Damon got up and put his dishes in the sink, probably for his housekeeper to take care of later. “I meant that. You just have to be prepared for disappointment. It’s not completely inconceivable that you’ll have a good home life or a great career. You just can’t expect to have it all. Somewhere, you will fall short.”
I took my dishes to the sink. Suddenly, I wasn’t very hungry anymore.
“Why can you have it all, but I can’t?” I challenged.
He smiled wearily. “First of all, I wouldn’t describe myself as having it all. Secondly, while I did work my ass off for this from a very young age, I had my dad’s literal foot steps to follow in. When my dad retired from CUIMC, I was already on in with the CEO and hospital administration, being the youngest person in New York to become a surgeon was just a bonus. A way for the CEO to brag about gaining me as part of the network. I didn’t have to go out and do internships with other hospitals and apply like most doctors do. I was just there. I am good at it, but it was expected of me. If you’re born into the royal family, you don’t choose to become a plumber. Sometimes I wonder if I would be happier as a plumber.”
“Really?” I asked.
“Okay, so maybe not a plumber, but you get the idea. The lifestyle I live is pretty great, for the most part. But, when you get down to it, why do you want to be a surgeon?”
I opened my mouth to give my pre-written answer that I told everyone.
“And, don’t mention anything about your late father’s influence on you,” he interrupted before I could get my answer out.
I thought for a moment. I really couldn’t think of any other reason. I knew I probably could in any other circumstance. I was just flustered at this particular moment.
“See,” he said smugly. “I think you’re very smart and resourceful. I also think you have a kind heart and a gentle disposition. Now, tell me what you want to get out of a career?”
I wanted to say something about helping people, but my mind kept flashing to the magazine cover I once saw Damon’s face on. I remember wanting that so badly. If I were rich and successful, I could show everyone that I wasn’t the weird little girl from Hazelwood. I would be throwing the parties, not lurking outside, wishing I could be invited.
Seeing as I was speechless, he spoke first. “I’ll tell you what I want out of my career. Ever since I started in this career, I’ve realized that it isn’t everything I thought it would be. I became a surgeon because my dad was a surgeon, his dad was a surgeon, hell, even my great-granddad was a surgeon. It was expected of me. I didn’t really have a choice. Do I like it? Yeah, it’s okay. Some days I love it. Other days, not so much. Am I good at it? Yeah, I’m damn good at it. Do I save lives? All the time. Is it fucking stressful as hell? Yep, definitely. The biggest question I find myself asking, is am I happy doing what I’m doing?” He shrugged.
I threw my hands up in exasperation. “You’re telling me that the guy who dishes advice all over the place hates his job?”
He shrugged again. “I’m not saying I hate it. I’m not even saying I’m really unhappy. I just know I could be doing more. Sure, I save lives, but I could have been a general practitioner and probably been happy helping my patients live healthier lives, rather than saving them from the stupid things they do to ruin their lives and ending up in my surgical theater. Granted that’s only a small portion of my patients, and most played no hand in ending up on my table, but still. I don’t spend more than a short period with my patients. I meet them, perform the surgery get them going on aftercare and move on to the next. I rarely see the same patient more than once or twice.”
I wanted to be angry with him for misleading me, but when it came down to it, he had never been anything other than truthful with me. In fact, he was often quite blunt. I was the one who chose to ignore what he was saying. Perhaps he was right about everything, and I was the one too caught up in my fantasy to think about what I truly wanted. When I heard what he was saying, I realized that I agreed with all of his criticisms of the job. My values were surprisingly in line with his, even though we lived completely different lives. Perhaps I had been chasing a faulty picture my whole life, in hopes that it would fill the missing pieces of my life.
“You look upset,” he said after we sat in silence for a bit.
I shook my head. “I think I’m just confused.”
Damon came over and put a comforting hand on my shoulder. “I want you to be happy and successful in whatever you do. If you find that in being a surgeon, then I’ll help you with that. If you decide to change courses, I’ll support that, too.”
“Why, though?” I asked. “You don’t have to give me any help. You don’t have to give me any advice outside of what you tell all the interns.”
He smiled and nuzzled his face in the top of my messy hair. “You’re not just one of the interns. I actually give a shit about what happens to you.”
“Why?” I asked, still in disbelief that I was spending this much time in close quarters with Damon.
