Page 7 of Deprivation

Mac suddenly looks up, putting his fork down to demonstrate the seriousness of his words. “Damn, Kat. I could kick his ass. Liv’s right. You can do better,” he says with surprising consolation. “And the next time you sleep with someone, make sure you pick one who can close the deal. God,” he utters, shaking his head and winking at Olivia.Jesus, will the humiliation never end?

I watch as Mac stands to go back to the buffet for round two. Man, that guy can eat. “You really need to hit the big time in New York if you’re going to stay with him, Liv. He’ll eat you out of house and home.”

She giggles and finally stops playing with her sorry excuse for a dinner.

As I look over her shoulder, I notice a couple sitting in a booth behind her who look familiar. I realize it’s Tyler and Kelly, two members of the rescue squad where I volunteer. I believe they’re my age, but I don’t know either very well, as I’m new to the organization. I’d found Tyler attractive from the first time I saw him and watching him dote on his girlfriend at dinner made him that much more likeable. Tuning out everything around me, I watch as they both eat. They’re each grasping their forks in their right hands with their left arms outstretched, holding hands in the center of the table. He isn’t saying much, but seems to hang on her every word as I watch her silent dialogue.

I can’t imagine having a guy look at me that way. She isn’t overly pretty, like Olivia or Rachel, but there’s a girl next door vibe about her that’s charming.One day I’ll have that,I try to reassure myself. I need to wait for a guy like that before I try dating again.

Chapter Four

Present Day

Kat

“You’re so stupid,” he spits while I sit cowering on the cold wet grass. “Grow up, little girl,” he scoffs, laughing as he meanders off. The laughter grows in intensity as he walks away, and I realize there’s an audience, all howling with amusement, holding drinks and popcorn buckets like they’re all sitting at a drive-in movie theater.

I lurch forward in the bed, my heart racing in my chest, my breaths coming rapid fire, just like countless nights before. Slowly looking toward the clock, rubbing my eyes in an effort to focus on the screen, I see it’s 5:15 a.m. Well, at least this one woke me up in time for work. I’m putting calling a therapist at the top of my to-do list today. I’m not going to let another ridiculous nightmare ruin my day. I’m going out with the guys tomorrow. I just need to get through one more day of work. Having tomorrow off, I can take a few Benadryl and sleep in since I have nowhere to go until I meet the guys at The Sports Page.

I shuffle to the bathroom to perform my usual morning routine, glad I wasn’t trying to accomplish it in under an hour. Deciding to choose a new updo today, I scroll through the pictures on my phone to make a quick selection. I’ve always worn my long hair up. Partly because I work in medicine and don’t want to have stray hair lying in who knows what. But if I had to be honest, it was also a bit of a protection mechanism. I’d started to come into my own, physically, during my early twenties. My thin, dowdy frame began to fill out more as I got older, and I tried harder to take care of myself. I made time for haircuts and coloring and tried to apply my makeup so it would accentuate my best features. I like my long, dark hair, but I find it often attracts unwanted attention, and thus I’m careful when I choose to wear it down. Over the years, as my recurrent nightmares demonstrate, my relationships with men haven’t improved. There’s no sense having my “milkshake bring all the boys to the yard” just to have them take a shit on the grass once they arrive. The almost four-year drought will most likely become five unless some serious changes occur. Who knows, maybe this therapist can help with that, too. Yet I’m not going to get my hopes up. I’ll settle for a good night’s sleep.

After fixing my hair into a loosely braided updo I found on Pinterest, I grab my things and head for the door. I’ll have just enough time to pick up a cup of coffee and a bottle of water from the doctors’ lounge before starting my shift today if I leave right now. The thought barely escapes me before my cell phone begins to ring. “Darn it,” I mutter, trying to juggle my keys, my phone, and my work bag as I open the door to the garage. Looking down, I notice Mom’s name. “Mom, everything okay?” I ask, wondering why she’d be calling so early.It’s barely 6:30 a.m.

“Yes, honey, everything’s fine. I was on the way to my senior aerobics class at the gym and thought I’d leave you a message reminding you about the party this Sunday for Rachel and Steven.”Well, glad I wasn’t sleeping in on my day off.She’s always thinking of me.

“Sure, Mom, I have it on my calendar. 4:00 p.m., right?”

