Chapter 12 - Cat
Cat
“There is a difference between not knowing something and not using your brain,” I snap at the shaking resident in front of me. “Your notes are sloppy. They lack important information about treatment, and you write in vague terms.”
Her lip trembles and she swallows hard, but her fists are clenched and her chin is lifted. Maybe I should go easier on her, but what good would that do her? This is a hospital. People’s lives depend on her. Her performance is below average, and I don’t even tolerate average.
“You will join Marcella for your next three shifts, and you will process every single note with her. You will only turn them in with her approval. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Chief,” the girl offers softly, and her eyes lower to the floor.
“Good. Back to work.”
“Yes, Chief.”
She turns and speeds out of the office, muttering under her breath.
“Fucking ice queen.”
I blink, wondering if I heard her correctly.
Was she really that bold? I know that the staff talks about me behind my back.
Carmen told me the nicknames. Doctor No-You-Can’t, the Ice Queen, Laser Eyes.
I’ve heard them all. It doesn’t bother me because I also have a reputation as the best trauma surgeon on the East Coast. I am not here to be liked. I am here to save lives.
But today it feels different. It’s pressing on an already open wound. I was bringing you coffee. That is all it was. She had thought of me that morning, decided to get me a cup, and walked it over to the hospital, trying to connect. Dios, you are an idiot.
I fish my phone out of my pocket, and my heart skips a beat when I see that there is a new message. It sinks again when I realize it’s from Carmen. Three days and still no response. Even though I reached out. She just left me unread.
The muscle in my jaw ticks, and I smack the phone down onto my desk. It catches the corner, and I hear a crack. I don’t have to turn the device around to know that the screen is splintered into a cobweb.
“?Joder!” I hiss and run my hand over my face. “?Cono, carajo!”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. This is getting ridiculous. I just chewed out a resident for being unfocused while I’m thinking about a woman who was barely part of my life. I sigh.
Even though I know better, I turn my phone around again. No new messages. Just cracks.
***
“Come on, Kitty Cat. Please join me?”
“I said no, Carmen. What part of that don’t you understand?”
“But—”
“No. Now get out. I have work to do.”
I don’t even look at my best friend. She’s been pestering me for drinks ever since I lost Maisy, as if it’s some kind of magical fix.
A bandage you can stick over the wound to stop the hurt from seeping out.
That’s not why, and you know it. I grind my teeth before I finally raise my head.
Carmen is standing in front of the desk, her eyes trained on me.
“What?” I snap, but she doesn’t respond.
She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t smile. No. She just stands there, her face drained of all its usual warmth. I frown and feel a nauseating swirl in my lower abdomen. Cold seeps in, and the skin on my arms breaks out in goosebumps.
“What?” I try again, softer this time.
I’ve never seen her like this. She doesn’t usually care about my outbursts. I love her. She knows this. Does she? I hold her gaze, refusing to cave. I only said no to getting drinks.
“Carmen?” I prod now, unsure whether I should be worried about her or irritated because she isn’t answering me.
She lifts her chin slightly and drops her gaze over me. That act releases another wave of displeasure, and this time, I can’t help but shift a little in my seat. Carmen nods as if she has received some sort of confirmation. Her eyes are hard, emotionless.
“This needs to stop. Right now.”
“?Cómo?” I blink, confused.
“This whole…” She gestures at me with her hands. “…wallowing in self-pity.”
“I am not wa—”
“You made a mistake, Katherina. It happens.”
The words aren’t meant to be soothing or encouraging. I snap my mouth shut and glare at her, squirming slightly.
“Why are you upset, Cat? You got exactly what you asked for, didn’t you?”
“I—no. What the fuck, Carmen?”
“Don’t ‘what the fuck’ me,” she growls as she smacks her palm flat on my desk. “This is exactly what you wished for. ‘No, Carmen, I can’t date her. I was her treating physician. No, Carmen, she isn’t anyone. No, Carmen, she should not be in this hospital at all.’”
I stare at her, at how her mouth twists as she mocks me, and how her eyes narrow while they burn with a rage I have never seen in her, and I feel myself getting sick. Well done, Doctor Durand. You lost her, too.
A sharp pain claws at my chest and cuts off the flow of air. I push my chair back, but Carmen won’t have it. She is on the other side of the desk before I can even rise, planting her hands on either side of me and boxing me in.
“Like hell you will,” she hisses, bringing her face so close to mine that I can feel her breath. “You are not running away from this.”
I try to push myself up with a huff, but one strong shove with her hand against my sternum puts me back in my chair.
I blink up at her while her eyes flash at me, and something in me bristles.
My fingers curl around the armrests, and my lip curls up in a snarl.
