Alesha bristles in the seat next to me. “What do you mean, she’s not good? She’s brilliant.”
“Yeah, but it doesn’t translate to practical knowledge,” Sarabeth says around a mouthful of sandwich. “Knowing the answer in didactics doesn’t do any good if you can’t apply that answer to real life. She has a lot of work before she’s ready for second year. They may hold her back.”
Wait, what? I don’t like Grace, but even I’m offended on her behalf. On behalf of interns everywhere. “That’s not fair. She’s not doing worse than any of us. We just started. We can’t be perfect.”
Sarabeth holds her palms out. “Hey, I’ve never worked with her. This is just what I’ve heard.”
Alesha stabs at her food. “I can’t believe they’re being hard on her because of rumors that aren’t true.”
“Should we…do something?” I mutter in her direction, taking a bite of my turkey sandwich despite the sudden knot in my stomach.
Alesha shoves her plate away. “What are we supposed to do? I already tell people it isn’t true whenever it comes up. Don’t you?”
I nod, though the last time I did, the radiology resident who said it snorted and asked if I fucked her, too. If we hadn’t been in a room full of attendings, I probably would have punched the guy.
I still might, if I get the chance.
“It’ll die down eventually,” Sarabeth says. “There’s always rumors in the hospital.”
* * *
“And then she said it was the best presentation on acute hypoxic respiratory failure she’d ever heard,” Rebecca says with a coy smile. “Can you believe that? I barely know anything about it.”
She takes a sip of her peach Bellini while I try to keep my second-hand embarrassment off my face. Humble bragging makes my skin crawl. Can she not see the self-flattery she’s oozing all over the breadsticks between us?
How did we wind up at this restaurant?
Oh right…
She asked until I ran out of excuses to say no.
The girl is persistent, I’ll give her that.
I fidget with my napkin. It’s become a damp twisted knot in my lap. “I’m sure you know more than you think.”
She giggles. “I, like,barelyunderstand it.”
It’s no secret that Rebecca is one of the brightest residents of her class. Is she playing dumb for my benefit? Because I’m the idiot DO who scarcely comprehends English, let alone respiratory failure.
Or maybe she thinks I’m one of those men who isn’t attracted to women when they’re smarter than me.
She’s wrong on both accounts.
“I bet you understand it better than that guy.” I point at a random man across the restaurant.
She laughs like it’s the funniest joke in the world, drawing the attention of several people in this loud crowded room. “You’re hilarious.”
I’m not. I’m really, really not.
I gulp my Peroni and smear a finger through a puddle of water on the red-and-white-checkered tablecloth. Where the fuck is the pizza? It can’t take this long to make a pizza. Dough, sauce, cheese, bake. Do they need help? I will help them.
“Anyway,” she says in my silence, “Dr. Sharma asked me to give the lecture again to the med students. So weird.”
“Yeah. Weird.” It’s not weird. This is what residents do. We teach med students.
“Should I tell her yes, do you think?”
“Uh.” I blink a few times. “Do you…get a choice? Sharma’s your program director, right?”