by Peter Styles
“Mark,” Rosenfeld said. “So glad you could join us.”
Mark smirked. “Had to clean my shoes.”
I looked down and noticed for the first time that Mark’s socks were missing, and his Crocs were still damp.
He shrugged. “Guess I need to start bringing an extra pair of socks.”
Rosenfeld chuckled. “You can’t always plan for everything. There will always be surprises.”
Mark crossed to the fridge and pulled out a water bottle. He twisted off the cap like it had done something to personally offend him, tossed it into the trash, and guzzled half the contents of the bottle. His Adam’s apple bobbed with every swallow, and I wished I could look away. Wished I wasn’t mesmerized by everything he did.
“I look like an asshole,” he said. “Walking around here with no fucking socks. It’s so unprofessional.”
“I’ll call upstairs,” Rosenfeld said. “Maybe they can locate some for you.”
Mark smirked. “Not used, I hope.”
Rosenfeld laughed. “Not used. If necessary, I’ll go to the gift shop and buy a pair for you myself.”
“That’s nice of you, Doc. But if it comes to that, I can buy my own socks. I just—I can’t think straight right now. I’ve been running since I hit the front door, and right now I’d just like to sit my no-sock-wearing ass down in one of these chairs and relax.”
“Understood,” Rosenfeld said. “Jason and I were just discussing the boy with the bottle rocket. That was something, wasn’t it?”
Mark scoffed. “Dumbass frats. They’ve been watching too many YouTube videos. How they thought that could possibly turn out well is beyond me.”
I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned back in my chair. “Alcohol makes people do stupid things.”
Mark glared at me, and I realized what I’d said. He must have thought I was making a wisecrack about the night before. About what he and I had done under the influence of alcohol.
I rushed to clarify. “I mean, you remember what it was like when we were young and dumb.”
“Yeah,” Mark said. “When I was pledging my fraternity, they blindfolded a bunch of and took us out to a bluff. We had to dance around blindly and pray we didn’t fall to our deaths.” At Rosenfeld’s shocked expression, he said,” We weren’t really on a bluff. They just told us that to scare us.”
Rosenfeld’s shoulders relaxed. “Good. I’d hate to think that a stupid fraternity prank might have robbed me of my best resident. And my future replacement as ED Director,” he added with a wink.
I schooled my expression, trying not to give away my irritation. Of course, Mark would be hired on after his residency; everyone knew that. He was stuck so far up Rosenfeld’s ass it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began. But me? Well, the way Rosenfeld kept gushing over Mark while barely acknowledging me didn’t bode well.
Rosenfeld stood and contorted his thin body into a bone-cracking stretch. “I’m going to get back to it, fellas. I’ll see you back out there in a few.” He patted Mark on the shoulder and left.
The sudden silence in the room was deafening. Mark stood awkwardly against the counter and avoided making eye contact with me, while I busied myself with peeling the label from my empty water bottle.
Finally, Mark spoke up, his voice tense. “Look, I don’t know what happened last night, but I don’t like this silence between us. If I misread your signals, I apologize. I just thought you were down for a little fun.”
“A little fun?” I asked. “A little fun? You just thought because I’m gay I’d be all about spreading my legs. Is that it?”
“Jesus, Jason. I’m gay, too.” He glanced nervously at the door as if he thought someone might be listening to his confession.
“Could have fooled me,” I said bitterly. “I’ve worked closely with you for over a year, and you’ve never given so much as a hint that you were gay.”
“Just because I don’t advertise—”
“Advertise? Is that what you think I do? Like I’ve got a billboard downtown advertising my services?”
“No, that’s not what I meant, and you know it. It’s just complicated for me. My father—”
“What does your father have to do with anything? The fact is you’re a closeted gay man, apparently, and you thought you could dip your wick into the out-and-proud queer. Because everyone knows we’re a bunch of unrepentant sluts.”
