Page 38 of Christmas On Call
Asha stood, shook her hand with the firm grip she’d perfected in medical school, and followed her into the office. It was smaller than the waiting room but just as carefully designed: a leather couch, two chairs, a desk pushed against one wall. No clipboard, Asha noted. Just a legal pad and pen on the small table beside one of the chairs.
“Please, sit wherever you’re comfortable,” Doctor Brown said, settling into one of the chairs.
Asha chose the couch, perched on the edge, hands still folded. Her back didn’t touch the cushions. That would be too relaxed, too vulnerable.
Doctor Brown didn’t comment on her posture. She just waited, patient and attentive, until Asha finally spoke.
“I’ve never done this before,” Asha admitted. “Therapy, I mean.”
“That’s perfectly all right. Thank you for coming.” Doctor Brown’s voice was warm without being cloying. “So, let’s make a start. Why don’t you tell me what brought you here today?”
The question was simple, but Asha felt it crack something open inside her chest. She took a breath, counted to three, and began.
“I’m in a relationship with a woman I work with. A nurse—Max. We’ve been together for about a month, though we’ve been hiding it because I was, well I am, not comfortable with people finding out.” The words came faster now, tumbling over each other. “And now my supervisor knows, and he’s requiring us to file a relationship disclosure with HR, and I have two days left to do it, and I—” Her voice broke. “I suggested we end things instead. I hurt her. Badly. And I don’t know how to fix it, or if I even can, or if I’m capable of being the person she needs me to be. And we had sex again. Sorry if that’s too much information? And I told her I am going to sort myself out. So, here I am!”
Dr. Brown listened without interrupting, her expression neutral but attentive. When Asha finally ran out of words, she let the silence sit for a moment before asking, “What scares you most about filing that disclosure?”
Asha’s throat tightened. “Everything. The exposure. The judgment. Everyone knowing that I’m—” She couldn’t finish.
“That you’re in a relationship with a woman?” Doctor Brown supplied gently.
“Yes.” The admission felt like swallowing glass. “My parents are Indian immigrants. Very traditional. Very focused on achievement and reputation and—” She stopped, searching for words. “There were never any openly gay people in my family’s social circle. It was never discussed. Not as something bad, necessarily, just... not discussed at all. As if it didn’t exist.”
“And so you learned that some things are meant to be invisible,” Doctor Brown said.
“Yes.” Asha felt tears prickling at her eyes and blinked them back furiously. “I learned that emotions were liabilities. That the only thing that mattered was being perfect—perfect grades, perfect daughter, perfect doctor. Anything else was just noise that could distract from the goal. From their goal.”
“And being in love with Max is noise?”
Hearing her therapist say Max’s name made it real in a way that hurt. “Yes. No. I don’t know.” Asha pressed her palms against her thighs. “She makes me feel things I’ve never felt before. Safe. Seen. Like I don’t have to be perfect all the time. But that terrifies me because—” Her voice cracked. “Because what if I let myself be that person—messy and emotional and openly gay—and then I lose everything else? My parents’ respect. My colleagues’ respect. The career I’ve spent my entire life building. And I just can’t stop spiraling. I keep going round and around with it all in my head.”
“Tell me about your career. What does being a neonatologist mean to you?”
The question caught Asha off-guard. She’d expected to talk about Max, about the relationship, about her fear. About being gay. Anything really, but not about work.
“It means everything to me,” she said finally. “I save lives. I make a difference. When I’m in the NICU, working a code or adjusting a ventilator or counseling terrified parents—that’s when I feel most competent. Most valuable.”
“Most in control?” Doctor Brown suggested.
Asha nodded slowly. “Yes.”
“And being in love with Max makes you feel totally out of control.”
“Completely.” The admission felt like defeat.
The therapist leaned forward slightly. “Asha, I want to ask you something, and I want you to really think about your answer. If you could have both—the career and the relationship, the respect and the love—would you want that?”
“Of course,” Asha said immediately. Then, quieter, “But I don’t think I can have both.”
“Why not?”
“Because—” Asha struggled to articulate the fear that lived in her bones. “Because the moment I file that disclosure, I’m not just Doctor Patel anymore. I’m Doctor Patel who is dating a nurse. Doctor Patel who is gay. Every decision I make will be filtered through that lens. People will question my judgment, wonder if I’m giving preferential treatment, whisper about—” She stopped, realizing how it sounded.
“About what?” Doctor Brown prompted gently.
“About the power dynamic,” Asha finished quietly. “About a doctor and a nurse. About whether I’m—” She couldn’t say it.
“About whether you’re taking advantage?” Doctor Brown’s voice was carefully neutral.
