Mark
My patience has never wavered no matter what I was doing in life. It’s one of those virtues I’m known for and that’s enabled me to remain calm and in a collected state-of-mind even in the toughest of situations.
In med school, while all my cohorts were struggling with trying to learn anatomy or diagnostic assessments, I hunkered down to study and never lost patience in the learning process even when stressed.
In Africa, my patience helped corral my frustrations over our lack of supplies and resources. I was the king of devising scrappy methods of administering triage while patiently waiting for help to arrive.
But I’ve finally lost it. My patience evaporated and simply disappeared from my grip while in Monday morning traffic and has completely eluded me in the operating room.
The minute Eli walked in with his bright sunny disposition, wearing his blue scrubs and his charming schoolboy grin, I knew I was a goner. I knew I was going to blow like the top of Mount St. Helens.
“Good morning, Dr. Olsen.” Sheila, my head nurse, steps in front of me, disconnecting my line of sight from Eli, who I’ve been covertly watching from the corner of my eye.
Since walking in five minutes ago, joking and smiling with another nurse, Katrina, I’ve felt my temperature rising and a tightening in my chest, like someone has reached in and twisted it with a needle nose pliers.
Is this what it feels like to have a heart attack? Or maybe a panic attack?
Or maybe it’s straight-up jealousy. Jealous over the fact that he’s acting like nothing happened this weekend while I simmer and stew over the fact that I want to jump his bones but can’t.
Christ, get it together, man. It shouldn’t change a thing between us. I’ll treat him the same as I always have. No big deal.
Who am I kidding? This weekend changed everything.
I drag my attention to Sheila, who is running through our scheduled surgeries and procedures this morning, her eyes darting up to me every few seconds like she’s expecting something from me but I can’t quite figure out what.
All I know is my heart rate is erratic and my hands are clammy. Shit, how the hell am I supposed to get through three surgeries before lunchtime and manage any semblance of normality while this close to Eli? Just his scent alone – piney and fresh - unnerves me.
You should’ve thought of that before you fucked him, asshole.
“Doctor, are you okay this morning? You’re looking a little flushed.”
I clear my throat, dismissing her concerns with a wave of my hand. I reach out for her tablet and look it over to ensure I have all my questions answered about the patients and their surgery requirements.
“I’m fine, Sheila,” I reply gruffly. “Just a Monday morning, is all.”
I suck in a few deep, cleansing breaths and hand back the tablet, rubbing the base of neck hoping to ease away the tension that suddenly took up residence there.
“Everything looks good. We all set for the appendectomy?”
“Of course, doctor. The nursing staff is ready when you are.”
I make the mistake of glancing over to where Eli and Katrina stand, and she’s smiling up at him with stars in her eyes.
Don’t pin your hopes on that one, honey.
Although it makes no sense and it shouldn’t even matter to me, a torrent of jealousy rages through me, my grip tightening against the corded muscles of my neck.
Eli must feel the weight of my gaze because he turns his head to look at me. Our eyes latch and his arrogant smile creates a thousand tiny explosions through my bloodstream. The zap of electricity is so sharp I nearly wobble off balance. To make matters worse, he says something to Katrina and then begins walking toward me.
No, no, no, no, I want to yell. Remain where you are. Don’t come any closer.
My mutinous glare doesn’t stop him, but hopefully projects my uncertainty and panic. Please don’t make a scene, I silently plead.
If my turmoil and frustration is that obvious to Nurse Sheila, then it’s safe to assume everyone else can sense that something is not right with me this morning. I’m acting like a complete idiot, and as far as I can tell, Eli isn’t affected in the least by my presence. I feel like there’s a rerun of Jersey Shore going on in my brain with all the drama and chaos I feel internally.
Can anyone tell we slept together? Is our attraction that obvious to the outside world?
Eli’s animated voice surrounds me. It’s gracious and hopeful, forgiving me for acting like a prick. For being unable to give him what he needs.
“Morning, doc. How was your weekend?” His question is innocuous, but the meaning behind it is heavy with implication. The wink he gives me is just down right gratuitous.
I cough out a mumbled response. “Fine. Yours?”
My skin tingles everywhere as if every limb on my body has gone numb and is just now returning to life. How the hell am I going to work side-by-side with this man when I can’t even speak in complete sentences when he’s around?
I begin to turn toward the sterilization center to prep, but he catches my elbow.
“Doctor, I believe we have scheduled time later today to discuss my performance feedback. I confirmed with your admin that we’re still on.”
“Shit,” I immediately respond, but then apologize. “Of course. I’m sorry. You’re right, we do. I’ll be ready to meet you in my office at four today. Now let’s get ready for this procedure.”
****
IT’S A MYSTERY TO ME how – and somewhat of a blur - I made it through all three surgeries today when my head was clearly not in them. Always vigilant and focused on the patient during the operations, of course, but before and afterward, my thoughts were only on Eli.
His scent. His laughter. His physical presence. The way he gave me knowing glances, our eyes meeting across the operating table, or our fingers grazing one another as he would hand me the surgical instruments. I nearly dropped them twice, my hands quickly fumbling to keep ahold of them.
It was too much for me to handle. He needs to go.
I consider this for all of two seconds when he knocks on my door. The moment he steps in and closes my office door, I curse myself for even considering it. I have no grounds to fire Eli, he’s done nothing to deserve that.
Plus, I need him here. My mind is firmly made up about Elijah Morrell.
There’s no denying that the connection we have between us is too great to ignore. I’d be a fool to try. And I’d be a fool not to try to see where it goes. To not take the chance when it’s presented and right there in front of me.
“Have a seat,” I command, but he doesn’t appear to hear me. Or he chooses not to listen, which is part and parcel for Eli.
Instead, Eli walks toward me with confident strides, rounding my desk and coming to stand in front of my seated position.
I’m about to say something...I don’t know what, exactly, because the thought is suddenly silenced when he cups my cheeks, bends down and kisses me.
He. Fucking. Kisses. Me.
And for a split second, I worry that someone is going to come barging into my office and we’ll be caught.
But that worry quickly dissipates the minute he kneels and begins working my belt.