Page 24 of Doctor Bossy

“Hmm,” I said, trying to keep calm as the rage built and finding it hard to believe my son was truly this vindictive. “I don’t see how her ineptitude is any of your business. In addition, she has continued to show her skill here in every capacity, and she has done very well so far.”

“She’s been there that long?” he sounded incredulous.

“Tell me something,” I said instead. “What exactly is your end goal here? You’ve already tried to ruin the girl’s life, and now you’re trying to make it such that she cannot work anywhere else. Why? So she has no choice but to forgive you and take you back?"

The brief second of silence at the other end told me that I was right on the money, even though James followed up with a quiet, “You always like to believe the worst of me, don’t you?”

“I don’t want to,” I said. “But it seems the more I know about you, the more it ends up being the worst.”

“Maybe that’s because the only parent who truly understood me died twelve years ago,” he continued in that tone. “Isn’t that right? Because to you, I’ll always be the son you never wanted.”

And there it was.

I was wondering how long it would take him to pull that card out.

Initially, when Heather conceived, I hadn’t wanted children at that point in my life. I was still in medical school, carrying a mountain of debts, and still held hang-ups from my army days. But Heather fought me against getting rid of the child, believing everything happened for a reason despite our circumstances. And she was right because I’d loved my son since the moment he was born—so tiny and helpless—into this world. From that moment on, I swore I would take care of him and his mother no matter what.

But Heather had told the young James his conception story once during a haze of pain and paranoia, and as was typical for James, he focused on the wrong thing—on the fact that I hadn’t initially wanted him.

Toward the end, Heather’s disease also made her paranoid, and for some reason, she was afraid that I would toss James aside if she ever passed away. I had to promise her several times that I wouldn’t before she would rest for the night. James had walked in on one of those moments, and that, combined with the story, must have convinced him that I didn’t love him.

James used that accusation whenever he wanted to hurt me or prick my guilty conscience to get what he wanted. Usually, it worked.

But this time, I refused to give in.

“James, if you want to show me that you’re truly the young man your mother wanted you to be, then you’re going to have to prove it to me,” I said. “Until then, you have no say in who I choose to hire or not hire. Was there anything else you needed?”

There was a second of shocked silence before James swore and hung up. It didn’t offend me, but it did irritate me. It seemed the boy wanted to continue his childish ways, and there was not a damn thing I could do about it.

I knew this wouldn’t be the end of it. James hated being made a fool of, and there would be repercussions.

No matter, I had better things to worry about. Like Terradol being sent to the hospital’s IRB next Tuesday, for example.

I couldn’t believe we had come this far and that the drug that had been in the making for years had finally reached this stage of approval. It was vital that everything went right during the approval process. Nothing was allowed to go wrong. On that day, everyone was to arrive early and do their duties with exact precision because an IRB inspector would also be coming in that day to inspect the lab. If anything were off or perceived as dangerous, we would be back to the drawing board.

I stood up and began heading toward the lab to make sure everything was in the proper process. I scanned in but hesitated by the door, watching the scene play out in front of me.

“But it’s not trash,” Becca was saying, gesturing to the volumetric flask in her hand containing a yellow liquid. “I think the reason we haven’t had a breakthrough on the genetic influence of Terk’s might be because of all the so-called junk protein we toss out too early in the research stages. Although some of the protein may not seem important because it’s not what Terradol is acting against, what’s to say it’s not linked to the gene that impacts blood type?”

That was a smart answer. I wondered why I had never thought about that.

“You still should have asked me before you brought that in here,” Leila was saying, looking annoyed. “I believe that was one of the first things I mentioned. This lab must always be sterile as the chemicals here are more sensitive than most. Nothing that is not absolutely vital to our research can be in here.”

Far from looking chastised, Becca was listening attentively to what Leila was saying, and she looked thoughtful when she asked, “Okay, so where can I conduct this study then? Because I think it’s important still.”

Leila looked reluctant, but then she capitulated. “I’ll give you a spot. In the meantime….”

I was about to walk away when Leila and Becca both caught sight of me at the same time. Becca blushed and raised her hand to wave, but I didn’t return the greeting. Instead, I turned to Leila and asked, “Is there a problem here?’”

This would be the time to tell me if I needed to intervene, but she shook her head. “Nothing that can’t be handled.”

I nodded and then walked off, the memory of Becca’s disappointed eyes behind me.

11

BECCA

The next week, I approached the restaurant with dread in my stomach.

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