’t go home for Christmas that year. Instead, he worked. Pete showed up partway through his shift with—”Is that cocoa?”
Pete extended the cup from the only coffee place left open. “Yep.”
Neil took it and inhaled greedily. “All is forgiven.”
“I hear there’s a work-group meeting in two weeks?”
“To go over things. Yeah.”
“You ready?”
Neil nodded. “I wrote it up—Jesus, it’s so stupid. I was on a rotation in third year and an attending said something about hoping ‘none of those sissy boys’ came into his OR, and he was staring right at me. I figure he knew, or guessed, or whatever, and he was trying to make it clear I wasn’t welcome.”
“What a fucker.”
“Yeah. I’ve mostly had really good experiences, you know? I didn’t want to let one thing ruin it all for me. But it still really pisses me off.”
Pete frowned at his cup. “Drink some cocoa.”
“I’m just waiting until it won’t sear my tongue like a steak.”
“Lightweight.”
“I embrace that title with pride.”
“You want to catch the game after that meeting? Blazers are playing.”
Neil laughed. “I don’t think I’ve watched a game in the last year.”
“Come on, it’ll be good. I’ll get some beer, we’ll sit on a couch.”
“Okay. You know what? That could be fun. Go scrape my bleeding soul for the committee, then watch some tall guys in shorts.”
“I’ll get wings.”
“Sold.”
* * *
It was a quiet shift. Nobody wanted to come in on Christmas; people were saving their real emergencies for the next day. There were a few scattered families in patient rooms, but they eventually drifted away as the conversations waned.
Once it got late it was just Neil, really, and the rest of the skeleton crew. He’d called his parents earlier to apologize for not making it. They’d gotten everyone to yell “Merry Christmas” at him over the phone, which was nice enough, and it sound
ed like Dad had gotten into the hot buttered rum mix he knew his mother kept in the fridge. There’d been the high-pitched squeals of the youngest in the background.
From the call room, he stared at his phone for a long time. If he scrolled far enough back in his text history with Eli—and alone, in the middle of the night, it seemed pointless to deny that that was exactly what he was doing—he found their texts from the year before, when Eli had been in his office, so close and so far away.
He hadn’t asked what Eli was doing for Christmas this year.
He was on that screen when it flipped to the bottom to show the speech bubble that meant Eli was typing.
He waited, heart in his throat, for what felt like forever; the bubble would start, stop, start, stop.
Finally it stopped and didn’t come back. No message came through. He squeezed the phone as hard as he could for a second, pure frustration and slow-burning anger, before shoving it back in his pocket and trying to get some sleep.
* * *
He woke up—not long after that—to a faint buzz from his phone. When he checked, it was Eli. Merry Christmas
Just that, nothing else; no typing, nothing else forthcoming.
Neil stared at it for a long time.
Eventually he said, you too, and sent that, and then gave up completely on trying to sleep.
A patient obliged by coming in with burns from falling asleep drunk in front of a fire and rolling into it. That took up the rest of his shift, and he went back to his apartment with the smell of burned hair and skin still in his nose.
* * *
Eli sent him another text a couple of days later. Are you coming to the meeting on sharing experiences?
Yes
He wasn’t sure if Eli was going to have anything else to say to that. Just that much interaction was enough to make him jittery. But after a few minutes, Eli said, Thank you
Right. You’re fucking welcome, he thought savagely, but I’m not doing it for you.
* * *
The beginning of January meant the ABSITE again. “At least it’s the last time,” Mark said philosophically. It would have been more comforting if Mark hadn’t still had that dreamy, faraway look in his eyes that made statements like It’s the last time sound faintly sinister.
