Chapter 3

Three days later, I was at Harmony Medical Center, standing outside Charles's office.

Charles was in his early fifties, his hair mostly gray, eyes sharp as ever.

"So, have you made up your mind?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said.

Charles stared at me for a while, sizing me up, and asked, "Do you know why I reached out to you?"

"No."

"Because you're worth it. Your wife doesn't see it, but I do."

I kept quiet.

Charles leaned back in his chair. "Susan handed the deputy director spot to some kid. Word is spread all over the medical community. Everyone thinks it's a joke."

"So you think I'm a joke?" I asked.

"No, I think you're an opportunity," Charles said, holding out a contract. "Sign it, and Harmony Medical Center will give you a platform to shine."

I looked at the contract in his hand.

It was a three-year contract as the deputy director, with the right to lead surgeries and build my own team. The salary was double what I make now.

I picked up the pen. The tip hovered over the paper when my phone buzzed in my pocket.

It was a message from Susan. [Big meeting at the hospital tomorrow. They're announcing the new deputy director. Be there on time.]

I stared at the message. Then I slipped my phone back in my pocket and signed the contract.

The pen cap snapped shut.

Charles stood up and reached out his hand. "Welcome aboard."

I shook his hand.

"We'll handle the paperwork next week. Any surgeries left on your schedule?" he asked.

"Yeah. One last one," I replied.

"Finish it before you leave."

*****

By the time I walked out of Harmony Medical Center, night had already fallen.

I stood at the hospital entrance and lit up a cigarette.

I had barely smoked in my life.

Tonight, I made an exception.

The tip of the cigarette glowed and faded.

My phone buzzed again. It was Susan. I picked up.

"What time are you coming to the hospital tomorrow?" she asked.

"Depends," I replied.

"Don't be late," she said, sounding bossy. "Dad is coming."

I didn't answer.

"Andrew?" she asked.

I replied, "Yeah."

"What's up with you lately? Are you still mad about the promotion?" Susan's voice softened.

"No."

"Really?"

"Really."

Susan let out a breath, relieved. She laughed, "I knew you'd take it in stride. Tomorrow, when Leo goes up on stage, make sure you cheer him on."

I stubbed out my cigarette. "Okay."

I hung up and stood under the streetlight, watching my shadow stretch across the pavement.

Tomorrow, Susan would be on stage, announcing Leo as deputy director.

She had no clue the contract in my pocket was already signed.

She thought I was sulking, but I was saying goodbye.

*****

At 7:30 the next morning, I arrived at the hospital.

I put my white coat back in the locker and pinned on my badge.

A nurse passing by greeted me, "Morning, Dr. Shaw."

I replied, "Morning."

"There's a staff meeting today. I heard they're announcing the deputy director choice," she whispered. "Is it not you?"

"Nope."

She looked surprised. "Aren't you the best in the hospital—"

I cut her off. "The list has settled. Go do your job."

She left.

I stood in the locker room, staring at myself in the mirror: white coat, badge, and scalpel.

I had worn this outfit for twelve years.

Today was my last day.

*****

At 7:50, Leo walked in.

He had on a fresh suit, hair slicked back, shoes shining.

"Andrew," he called out, "Thanks for backing me up today."

He patted my shoulder and took off.

I watched him leave.

His collar was still sticking up on one side.