A light's on in the office across; some other sucker must be working late, too. Can't see who's out there, just see my own reflection in the window. Looking good, if I do say so myself. Confident, the kind of doctor you'd trust with your life. Some gray, but they say it's distinguished on a man. Look at that beaming smile.
Who are you? Do I know you?
The smile fades.
I should be dining with the drug reps at that cooler-than-thou South Beach restaurant. Bet they're digging into fettucine Alfredo now, listening to someone peddle the newest, priciest pill for cholesterol. Always a choice of wine--that's good for cholesterol, right?--and maybe get one prim and proper doc to blush like fire, like at the last dinner.
Instead I'm entombed in insurance forms, disabled parking permits, patient test results and unfinished notes. I was a fool to pass up dinner, but this doctor is IN...trouble! My partners threatened to nail my ass to a whipping post if I didn't clean up my paperwork. They laughed when I told them I liked that sort of thing, but it didn't cut me any slack.
Paperwork? It's botwork now, work for robots! I'm a pro at spiffing up computer charts to make my virtual patients look perfect, but I think I went into medicine to help actual people, unless my memory's playing tricks.
Check the phone in case I missed an urgent page and someone needs me.
No. Just me, my clutter, and no crème brûlée. A stretch and peek outside is the only dessert I'm getting tonight.
So lucky to have snagged an office with a big window. I must waste hours spying on the courtyard and that building across, and checking out my slice of Biscayne Bay and sky. Even now, with most of it swallowed up by the darkness, it's a killer view.
But I don't want to be here! I want to be having dinner with my pals, sitting next to my Wonder Woman in the white doctor coat, hearing her laugh. She has a beautiful laugh.
Wonder what she'd think if she knew what I'm thinking. Wish she was working late, too, and I could walk over to her office, knock on her door and say...
...I have no idea what I would say. Probably some lame joke.
Mustn't think of her anyway. Think of Superman, man of steel, failing to save the world because he didn't finish his botwork in time. Think of Superwoman...I wonder if she's single. No ring. Probably divorced; aren't all doctors?
I suddenly notice movement in the window across. Two figures, turning toward me. Time for a wave.
Peekaboo, ICU...
Uh-oh.
UC me.
YOU ARE READING
Comfort Zone
Mystery / ThrillerDr. Miriam Gotlin is intent on building a medical practice in which caring for patients also means caring about them. When a desperately ill AIDS patient is admitted to the hospital and fails to respond to an injection that had always worked, Miria...
