Chapter 17
KENDALL
Grant peeks at me from across the surgical suite. My face tingles. How far we’ve come, that my skin prickles in—what, pleasure?—instead of anger.
Dr. Planck isn’t in the room yet, but the rest of the team is here. The patient is already positioned on the table.
George emits a low whistle. “Nurse. Can you hit the music?”
My lip curls. “Excuse me?”
Grant’s head snaps toward the other resident. “She’s not a dog, George,” he says in a low voice. “That’s extremely unprofessional.” His eyes narrow. “Her name is Kendall.”
George sputters, but he doesn’t argue. The others in the room avoid eye contact with him.
“I’ll start the music after the first incision,” I say. George nods.
Dr. Planck scrubs in, and we conduct the time out.
“Before we make the first incision,” Dr. Planck says, “does everyone agree that this is Dariush Aziz, and we are performing a right hip arthroscopy with acetabular rim decompression and labral debridement?”
Once everyone affirms, I turn on the music—classic rock, Dr. Planck’s preference. The tension from earlier evaporates.
Dr. Planck’s eyes sparkle. “All right, team. I’ve got a question. When someone dies, what’s the last organ to stop working?”
I smile. I know this is a setup for something, but I play along. “The heart,” I say. “Doesn’t it keep pumping blood?”
The anesthesiologist chimes in. “I’m going with the brain. You can measure electrical activity for a period of time after someone dies.”
“Is it skin or something? Is this a trick question?” Grant’s resonant voice rises above the other sounds of the OR.
Dr. Planck’s grin reaches eyes behind his surgical mask. “It’s the eyes. They dilate.”
I cock my head, then groan loudly.
“What?” George cuts in. “That doesn’t make sense. They . . .” He chuckles. “Wait, I see now. That’s terrible.”
We take turns telling more awful jokes. There’s some silence at a particularly difficult part of the surgery, but otherwise the mood is light.
A little later, though, I have to correct George.
“Uh, George—Dr. Gambill,” I say, and his gaze snaps to mine. “I need you to stop leaning on the patient’s leg.”
He straightens. “I know. I don’t need you to tell me that.”
“Hey.” Grant is holding a pair of retractors, so he doesn’t look at his co-resident, but his tone is direct. “You aren’t going to talk to her that way.”
“Glorified gofer,” George mutters, presumably talking about me.
Grant’s expression, or what I can see of it, turns thunderous.
“Do I need to replace you, Dr. Gambill?” Dr. Planck continues working with methodical calm, but a thread of anger winds through his words. “Because I won’t hesitate if you can’t respect the rest of the staff.”
“No,” George mutters. “I’m fine. Sorry.” He directs this last word at Dr. Planck, not me.
After the procedure, I hear Dr. Planck chewing out the resident down the hall. Normally I feel bad for residents who get yelled at by attendings, but not in this case. George can fuck right off.
Dr. Planck finds us in the employee office. “I need to talk to the two of you as well,” he says.
A flash of cold arrows through my stomach.
Grant’s shoulders inch up, but he sounds collected when he responds. “Of course.”
Dr. Planck sighs. “There’s not a hospital policy against residents dating nurses.
” The ice in my stomach turns to a heavy stone.
I start to protest, but Dr. Planck holds up his hand.
“I don’t want to know, even if I’m wrong, you don’t have to tell me.
But you can see why it’s frowned upon. There’s some additional tension in the OR that crops up sometimes, especially if things go bad. I want you two to be aware of that.”
I nod. My face feels bloodless and tingly.
“I understand,” Grant says. “It won’t impact patient care.”
I whip my head toward him. He’s all but confirmed that we’re fooling around. What’s the rest of the staff going to think?
I corner Grant after the attending walks out. “What the hell?
“I’m sorry?” Grant tilts his head.
“Now I look like I’m using you to get ahead! You contacted the interviewing committee about me. People will say I’m sleeping with you to get into school!”
“Dr. Planck isn’t going to say anything,” Grant says. “Besides that, isn’t it a bad look for me as well?”
“No one cares what you do,” I practically spit the words. “You could have sex with a staff member on the operating table and people would forgive it.” I turn to pace. “We have to stop what we’re doing.”
“Kendall.” Grant reaches for me, but I dodge his hand. “It’s going to be okay. We’ll be more careful.” He grips the table behind him.
I stop pacing and face him. “We’ll see.”
“We at least have to finish our project.”
“Fine.” I tap my foot. “This just makes me nervous.”
“Whatever happens with us, you’ll get into med school on your own merits. You don’t need me, and everyone knows it.”
