THE RESIDENT

New York, New York

Natalie

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I now regret ever saying that working in a private practice was less challenging than working in a hospital. This was, by far, much harder and I was struggling for the first time in my career. 

I’d foolishly thought that my first few weeks were a blueprint of what I’d be doing for the rest of my residency — simply shadowing Dr. Ashton or another doctor for a few months at a time and taking tests here or there. But the second the program coordinators sat me down in a private boardroom and laid out more of the program specifics and how it was about to change, I realized I was in over my head.

Mondays through Wednesdays were the days I spent with Dr. Ashton, the tension between us growing hotter and more explosive by the second. The lustful energy was practically palpable each time we shared the same room. It was becoming so obvious, that in the middle of our last session with a woman who was suffering from misplaced anger issues, she stopped mid-speech and looked at both of us, yelling, “Jesus! Would the two of you just fuck already?”

Thursdays were the “research days” when I spent hours on the third floor of the practice, conducting studies in the lab — splitting my time between the psychologist and the psychiatrist. (And since this was only one day a week, they both gave me enough ‘solo study’ work, so that I had to come in on the weekends and finish. I never finished ...)

The worst day of all though was Friday, which was definitely a cruel joke on me by the universe. Fridays were designated to be “as needed day” which meant that even if I were in the middle of completing a research assignment or catching up on some charting that was long overdue, if any of the board doctors needed me to do something they didn’t want to do, I was their girl.

And they definitely made me their girl.

My Fridays were a never-ending reel of mending minor sutures, “I just want someone to listen to me for twenty minutes,” sessions, basic physical checkups, rectal exams, lab test screenings, “please retrieve the nurse’s notes on my patient’s family history from twenty years ago now, please” demands. They started the second I walked through the door at seven o’clock in the morning, and I was lucky to get out the doors of Park Avenue Wellness by ten o’clock at night.

So, technically, I dreaded Fridays, but I also dreaded Thursdays because they cruelly pushed me into those Fridays without a second thought.

“You look like absolute shit today.” Shannon plopped down next to me on our couch late Thursday night. “Like, you’re naturally gorgeous— usually, but I can barely even recognize you right now with those big ass grey bags under your eyes.”

She leaned closer and sniffed me. “And what is that smell? Have you not showered at all this week?”

“Thank you so much, Shannon,” I said. “I can always count on you to make me feel better about my life.”

“You’re very welcome.”

I wiggled my way out of my sweater and tossed it across the room. “A doctor caught me on the way out today and asked me to help him hold a baby while he set up the room for a CAT scan. The baby looked at me for two seconds and vomited all over me. It’s like she wanted to confirm the state of my life for me, you know?”

“I’m sorry.” She laughed and gave me a side hug. “On the plus side, you’re one of the highest-paid residents in the state. You make fifteen thousand more than me a year by working there, so that has to count for something, right?”

I slowly turned my head to face her and gave her a blank stare.

She laughed even harder. “How are things with the dirty doctor?”

“Dirty Doctor? That’s what we’re calling Dr. Ashton now?”

“Yeah, somehow I don’t feel right calling him ‘Dr. Nine Inches’ like you do. Plus, I think it sounds better.”

I tried to laugh, but nothing came out but a dry heave. “He’s still finding creative ways to push me into speaking to him again.”

“You’re still giving him the email only treatment?”

I nodded, but he was honestly breaking me down with each day that passed. All it took was one sexy smirk, one lick of his full lips, or a “Surely you can say thank you for this,” when he brought me breakfast and hot coffee every morning. (I was certain my ‘Subject: Thank you for Breakfast + I Truly Appreciate It’ emails would come to an end soon.)

“You know, it would be so much easier to hate him if he wasn’t so damn attractive and beloved by every person who works there.”

“Beloved? I thought you said he’s the rudest out of all the doctors.”

“Oh, he definitely is.” I sat up on the couch. “But everyone loves him because aside from his assholery from time to time, he’s actually quite generous.”

She looked as if she didn’t believe me.

“He pays for twenty percent of his patients’ care every month, and he takes on twice as many pro bono cases as the next top three doctors combined.”

“You’re kidding. How’d you find out?”

“I was going through his desk the other day, trying to find out where he’d hid my cell phone.” I smiled at his umpteenth failed attempt to break my silence. “I saw this list of notes and a bunch of checks paper clipped to it. They were all payments for the patients who either couldn’t afford his fee or didn’t have health insurance. And the notes were a very thorough list of at least fifty things he’s taken on for free this year. Fifty.”

“Well, maybe he’s not so bad after all. I mean, you clearly like him and vice versa, so maybe when you two get tired of playing these childish games with each other, you can at the very least be friends again.”

“I’m not going that far.” I picked up my phone as it vibrated against the coffee table. “He’s going to give me that apology, or at least acknowledge he didn’t have to be so rude.”

I swiped my screen and saw a message from the doctor himself.

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Subject: Tomorrow. (As needed day)

Dr. Laurel won’t be coming in tomorrow. You’ll need to handle her three morning appointments. A nurse will be available.

—Dr. Ashton

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Subject: Re: Tomorrow. (As needed day)

Dr. Laurel? Aren’t her morning appointments usually all pap smears?

—Dr. Madison

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Subject: Re: Re: Tomorrow. (As needed day)

Yes.

Is that a problem? Are you uncomfortable touching pussy?

—Dr. Ashton

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Subject: Re: Re: Re: Tomorrow. (As needed day)

No, I just ... I haven’t done one of those in a long time and I only did a few as an intern. I’m sure I’ll be fine, though.

—Dr. Madison.

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Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Tomorrow. (As needed day)

You don’t have much of a choice ...The nurse who’s assigned to help you will be taking observation notes on your performance for Dr. Laurel to “grade” later.

As much as you’ve touched your own pussy at night to thoughts of fucking me, I think this should be rather easy for you.

—Dr. Ashton