Chapter 13
GRANT
I’m eating catered lunch today with the other orthopedic residents, and it’s such a luxury I could cry. Which is sad, but such is the life of a resident.
We talk shop as we eat. My thoughts keep straying to Kendall.
Isaac, a fellow third year, nudges me. He’s doing the same rotation as me, with Dr. Planck and Dr. Fields.
“Hey, is Kendall off today or something? I didn’t see her at the clinic this morning.”
I’ve noticed Isaac’s attention snagging on Kendall occasionally. He’s made a few comments to me here and there. I feel a little weird indulging him—we’re in a resident program made up of over eighty percent white men and we’re confirming so many stereotypes I’m almost embarrassed for us.
“She’s not here,” I say, shrugging as though I’m not obsessing over her every movement. “Why? You interested?”
“No. That would be gross.” Isaac makes an exaggerated face.
Blake, a fourth-year resident, laughs from across the conference room table. “Getting involved with coworkers is a terrible idea,” he says. “Do not do it. I repeat: Do not go there.”
It’s a bit too late for that for me, even though it’s only been one kiss. There’s no way in hell I’m telling either of them, or either of our attendings, for that matter. I have no desire to wade into that complicated mess.
After that, we chat about some other cases. One of the first-years brings up a manipulation being done under anesthesia on a woman who had a knee replacement but never regained good mobility.
“I don’t think she was doing the recommended exercises,” he says. “And the surgeon told her she needed to get up and walk at least every hour, which she admitted she wasn’t doing, either.”
The back of my neck prickles. “Wait,” I say, “you said this lady was living at St. Peter’s house. Isn’t that a transitional housing place?”
The first-year shrugs.
“How the hell is she supposed to go for walks living there? Does she even have transportation to her therapy appointments?”
A little blush stains the tops of the guy’s cheeks. “She uses public transport, but she did indicate that it’s not always reliable.”
I nod. I don’t really have much else to add, or viable solutions, but my stomach churns all the same. This is exactly what Kendall has been talking about. Circumstances are powerful predictors of outcomes. She has more resources now, and therefore better access to good healthcare.
Later that evening, I find myself staring at my phone, thumb poised over Kendall’s name. I can’t get her out of my head. I type out a message and hit send.
Me
What have you been up to today?
Kendall
Plotting the demise of my enemies. Why?
Me
Am I still on that list?
Kendall
You’ve moved down a spot. Congratulations.
Kendall
I just got back from Pilates, actually. Went with some friends of mine
Me
Did you have a good time?
I smile as I sit down on my bed.
Kendall
Of course. My friends are amazing.
Me
Yeah? And do they still hate me too?
Kendall
I mean, was I supposed to tell them not to?
My chest squeezes. Of course she’s not telling her friends about me.
She doesn’t want them to know she let her former bully kiss her.
I can’t blame her, but it hurts. I guess she wouldn’t have wanted to spill anything the way I did with my roommate.
After telling Adam the whole sordid story, I’m still worried he might feel differently about me, but I deserve that.
Me
Yeah, I guess not.
Me
So when do you find out about med school?
Kendall
A few weeks, maybe? I don’t know. I’m feeling pretty good about it actually.
Kendall
Other than the tuition, that is. But Dr. Fields has been helping me look for scholarships. There are some aimed at older students going back to school.
A wild idea prods at my mind. I can help her, maybe, but it would be absolutely ridiculous—even with how I treated her, I’m not sure I can really consider it, not least because the amount of money I’ve inherited doesn’t have quite enough zeros to make that an easy thing.
Besides that, she wouldn’t accept it from me.
Me
I have confidence in you
Kendall
So do I, actually. But thank you.
I chuckle, drumming my fingers on my bedside table as I think of how to bring up what I want to talk about.
Me
So...
Kendall
Yes?
Me
Let’s say, theoretically, that you still don’t want me to...you know. And let’s say I’m adhering to that. In theory, how long would this go on?
Kendall
Are we talking about jerking off?
Kendall
Wait. You still haven’t?
Me
...
Kendall
Wow.
Kendall
I’m sorry
Me
You don’t sound sorry at all
Kendall
You have no insight into my tone of voice.
Kendall
But I’m not sorry, you’re right. I just didn’t think you would take it that far
Me
I’m trying to do what you ask. I’m going to die though
I lay a palm over my cock. It’s not like I haven’t gone a while without touching myself before, but I’m not lying when I say I can’t stop thinking about her. It’s unbearable.
Kendall
Well it’s your dick. But if you are trying to prove something to me, I think you can wait a little longer
I groan. I know I don’t have to do this, but it feels like some weird atonement thing now.
Me
Alright. I’ll wait.
Me
I’m honestly not sure how much longer I can make it, though
Kendall
poor baby
Me
Again, you don’t sound sorry at all
I fidget on my bed. I don’t know why I’m doing this to myself. If it somehow makes her feel better, I’ll do whatever it takes. I turn to my side, ruthlessly pushing thoughts of sex from my brain.
Me
Tell me about the charity you were talking about at work the other day. The Appalachian one
Kendall
You heard that conversation? Also, that was some transition just now. You okay?
Me
No, but I will be.
Kendall
Ha!
Kendall
As for the charities, there are several I like. The one I was talking about works toward combating illiteracy and hunger
Me
send me the link
Kendall
really? You going to donate?
Me
would that make you happy?
I pick at a thread on my comforter. The seconds tick by and my legs clench together. She’s typing something.
Kendall
Yes. That would make me happy, actually.
I smile and click on the link and read a little about it.
The more I talk to Kendall, the more her upbringing takes new shape in my mind.
Something as simple as getting care for a medical condition becomes complicated when you don’t have gas money to get to the doctor, and when providers don’t listen because of how you look or talk.
Life narrows down to survival, because living in poverty is an acute emergency.
You can’t think about anything else, much less put as much time and energy into how you present yourself.
I know all of this, and I’ve learned a lot in med school, but it humbles me to think I still have so far to go. It’s also a different image when I have someone in front of me who’s had to work ten times as hard to get where I am.
Me
How much should I donate?
Kendall
hmmm
Kendall
Enough to make it hurt
I enter an amount that makes me wince a little. I send her a picture of the receipt.
Kendall
Damn!
Kendall
I’m actually impressed
Me
I’m chipping away at my debt, right?
Kendall
A little, much as I hate to admit that
Me
So you’re working tomorrow, right?
Kendall
Yes
Me
See you then.
I sit against my headboard, clutching my phone as she types her response. My heart pounds.
Kendall
Only if you’re good.
This girl. I drop my head back and blow out a long breath.
She’s going to drive me out of my mind.