“That’s the spirit, Mama.”
2
Daisy
Every morning passed at the speed of light because we had so much to do. We ordered labs and tests on our patients, but we spent the bulk of our time thinking, mapping out connections and possibilities. Each one of us believed there was an answer to every problem—we just had to find it.
There was definitely a drop in morale in the room, left unspoken.
I was starving at lunchtime and a granola bar wouldn’t hold me over, so Shelly and I walked down the street and grabbed sandwiches at the deli.
I stood at the edge of the counter and waited for the food to be ready, in heels and a pencil skirt, my long hair in a slick ponytail. “So…that was a kick to the balls, wasn’t it?”
Shelly gave a strained smirk. “With a steel-toe boot.”
“I thought he was talking about Anthony. And based on Anthony’s expression, he thought the same thing.”
“Outside hire? How does that make sense? We have such a rigorous hiring process. The director should come from within the organization—not outside of it.”
“Girl, I’m with you.” The food was placed on the counter in a paper bag, so I grabbed it and we were on our way.
“I thought it was going to be you too.”
I shrugged as we headed back to the office. “I assumed it would be one of us—dead wrong.”
“That was so fucked up of Dylan.”
“I made my mom join me at a dive bar so I could discuss that very topic.”
She eyed me. “You look pretty good for a night at a dive bar.”
“I absorb my liquor well. Think it’s my fountain of youth.”
She chuckled then we entered the clinic once again, heading to my office so we could eat together.
As I sat behind my desk, I saw Dylan pass through the glass doors and head to his office.
Shelly watched my eyes move, holding her sandwich in her hands. “Don’t do it.”
“Why not? He’s leaving anyway.”
“But he hasn’t left yet—and he could still fire you.”
“Bitch can’t fire me.” I threw my sandwich down and moved to the door. “Like to see him try.”
“Daisy—”
The door shut behind me, and I entered through his open door. He was behind his desk, boxes already on the floor and the corner of his desk. I tapped my knuckles on the wall to announce my presence. “Got a sec?”
He lifted his chin and gave me an affectionate look. “Come on in, Daisy. Just getting my things together…”
I helped myself to one of the brown leather armchairs facing his desk, crossing my ankles and sitting with a strong posture. The walk from my office to his was spent in a rage, but I forced it to quiet because that was no way to handle the situation. Instead of getting fired, I would be escorted out by security. “Has it hit you yet?”
“It hit me when I bought these boxes at Staples.” He set his pile of papers down and looked at me over the wooden desk, his hair white as snow, his complexion dull with age, wrinkles, and bruised marks over his thin skin.
“I bet Marge is happy to have you home all the time.”
He gave a slight chuckle. “She’s already sick of me, and I haven’t even retired yet. So, what can I do for you?”
“Well…I wanted to talk to you about the new director you hired.”
“Yes? What about him?”
“Exactly. What about him?”
Dylan’s confidence waned when he misunderstood the question.
“With all due respect, sir. Everyone in this office was qualified for that job. Some of them have been here for decades. No one knows how to run this clinic better than we do, and by your hiring an outside person, they’re already at a disadvantage with their lack of experience. I just don’t understand why you would make that decision.”
His hands came together on the desk, and he dropped his gaze as he gave a sigh. “It wasn’t my intention. But we met through a mutual acquaintance, and when he showed his interest in the position, he gave me his resume…and I thought he would be perfect.”
It was hard to keep my cool. My eyebrows furrowed, and the vein in my forehead felt visible through my skin. It took all my strength not to lose my shit and go off on this old man. “More perfect than the people who already work here? Anthony? Me?”
“Daisy, I think you’re a brilliant diagnostician. I don’t need to tell you that. You’ve got the kinds of brains that most of us lack. But I never seriously considered you for the position because you’re too young.”
Ooh…I was gonna knock this fucker out. “And how old is this guy?”
He hesitated, backed into a corner.
Nope. Not gonna let it go. “How old is he, Dylan?”
“I’m…I’m not sure—”
“You said he was a young man, so he’s got to be younger than thirty-five. Why is he not too young, but I am?”