Illicit Affairs

02

Camille's POV

"You've got to be kidding me," I muttered, tapping my fingers on the table. My eyes were fixed on the ceiling light above me, which was flickering as if it was on its last breath.

"Another issue with a patient's prescription?" Sylvia Patterson casually asked beside me.

"I thought I mentioned that an electrician needs to come down and check the light, Sylvia," I remind the woman who was sat at the table, ignoring me and filing her nails.

"You might have," she sang.

"So, is somebody coming down to see what's up with the light?" I question, feeling my jaw clench.

"I don't think that they are, Camille. Ouch, I think I might have taken off more nail then I needed to," Sylvia whined. I rolled my eyes and jotted down a reminder to find an electrician myself on a sticky note.

Before I had the chance to tell off the colleague of mine, my boss, Arthur Delaney, grumbled to himself as he brushed past me.

"Ladies, what's the policy on alcohol around here?" He questioned out loud.

I glance at the two patients sitting in the waiting area. One woman was reading a magazine, the other was looking focused on her phone.

I wasn't often surprised by the things that come from Arthur's mouth. His gruff demeanour didn't normally faze me, but this comment was a little on the unusual side for him. This morning, he was spouting his usual medical conversations. Now he was talking about alcohol, a topic he didn't talk about during work hours.

"I don't recall being told that we had an alcohol policy here. But I'd assume drinking in a medical practice would be frowned upon," I say while sitting behind the desktop computer.

"Well, I think I'm on the side of alcoholics today because the patient I just had makes me want more than just one drink," he grimaced, shuffling through a manilla folder angrily.

"Arthur, if you want a drink, just say that. I don't have the energy for cryptic comments," Sylvia sighed while continuing to file her nails.

"What's happened with your patient?" I ask, amused about the doctors' foul mood. This was normal for Arthur. He always seemed to opinion on everything – from bad drivers to even his least liked patients.

Arthur let out a sigh but seemed to want to avoid making eye contact with Sylvia or myself.

"Does wearing a stethoscope mean nothing to these people?" Arthur exclaimed in frustration. I noticed Sylvia standing by the doorway, chuckling.

"Depends who's wearing it. The surprise guest I hired for my best friend's bachelorlette last year wore one, but he was no doctor," she explained with a small smirk on her face.

"Sylvia!" I warned her, unimpressed by her comment. Although it didn't seem like Arthur was bothered or even noticed the woman's saucy comment.

"I'd argue that a stethoscope is a deterant to sanity around here," he said and looked up tiredly.

Sylvia looked up at the doctor in confusion. "Huh?" She asked.

"I just can't take people coming in and giving me opinions on what the issue is. If only there was someone with medical expertise that could help - oh wait!" He sarcastically shared, shaking his head.

"Someone questioned your qualifications?" I ask him, struggling to wrap my head around his admission.

Regardless of what people may think about Arthur personally, it would be ignorant to say that he wasn't a good doctor. Behind his countless Melbourne University degrees and often misanthropic personality, Arthur genuinely did want the best for his patients.