But before I can speak, Carmen grabs my face with both hands and presses her forehead against mine.
“Enough, hermana. Stop fighting me.”
Her voice is so soft and tender, laced with an edge of desperation, that it drains all the fight from my body. It makes room for something different, something painful, and I feel a prickling sensation behind my eyes. What am I even doing?
“Carmen, lo sien—”
“Shh. I know you are. It’s okay. You are basically my sister, Katherina. We fight. You haven’t lost me. You will never lose me.”
The way she can read me tugs at my heart. I gasp. She breaks away, her thumb brushing my cheekbone, and I feel myself crumble under her warm gaze. My eyes brim with tears when I look up at her in desperation.
“What do I do?”
She smiles and kisses my forehead before she props herself up on my desk. That stone-cold woman from seconds ago is already completely gone. Good. I have no wish to see that side of her ever again.
“I thought you’d never ask,” she taunts and playfully nudges my shoulder with her knee.
I huff out a laugh, and for the first time this week, the knot in my chest loosens a bit.
“Go on, then.”
Carmen clasps her hands together, a faint smile tracing her lips. A part of me braces. She will tell me things I don’t want to hear. I know that. But I also know she’s been there for me every step of the way. I am not alone in this.
“We have seen each other at our best and at our worst. You were there when my mamá… and when you finally broke up with Alex, you came to me first.”
I nod hesitantly. Where’s she going with this?
“But through all of our lowest lows, I’ve never seen you quite like this, Kitty Cat.”
She frowns and lets her eyes trail over my face. I shuffle uncomfortably.
“Like what?”
“Defeated.”
The word hangs heavy between us, tasting like chalk in my mouth. It doesn’t sting, it doesn’t cut. It doesn’t even hurt. It’s just truth. She is right. For the first time in my life, I endured an unfavorable outcome and accepted it as a fact.
Carmen watches me as I take in her words, carefully reading my face. I nod, feeling incredibly small.
“You asked me what you should do now,” she hums as she slides off the desk. “Well. The Catherine Durand I know would never accept having made a mistake and not getting to the bottom of it. She’d analyze every moment to find a fix or do better next time. Wouldn’t you agree?”
She raises an eyebrow and places her hands on her hips.
What did you do to deserve such an amazing friend?
She is right. Of course she is. I don’t tolerate this in my professional life.
I don’t walk away because the line goes flat.
I start compressions. And sending Mary a text asking if she is okay after what happened isn’t enough.
Not by a long shot. If I want to fix this, I have to get to her.
My eyes dart up, and when I push out of my chair this time, Carmen lets me.
“I have to go,” I breathe, and she nods.
“Yes, hermosa. You do.”
***
My hand hovers in the air while my brain is flooded with thoughts. She doesn’t want to see you. She ignored your text for a good reason. What if she says no? My breath comes out shakily.
Why am I here? I am not impulsive like this. I plan, calculate, and strategize. Rushing to a woman’s apartment because she ghosted me is not part of that. I get the feeling again that I am in some telenovela, and I wonder what Mary is doing to me.
My hand falls to my side as I go over the facts again. One: I chased her away because I didn’t know what to do with myself. Two: She drew a clear line in the sand by not responding to my texts. I am crossing that line by being here. Three: I am here to soothe myself. To get back what I’ve lost.
Not once did I stop and think about what Mary might want—might need. But she certainly doesn’t need a work-obsessed surgeon with no respect for personal boundaries. That’s for sure. She deserves to be respected and loved. Fully and completely. What do I have to offer her?
I allow my shoulders to drop and my head to bow before I turn around to see the scuffed white toes of a pair of sneakers. Everything in me stills, and I feel the world around me dissolve as I lift my gaze. She is there, standing at the top of the stairs with grocery bags in her hands.
“Mary,” I whisper, suddenly hyperaware. “How… how long have you been—”
“Long enough to watch your internal debate.”
There is no venom behind her words, but no warmth, either. They are… plain.
“I… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t…”
She tilts her head, walks up to her door, and nods softly.
“Okay.”
She puts her groceries on the floor and searches for her keys, as if I am not even here. A nuisance. It makes the air in my lungs feel hot and heavy. I didn’t lose the battle. I lost the freaking war.
I close my eyes and huff out the last trapped bit of air left in me before I turn to leave, right as Mary bends forward to open her door.
Her hair falls to the side, exposing her neck.
Green and yellow bruises stain her skin, and I feel the blood drain from my face.
Everything in me turns hot, then cold, and then sharp in a way I’ve never experienced before.
“?Dios, Maria!” I breathe, my fingers instinctively reaching out toward the contusions. “What happened?”