Chapter 49
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Julian
I stand rigidly, arms folded tight across my body as I pace along the perimeter of the room while the patient is being intubated.
I once again twist my neck to loosen some of the tension gripping my body.
I’ve purposely remained as far away from Devin as I can.
She’s heeded the “stay the fuck back” vibes rolling off me and has remained across the room, but that hasn’t stopped her from fluttering her lashes at me.
When the door opens and Elle pushes through, my shoulders instantly fall at the gown and gloves she’s holding.
Elle approaches Devin, and while I can’t hear what is being exchanged, Devin shakes her head and her hands wave around animatedly before pointing at me.
Their heads whip in my direction, and she coyly flutters her lashes with raised brows, seeming to think I will request she stay for the case.
Not a chance! She petulantly flounces from the room when my gaze remains steely and indifferent.
Elle’s eyes soften as she passes by me to use the sanitizing hand rub in preparation to scrub in. I give a single dip of my chin.
A couple hours later, I tug my gown at the waist, feeling the velcro at my neck give and the tie at my waist snap. Removing the dirty gown and gloves all together, I ball it up inside out and throw it in the trash.
“Thank you,” I say as I turn to Elle, the scrub tech who ended up doing this case—thank fucking god. Grateful doesn’t even come close to how I feel not having to work with Devin.
I honestly couldn’t care less about her feelings. There are bigger problems rattling around in my brain, making me feel edgy and frantic. I was able to push it all out of my mind so I could fixate the open tibia fracture, but now that I’m finished, the tension comes rushing back.
Rolling my shoulders and stretching my neck, I trudge to the waiting room to update my patient’s spouse, but my thoughts are still on Leena and her shocked, green eyes as I lost my temper before.
As I almost outed our relationship at work.
As I fucked up massively and still have no clue how I'm going to fix it.
After I update the spouse and dictate my operative notes, I remain in the dictation pod in solemn retrospect, sitting with my head in my hands as I replay the conversation from before.
I don’t want to admit this, but surgeons are spoiled.
And we can throw tantrums to rival that of a sleepy toddler who refuses to nap when we don’t get our way.
Should I have made a big deal about not having my usual team?
No, probably not. If my case was so emergent, I should’ve been willing to take whatever crew was available.
But the mounting anxiety over Leena’s sudden reticence this past week and the fear that she is pulling away for reasons I can’t figure out, compounded by the weekend’s call situation—frustrated by how slowly the staff moved and the unwelcome and repeated advances from Devin—I was already spoiling to explode.
So being told I would be working with Devin set me off.
I’m not proud of how I acted today, so I make two promises to myself. One, I will strive to be more professional in this type of situation in the future.
Two, and the most important one, I will never put Leena in the position I did today.
It was wrong to hope and expect her to take my side.
If we weren’t in a relationship, I might still have asked to talk to her because, honestly, I could not work with Devin today and will not be able to in the future.
However, that should have been an issue I brought up privately and before today’s episode.
How Devin interacted with me this weekend was harassment, and it should have been reported as soon as possible.
I think in normal circumstances, I would have at least reached out to the clinical supervisor with my complaint.
Or requested a meeting with management at their earliest convenience—like yesterday, with it being Monday and the first day most management is in the office—and then maybe it would have been disseminated to the charge nurse that Devin not be assigned to my room.
But I approached today’s situation with the thought of Leena—my girlfriend, not the OR Clinical Supervisor—coming to my aid with no questions asked.
And then I went one step further and almost verbalized those thoughts with no regard for our surroundings, audience, or agreement to keep our relationship private.
So, yeah, I need to atone for quite a few wrongs I committed today.
First up will be Joanne because I know she’ll still be here managing the desk.
Second, I need to speak with Leena—as my girlfriend first, and then as Devin’s supervisor.
Third, request a meeting with Leena and her bosses to make them aware of the situation—that I will be making a formal complaint with Human Resources.
Having just apologized to Joanne, I am now clenching my fists in my pockets. Her sardonic grin grating on my already-frayed nerves.
Arms crossed and chin jutting out, she appears to be taking great joy in telling me, “This wasn’t my first surgeon hissy fit, Dr. Jacobs, and I’m sure it won’t be my last either.”
A flicker of amusement runs through me because I don’t doubt she is wrong on both accounts, but it’s quickly extinguished.
“I do appreciate you owning up to what you did. That I have not experienced.” She pauses, then her eyes widen in mischief. “I’m not sure I’ll get over seeing little Leena putting the hulking doctor in his place, though. That may be the best thing I’ve ever witnessed.”
My skin crawls at her cackle. It also makes me sick to my stomach, and embarrassed that I put Leena in a position where she was forced to stand up for her staff.
Absently nodding my head, my fist bounces on the countertop before I slowly step back.
“Yes, well again, I am sorry,” I croak out.
I clear my throat with a tight smile and retreat.
Leaving the front desk, I stroll down the hall towards Leena’s office, hoping to catch her. Chelsea sits at her desk but lifts her head when my height filters the bright hallway light shining into their shared space.
“Hello, Dr. Jacobs,” she greets me jovially.
With a tight smile, I ask, “Is Leena around?”
She shakes her head, saying, “Oh, no. She’s left for the day. Can I help you with something?”
“No, that’s okay.” Deflating, I back up, already pulling my phone from my pocket. “Have a nice afternoon.”
Voices carry to me and I lift my head, realizing this isn’t the place I should be calling Leena. My feet hurriedly carry me in the direction of the physicians’ lounge, where I will have more privacy.
I’ve been staring at our text thread on my phone for at least the last twenty minutes, feeling hesitant and unsure about what to say, and if I should call or text Leena. All of a sudden, I see the dancing dots pop up, indicating she is typing a message. I wait to see what she’ll say.
I stand and start pacing, though, as they disappear and then reappear multiple times.
When a message finally appears, I collapse onto the sofa in the lounge because it feels like I’ve been throat punched.
Pretty Girl: I’m at a loss for what to say right now. But I do think it would be best if you didn’t come home tonight. Stay at the condo so we can have a little time apart…
I’m too numb to notice the way a few of the other doctors in the lounge look at me. It feels like a ton of bricks is sitting on my chest, crushing me. Or maybe it’s my heart feeling brittle and on the verge of shattering at the thought of Leena walking away.
The power the love of your life unwittingly holds over you is astronomical. Their ability to crush you, leave you with an aching hole is staggering. She hasn’t said we’re over, but the thought of it, knowing it's a possibility, may just be equally as devastating.
Me: I’ll give you whatever you need right now. Just know I’m not letting you go or giving up on us. I made a colossal mistake today and we need to talk about it. When you're ready of course.
As expected, she doesn’t respond. I debate sending another message. Deciding I need to address the Devin situation formally, I type out the following message.
Me: I am not trying to crowd you or disrespect your wishes. So I am sending this message as Dr. Jacobs. I will be requesting a meeting with Ivy and Mary to discuss an urgent concern regarding Devin that I should have brought to your attention sooner. I feel I owe you the respect of a heads up.
When her only reply is a thumbs up tapback to my last message, I drop my phone on the cushion next to me.
On the verge of flipping the coffee table in front of me and destroying the entire room, I ball my hands into fists to help resist the temptation. The sting from my blunt nails pressing into my palms helps bring me a semblance of clarity.
I have no idea what to do about these foreign feelings and urges—this desperate feeling of love for her, the urge to do anything to make this right, the feeling that I’m losing her, and I don’t know how to fix it.
It’s all overwhelming and all-consuming.
But, I’ve also never hurt the woman I love before, and her wanting space is that consequence.
I can only desperately hope she will give me the chance to make this right.