Page 23 of Scrubbing In
Reeling back, she exclaims, “What? Wait! I was sure you guys have been talking with the amount of time you spend smiling at your phone.”
“Uh . . . No, I mean today. He hasn’t texted me today. He’s texted me almost every morning. But, there has been nothing from him today.” This time, Charlie bats my hand away when I reach toward my mouth. I stuff my hands under my thighs, hoping my weight holding them in place will prevent me from tearing my cuticles to shreds.
“You know orientation and all that crap takes forever, and being on your phone isn’t the best look.”
“But I heard from him yesterday.” Wincing at the whine in my voice, my eyes sweep the cafeteria again.
Spinning the cap off her drink, she takes a long sip before saying anything. “I don’t know the reason he hasn’t texted today. But the fact that he has texted every day—” She bounces her head with each word. “—is pretty telling, Mama.” Replacing the cap on the bottle, she tilts her head and looks at me questioningly. “I thought you told him nothing could happen with you two. Have you changed your mind?”
Averting my eyes to my mostly untouched food, I mumble, “No.”
Crossing her arms, she tries—and fails—to hide her smirk. “Then why does it matter if he hasn’t texted you?”
“It doesn’t,” I snipe. In my haste to escape this conversation, I stiffly gather my trash and stand, my chair almost toppling over. I’m able to right it but not without knocking my fork and napkin to the floor. Huffing, I pick them up and stalk to the trash. I don’t look back to see if Charlie is following, I can hear her shuffling to catch me after disposing of her own trash.
“Leena, come on. Wait!” she hisses. Falling into step beside me, she lowers her voice. “It was a valid question, and you know it. You're just in denial about what you want and deserve. It’s twisting you up in knots.”
My shoulders stoop and I wrap my arms around myself. Without looking at her, I focus on navigating the busy corridor as the lunch crowd begins to descend on the cafeteria. “Trust me, I know it doesn’t make sense.”
My teeth catch my lower lip, and I wince as they pull at a peeling crack my constant worrying won't allow to heal. I lick the metallic tangy bead of blood away and suck my lip to staunch the flow.
Charlie wraps her arm around my shoulders, drawing me in tight to her side. Our heads tip toward each other as we make our way back to the OR. I swallow against the sudden tightness in my throat.
Over the last few weeks, I have found myself losing time thinking about Julian, constantly waffling between this undeniable pull to him like an invisible string is drawing us together. And then I reprimand myself because how can I so strongly crave this man I barely know? I’ve been reluctantly soaking up every detail about him, hesitant to let myself really know him when I already like him so much.
I break out in cold sweats at the prospect of being under intense scrutiny from people at work if I were to decide to give in. I also feel sick to my stomach thinking how much it would hurt if he realizes I don’t live up to the memory he has of me.
My voice comes out in a rough whisper. “I’m so confused about it all. My feelings. His. How sudden and intense this all is.”
Squeezing me, she whispers back, “That’s okay. Just see what happens. Maybe you won’t feel anything when you see him again, maybe it will feel so right that you will know what to do. But maybe you need time to see how deep these feelings reallyrun, and that’s okay, too.” Pulling me to a stop outside our locked unit doors, she looks me in the eye and tells me, “You are onno one’stimeline but your own. You are in charge of the decisions you make. If he can’t respect that, he is going to have to deal with me. And we both know that I will make working with me really uncomfortable.”
I choke out a wet laugh. “Mama, this is why you’re stuck with me forever. I need you to help me put my head back on straight.”
“You know I’m not going anywhere,” she says, hugging me tightly.
Stifling a yawn,I slip out of my office with my water bottle clutched under my arm and the staffing and call sheets under the other as I head to the charge desk for the daily clinical supervisor handoff with Chelsea, my counterpart in the afternoons and evenings. She is the high to my low, a ball of burning energy ready to go while I’ve hit the sluggish part of my day before my second wind hits as I get home.
“We should be down to two rooms by fi?—”
I’m cut off when someone calls both our names. “Just who I was looking for.”
Looking up from the call sheets, I see Connor walking towards the charge desk. He isn’t alone.
I’m frozen in place with my eyes wide, jaw slack, and heart racing. Because strolling alongside him is the man I’ve been anxious about seeing again.
Julian.
Snapping my jaw shut, I try to appear relaxed.
“Hey, Dr. Walsh!” Chelsea exclaims with surprise. Surprise that is much different from mine. “What are you doing here this early?”
“I wanted to catch both you and Leena together. This is Dr. Ian Jacobs, Ortho’s newest surgeon,” he says, patting Julian on the back. “Though, I believe you and Dr. Jacobs have met, Leena.”
“We most certainly did.” With a dip of his chin, he smiles, then drawls, “But it’s a pleasure seeing you again.”
The hairs on the back of my neck rise at the way the wordpleasurerolls off his tongue in that deep voice that’s been replaying the filthy words he whispered in my ear that night at Nonna’s. “Likewise,” I reply, focusing on his left ear before quickly darting my eyes away in an attempt to remain composed.
Seeing the two of them side by side, I can’t help noticing how much taller Julian is than Connor, who I tend to forget has to be around five foot eight, maybe nine. But his presence makes him seem so much larger. I’ve seen him manipulate extremities on very large patients and hammering away with no problems. However, right now he looks small in comparison to Julian.
