Chapter 34
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
THOMAS
I feel terrible about lying to Finley; no one called in sick at work this morning. But something significant did happen, and I’m going to need time to figure out how I’m going to respond to it.
My alarm had just gone off, and I was about to get out of bed when my phone rang. I thought it might have been Finley, which is why I didn’t bother looking at the caller ID before answering. It wasn’t her though. It was the CEO of my old hospital.
As soon as I said hello in my sexiest voice—which I’m sure threw him for a loop—I heard, “Thomas, this is Randolph Collins. How are you doing out there in Wisconsin?” Wisconsin is said as though synonymous with the wilds of the Yukon Territory.
Which in fairness to a New Yorker, it kind of feels that way.
Randolph Collins is the last person I expected to hear from, and it knocked me sideways for a moment. I told him I was fine, which of course is not the complete truth. But there was no way I was going to tell the CEO of my previous hospital that I might have made a mistake by leaving them.
The next words out of his mouth were a complete shock.
“I’d like to make you an offer, Thomas.” When I didn’t respond right away, he went ahead and made me that offer.
Chief Medical Officer at my old stomping grounds.
It’s a position I had hoped to get by the time I was fifty.
And it was being presented to me fourteen years ahead of schedule.
I listened to Randolph’s complete pitch, full-on with details of a sizable salary increase and enhanced benefits. I didn’t say no. Instead, I told him I’d have to think about it. Which is what I’m currently doing.
Returning to New York means going back to an extremely hectic life.
But the thing with being chief is that it’s a largely administrative position.
I’d still get to weigh in on treatments, but I wouldn’t be seeing patients myself.
I’d be the guy who made sure everything ran the way it was supposed to, from daily operations, quality patient care, and crisis management, to more mundane areas like the budget.
I’d get to have all my fingers in the pie so there would be no chance of getting bored and even less risk of burning out by doing the same thing on repeat.
Had this offer been made before I left New York, I probably would have never moved to Wisconsin. But I did move, and then I met Finley.
It’s outrageous to think I would turn down my dream job for a woman I’ve only been on one date with. Complete lunacy. But I don’t feel like she’s someone I just met. She feels like she’s been in my life forever. Most accurately, she feels like someone who should be in my life forever.
The angel on my shoulder says, “There’s no accounting for love, Thomas.”
The devil on the other side shouts, “You don’t love her! You’ve only been on one date. This is your dream job, man!”
Back to the angel: “Love is wonderful and mysterious, and it does not come around every day, Thomas.”
The devil flipped her the bird in response.
I remember how I preached to Finley about taking things one step at a time. And while I still believe that in theory, the problem is that I now have more impetus than ever to go home.
Also, I gave her that spiel when I saw myself stuck here until my contract ended. But now, even if I can’t break my contract with cause—i.e. proving that Constance is behaving unprofessionally—with the help of New York Presbyterian, I should still be able to get out of it.
I’m afraid seeing Finley today might keep me from making the right decision for my career. I like her so much that if I stayed here, I really could see us having a future together. The question is, would being with her be enough compensation to stay in an unfulfilling job?
I’ve got to talk to someone, but the person I feel closest to in town is the person at the very heart of my conundrum, Finley. Getting up, I put on my robe and slippers before walking downstairs and leaving the house. I tromp over to the neighbors’ and knock on the door.
Shelly greets me with a smile. Then she looks me up and down before asking, “What do you need? Coffee? Creamer?” Because why else would I show up in my pajamas?
“Advice,” I tell her.
“Kevin’s already left,” she says. “You want me to give it a try?”
“Sure,” I tell her. Seeking the counsel of someone I don’t know that well might seem imprudent, but who else do I have?
I can’t talk to anyone at my current hospital.
I can’t talk to my parents because they would both do backflips at the thought of my coming home.
I might be able to discuss this with Vivie, but she also would love it if I moved back to New York.
So, here I am sitting at Shelly’s kitchen table. Without asking, she pours me a cup of coffee. Then she hands me the mug and demands, “What’s up?”