“I don’t understand where this is coming from, Jason. If you’re not interested in me, fine, but you shouldn’t have led me on. I mean, you were kissing me back, acting like you were hot for it, and then—”
“Oh, so now I’m a slut and a tease? I had no idea you had such a high opinion of me.”
Mark’s expression turned thunderous. “Would you stop fucking interrupting me? You think you’ve got everything all figured out, and nothing I say is important? Well, I’ve got news for you. This story has two sides, and you’re damn well going to listen to mine.”
He paused as if waiting for me to interrupt again, but when I made no attempt to do so, he continued.
“Yes, I’m gay, and no, I’m not out. I’ve bitched about my parents enough that you ought to know how it is with them. I’m pretty sure they know I’m gay, but they refuse to acknowledge it. If and when I do come out, my dad will probably disown me, so excuse me if I’m not shouting it from the rooftops. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have needs.”
“Needs,” I scoffed. “That’s just the problem. You think it’s okay to treat me like some back-alley hookup just so you can get off. We have to work together, Mark, and I don’t think I could have faced you every day knowing I’d let you use me that way. I have needs, too, and they don’t include giving up my ass just so you can get your kicks and then pretend it never happened.”
“God, Jason.” Mark shook his head, and there was pain in his eyes. “I’m not just some—” He shook his head again. “I wanted you. You obviously wanted me, too, if the bulge in your pants was any indication. What’s wrong with two consenting adults enjoying each other’s bodies?”
“And what would happen then? You’d get your nut, and then what?”
Mark smirked. “Well, I’d hope you’d get yours, too.”
I pushed back from the table and stood, my body trembling with frustration. “But after that. What would happen after that?”
Mark was silent, and his gaze slid away from mine. He studied the tiles on the floor.
“That’s what I thought. And that’s exactly why you and I will never do that again. As much as I—” Nope. There was no way I was going to spill my feelings to him. Tell him how much I wanted him. How much I’d always wanted him. He didn’t deserve that ego boost.
“As much as you what?” he asked.
“Nothing. I’m just not going to be your plaything. If you need to get off, go find a woman. Or better yet, be a man and come out of your parents’ closet.”
“So, you’re saying you won’t sleep with me because I don’t run around the hospital waving a rainbow flag like you and Diego?”
I laughed, but there was no real amusement in it. “You just don’t get it. Guys like you just want what you want, and the rest of us can go fly a kite. I’ve seen it play out. You’re going to end up married to some woman, and you’ll have a piece on the side—some clueless twink who thinks you’re going to leave your wife. And when he gets too clingy or too insistent, you’ll kick him to the curb and find a new one. Because everyone in your life is expendable, right?”
Mark’s mouth fell open. “For your information, I plan to come out and get married to a man someday. Just—” He slammed his lips together and studied the floor tiles again.
“Just what? Just not now?” The earth seemed to fall away beneath me as realization dawned. “Or just not to someone like me?”
“Jason—” Mark started, but he didn’t finish his sentence. I guess he figured there was nothing more he could say. He’d already shown his hand, and I just wasn’t in the cards.
>
Suddenly feeling sick to my stomach, I grabbed my trash and slammed it into the bin as I headed out the door. Fuck Mark Johnson and his perfect life. His charmed existence that would never include the likes of me.
6
Mark
Damn Jason Whitham and his black-and-white view of the world. And damn his blue eyes that made me feel things.
I pushed out of the break room and headed back to the computers. I needed to throw myself back into work because it was the only thing that made sense in my life. It was the only thing that mattered. The only thing I had any control over.
If Jason wanted to play it that way, fine. He could die from blue balls for all I cared. There were plenty of guys in who would give me what I needed. And then, in time, maybe I would marry Alex Trevayne, and we’d live happily ever after in the Governor’s Club. Because of all the gay men I knew, Alex had the best chance of gaining my parents’ favor as my lover. They were the best of friends with Alex’s parents, and they respected Alex. Maybe with him on my arm, coming out wouldn’t be so bad.
