Page 27 of The Trauma Response
I check the numbers on each door lining the hall for the right one and take a breath before opening it. Immediately, the receptionist lifts her head from her work and beams. “Miss Whitmore, I presume?”
“Yes, here to see—”
“Oh, yes, I know. Right this way, please.” She brushes her hands down her black pencil skirt and motions for me to follow her. We walk down the long hallway before stopping in front of a glass-encased conference room. Inside, Christian is already waiting. His gaze is fixed on a large television screen. When the receptionist opens the door, his gaze bounces to us and he smiles.
“Your two o’clock interview, Mr. Price.” The woman practically shoves me inside and shuts the door behind me.
My eyes shift to the screen and I realize what he had been watching.Me. More correctly, he’s watching snippets from my work the hospital used as an advertisement. Those videographers followed me for weeks to get enough footage for a two minute blast, mostly because they kept trying to break privacy regulations. It was the most frustrating few weeks of my life, until now, of course.
“Miss Whitmore,” he says and offers me a seat.
“Please, you can still call me Tulip.” I’m nervous. Should I be nervous? I’ve met Christian once already, and he seemed nice enough. But this is a job interview, not a casual meeting at Brokedown Tavern. We aren’t hanging out like new friends. He could be my new boss.
“Call me Christian or Chris, and please, relax. This isn’t so much an interview as a…well, call it a confirmation of employment.”
“I’m sorry?” I scrunch my forehead, trying to make sense of what is happening.
“Well, when Cai first called me, I had to think about where I could use you. That’s when I had a brilliant stroke of genius, if I do say so myself. I just landed a new account for Cornerstone Medical Associates. Have you heard of them?”
“I have. They’re a group of specialists focused on preventative care and treatments for low-income families. It’s going to be a fantastic opportunity for the city and the surrounding suburbs once it is finally up and running.”
Christian smiles. “I see you already know a lot about it. That’s perfect. Tulip, I’d like to put you in charge of this project. You’ll oversee everything from the advertising package to—”
“Wait, what? You want me to be a…a projectmanager?For a marketing firm? I don’t know a thing about marketing. I assumed you’d have me…filing…or something.” I glance around,almost expecting someone to leap out and yell that this is a practical joke.
My heart rate increases and all-out panic takes me. For no reason whatsoever, I feel entirely inept and incapable. I can’t manage a project. A whole marketing project? For a medical facility thatneedsto hit the ground running if it’s going to make a difference in people’s lives. I might be a competent surgeon, but I’ve rarely had to convince a patient to let me put them back together. I was lucky if I even had achanceto talk to them before they were presented to me.
“Tulip, are you all right?” Christian reaches across the table and touches my left hand to regain my attention. There’s very little sensation, which reminds me that I’m in this predicament because of that very hand. And the ending of my dream career.
“I um…I can’t…I can’t do this.” I bolt from the seat so fast it falls backward, its clattering echoing in the sparsely furnished conference room. Yanking the door open, I run down the hall and out the main door to the elevator. I smash the button repeatedly, but the darn thing is on some other floor. I search the area, seeking a stairwell. I’ve got to get out of here, get some fresh air, process everything that has happened today.
I went from a doctor’s appointment, where I learned my career is most assuredly over, to an interview, where I was offered a position I definitely am not qualified to do, nor do I deserve. My life is in a tailspin all over again, and I can’t seem to breathe. My chest tightens, and I smash the buttons again.
“Tulip, wait,” Christian shouts. He’s finally caught up to me. I’ve embarrassed myself thoroughly, and now Cai will never want to speak to me again. He went out of his way to ask his friend to set this up, and I’ve completely bombed it.
I spin on my heel. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have run out like that. I’m sure you’re busy. I didn’t mean to take up your time, but I just can’t—”
Christian puts his hands up and motions for me to calm down. “It’s okay. I’m not upset that you ran out, and you definitely did not waste my time.”
He adjusts his glasses and drops his hands to his sides. I must seem like a deranged idiot to him right now, and I can only hope he doesn’t give Cai all the details when they speak. And I’m sure they will. I seriously doubt a man who would offer me a job without knowing anything about me, based solely on his friendship with a guy I knew in high school, would thennottell said friend I made an idiot of myself in his conference room.
Christian clears his throat and passes me. “Here, just sit with me for a moment.” He plants himself on a bench near a far window that overlooks the city. I figure I can’t make things much worse, so I go. My whole body shakes, but somehow I manage to force my legs across the open space and sit beside him.
He points out over the city. “You see that red light right there? The one between the brick building and the row of shops across from it?”
I swallow and follow his finger. “I do.” My voice quakes.
“That is where I met Cai. Someone pulled out in front of me when I was riding one afternoon, and I hit them in the side, flew over the car, bounced off another car, and almost got run over. His truck was the first to respond to the accident, and we got to talking about bikes. One thing led to another, and I invited him to go riding with me.”
“You were telling the truth about how Cai joined the group,” I say.
Christian winks at me and chuckles. “He speaks very highly of you, Tulip. I trust Cai’s judgment, and he trusts you.”
I sigh and stare out at the skyline. “I understand that you’re a nice guy who wants to help his friend, but I cannot manage a whole account for a marketing firm. I have no experience withsuch things, and I’m certain there are much more qualified and deserving people who already work for you.”
Christian chews his lip, adjusts his glasses again, and leans forward. “I don’t hire project managers without doing a deep dive into who they are and what they stand for. I’ve seen your work, and I know how many times youdidn’ttake a paycheck because a patient was low-income or had other issues preventing them from paying their medical bills.”
I can’t imagine what this has to do with anything, but I listen intently, working hard to control my urge to break down and cry.
