I didn’t think I would ever admit it to him, but that day I thought he was pretty amazing. All of them were. It went without saying, but seeing it with my own two eyes—and though I loved what I did for a living—in that moment I kind of wished I was a badass doctor, too.
At least now I can think of a way to apologize to him, and a sketch.
Eli
I dropped my shoes in the trash, along with my socks and the gloves I still had on, before falling onto the couch in the attending’s lounge. My whole body ached, and not in the way I liked. It had been one of those days that just kept kicking you when you were already down. I had been feeling like crap for a week and I had no idea why.
“God, what is that smell?” I heard someone say as they entered.
I didn’t lift my arm from over my eyes. “That would be the trash and my shoes.” More from my shoes than the trash, but whatever.
“Yep.” He must have sniffed. “Aftermath of the highway accident?”
Nodding, I tried to drown out the voice of Dr. Ian Seo, a plastic surgeon attending of both Korean and American decent whose calm and relaxed voice frustrated me to no end. Every day he enjoyed a fresh, home-cooked lunch he'd had time to prepare…because, well, he was a plastic surgeon. He would take his time, walking through the hospital as if nothing was going on, sucking fat from women who barely had any to begin with, doing a few breast and butt lifts before calling it a day. Every time I saw him, I wondered why I too had not chosen the path of serenity that was plastics.
Because I would gouge out my eyes from boredom, that’s why. I laughed at that, sitting upright, then rolled my eyes at him eating his banana-flavored yogurt, his black hair pulled into a small ponytail and his dark-eyed gaze on me. “Why are you still here, anyway? You're usually gone by five.”
“Aw, you noticed?”
“How can I not? That’s when my headaches stop.” I got up and headed to my locker.
“You are hurtful.”
“I know.” I smiled, pulling open the door. No longer paying attention to him, I was surprised to find a pair of navy and white Nike men’s tennis shoes waiting for me.
What in the hell? The note on the laces read:
Dr. Davenport,
Here. Sorry for judging you.
You did well today.
You were kinda cool today.
I won’t be calling you Dr. Asshole again.
If the shoes don’t fit, sorry again, I guessed, receipt is in the box.
See you at home.
See you back at the apartment.
Bye,
Gwen.
She could not be serious. Had she even thought this through before writing it? Oh dear god, why hadn’t she used a new piece of paper?
“What is so funny?” Dr. Seo said when I looked up.
“What?”
He pointed his spoon at me. “The smile on your face right now, it’s blinding me. What is so funny?”
“I’m not smiling, because nothing is funny—”
“I took a picture.” He held up his phone, the photo showing me in profile.