Page 10 of Summer with the Single Dad

As they often did when she replayed that day, that surgery, and that moment in her life, her hands came up and she pantomimed her fingers in Mr. O’Malley’s chest cavity.

She did everything right.

Until that moment, she’d been a cardio-god. A rockstar. She saved ten times more lives than she ever lost. She performed surgeries that other surgeons wouldn’t even attempt because it would affect their average. But Justine was a risk-taker. Maybe it was also her ego that made her take risks, but up until that day, her ego had never steered her wrong.

Up until that day, she was an innovative and patient doctor. A respected and sought-after surgeon. A preferred teacher and physician that not only had the skills in the OR but a reputable bedside manner as well.

Normally, she didn’t make promises to patients or their families that they’d come through. You never really knew what you were walking into until you opened the patient up and peered inside. MRIs, CAT scans, and X-Rays only showed so much.

But she’d developed a caring relationship with Mr. O’Malley and his family.

They trusted her.

And she liked them. His wife knitted Justine a scarf. His grandchildren drew her pictures.

That was mistake number one: getting attached.

Mistake number two was promising them that she’d get Mr. O’Malley home so he could celebrate his granddaughter, Lizzie’s, first birthday.

She made that promise because even though the man had a tangled, brilliant tumor wrapped around his heart, she figured she had the surgery in the bag. She had a plan and was one of the best. She intended to save that man and send him home with his wife so he could enjoy retired life with his grandchildren.

But the CT and MRI didn’t show how shredded his aorta was.

And that tumor was even more woven around his heart than she first thought.

But still, she was confident she could help him. She was confident in herself.

Even after what she heard in the bathroom right before she scrubbed in, she was still confident. Rattled. Devastated. Broken hearted. But, confident.

But when she heard the name of the nurse beside her, the woman who would be handing her every single piece of surgical equipment that she required to save Mr. O’Malley’s life, the woman who looked Justine in the eye with triumph in her own eyes—that’s when Justine messed up.

That’s when she made the mistake.

That’s how she killed Mr. O’Malley.

She wasn’t even sure how many times she went over that surgery in her head, with her eyes closed and the world tuned out. But a seagull squawk and the flap of wings way too close for comfort broke through her daytime nightmare and forced her eyes to flash open.

A gull with red eyes and a dirty yellow beak stood next to her on the log, eying her paper bag which had nothing but the empty to-go containers in it.

“Shoo,” she said, swatting it away.

It was ballsy and unruffled by her hand. Rather, it tilted its head to the side to study her, then took a step forward and pecked at the paper bag.

“I said shoo!” She swatted it again, then stood up. The sun was setting beyond where she was on the island now. So nothing but muted light burned around the fringes of the treetops and the peninsula to the right.

A chilly gust off the water made her shiver.

The gull still hadn’t given up though, and hopped closer toward her.

“I have nothing for you, you scavenger. Go raid the garbage or something.” She glared at the beady-eyed thing, then turned to go. She’d never been a big fan of birds to begin with. She liked penguins. They were snappy dressers and would never shit on her car. The rest could just get lost.

She was nearly back below the patio, the music still thumped and the patron volume increased exponentially. She was glad she decided to get her meal to-go and eat on the beach.

A big, green garbage bin at the rear of the building became home to her empty containers, and she was almost back at her cabin when her phone started to vibrate and warble in her pocket. It would be one of five people, probably. Everyone else knew to leave her alone.

It probably wasn’t Tad.

He knew better than to call her.

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