30. Indie
INDIE
OCTOBER
Patient presented with severe cough and difficulty breathing. Was recommended for a biopsy by GP. Severe clouding on the chest X-ray; had trouble breathing, and in the reception area, he almost collapsed to his knees—
My fingers pause on the keyboard, and I have to blink a few times to clear my head.
“Crawl to me, Teddy.”
I flinch, pressing my fingers into my eyes to clear my suddenly fuzzy, sleep-deprived vision. My gut twists anxiously as I think about that night a month ago.
It’s been twenty-nine days since I returned to the United States. Bluewater is beautiful. Cape May is beautiful.
But it’s been a bit of a slow adjustment—new building, new coworkers, new patients. The apartment I’m in is actually great—two bedrooms, and I’ve turned the one room into an office using the old mahogany desk Ellie had given me.
In fact, most of my apartment is furnished with Ellie’s furniture. My kitchen table, the chairs, my plates and cups, some small antique lamps, and, of course, her vinyl collection. I just had to buy a new bed, mattress, couches, and record player.
I even bought new frames at this local vintage shop, all the right size to hang Teddy’s drawings that thankfully made the journey home from Europe with minimal creasing.
I think of the new one—the one I found under my door when I woke up. Not delivered with breakfast this time, which I tried not to construe as a message as I opened the envelope.
Teddy’s last drawing was of me in that sundress I wore that night, my hair in beachy waves, a bright, happy smile on my face, every smile line, every freckle, every mole done perfectly.
It almost looked like a photograph, and the expression on my face—freedom—made my chest clench. When I checked my phone, I saw that he had sent me the video of his mother freaking out, along with a simple message.
Thank you.
I couldn’t decipher what he was thanking me for, especially since a lead weight of shame sat heavy in my stomach. I felt a little mortified by what I had done, and I spent the morning more than a little hungover, throwing up my dinner from the night before.
I call that karma.
Then twenty-four hours later, I was stopping at the apartment complex office and grabbing the keys to my place. My neighbors are older and very quiet; it’s near a grocery store, not too far from the beach or boardwalk, which I’ve been taking walks on every morning.
But the problem is that ocean waves lull you into a sense of peace, giving you time to think. And I can’t stop thinking about that night. The shame I feel for what I did. And maybe worse, how much I enjoyed it.
After months and months of him running off to his mother, spending time with Lily, being alone while I finished the most challenging time of my residency.
Being sick and achy and itchy those weeks from eating gluten at the barbecue.
Being called the wrong names over and over.
Being made to feel like an outsider. An invader.
A nuisance. Feeling more alone than I ever felt.
I felt hurt. I felt angry, and I wanted to punish him a little, so I whipped my dress off to tease him and enjoyed that broken little whimper he made.
I felt in control, which is usually when I feel safest. But most of all, I felt, for the first time in a long time, that Teddy actually heard what I was saying.
Because he did what I asked.
Every ridiculous request I made.
Even my drunk brain can remember that there wasn’t any hurt on his face. No shame. No embarrassment.
Nothing but…
Hunger.
He looked like he wanted to eat me, but wouldn’t unless I asked.
And I felt my skin stand on end, an electric humming running through my veins. I was standing on that cliff again, on the edge of something that I wanted, and I just needed to jump.
Then I felt possessed when I said, “Crawl to me, Teddy.”
A shiver runs down my spine as I replay the scene in my head.
That moment, the look on his face as if I had just handed him the keys to heaven as he slowly crawled to me, eyes locked on mine the entire time. It was like I was in a haze, a sense of rightness clicking together in my chest, but more than that.
Teddy told me all the pretty words about how sorry he was, and he made my vacation better, but that moment was Teddy speaking my language.
I hear you. I won’t ignore your words ever again. I want to do right by you.
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
And I wanted to touch him so badly. I wanted to lean down and kiss him, and I almost did. And then everything felt too much and not enough. I didn’t know what I was doing. I didn’t know if Teddy understood either. We had said so much, but it felt like more was needed.
So I told him to leave, and it felt like ripping out my own heart and stomping on it. And while he looked to be in pain from that request, Teddy listened to me.
My colleague, Dr. Brennan, places an iPad on the charger near my computer. He gives a small smile that I return tightly.
Clearing my throat, I shake my head and focus back on charting.
Patient was panicked and tearful when discussing treatment options around daughter’s upcoming wedding; reassurance given that we can work around the date…
My fingers pause again.
Was I too cruel to him?
I think I went too far.
You made your ex-boyfriend crawl like a dog to you.
