20
We go through a lengthy tutorial on how to use our new computers. It’s noon, and we haven’t started our actual work yet. Ethan runs down to the cafeteria to get us lunch. Now that I’m used to his eating habits, I don’t comment when he comes back carrying a tray so laden with food that I’m convinced it’ll make the table collapse. We eat while we work, sitting at our desks. Ethan offers me a crispy onion ring, but I shake my head no, sticking instead to the French fries that come with my sandwich.
As I chew, I watch Ethan from under my lashes. Everyone has greeted him with enthusiasm today. He’s been cheerful and polite in response, but I sense a kind of reserve in him. Like he’s holding back a piece of himself here, a part that he usually lets loose in Columbus. It bothers me, this discrepancy.
“They love you here.” I say, breaking the silence. “It’s like the prodigal son returning, and you’ve only been gone a couple of months. I’m surprised you ever left. You must love radiology to give up all this adoration.”
“I couldn’t wait to get out of here,” he spits out with an intensity I wasn’t expecting. “Besides, not everyone likes me.”
I raise my eyebrows, questioning.
Ethan says nothing more, going back to his work. The computer screen casts a haunting blue glow over his face.
Interesting.
After a moment, he lets out a frustrated sigh and swivels his chair toward me. “I don’t totally understand what we’re supposed to be doing here. How exactly are we going to set up this exchange program?”
Since Dr. Washburn gave us the assignment, I’ve given this a lot of thought. “I have some ideas,” I assure him. “How about we break it down based on how advanced we are? For example, a first-year resident who is just starting to learn radiology should focus on reading X-rays and basic stuff. A senior resident can do the more complicated procedures, like angiography with the interventional radiologist.”
I pick up a pencil from my desk and fiddle with it, flipping it over my fingers. “The attending radiologists here aren’t used to working with us. We need to make sure everyone is on the same page about what they should be doing.”
“That sounds good.” Ethan leans back in his chair, stretching his legs out and crossing them at the ankles. The tips of his toes brush against mine and a strange zinging sensation runs up my leg.
“We can make a list of cases and procedures for each resident, based on their experience level. I want to pull chapters from our textbooks and from medical journals and give them as required reading for the month. That way, they can learn as they work.” I tap the pencil lightly against the table.
“I can’t screw this up.” Ethan laces his hands behind his head. “I need to make a good impression.”
I snap toward him, frowning. “Why? To win the Resident of the Month award?”
“What? No.” He gives his head a small shake. “I’m going to help you win that.”
I scoff, not believing him. “Why would you do that?” How strange would that be? To have someone in my corner for once?
“To be honest, I thought about trying to win it.” He straightens, the chair creaking with his movement. “When I left here to move to Columbus, I got a lot of grief. People implied I was selfish. That I had made a commitment and then gone back on it. They made me feel guilty for leaving them short-handed. It would be nice to get that award. Show them and my family that I made the right decision.”
Now Ethan leans forward, his face sincere. “But I don’t deserve it as much as you do. You’re the smartest, most hard-working resident in that hospital. You get there early and leave late. You help everyone and don’t take credit for it.” A pause before he adds, “Also, Melanie told me how you need the money for that Disney World conference.”
Melanie, you traitor.
“I don’t need your pity.” I scowl at him, offended.
“Pity is the last thing I associate with you. I admire you. Everyone does. You work hard and don’t care what people think about you.”
He says the last part as a compliment, but it makes me feel bad, ashamed. Like I lack the need for mutual respect that normal people crave. “Not everyone can be like you, Ethan,” I retort, hurt and angry from his comment. “You don’t have to worry what people think because everyone likes you, Mr. Popular. You were probably prom king in high school.”
There’s silence from him, which means I’ve hit the mark. “Ha! Knew it,” I cry out, victorious. “You really were prom king?”
He nods, eyes on the floor and pink on his cheeks. “Yeah. Senior year.” His gaze lifts, something anguished sparking within. “You’re wrong, though. I care too much about what people think of me. That’s why I’m such a people pleaser. I’m trying to convince everyone to like me, so they won’t notice what a fuckup I am.”
Astonished, I whip my head up to meet his eyes. “You? A fuckup?”
Ethan drops his gaze to stare forlornly at his desk. “I’ve failed at a lot of things. Let people down. That’s why I want to do a good job here. To make up for it and prove I can follow through.”
“You didn’t fail at that stuff you were telling me about this morning, the Eagle Scout thing and martial arts.” Ethan’s mournful expression unhinges something in me. I want to soothe his ache. Fix whatever is wrong. Fight whoever made him feel like a failure. I haven’t felt this protective since Shelly. It’s stupid because this is Ethan we’re talking about. He doesn’t need my help.
My reminder does the trick. Like magic, his gloom lifts and he sits up straight. “I didn’t say I mess up everything I do. Just some things.” He gives me a shy glance. “Now you know and, typical of me, I’m worrying it makes you like me less.”
“Who said I liked you to begin with?” I make sure I say it in a teasing voice, not my usual sarcastic one. It’s a struggle to be nice, but I like that Ethan showed me his soft underbelly. I could use this moment to take advantage of his vulnerability and push him away. But somehow…I don’t want to.