I wasn’t in love with him, but love wasn’t a prerequisite for marriage. I knew plenty of couples who were perfectly comfortable together even when everyone around them knew theirs was just a marriage of convenience. How many people married for love, anyway? It was an overrated emotion, and sometimes I wondered if it even existed.
I groaned aloud, drawing the attention of the other two doctors working at the bank of computers. “Sorry,” I said. “Bad day.”
They went back to their work, and I moved the mouse in front of me to wake my computer. There were several patients in the queue. One was a regular I recognized. A hypochondriac who showed up in the ED every couple of weeks like clockwork with a different illness. I didn’t want to take her because I’d spent more than my fair share of time trying to convince her that there was nothing wrong with her. The next was a man who had presented with severe abdominal pain and nausea. That sounded better, but the thought of a patient with nausea reminded me of my ruined socks. The next one was a possible stroke. Definitely up my alley. But I needed to take a piss, I realized, so I left the computer and hurried to the john.
When I emerged back into the hall, Dr. Rosenfeld was passing by, and he grabbed my arm. “Would you please go to bay six and do something for that man in there? He’s yelling so loudly the entire ED is getting agitated.”
“What’s the problem?” I asked.
“Abdominal pain and nausea. Get him some pain meds, and some Phenergan before he covers the entire room in vomit.”
“Or my shoes,” I said, glancing down at my still-bare feet shoved into my Crocs.
Rosenfeld chuckled. “I forgot to get your socks.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I called back as I headed to bay six. By the time I got there, Jason was already examining the patient, and the smell of puke nearly knocked me down.
“I’ve got this,” Jason said over his shoulder, his tone uncharacteristically chilly.
“Rosenfeld sent me,” I said, sticking my stethoscope into my ears and pressing the bell to the patient’s abdomen.
“It’s distended,” Jason said. “Based on his symptoms, I’m thinking kidney stones.”
“I’ve had kidney stones before,” the patient said. “Feels the same, but worse today. Much worse.” He let out a bellow that probably could have been heard in the ICU.
Two nurses were in the room—Jolene Starr and Roberta Collins, an older African-American woman who collected animal-themed scrubs. She’d been on staff for years before I started my residency. She didn’t say much, but she was an excellent RN who had even schooled me on a few things.
Jolene stood off to one side, looking out of sorts with a sheen of sweat on her forehead despite the cool temperature in the ED. She seemed like she might be ready to hurl, and I thought maybe a New Year’s hangover was to blame. I’d noticed bags under my own eyes when I’d gotten ready in front of the mirror before work, and I’d had to swallow a handful of ibuprofen and chug a liter of ice water just to make it through my first couple of hours.
Roberta looked as solid as always, though. I hadn’t seen her at the party the night before, and I’d heard her telling Jolene she’d had a nice dinner with her husband. Mr. Collins was a tall brick wall of a man who had put a ring on Roberta’s finger about thirty years earlier. The two of them seemed to have a great relationship, with Mr. Collins having flowers or candy delivered to her at the hospital at least once a month. I envied their fairytale relationship more than a little bit.
Roberta never lost her cool, so this situation—a man puking and screaming—was a walk in the park for her. She looked almost bored standing at the computer in her pink flamingo scrubs as she watched the drama unfold. She always seemed to be watching, and her eyes were keen and focused as if she were just filing away bits of information for future use.
Jason barked out an order for morphine and Phenergan, and Roberta typed the orders into the computer. Then he turned to me. “Dr. Johnson, we don’t really need you here. I’ve already taken the patient.”
The patient in question mumbled something into the emesis basin he held clutched in his hands, but the words were lost beneath the sounds of his dry heaves and moans.
“It’s okay, Mr. Terwilliger,” Jason said in the smooth voice he reserved for comforting patients. I figured he could soothe a pissed off lion with that voice. “Just hang on tight. Your pain medication is on the way, and just as soon as we get it in you, everything will be all right.”
Terwilliger nodded through a series of gasps.