“Who knows?” he mused. “But, I’m very clearly into you, and if I can’t show you normal signs of affection, then I can at least give you my knowledge.”
My heart sped up. “Thanks,” I said softly.
“You still seem worried,” he said, looking concerned.
I nodded. “Yeah, I guess I am.”
He took my hand in his and gave it a kiss. “I think I know something that might help.”
Chapter 17
Damon
I felt just slightly guilty about upsetting Olivia. I didn’t mean for her to have an existential crisis at my kitchen table, but I still felt like she needed to be realistic with herself. At first, I could go along with her idealization of my career, because it was flattering that she felt so highly of me. But, at the same time, I actually kind of gave a shit about what became of her, so I wanted to set her straight. If it were anyone else, I’d probably stay silent and laugh when they realized the job wasn’t what it was cracked up to be. For some reason, it was different with Olivia.
I hated to see her idolizing me when she didn’t really know me. We spent lots of intimate time together in the past few days, but she saw me on a superficial level. I hadn’t said much more to her than I would to the nosiest reporter. I was unapologetic about my words and behavior, and I rarely censored myself. If I was flirty with Olivia, it was because I was flirty with a lot of girls I found attractive. In fact, I was also flirty with girls I wasn’t particularly attracted to. It was just another way of communicating for me.
Yes, I had taken a special interest in Olivia and promised to help out her career, but we weren’t dating, or anything. I knew I didn’t owe her anything, but I felt as though I should be a little more careful with her. Many of the women I spent time with could handle themselves just fine. Olivia was tough, but still delicate in a way that made me worry about her future. She had the potential, but I feared she would burn bright for a short amount of time before burning out altogether. I’d seen it happen over and over again in med school and even with a few of the doctors at CUIMC. Especially those in the ER.
At the same time, I had to remind myself that her issues were not the same as mine. Though I saw similarities between the two of us, I had to separate my struggles from her goals and dreams. Did I wonder if she was getting into medicine for all the wrong reasons? Probably, but I wasn’t sure if that was my business. When it came down to it, I didn’t know her on a deeper level, either. I just felt bad that I spoiled what had been an otherwise amazing weekend with a pretty girl.
With my guilt, I decided I would try to take her mind off of it. Mind you, I would also benefit from this as well. It was fairly early, and my morning wood hadn’t completely settled down.
“I had this put in a few years ago, and have hardly used it,” I said, escorting her to my patio. I flipped a switch on the wall, and the jets in the hot tub started to rumble.
“You don’t use this?” she exclaimed. “If I had a hot tub, I would be in h
ere every day. I would kill for this kind of lifestyle.”
“You say that now, but it’s not as much fun to hot tub alone,” I said. “Sure, it’s nice if you’re entertaining guests, but most nights, I just lay on the couch until I fall asleep. Then, when you have friends over, you have to clean it because I don’t like to have a lot of chemicals in here, and people like to behave badly in hot tubs,” I added with a wink.
“It’s such a nice day,” she said, looking up at the sky. Fluffy, white clouds drifted overhead, creating perfect intervals of warm sun and cool shade. She held out an arm and let her fingers float over the wooden screen that kept the hot tub private, but still made it feel like we were in the open. “I didn’t bring a bathing suit.”
I couldn’t help but grin at her naivety. We had engaged in sexual intercourse not more than twelve hours ago and she was concerned about having something to wear in the hot tub.
“I wasn’t planning on putting on a swimsuit, if that makes you feel any better,” I said.
She blushed and took the hint. After following my lead, she stripped off my clothes and splashed into the warm water. Her perky breasts floated on top of the water, until she finally lowered herself to her neck and paddled toward me.
The hot tub was really like a small swimming pool with jets. I would have installed a full lap pool, but there wasn’t quite enough room on the deck. I would have to wait until I bought a house in the suburbs.
“Want me to give you a massage?” I asked. Other women had told me I was pretty good at it. It was also a sure-fire way to get a different kind of massage from the girl once I was finished.
“Yeah, actually, that sounds pretty nice,” she said, getting closer to me.
As I worked on her tense shoulders, she started to relax a little. “I hope I didn’t freak you out or whatever,” I said. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”
“It’s fine,” she mumbled. “Maybe you’re right and maybe you’re full of shit. Either way, I can take care of myself.”
“Good,” I said.