Though it was hardly needed at the time, my mom tried to talk to me about the fact that there would someday be a time where men would be interested in me, and I needed to be careful. Then, I ignored what she had to say, because it simply didn’t apply to me. There she was, telling me to have self-respect when I would have done anything to get a cute boy to like me. I’d change my wardrobe, act dumber than I was, and flirted mercilessly with guys who didn’t give a shit about me.
Now, I was finally getting to the age where I could understand where she was coming from, but I feared it was too late for me. I wanted to be a strong, independent woman, but at the same time, desperately wanted to fit in and be liked. I was forever trying to compensate for lost years. Now, I was about to graduate college, and while I didn’t feel the need to have a boyfriend, I just wanted to be wanted.
All I knew was that I wanted to be anywhere but that bar. Luckily, I had only finished one of the drinks, and had merely sipped on the second. I felt completely sober and ready to drive myself home. Not wanting to feel like I owed him anything, I reached into my purse and pulled out a twenty dollar bill.
“I think I’m going to go,” I said softly, setting the money down on the table. He gave me such a look of disgust; you would have thought I pulled a dead animal from my bag.
“Seriously?” he whined. “You’re just being dramatic now. I already said I would pay for your drinks. It’s not a big deal to me.”
“It’s a big deal to me,” I replied, trying to keep my voice calm.
“What did you expect, honestly?” he asked after looking me over once more.
“Excuse me?”
“I asked you, an intern of mine, to a bar. You said yes.”
“We’re only four years apart,” I argued. “What if we were friends from back home?”
“We weren’t friends,” he said. “I only met you for the first time today. I asked you on a date, and you said yes.”
“It was hardly a date,” I said. “You said you wanted to talk about home.”
He sighed. “Use your brain. If I wanted to talk, and nothing else, I would have suggested we chat before the next session. Or, maybe I’d give you my hospital email. I had a more delicate offer for you.”
“I knew it was inappropriate,” I said under my breath.
“You showed up wearing that,” he exclaimed, pointing to my chest.
I shrunk back, feeling extremely self-conscious.
“If this were a professional meeting between colleagues, you should have worn a modest suit. When you sit there with that much cleavage, you’re begging for attention.”
I didn’t know which was worse— the fact that he could objectify me and blame his rude behavior on my clothing, or the fact that he was slightly right. I didn’t ask to be talked about like a piece of meat, but I so desperately wanted him to find me attractive. I tried too hard to be liked, and this was the result.
I sputtered for a few seconds, not knowing what to say. “Do you think you’re entitled to any woman you come across?”
He gave me a strained look. “Yeah, kind of. I’ve never had a woman respond to me like this before. I treated you with respect. I brought you to a nice place and bought you an expensive drink. I was going to give you a prestigious internship as thanks for attending a fancy fundraising event with me. I was going to buy you a beautiful gown and pay for you to get all dolled up for the event. Any other girl would kill for that experience. You’re the first girl to lead me on, then get all upset when I’m willing to give you everything you asked for. There’s a reason I don’t remember you from back home. Obviously, you’re not meant to go far. If you’re going to be this hung up on rules and doing what’s moral, I don’t think you’re going to make it very far in life. I don’t even know if you are cut out for the surgical field. Maybe it would be best if you find another career. Save your money, drop out, and maybe find a boring husband to settle down with. If you walk around looking like a whore, but act like a virgin, you’re going to piss a lot of people off in the real world.”
That was the final straw. I had done nothing to receive such cruelty from someone I truly admired. Dr. Damon Rye was the asshole everyone made him out to be. I don’t know why I was the only one who couldn’t see through his tough guy persona. He was an ass who got ahead with his father’s money and connections and okay his big brain and surgical talent. But he was spoiled and entitled, and treated women as if they were disposable. I was shaking with rage by the time I finally stood up to leave.
“At least finish the drink,” he droned.