I spend the next twenty minutes telling her everything, including how I’m starting to feel about a certain beautiful photographer in town.
My neighbor purses her lips together tightly while tapping the tabletop like she’s sending an urgent message in Morse code. She finally asks, “How was your dating life in New York?”
I make a so-so motion with my hand. “I went out, but I never met anyone I could see a future with.”
“And you can see that with Finley?”
Reason rears its ugly head and forces me to say, “We’ve only been on one date.”
“Don’t try to get out of answering the question, Thomas. Yes or no are the only words I want to hear out of your mouth.”
“One date, Shelly.”
She shakes her head. “That doesn’t matter. What’s your gut telling you? Do you see yourself with gorgeous blond-haired, green-eyed babies whose mother won’t let them chew gum because the snapping sound drives her crazy?”
I didn’t know gum chewing annoyed Finley, but I’m not surprised. “I sense a story here,” I tell her.
“Kevin was chewing gum during one of the grands’ photo sessions and Finley kicked him out of the studio.”
I would have loved to have seen that.
Shelly takes a swig from her coffee and then slams the mug down loudly. “Answer the question, Thomas. Do your future children look like Finley?”
“You’re kind of scaring me, Shelly.”
“People who are afraid are more apt to tell the truth.” She says this like a CIA operative in the middle of waterboarding a spy from the enemy camp.
“Everything I say here is confidential, right?” I ask.
As she nods her head, the sharp peak of bedhead on top bobs with the force. “Of course,” she says. “Neighbor to neighbor confidentiality.”
In that case, I tell her, “I don’t have a hard time envisioning my future children looking like Finley.” I still feel the need to add, “But we’ve only officially been out once.”
“Psh!” She waggles a finger at me. “Why don’t you take the job and continue to date Finley long distance? If things go well, she might be interested in moving to New York.”
I shake my head. “She won’t. She’s already told me she’ll never live in a big city.”
“Crap.” Shelly sounds as disappointed as I am.
“Are you sure you hate your job here?
“Pretty sure,” I tell her. “I have a difficult boss and I’m bored.”
Shelly stands up and starts to pace across the linoleum.
Once she hits the far wall, she stops and reiterates, “On one hand, you’ve met a wonderful woman.
” She starts moving again and when she arrives at the opposite wall, she raises her other hand.
“On the other hand, you’ve been offered your dream job back in New York. ”
Sitting back down, she asks, “Would you ever consider doing something else?”
“Shelly,” I tell her, “It took eleven years and four hundred thousand dollars to get me to this point. I don’t think a career shift is an option.”
“I guess I can see that.” She starts drumming her fingers on the table again. Then she stands up abruptly and announces, “I can’t help you.” Shaking her head, she adds, “I’m sorry, Thomas. This is something you need to figure out for yourself.”
I slowly push myself back up to my feet. “I appreciate you hearing me out. Let me know if a solution comes to you.”
“Will do,” she says while walking me to the front door. “You want me to ask Kevin about it when he gets home?”
“Why not?” I say. Not that I think he’ll have a solution, but at this point I’ve got nothing to lose.
I usually do my best thinking in the shower, which is why I go home and take the longest and hottest one of my life. I don’t get any insights, which leads me to conclude this is an unsolvable problem.
As a last resort I drive down to the lake.
Maybe a walk on the beach will bring miraculous insights.
I park in the same spot Finley and I parked the other night.
Then I hike a short distance until my feet hit the sand.
Sitting on a rock, I take off my shoes and socks and let my toes sink into the cold depths.
Leaning my head back, I offer up a plea in case anyone in the Great Beyond is listening.
“I could really use some help here.” After uttering my prayer, my eyes pop open and look around half-expecting a bolt of lightning to slice through the sky, bringing the answer I need. Yeah, that doesn’t happen.
Instead, I look out onto the lake and spot a boat heading toward shore. It’s moving fast like it’s on a mission. When it nears the dock, it slows down and I watch as the driver ties it off. Then two people get out and walk right toward me.
One of them raises his hand and calls out, “Thomas! We were just talking about you …”