Chapter 3
Rory
October
I need to return Garrett’s flannel shirt, that’s all. There’s no other reason for me to text him this month.
It’s not because I wake up in the middle of the night, my sheets twisted around my legs, as if I’m burning up because it’s been twenty-eight days since I’ve had his dick in my body.
That can’t be it.
“You look tired,” the junior OB/GYN resident says as I join her in front of the whiteboard in Labour & Delivery.
A headache threatens as I skim the cases we have admitted for now, and the expected elective surgeries on the schedule. “And you look like you still have three and a half years of residency ahead of you, and have no idea what’s around the corner, so mind your own beeswax.”
Undeterred, she follows me into the break room. “Are you scrubbing in on the c-sections this morning?”
“Yep, and so are you.”
“Can I—”
“No.” I pour myself a coffee.
“You didn’t even let me finish!”
“Whatever it is, the answer is no.” I gesture for her to keep following me. “You’re not in a position to ask for things yet. Go where people tell you to go.”
“What about taking initiative?”
I set my coffee down, shove some charts into her arms. “Here’s your initiative. Find two cases in here that you aren’t familiar with and have questions about for rounds.”
And then I grab my coffee, dig out my phone, and hide in an empty patient room to fire Garrett a quick message.
Rory
Hey, so I still have your green flannel shirt
Garrett
Have you been wearing it to bed for the last two months?
You wish
I prefer to think of you sleeping naked
We aren’t flirting
That’s for later, then?
Don’t you think the long stretches of time in which you don’t hear from me would be a clear message that I’m not trying to get something going again?
Don’t worry, Roar, I know that we aren’t getting back together
You broke up with me
And we don’t need to rehash why that happened when there are more urgent things to talk about, like the fact your pussy can’t spontaneously combust without the right accelerant
He attaches a photo, but it doesn’t load because the signal sucks in this part of the hospital.
Rory
Do not send me a dick pic at work!
Garrett
You’re the one pre-booking me for a booty call later like I’m an airport town car hire
It’s not a dick pic
It’s worse. It’s a selfie, taken in the garage. It looks like he’s flexing, like he knows that the forearm porn is even better than a dick pic.
I can’t fall for that propaganda.
Rory
You know what? I’ll just mail you the shirt
Garrett
Keep it, the days are getting colder
I shove my phone in my pocket and head to rounds.
The rest of the day is slammed, and I’m run off my feet.
We have two straightforward surgeries and one with some complications because it’s the patient’s fifth section, which should be a great teaching opportunity.
But the consultant on call wants to get through it quickly, which makes it shitty for the junior residents who have scrubbed in.
And then as we’re scrubbing out, I’m the one the junior resident takes it out on.
“You could have advocated for us!” Her voice cracks. “We’re here to learn.”
“Stick around and you’ll probably get to scrub in for some emergency sections overnight.”
“I can’t.”
I slide her a sideways glance. “You can’t?”
“I have a kid. A family. It’s not unreasonable to hope to get my teachable moments during schedule surgeries.”
I open my mouth to tell her she needs to toughen up, that I went through the same thing and—
The words die in my throat.
Because I didn’t go through the same thing, did I?
I don’t have a kid. I don’t have a family waiting for me at home. I don’t even have Garrett anymore, because I made my life so razor-thin, so narrow-focused on work, that there wasn’t room for him in it anymore. Not the way he wanted.
But before all of that…
I remember wanting to get out of here at night. Wanting to race home to my boyfriend’s arms, to dinner and a snuggle on the couch.
So in a way, I can see myself in her frustrated tears. Four years ago, standing in this exact spot, fighting to get meaningful cases from my senior resident. And what did he tell me?
Suck it up, buttercup. This is how we’ve always done it.
I sucked it up better than anyone. I got harder. I stopped expecting teaching moments. I learned to grab lessons where I could, stealing glimpses of technique between the insults and exhaustion. And I rose to be chief resident, only to turn around and repeat the cycle.
“I’m sorry,” I say, and her anger deflates into confusion. “You’re right to feel like you missed out. I could have advocated for you more in that moment.”
She blinks at me, suspicious. “Really?”
I lean against the scrub sink, suddenly feeling every one of my thirty years. “Tomorrow, I’ll bring this up with whoever is in the OR. I’ll explain that you missed out today. I promise. And we can grab lunch and talk about the cases.”
The junior resident stares at me in disbelief, then mutters a super-fast thank you and bolts before I can change my mind.
I check my phone. Garrett still hasn’t texted again.
I have a bunch of other text chains that I’m derelict on, though.
A dusty group chat with my sisters. Jules, aka Baby Minelli, got a new job in the summer that she’s wildly excited about, nannying for a divorced power couple.
He’s a professional athlete and she’s a…
singer? Actress? I can’t remember what she told us before signing an NDA that she takes super seriously.
Which leaves Cassie—the only one of us to stay in Pine Harbour—to send a weekly check-in message.
Wincing, I drop a heart on her most recent one. Proof of life.
I also owe a reply to my Aunt Mara, my mom’s youngest sister. The day I started as chief resident, she sent me a text message that cut a little too close to the truth.
Mara
I know this year is going to be the hardest yet for you, my ferocious niece! Stay strong.
And then she included a sketch of me as a fearsome monster.
Since then, she’s sent me variations on the same sketch. Never asking me how I’m doing, as if she knows from a distance that the answer is not great. Just gifting me a little bit of inspirational joy every few weeks.
I either reply immediately or never, there is no in between.
But I want to be better. I look at the most recent drawing, which I saw in between surgeries a few days ago. My heart squeezes.
Rory
I love these messages, btw. I know I don’t reply often.
Dots appear as soon as I hit send.
Mara
I know you’re busy.
Rory
I don’t want to be too busy for my family.
Mara
You won’t always be. This is a season in your life, that’s all.
Rory
I feel selfish.
Mara
Oh, sweetness. Don’t worry about that. Sometimes we need to be selfish in this world to get what we want.
Rory
Ahhh it’s so hard to remember that and not feel guilty
Mara
Will I see you at Christmas?
Rory
Absolutely, I already have that week blocked off
Mara
I’ll be sure to remind you then
An alarm goes off on my phone. A reminder to myself to eat dinner. Shit. I race to the cafeteria, thinking about what my aunt said the whole way.
She was talking about work. I agree with her that it’s good for girls—women—to be selfish and protect their dreams.
But when I told her I feel selfish, I mean it in more ways than just that.
Since I can’t very well ask her about how to manage whatever this is I’m doing with Garrett, that only leaves me one person to consult on the question pinging around in my brain.
On a scale of one to incredibly selfish, how terrible am I being using you for sex?
Can I ask him that?
Fuck it.
I type it out and hit send.
Garrett
You aren’t terrible
Rory
It’s messed up, though
Garrett
Are you looking for a fight?
Rory
No
Garrett
What time are you going to get home tonight?
My stomach flip flops at the directness. At the promise of something other than a fight, but…still close to a fight. Still not right.
I want it so much. Too much. I want it enough that my hands shake as I type out a message turning it down, because I should, even though I really don’t want to.
Rory
I’m working all night, unfortunately…our junior resident can’t sleep here so I’m in the call room
Garrett
Okay
That’s it. Easy acceptance. As far as closure goes, it’s pretty weak, but it’ll have to do. That has to be the last text messages we exchange. I need to re-focus on what really matters, and I can’t be selfish in every quadrant of my life.