I chew on my lip. Things have never seemed based on merit to me, not for my whole life. I’ll have to be more cautious with him.
If this jeopardizes my future, I’ll never forgive myself.
The sun has already set by the time I knock on Grant’s door. I’m here to finish up our project, and not to hook up with him.
I am not here to hook up with him.
It’s a Friday night. The air’s cool enough for a light jacket. The scent of someone grilling in the neighborhood reaches me, and the combination of smokiness and crisp air is giving me a little olfactory bliss.
Grant’s out of his scrubs when he answers the door. His faded jeans hug his thighs, and his old Blacksburg football T-shirt highlights his biceps. My heart rate picks up.
“Welcome,” he says. He sweeps his arm inside as I step over the threshold. “You caught us on a night where we’re both here.” He nods to a long-haired man on the couch who offers a cheery wave. “This is my roommate, Adam.”
“I’m leaving soon,” Adam says. “I’ve got a few days off, and I’m kicking it off with a house party tonight.”
“Well you don’t have to go on my account,” I say. I set my purse on the kitchen counter and join Grant and Adam in the living room. “But it’s a good night for a party. It feels amazing outside.”
“Yeah?” Adam grins at me, an easy, carefree smile that lights up his whole face. It’s hard to imagine Grant being friends with this dude. He’s never been carefree in his life. “October is a great time here.”
I settle into the living room recliner. Grant’s place is a little homier than I expected—the furniture’s mostly in warm tones, and there are a few paintings on the walls.
“You aren’t wrong,” I say. “Fall is the best, hands down. Where you from, originally?”
I’m relaxing a bit as we talk. I can hear myself slipping into my Eastern Kentucky accent a little, and Grant smirks at me from where he leans against the wall.
“Texas. Corpus Christi,” Adam says. “I love the autumn colors, but I was most excited about seeing snow. I remember asking Grant what a typical winter is like.”
I laugh. “Did he tell you there’s no such thing?”
“It has been a little unpredictable so far.” Adam strokes his chin. “Every season is, for that matter.”
“It’s general chaos when it snows in Kentucky, even though it happens every single year,” I say.
“Multiple times. Lots of towns don’t have the resources to properly deal with it.
And good luck if it’s an ice storm—those are brutal.
We don’t have snow tires or enough plows.
We in healthcare just sort of go out and hope for the best.”
Adam chuckles. “I gathered that.”
“It’s super fun when you live in the mountains like we did,” Grant says. He takes his eyes off me for a moment, only to return them. “Lots of hills to go sledding on, but it’s treacherous for drivers. The roads are winding and steep.”
“Some of us had to use garbage can lids, Oscar the grouch style,” I say. “We aren’t all made of money.”
Grant finally turns his attention to Adam, who is watching our exchange with avid interest. “It’s almost always small amounts though. Like last year. Usually not more than five inches at one time.”
“Only five inches, you say?” I lift my eyebrows.
“Jesus Christ, Kendall,” Grant says, burying his face in his hands, but Adam laughs. I can tell we would get along.
“It was right there,” I say. You can’t say ‘don’t worry, it’s not more than five inches’ and expect me not to make a penis joke.”
Adam’s still smiling at me. His gaze flicks back and forth between me and Grant. “I thought there was a lot of dislike here? Seems like you two are getting along now.”
I shrug, even though a wave of anxiety crests in my stomach. “He’s not as bad as he once was.”
“Good to know.” Adam ponders me for a moment, then stands. “I’ll leave you to it, then.” He grabs his wallet from the counter and says his goodbyes.
When it’s just the two of us, Grant sits on the couch. The silence thickens around us.
“He seems nice,” I say.
“Yeah.” Grant fiddles with a stack of papers on his coffee table. “I don’t really need a roommate, but it’s been good. Having someone around, I mean.”
My gaze sharpens on him. “Were you lonely? I always thought you were surrounded by friends. That’s how it looked, anyway.”
“Well, it might not surprise you to know that I wasn’t very happy even when I had a lot of friends around me. Not back then, anyway.” His nostrils flare with his breath. “Want to hear something sad?”
“Only if it doesn’t make me feel sorry for you.”
“I’m not sure my high school buddies even liked me,” he says. “I had some genuine friendships in college and med school, but we’re kinda spread out now.”
“In that case, I am sorry,” I tell him, and I mean it. The friends I’ve had have always been genuine. It makes me sad for him that he didn’t feel that way when we were kids.
He waves that off. “I’m okay. I’d rather have a few close friends than a bunch of fake ones.” His fingers drum on the couch cushion. I watch as he moves them, one by one, imagining them on my skin. “And purpose. That helps too.”