Jason looked up from the patient long enough to instruct Roberta. “Schedule him for an ultrasound. We need to get confirmation that it’s actually kidney stones.” Then he fixed a steely gaze on me that said we were definitely not past what had happened the night before. “Dr. Johnson, I’m sure you have other pressing matters to attend to.”
“Nothing important. And besides, Rosenfeld told me to take care of Mr. Terwilliger.” I knew I was being stubborn, but the sting of rejection kept my feet planted right where they were. Jason might not want anything to do with me sexually, but I’d be damned if he was going to tell me to fuck off at work.
He accepted my challenge with a purposeful glare and dropped his voice so low only I could hear. “I told you I’ve got this. If you want to kiss Rosenfeld’s ass, do it with another patient. This one is mine.”
“I just sent the order to the pharmacy,” Roberta said to Jolene, interrupting our intense standoff. “They should have it ready soon. Would you please run down and pick it up?”
Jolene nodded, unwound her arms from around her midsection, and rushed from the room.
I slung my stethoscope back around my neck and fixed my gaze on Jason. “Could you step into the hall for a moment, Dr. Whitham?”
“I’m working,” he said. “I’m afraid I don’t have time to chit-chat.”
“You’re making this personal,” I growled under my breath.
Things were starting to get heated between Jason and me. It wasn’t the first time, and I was sure it wouldn’t be the last. In a field like medicine, passions ran high, and most of the staff was overworked and under-rested. It wasn’t unusual for us to get snippy with each other. Under normal circumstances, I would have dropped the issue and confronted Jason later on in private, but these weren’t normal circumstances.
I didn’t want Mr. Terwilliger to witness our tension, but there was little danger of that. The man was completely lost in his misery, still heaving into the basin, sweat dripping from his hair. There was no way he could hear our quiet words over the sound of his own retching.
“How could it be personal?” Jason asked, his voice getting slightly louder. The animosity in his tone was unmistakable. “You and I work together. That’s it.”
Roberta’s gaze slid over to us, and she stared hard with those keen brown eyes. Great. Mr. Terwilliger might have been oblivious to our escalating argument, but Roberta seemed to be cat
ching on. That meant it was time for me to go.
“I’ll speak to you later,” I told Jason.
“Fine,” he said.
When I stepped out into the hallway, a frail-looking woman approached me, picking nervously at the buttons of her ratty wool coat. “I’m Grace Terwilliger,” she said. “Is my husband okay? I couldn’t go in there. It tears my heart out to see him like that.”
“He’s fine, ma’am. We think it may be kidney stones since he has a history of them. We’ve got some morphine and Phenergan on the way to combat the pain and nausea, and then he’s going for an ultrasound.”
“Morphine?” she said, shaking her head. “I think he’s allergic to morphine.”
Shit.
“How about Dilaudid? Has he ever had that?”
Mrs. Terwilliger narrowed her eyes in thought, and her nervous fingers stopped worrying her buttons. “I think that’s what they gave him before. Sounds about right.”
“Excuse me, Mrs. Terwilliger.” I stepped back into the room. “We need to change the order to Dilaudid instead of morphine.”
As soon as the words were out of my mouth, Roberta started typing on the keyboard again.
Jason glared at me and growled under his breath. “Did Rosenfeld tell you to babysit me, or are you just trying to get more brownie points at my expense?”
“Would you get your head out of your ass?” I said quietly. “The wife says she thinks he’s allergic to morphine.”
“Thinks, or knows?” Jason looked to Mr. Terwilliger. “Is that true? Are you allergic to morphine?”
Terwilliger shook his head and heaved some more. A deep bellow came out of his throat, and he nearly came up off the bed. “I need to go to the bathroom.”
Jason eyed me suspiciously. “Mr. Terwilliger doesn’t seem to be aware of any allergy, and I didn’t see it in his chart.”
I threw up my hands. “Dammit, Jason, just order Dilaudid instead. What is it going to hurt? It’s better to be safe than sorry.”
