“So, you leaving for good?”
“Right now, I just need to get away from it all. Figure out what’s next.” I supposed Mia was a part of what I needed to figure out. I wanted her, there was no doubt. And maybe now that I wasn’t working at the hospital, I could have her. But what did I have to offer? I was an unemployed doctor in a small town of people who thought he was inept.
“What do you want me to tell Mia and my dad?” he asked.
I sat forward, liking that this conversation appeared to be coming to an end. I clasped my hands together. “I don’t know man. I care about them, I really do. I just need to get my shit together, you know?”
He stood. “I still think it’s an asshole thing to do.”
He wasn’t wrong. I rose from my chair and looked at him. There was an awkward silence between us. We didn’t seem to be enemies anymore, but neither were we friends again.
“Well, I’ve got to take off,” he finally said.
“Sure thing.”
I walked him out, feeling like I should do more to connect with him since I’d promised his mom I would. But I was too lost in my own needs to do so. When he left, I finished closing up the house, then I grabbed my bag, got in the car, and headed toward Reno. I’d spend the night there, and grab a flight to San Diego tomorrow.
As the last bits of the Goldrush Lake disappeared from my rearview mirror, I had a wave of relief and yet despair as well. I couldn’t help but feel like I wasn’t just leaving my past, but also the possibility of my
future. I gripped the steering wheel to keep from turning around and focused my eyes on the road in front of me.
The next day, my parents met me at the airport in southern California, surprised at my abrupt visit, but happy to see me. As it turned out, they weren’t completely in the dark about my life either. My parents had several friends they stayed in touch with back in Goldrush Lake, including Jim.
“Why didn’t you tell us what was going on?” my mother asked as she served me a sandwich that afternoon.
I shrugged. “Too involved in the thick of it I guess.” And what son wants to tell his parents he’s being sued for malpractice?
“I don’t blame Lyle Mason for being upset, but harassing the hospital and causing a disturbance, that’s not right,” my father said, eating his sandwich.
“Sometimes I miss home, and the small-town closeness, but when I see what they’re doing to you, I’m reminded that small towns sometimes mean small minds.” My mother brought her sandwich and sat with us.
“So, what are you going to do now?” my father asked.
“Sleep, I hope. Then decide my next step.”
“Well, we have space for you, and there are plenty of medical places around here,” my mother said.
“I’m not sure anyone wants to hire someone that’s currently being sued.” I put my sandwich down, all of a sudden not feeling hungry.
“Maybe you need a retreat,” my mother said. “You look tired.”
“It’s been a long few weeks.” Was it weeks? Or was it days? It felt like a lifetime.
“Maybe some counseling,” she added.
I looked at her, surprised.
She gave me a sheepish smile. “Jim said he thought you could use it. He thinks you might have PTSD.”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s not that bad.”
“He’s not the only one who noticed, son,” my father said, wiping his mouth with a napkin.
“Maybe it’s not PTSD, but you could have anxiety or just need someone to talk to. While you were cleaning up for lunch, I found someone.” My mother took a piece of paper out of her pocket and slid it to me.
“I don’t need all this,” I said, feeling like a loser. I also couldn’t understand how telling a stranger about my life would make the crushing guilt and anxiety go away. It seemed like talking about it would make it come to life.
“Just one visit, Nick. Please.” My mother’s eyes shone with worry.