15
Igear myself up for a full-blown rant at Ethan, mentally outlining all his flaws, when Dr. Washburn calls, “Tiffany, Ethan, in my office, now.”
Geez, can the man for once walk over and talk to us?
With one last death glare toward Ethan, I stalk across the hallway to Dr. Washburn’s office. Without even turning, I know Ethan’s behind me. I’ve developed an almost sixth sense to him. We’ve spent so much time together that my body is tuned to his. I can tell when he is near, just by vibrations in the air.
Dr. Washburn waves us into the room. “Come in, come in.”
I spare a glance at Ethan. He looks worried, his eyes darting left and right, like he thinks he’s in trouble. I forget he isn’t used to Dr. Washburn’s frequent summons. I dread the call into this office. It usually means some odious menial task is going to be assigned to us. Last time, Dr. Washburn told me to train Ethan.
Look how that worked out.
“As you know, part of Ethan coming into our residency was an agreement that we would send radiology residents to Highview Hospital in Cleveland to help staff the department there,” Dr. Washburn says. “It’s difficult to get a resident in the middle of the academic year, so we were lucky to replace Brandon with Ethan.” Dr. Washburn nods in Ethan’s direction.
I can feel Ethan relax as he realizes he’s not in trouble.
Dr. Washburn sees the dark expression on my face. Misinterpreting it for anger over the Cleveland situation, he says, “I’m sure it will be beneficial for you both. The hospital there has a different patient population, which means you’ll get exposed to diseases you wouldn’t typically see here in Columbus. You’ll work with other radiologists who can teach you new skills.”
He pauses to blow his runny nose into a tissue, making a loud honking sound. “The hospital will provide you with free meals and housing. They have apartments they rent for situations like this. I want you two to go there next week. You’ll set up the rotation. See what they have available and how it can best be used to train our staff. See what needs they have that you can fill.”
“W—wait,” I stutter. “You want us both to go? Together?”
I glance sideways and see the color has drained out of Ethan’s face. Looks like he’s not too happy with this idea, either. The sting of rejection pokes at me, prying between my ribs and squeezing my heart.
“Yes,” answers Dr. Washburn, oblivious to the emotions swirling through the room. “Ethan knows the Cleveland hospital well, so he can help orient you. Tiffany, you understand our residency, so you can determine how we fit into its department. We want this transition to go as smoothly as possible. Once you get everything set up there, we’ll send two residents to Cleveland at a time on a rotating basis. I want to instruct the next group on exactly what to expect. It’s your job to figure that out.”
He drops one last bomb. “As an incentive, if you are successful in this task, I’ll give one of you the Resident of the Month award. Ethan, have you heard of it yet?”
Ethan shakes his head no.
“It’s a certificate given to one resident in the hospital each month. A generous bonus of $1,000 comes with it. Needless to say, it’s very sought after.” Another swipe of Kleenex to the tip of his cherry-red nose before he drops the crumpled tissue in the trash can.
“Doesn’t some big committee determine the winner?” I ask. I always imagined it as a grand affair, like the gathering of the Continental Congress. White-wigged doctors carefully weigh each candidate’s attributes to choose the best one. They all sign the Resident of the Month certificate like it’s the Declaration of Independence.
“There is. I’m on that committee. I already told them I’ll be awarding it next month.” Dr. Washburn folds his hands over his chest and leans back, preening.
Huh. Well, that’s disappointing.
So much for an impartial group of men and women handing out the Resident of the Month certificates. This is like finding out that Santa Claus isn’t real. “But only one of us can get it?” I clarify, trying to wrap my head around how this will work.
“Yes, you’re right. I’ll have the medical staff in Cleveland report back to me about how you both perform. That way, I can decide who to give it to.”
Why does Dr. Washburn appear so smug when he says that? It’s like he enjoys pitting us against each other. Maybe he thinks this is the medical version of the Hunger Games. Aggravated, I clench my fists, fingers digging into the soft flesh of my palms.
Unbelievable.
Last month, I lost that award because Ethan ruined my lecture. Now I might lose it again because of him. Dr. Washburn gives us a few more instructions, such as when to arrive at the hospital and where to park. He hands me a badge that will let me enter the hospital.
Dr. Tiffany Hart, Radiology, Highview Hospital.
Ethan still has his old badge from when he used to work there.
Shell-shocked, Ethan and I return to our office.
The X-ray before me swims in and out of focus. I can’t concentrate, too busy worrying about Fred The Cat, the only companion who’s never left me. Who will take care of him? And what about my beat-up 1990s sedan? Can it make the drive to Cleveland without breaking down? I barely trust the car to travel the couple of blocks between my apartment and the hospital.
Most of all, I’m plotting how to win that award. I desperately need the money for my conference at Disney World. I also want the validation it provides. That certificate is proof that all my striving and sacrifice haven’t been in vain.
Ethan’s unusually quiet, all his earlier mirth gone.
Finally, I can’t take the silence any longer. I spin my chair toward him. “This is your fault,” I scold, pointing my finger at him. “I said during your interview this would happen.”
Ethan doesn’t rise to match my anger. “You’re right. I knew this was coming. I just didn’t think it would be this soon,” he says glumly.
I don’t know how to handle this withdrawn version of Ethan. He’s usually so outgoing and confident.
He doesn’t want to go with me.
Well, that’s fine because I don’t want to go with him either.
Before I can take it back, the thought flies from my brain and out of my mouth. “You can ask Dr. Washburn for a different resident to go with you. You obviously wish it wasn’t me.”
Ethan’s head snaps up, his eyebrows puckering in confusion. “What? No, that’s not it, Tiffy.”
“I told you not to call me that.” I want to shake him, I’m so annoyed. Shake the defeated look off his stupid, handsome face. Why, of all people, do I have to compete against him? “God,” I say, throwing my hands into the air, “I just can’t get rid of you, can I?”
“That’s right. You’re stuck with me.” He glares right back, flecks of gold swirling in his amber eyes. There’s a certainty to his words. Like he’s making a threat…or a promise.