Do you feel any better?
You’re pathetic Dr. Miller—
“Dr. Miller,” the voice from my left makes me jump, and I turn to see Nurse Mimi standing at the desk.
She reminds me a lot of Phoebe in her mannerisms. She’s a chronic oversharer—her words, not mine—and I’ve learned she was born in Philly, takes no shit, and wears a Dallas Sucks badge reel every day.
“Hi, sorry,” I shake my head. “What’s up?”
“Doreen is here—she’s your noon,” she winks. “Watch out, she’s a pistol.”
“Gotcha. Thank you,” I return her smile and push back from the desk, logging off. She frowns and studies me as I stand.
“You alright, kiddo?”
“Yeah,” I nod, trying to school my face. “Just… long week, you know?”
Because I sure as hell am not going to tell her what’s actually on my mind.
“I hear that,” she snorts, shaking her head. “Let me know if you need a boost; I can send Tony out to get some Red Bulls at Wawa. God knows he’s itching for anything to do. Now, go see Doreen before she starts yelling the house down.”
“Thanks, Mimi.”
“Hey,” Mimi says, causing me to turn back to her. She grins. “You’re doing great so far. Everyone thinks so.”
I blink, glancing around and waiting for the punchline.
“Really?”
“Yeah,” she drawls, smirking. “Trust me, we’ve had some growing pains here with new docs that think they’re hot shit. You’re not that. We’re very lucky to have you, Dr. Miller.”
The words settle me, and I feel my shoulders drop. I sigh in relief. “Thank you.”
She winks before heading over to the infusion area to check on her patients. Still smiling, I head down to one of the exam rooms and enter to see Doreen Dalton sitting on the exam bed. She’s an older woman with salt-and-pepper hair pulled back in a ponytail, wearing an Eagles sweatshirt.
“Well, look at you—fresh meat.”
“I’m Dr. Miller.” I smile, close the door, and feel myself melt into my element. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Did he seem hurt?”
Petra’s voice comes clear through my headphones as I grab a couple of my old medical journals and place them in the large desk drawer.
It’s Ellie’s desk, which I think was Pop’s desk, and it has two deep drawers perfect for books.
Well, until I can get some new bookcases.
My other books will remain in boxes at the storage facility until then.
“No, I don’t think so,” I answer Petra’s question. “But I just felt… I don’t know, like I did hurt him. I got a little scared and just sent him away abruptly. It was… mean.”
“But why are you assuming you hurt him?”
I sigh, closing the desk drawer. “Because of his mother and how she treated him.”
“If he said to stop, would you have stopped, or would you have pushed him?”
I almost feel offended. “I would have stopped immediately.”
“If he set a boundary and told you to never do that again?”
“I would never do it again.”
“And how did he look?”
I pause, swallowing hard and my eyes fall closed for a moment as I picture the look on his face.
“Like a hungry bear,” I muse.
Petra laughs. “Well, I don’t know everything about his mother, but I think he was more than happy with your dominatrix coming to the surface.”
“Oh, God,” I say, rubbing my forehead roughly. “That was so…”
“Hot,” Petra giggles. “I bet he thought so too. That’s why he looked hungry. He wanted to eat you for dessert, but all he got was blue balls.”
“Petra,” I say, my voice wobbling in a way that cuts off her laughter. “I’m scared. I don’t… I’m not looking to enter into a nature versus nurture debate, but what if it’s in me? What if my parents are in me? Mean and uncaring. And what if I just fucking traumatized him?”
“Listen, at worst, you were mean. Maybe cruel. You’re human; you were cruel to him.
He’s human; he was cruel to you. You guys are both hurt; you’re both navigating something new.
I think you guys really need to talk about this.
You’re making a lot of assumptions. I think that is what’s killing you. ”
“I know,” I sigh, pulling at the small, center drawer in the desk. But it sticks. What the hell? “I’ll… talk to him.”
“Good,” Petra says, before asking softly, “Do you forgive him?”
“Yes,” I say instantly, a smile growing on my face. “Yeah, I think I forgave him back in Florence. My hurt just… wouldn’t let me acknowledge it, though. But I forgive him.”
“Then tell him that,” Petra says, and I can hear the smile in her voice. “You’re allowed to be petty, Indie. You’re human. And then forgive yourself. Remember—there is no harm that does not offer something good.”
I sigh. “Thank you, Petra.”
“Let me know how it goes!”
“Will do,” I say, before we say our goodbyes and hang up.
Frowning, I take my headphones out of my ears and place them on the desk before I work at getting the drawer open.