“Yes, dear. Do you know what you’re going to get them?”

“Get them? Mom, why am I getting a gift for their seventh anniversary? It’s not even a milestone year,” I say, completely flabbergasted. Isn’t it bad enough I’m reminded on a regular basis she married the perfect man at age twenty and proceeded to have the two most perfect children, a boy followed by a girl, several years later? All the while, I can’t seem to find one guy on the planet to date who isn’t a total asshat.

“Kat, don’t be like that. They’re celebrating their marriage and family, and in this day and age, a couple is lucky to have accomplished what they have. You should know.”Um, what the heck?Did my mom just say that out loud?

“Uh, thanks, Mom. I really have to go, or I’m going to be late to the ER,” I spit in annoyance.

“Okay, Katarina. I’ll see you Sunday. Are you bringing anyone?”

“Bye, Mom,” I interrupt, hanging up before I can say anything to her I can’t take back.

* * *

I arrive at the ER with five minutes to spare. Looking briefly at the call schedule posted in the nurses’ station, I notice two of my favorite ER attendings are working with me today, Dr. Martin Street and my buddy, Jake Harris. I place my things at my favorite work station and quickly dash over to them to verify they’re managing well enough that I can run and get a cup of coffee before starting work for the day.

As I turn the corner, I come to a screeching halt at the sight before me. There, with his starched white lab coat, charcoal pants, light grey shirt, and navy tie is Dr. Broody himself. I feel my sexual attraction to this arrogant man betray me once again as he stands with his hands in his pants pockets, speaking to Dr. Street. As he casually turns to look at me, I watch as his neutral expression changes to a scowl before arms of steel clamp around my waist from behind.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Jake greets from behind my ear. I can’t stop the grin from spreading across my face. Oh, this man. My brother from another mother. “I was just looking for you,” he chirps.

“Hey, Jake,” I giggle. “I was coming over before I start picking up patients to see if I could run and get a cup of coffee before it gets too crazy. Mom called on the way out the door, and that unfortunate interaction stole the ten minutes I needed for coffee,” I mutter with a heavy sigh. As the words leave my mouth, I witness the same judgy expression cross Dr. Broody’s face he wore previously.Maybe he’s just constipated.

“Sure, Kat, in just a minute. We wanted you to meet Dr. Barnes,” Dr. Street says in a strictly professional manner. Martin Street is normally a real clown, but provides some of the best medicine and bedside manner of any of the doctors on staff. I’m a little taken aback by his delivery, but given Dr. Broody’s usual tone, I consider Marty may have felt compelled to use his professional persona. “Dr. Barnes, this is one of our best PAs, Katarina Kelly. Kat, Dr. Barnes is an orthopedic surgeon on staff with us now. He’s worked at a few of our sister hospitals but is hoping to build a patient base by having us consult on cases when needed. His specialty is sports medicine and shoulders,” Marty says with a bit of uncertainty. “Did I get that right?”

“Um, yes,” Dr. Barnes murmurs almost too softly to be audible. Shifting my eyes from Marty toward the uptight orthopedist, I notice he’s staring at my mouth.Have I smeared my makeup?I instinctively reach up to touch my lower lip.I haven’t had a chance to eat or drink anything this morning.His lips appear slightly parted, and I watch as he absently rubs his fingers along the collar of his shirt. As if sensing my concern, his eyes dart up to meet mine, and he blurts, “I left some cards here with my number. Please, feel free to call me if I can be of assistance.” Again, he displays no smile, no warmth.Sure, can’t wait to have to call you.

“He was nice enough to stop by and introduce himself to the department before heading to the ER Division meeting,” Jake adds.

Feeling bold, I look back toward Dr. Barnes and stare him straight in the eyes, still holding pent up aggression from yesterday. Narrowing my eyes as I lean toward him, I reiterate, “Yes, nice,” with a bit of scorn. I feel Jake shove me a little as Dr. Barnes hesitantly wishes no one in particular a good day and walks away in a rather uneven stride. As he strolls down the hall, the familiar mumbling from nurses makes me aware he’s made quite the impression on the ladies employed in our ER this morning. It’s not the same imprint he’s marked on me.

“Good grief, Kat. Rein it in a little,” Jake chuckles. “I take it that was the second of the two unknown doctors you met?”

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