Page 39 of Triple Tidings
In the decade or so since I left Connecticut, I’ve visited countless times. This weekend with Lacey and Wells, though, was the first time it truly felt like coming home.
They saw me, they wanted me, and the time we had together was painfully insufficient.
Not doing everything in my power to get more of it seems to go against every instinct I have, but reasonably speaking, what am I supposed to do here? It was one weekend, a fling, and you don’t upend your entire career to move across the country for two people you barely know. We’re adults.
No amount of assuring myself I’m doing the right thing seems to make any difference.
My heart is in my shoes as I move through the hustle and bustle of the airport, finally stopping at the end of the line for security, and staring around at the metal detectors and my fellow travelers without really seeing them.
I’m so lost in my own head, trying to talk myself out of feeling so horribly, irrationallyheartbroken, that the voice that comes from behind me makes me jump.
“Vogel? August Vogel?”
I turn, starting at the sight of the old man standing just behind me. We haven’t seen each other since I left Connecticut for my residency, but I’d know the face of my former mentoranywhere. He took me under his wing when I was in medical school, going out of his way to teach me, and was the one who inspired me to pursue ophthalmology. “Doctor Gonzalas.” I let out an incredulous laugh, holding out a hand for him to shake. “Jesus, it’s been years.”
He beams. “I thought my eyes were deceiving me. You look good, Doctor.”
“As do you. What a small world.”
“It is,” agrees Dr. Gonzalas with a cheerful little chuckle, resting his hand atop the handle of his suitcase. “In town visiting family? You’re still at the SCO Institute?”
Despite not feeling the least bit fond of my place of employment at the moment, I manage a weak smile. “I am, yes, just in town for the holiday. My brother and his wife had a baby recently, so I came out to meet her. How’s the practice?”
My former mentor answers this query with a grimace. “A chain around my neck.”
The woman standing behind us clears her throat significantly, and realizing the line has moved up, I offer her an apologetic smile as Dr. Gonzalas and I hurry forward.
“Staffing issues?” I pose once we’ve stopped again, distracted from my turmoil by concern.
“Nothing like that.” He sighs. “I’d like to retire, believe it or not. Carol has been on me for years about it now, but finding a suitable offer to buy out the practice has been a challenge. A lot of these young doctors are still paying off their medical school loans and aren’t eager to take on another sizable debt. Not that I can blame them.” He fixes me with an amused, playful look. “I don’t supposeyouwould be interested?”
I still, staring at him.
It’s madness to even consider such an offer, and my former mentor’s joking tone suggests he doesn’t actually expect me to take it seriously. After all, my career is thriving in California, andmoving certainly wouldn’t be a simple proposition, nor would I see the same level of professional success taking over a small surgical clinic in Connecticut. I have every reason to stay where I am, every damn reason to stay the course and become head of the department when my boss retires in a few years.
Fate isn’t something I’ve spent much time considering, always having believed myself to be a man of science. As I look at my old mentor, however, the wheels in my mind turning in different directions, I have to wonder if maybe this chance encounter wasn’t so random.
How many stars needed to align for me to decide on a visit home, right before Christmas?
How many for Wells’ furnace to break?
How many for The Chestnut’s other bookings to be canceled on what would ordinarily be a very busy weekend for Lacey?
How many for me to run into Dr. Gonzalas in the line for airport security going home?
So, nearly dizzy by the magnitude of the question I’m about to ask, I feel myself smile. “Tell me more.”
So, he does.
We talk it through as the line inches forward, and as we put our bags up on the conveyor belt to be checked, pausing the conversation only long enough to get to the other side of the metal detectors. His gate happens to be directly across from mine, and we talk on the way there, too.
By the time we arrive, pausing in the middle of the busy airport terminal, I find myself holding out a hand. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”
Dr. Gonzalas’s eyebrows are so high that they are very nearly swallowed by his fringe of gray hair. “You’re sure about that?” He frowns. “I won’t pretend running this practice will be as prestigious as what you’re doing. The money might not be as good either, if the rumors are to be believed.”
I think about the pile of money I have in the bank, the investments I’ve made, and the fact that I could retire tomorrow if I wanted to. In a few years, if I stay the course in California, I’ll be making even more. None of it has made me happy, though, and none of it excites me as much as this does.
There are a lot of reasons why this tiny ember of a possible relationship with Wells and Lacey could flicker out and fail. I’m not afraid of people’s judgement, though, or even losing them. Or, at least, none of that scares me as much as never giving it a proper chance.
