The Doctor Who Has No Chance (Soulless 11)

The patient was in his late forties, suffering from an unusual heart condition that couldn’t be treated. Unless he had a transplant, his heart would give out within a year. With the support of his wife and two daughters, he sat there and gave a nod.

“I also can’t guarantee that I’ll be the one to do the surgery. My name can be first on the list, but if I’m already in surgery or it’s the middle of the night and I’m scheduled the next morning for another surgery, my obligation has to be to my scheduled patients. If it’s any other time, I can cancel my obligations or come in on a weekend. So, it’s just about timing.” The second I said that phrase, I thought of Sicily, and I noticed her fingers pause on the keyboard at the same time.

We said our goodbyes, and then they left.

They were the last appointment of the day, so I got to relax back into the couch, my knees wide apart, my arms crossed over my chest. I closed my eyes for a moment, just letting my mind float in the ether for a bit.

Sicily’s footsteps were audible, becoming louder the closer she came to me. “How does a meatball sub sound?”

Without opening my eyes, I grinned.

She chuckled. “Coming right up.” She knew it was my favorite, and she usually grabbed it for me when I’d had a particularly hard day. It was thoughtful, like everything else she did.

She came back as quickly as she’d left. “Your father is here. Should I let him in?”

My eyes immediately snapped open. “Sure. Grab him a vegan sandwich while you’re at it.”

“Already one step ahead of you.” She walked into the lobby, and they exchanged a few pleasantries before Dad came through the open door of my office. He shut the door behind himself then approached the couch.

I could tell something was wrong with just one look at him. I straightened on the couch and ran my fingers through my short hair.

He was in his blue scrubs, veins on display along his arms, his neck, and the muscle that was visible around the loose collar of his top. He leaned back, his knees apart, and looked out the window for a while.

“Everything alright?”

He hadn’t shaved for a couple days, so his dark shadow was a thin layer of hair along his jawline. It made his dark eyes stand out even more, along with the thick, black hair on his head. He still had a youthful look because of his fitness, but he hadn’t lost much hair either, and he didn’t seem like someone who would resort to hair growth products, so it must just be genetic…or diet.

“Uh, Dad?”

He turned back to me.

“Have a bad day at the hospital?” Maybe he’d lost someone, and he just needed to talk about it with someone who understood. He was strong and resilient, but he was still human, and sometimes he just needed to vent.

“No.” He shifted his gaze to me, one arm over the back of the couch while his other hand rubbed the scruff on his face. “Your mother tells me we’re having dinner on Saturday.”

Ooh, now I knew what was on his mind. “Yeah.”

He continued to stare me down, looking at me like I was someone to interrogate, not his flesh and blood. “You’ve met him?”

My dad was the strong and silent type, never talked about my other siblings to me, like we were all totally separate from one another. If Daisy did something wrong, he never came to me and expected me to tattle. We all had our unique relationships, and he never shared those secrets with the others. So, the fact that he was cornering me like this to talk about Daisy was not like him at all. It was one thing to share family news so we could all be a united front, but this was totally out of the ordinary. “Yeah, a couple times.”

“What do you think?”

Oh wow, he was really putting me on the spot, huh?

His eyes burned into mine, waiting for a response.

Fuck, what was I supposed to say? I didn’t want to lie, but I also didn’t want to share my true thoughts because that wasn’t fair to Mason. He deserved the opportunity to give the best impression he could, not be muddled down by someone else’s opinion. “He’s cool.”

“He’s cool? That’s all you have to say?”

“Dad, I just think you’re being a little unfair right now.”

“In what way?”

“Did you ever ask Derek what Mom thought of Sicily?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, bad example. When you met Catherine, you didn’t grill anyone about who she was. You’re only doing it because Daisy is a woman.” I wanted to help my dad, because I had the exact same reaction he did, and I knew it was wrong. It was totally sexist and inappropriate. “She’s the smartest person we know, so we need to let her make her own decisions.”