Page 74 of We Were Something
“Look at you, master chef,” she says, slipping into the booth on one side as I pour myself another glass of wine.
I hold up the bottle, but she shakes her head. “Water, please.”
“No prob.”
“You know, I thought you might join me in the shower,” she says as I tug out a bottle of water from the fridge. “I was a little disappointed.”
Pouring her water into a glass, I nod. “I was focused on getting dinner on the table,” I tell her, shrugging a shoulder.
“Dinner could have waited a while longer.”
Heat crawls up my neck, and I smile.
“Well, deviating from my plan is something new that I’m not very good at yet,” I say honestly. “Next time you’re close by and suds-ing up in a warm shower, I’ll try to be more spontaneous.”
“You’re planning spontaneity,” she says, her words a statement, not a question. “If that isn’t the most doctor-y thing I’ve ever heard.”
Smiling, I drop into my seat across from her, lifting my wine glass.
“To spontaneity.”
She shakes her head at me, though her smile never leaves her face as she clinks hers against mine in a cheers.
Then she takes a big bite of her salad, bobbing her head and letting out tiny noises that indicate she likes it.
Satisfied, I tuck into my own, each of us getting in a few bites before Paige launches in with a question I should have assumed would come at some point.
“Is it okay if I ask you a few questions?” she asks, something almost apologetic about the way she says it. “About the stuff going on with Ivy.”
I nod my head. “As long as you realize some information is confidential.”
“Oh, absolutely. If I ask anything that crosses a line, tell me to fuck off.” She laughs. “Mostly I’m just wondering about the broader picture, more of the people-y stuff and less of the science-y stuff.”
I spear a few pieces of ahi with my fork and move it onto my plate.
“What do you mean?”
She shrugs a shoulder. “Like…do you think everyone’s ready for the next few weeks?”
I tilt my head from side to side. “I don’t think anyone is ever truly ready to deal with a life-threatening disease or condition,” I tell her. “Especially something that impacts a child. It’s hard to comprehend the idea that an innocent life, someone who hasn’t lived really at all, could be snuffed out by unfortunate circumstances.”
Paige nods and plops a large bite of tomato into her mouth, chewing slowly. But I can still see her mind moving, mulling something over. Sure enough, a minute later, she asks another question.
“Is it hard to work with children? I mean, I know you face death as a doctor, regardless of what you do. But…is it particularly difficult because they’re all kids?”
When I don’t immediately respond, she continues.
“God, I feel like an ass even asking you. I just…it’s so amazing to dedicate your life to saving their lives, but I feel like it would be even more heartbreaking than, say, facing the death of a 65-year-old or something, you know?”
I lick my lips and bob my head, knowing what she means.
“I actually get this question a lot, so you’renotan ass for asking.”
She gives me a thankful smile and takes another big bite of tomato.
“The thing about working in pediatrics is that you have to focus on the wins more than the losses. It’s almost like I have to assume every child coming to me is in a life-threatening position that, say, a hundred years ago would have meant they died. Sometimes, I get to save them. Sometimes, I get to use my skills and experience and all the learning I’ve done to give someone a long life instead of the short one they would have had.”
“That’s an interesting way to see it,” she says. “And I can see how that would help withnotfocusing on the death part.”