Without thinking, I picked up the glass and splashed the tangerine-colored liquid into his face. He sat in shock as the sickly sweet drink trickled down his face and onto his collar. I couldn’t look at him for another moment. I stormed out of the bar with my head held high. I strutted to my car, a scowl on my face.
Then, when I was safely in my car, I let it all out. Tears ruined my perfect eye makeup and tracked down my cheeks, leaving black streaks in my flawless foundation. When I finally caught my breath, I started the car and quickly drove away. I started constructing a story to tell Carol about the night. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to tell her she was right, or play it off like the benign meeting I promised her it would be.
Chapter 6
Olivia
I was still pretty disappointed in how things went with Damon, but I didn’t have time to mope around. I did all of the work he’d assigned and in record time. Somehow, I managed to write the paper on DVTs and do the cancer assignment without thinking about how pissed off I was at Damon. I was deeply hurt in how he behaved, and rather embarrassed about how I acted. Thinking back, I could have exited with a little more class instead of acting like one of those awful women on those trashy reality shows.
What I should have done was just left without another word. A curt smile and a swift exit would have made me the better person. Instead, I probably ruined an expensive suit. At the very least, I guess I could pay for his dry cleaning bill if it ever came into question.
My mom called me for our weekly update. Usually, I was happy to speak with her, as it was frequently a welcome distraction from my workload. However, I worried that my interaction with Damon would spill out. I was too ashamed with the way I got tricked into thinking he cared about me as an intern and future colleague and how I reacted. I hadn’t even told Carol specifics of the meeting, except for the fact that I thought he was a bit of an ass, and we certainly wouldn’t be meeting in private in the future.
“Hi, Mom,” I said.
“You sound tired,” she replied instantly.
I laughed. She always seemed to know how I was feeling, even if she were miles away. “I’m okay. What’s new with you?”
“A lot, actually,” she said, her voice filled with excitement. “I’ve been seeing someone.”
“You’re dating?” I squawked. “Mom, since when?”
“Just recently. You know, I’ve never really gone out of my way to meet men. But, I met a guy that is just so great to be around. He’s smart, funny, and my goodness, is he attractive! He looks like George Clooney! I’m not even kidding you.”
I couldn’t help but smile. I loved seeing my mom happy. She was the best and deserved to be with someone she liked.
“I probably should have asked you and your brother if that was okay,” she said with reservation in her voice.
“Oh, no, not at all,” I sputtered. “You don’t have to ask your children for permission to live your life. I’m happy for you. I’m sure Max will be too.”
My mother hadn’t really dated since my father died. That was over twenty years ago. I was just a toddler when he died, so I didn’t even remember him. But, my mom did her best to keep his memory alive for my brother and me.
I kept a picture of my father and me near my bed. He was a handsome man, tall and muscular, but with a youthful face. Sandy brown hair pokes out from underneath a Yankees cap. He has me balanced on his knee, and stuffed rabbit in his o
ther hand. I was a chubby toddler with a crop of dark hair on top of my head and a toothless smile on my face. I never really knew him, but when I look at it, I can feel his love.
My father was just in the start of his career when he was killed in a train derailment. He spent so much time commuting from our home to the city, and I guess my mom worried constantly. Apparently, her worries were warranted, as one night, she waited by the phone for a call from him to say he was running late. Instead, she got a call from the police, to go to the station and identify his body.
My brother remembers him— vaguely, but enough to make me envious. My dad was very excited about putting my brother in youth sports, and even bought him hockey skates and a stick at the age of three. I’ve seen the videos of my brother puttering around the ice, while my mother held me in her arms. I wish I could have known him for longer.
My father did leave a lasting legacy. My mom told me about the work he did as a general practitioner and how he even worked in the free clinics. At the time, I didn’t know much about the medical field to understand. But, as time went on, I did my own research about his career. Eventually, I decided that I wanted to do what he did. I studied hard in school, enrolled in NYU to get a degree in biology, and then went on the med school so I could achieve my goal. In some ways, following in his footsteps allowed me to feel close to him. I only wanted him to be proud of me. My mom always tells me that he would be, but that’s what parents say.