Brain Games

20. War

After lunch I return to the OR for Dr. Allen's last surgery of the day, still trying to shake off the conversation had with Ashlee. I scrub in and take my place at the operating table, stepping up onto my step stool so I can see better and participate more comfortably. Thank you genetics for only making me five foot two.

Standing over the patient, waiting for Dr. Allen to finish scrubbing in, another person steps up to the table across from me. I look up to find no other than Mateo, brown eyes sparkling at me beneath his scrub cap that has cartoon wiener dogs in hotdog buns. I purse my lips together to stop myself from laughing, and even though I'm wearing a mask, he somehow knows, eyes full on twinkling.

Before I can grill him on it, Dr. Allen walks in and the procedure begins, Mateo handing him the scalpel. Dr. Allen doesn't make to grab it, lifting his gaze to me instead. "Dr. Harper, would you like to do the honors?" he asks, offering me the first cut.

"Really?" I ask, and Dr. Allen nods.

I look to Mateo and by his voice I can tell he's smiling beneath his mask. "Dr. Harper." He graciously hands me the blade and I begin to cut.

*
After the procedure is complete, Dr. Allen allows me to close and I'm free to go for the day once I finish. I close up and scrub out, ready to grab my things and go home.

Walking down the hall of the OR, my feet slow as I pass the room Dr. Larson is working in. Unable to help myself, I peek in through the small rectangular window in the door. I immediately find Dr. Larson, his large frame hard to miss, but an almost equally as large frame is standing right next to him, making my stomach twist.

Brad stands strong and confident next to him, clearly soaking in every valuable teaching moment Dr. Larson has to offer. His eyes are laser focus on Dr. Larson's skillful hands, and what I would do to be a fly on the wall in that OR.

I glance around the rest of the room, and an uneasy feeling forms in the pit of my stomach. At a glance, all of Dr. Larson's team seems to be white, but again, it's hard to be certain if they are all male with the boxy scrubs and the amount of surgical gear on. Again, maybe it's just a coincid—

A large body bumps into my side and I startle, whipping my head to the left to find Mateo's smiling face, brown eyes still shining. "You just can't get enough, can you? Neurosurgeons always seem to be the surgery junkies," he teases. "Go home, you've had enough of the OR today. Unless... you want to come home with me?" he suggests playfully. He winks, crossing his strong arms over his chest.

I laugh, shaking my head. "I'm going home," I assure him. "Just wanted to take a quick peek at Dr. Larson in action."

He nods, squinting to see him through the tiny window. "Ah, the man, the myth, the legend."

I smile. "Have you ever worked with him before?" I ask.

He shakes his head. "Never."

Another kernel of unease forms in my belly, and I can't help but fixate on the fact that Mateo is Hispanic.

I back away from the door and begin heading for the neurosurgery department, Mateo following. "How long have you been working here?" I ask.

"About four years," he replies, untying his cartoonish scrub cap and running a hand through his dark hair.

I laugh. "Wiener dogs?"

He frowns in confusion before glancing at the cap in his hand, realizing and laughing. "Yeah, I was in peds all morning. What? You don't like weens?" he teases, then his eyes grow wide. "Wait. Is that why you won't go out with me?"

I burst into laughter. "No!" I manage through laughs. Once my laughter subsides I'm able to speak. "No, I'm straight. But as I said, I just have something... complicated going on right now."