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I toss the stick, and Samson takes off.
Ethan grins in our direction. “What made you decide to get a dog?”
“So, I could have a dog-sitting business, of course. It’s my dream job.” I infuse enthusiasm into my words. I can’t wait until I never have to do this again. It’s exhausting having dogs who may or may not be well-behaved in my house.
“That was almost convincing.”
“I mean, I do love dogs. Samson and I are tight…”
“But you don’t want to do this forever.”
“No, I mean… I’ve been lucky so far. I haven’t had any mean dogs. None of them have tried to bite each other yet. But I’m waiting for the day when there is some sort of dog scuffle.”
“True. You’ve had a lot of energetic but mannered dogs.”
“That’s one way to look at it.”
I reach down to grab the stick that Samson has brought back, and my hand brushes Ethan’s. An urge inside me encourages me to grab it.
But I don’t follow through. I have no idea what I’m doing, but I know that encouraging Ethan by making him think we have something other than sex is not the right answer. No, I need to guard my heart against him. He may make me feel good, but I know what kind of person he is. He doesn’treallycare about me.
23
ETHAN
“Doctor Taylor!”one of my nurse friends, Janine, calls. She hands me the report on our fluctuating patient, and I take it. I carefully read over the details, and she stands by my elbow.
“I’ve heard that you have a girlfriend.”
Janine’s words startle me into almost dropping the folder. I snap it closed and turn to her with my piercing eyes, hoping to show her that I don’t appreciate her spreading rumors like this.
“I prefer to keep my personal life personal. I am seeing someone, but it’s not something I wish to discuss here.”
I hurry down the hall to deposit the folder outside the right room. The nurse keeps pace with me. “I just want to make sure you’re happy, Dr. Taylor. You deserve that after everything that happened with… Aurora’s mother.”
I wince at the reminder before I drop the folder into the right place. I snap on a pair of rubber gloves and head into the room to check on the patient. Hopefully, that will be enough of a sign to her that the conversation is over.
“How are you feeling this morning?” I direct my question to the patient.
“I’m all right. My legs are feeling tingly again, though.”
“We’ve switched your antibiotic, which would help clear up the infection that is causing that feeling. If you don’t see a change by evening, please let me know.”
I go through the basics of checking the patient’s vitals and their IV to make sure that things are flowing correctly. “Any concerns other than the tingling legs?”
“I’m just worried that if this infection isn’t cleared up, it could affect me permanently. What percentage of people does the antibiotic not work on?”
While medicine is a science, it’s not a science that I can predict like that. I’m often asked to give patients a prediction on how/where/when they will heal. “It’s difficult to give a number. It’s usually effective though, or we wouldn’t prescribe it.”
I finish checking everything and turn my attention back to the patient’s face. “Anything else I can do for you?”
“I ordered my breakfast thirty minutes ago, and it hasn’t arrived. Can you call them and get them to hurry up?”
I stretch my face into a smile I don’t feel. Sometimes, my patients think I’m this superior doctor who knows everything. Sometimes, they think I’m room service. I motion to Janine who has been observing. She can check on the food.
Then, I snap my gloves off, toss them in the trash, and head down the hall.
The nurse emerges from the room a moment later. “Don’t they realize that the kitchen is flooded with orders at 8:00 a.m.? Her order will be up when it can be.”