Page 12 of Love Sick

Is that it, Grace? You think I’m rude?“Like us misogynists?” I ask, tone desert dry.

She opens her mouth to reply, but Maxwell interrupts her. “They’re general surgeons. They foist their misery upon others. It’s only a month. You can do it.”

“Dr. Rose!”

Grace spins in the doorway, nearly colliding with another resident, a man an inch shorter than her. Without smiling, the stranger takes a pointed step back.

Grace’s cheeks flood with color. “I’m—I’m sorry.”

The man I presume is her senior resident this month looks her up and down. “You’re not supposed to be on L&D. It’s time for lunch.”

Her mouth opens twice before anything comes out. “It’s nine-forty.”

“Eat when you can. Sleep when you can…” His head tilts, expectant.

“Um.” She glances at me and Maxwell, eyes wide and panicked.

I know the phrase he means—a popular one amongst surgeons—but I lift an eyebrow, refusing to help this sanctimonious woman. A bloom of pleasure spikes my blood as she chokes and stutters.

The surgery resident’s voice slows like he’s speaking to a toddler. “Don’t fuck with the pancreas.”

A muscle in her cheek twitches. “How was I supposed to know that, Dr. Halliwell? I’m a gynecologist. Why would I be near the pancreas?”

Dour Surgeon sneers. “I forget you guys aren’t real surgeons.”

I resist the urge to snort. What a douche.

Maxwell mutters, “Okay, Halliwell,” under his breath.

Grace’s knuckles whiten around the penis pager. “This coming from a man whose attending kicked him out of the OR this morning?”

Whoa. That won’t serve her well—even though the guy deserved it.

Halliwell’s eyebrows shoot up and his jaw hardens. “He didn’t kick me out—”

Maxwell stands, towering over the resident. “Take it easy on her, Halliwell, and stop being a prick.”

A faint smile appears on Halliwell’s humorless face. “I heard you guys let a DO in your program. Must have been really hard up.”

Ripples of heat spread from my face downward. My ID badge is flipped backward, so he can’t know that I’m the DO, but the reminder of never being good enough simmers in my bones. Like a virus replicating, it has insinuated into my very DNA.

Average student. Mediocre test-taker. Inattentive boyfriend. Too skinny. Too quiet. And now… DO.

I chose osteopathy. I wanted this.

Sometimes I wish I never had.

Fuck off, dickwad.

This is what I hate about medicine. The elitism. The hierarchy. The animosity between specialties. The malignancy.

This unfriendly surgery resident is everything that’s wrong with medicine and the tiniest shred of compassion rips through my distaste for Grace’s attitude. The poor girl has to be his slave for an entire month.

Maxwell shakes his head and reseats himself, not dignifying the asshole with an answer.

Halliwell smirks and motions for Grace to follow. “Come along, Doctor.”

She obeys but turns to mouthThank youat Maxwell. She doesn’t spare me another glance.

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