Page 75 of A Smart Girl's Guide to Second Chances
I was feeling fragile, and I knew that she’d be gentle.! Visiting hours start soon.!
That would be lovely! Thank you! Visiting hours start soon.
Stella was at sleep school again. I’d totally forgotten that she was booked in after the hen’s weekend, that her mum had stayed on to look after Evie.
I ducked into a cake shop en route and bought a box filled with slices and tarts – she was a patient at a private maternity hospital for people with expensive insurance, but there were still limits on edible hospital food.
‘Becs!’
I was on the ramp leading up to the hospital when I heard my name. I turned around. It was Nick, walking towards the entrance, a few steps behind me.
‘Hey,’ I said then I felt a ripple of unease as I remembered the last time I’d seen Nick. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I’m guessing the same thing you are,’ he said, looking slightly amused.
‘You didn’t have time to visit when Evie was here,’ I said.
‘Yeah,’ he said, taking my snark on the chin with an expression that looked very similar to remorse. I realised that hewasn’t wearing scrubs or his hospital lanyard. ‘But then my little sister said some things that hit a nerve.’
‘If it’s any consolation, I basically yelled at everyone that night,’ I said, and couldn’t help but grin, disarmed by Nick’s candour.
‘Do you have time for a coffee?’ Nick asked.
‘Aren’t you going to see Stella?’ I replied.
‘She’s used to me letting her down,’ he said wryly as he shrugged his broad shoulders.
‘Okay,’ I said. We walked through the mostly residential streets until we found a small strip of shops and an open cafe. I let Nick buy my drink the way he’d always bought me little treats when we were growing up.
‘You were right,’ Nick said, as soon as we sat down at a table. ‘I thought I was doing a good enough job. I was topping up Stella’s super while she wasn’t working. I dropped Evie off at kinder sometimes. I added items to the online shopping cart. And I thought that everything was okay. Stella’s so stoic. And Mum helps her out so much...’ He paused, fiddling with a sugar sachet.
‘And I told myself that I didn’t have a choice. Medical training is brutal. Obstetrics jobs aren’t flexible. That I had to get lots of rest because what I do is a matter of life and death. But after Saturday night, and your unfiltered feedback imparted by way of a nostalgically nerdy family game...’
Despite the seriousness of this conversation, I giggled and Nick snorted. For a second, we could have been kids again – me a precocious eight-year-old, Nick a gangly, studious teenager.
‘Well, I’ve done some thinking, some soul searching, this week,’ he continued when we’d stopped cackling into our drinks. ‘And all of that is true. But the thing is, the biggest role model I’ve had is Dad. And you know what he was like: “Love what you do—”’
‘“And you’ll never work a day in your life,”’ I recited, finishing Dad’s oft-recited catchphrase.
We both laughed again.
‘Except, I think he uses love as a Trojan horse for selfishness. I think Dad is an excellent doctor but also a very self-absorbed man. And I don’t want to have a life like his. I don’t want to miss my kids’ childhoods. I don’t want my wife to resent me. To leave me.’
‘So, what are you going to do?’ I asked. All the judgement, intentional or unintentional, was gone from my voice.
‘This is actually what I was coming to tell Stella,’ he said. ‘But I don’t think she’ll mind if I tell you.’
He took a deep breath.
‘Today I got a new job as part of an obstetrics group,’ he said.
‘Congratulations!’ I said. ‘But what’s that?’
Nick laughed. ‘It basically means that I’ll be one of five obstetricians who look after a big group of private patients. So, we all meet every woman during the course of her pregnancy and then whoever is on shift delivers the baby. Which means no overtime, no being called into the hospital during the night or on weekends, no more crazy hours. I’ll work the occasional weekend and night shift, but otherwise I’ll be home a lot more. I can do pick-ups and drop-offs and birthday parties and swimming lessons and date nights.’
‘Wow,’ I said. ‘And what does this mean for your career?’
‘I don’t know. It’ll probably slow things down. And it’ll be less money,’ he said. ‘But maybe I’ll be less exhausted. And Stella will be less exhausted. And I’ll have time with the kids. And I think that when I’m not running on empty, I’ll be able to be a better doctor.’
