The patient was rolled off to recovery, and Stevie and I went to tell the family that it was a successful procedure.
As was fairly standard, they hugged each other, thanked me, and then they were gone, heading up to the recovery waiting room to see their loved one. I loved the satisfaction that came with a successful procedure and was definitely pleased to have rounded off my day with a good outcome.
“We need to talk,” Stevie said quietly.
Her voice was low but firm, and when I glanced down at her next to me, she was staring straight ahead, with her jaw set. She turned her gaze to mine, and there was determination written all over her. I just nodded, not seeing any way I could escape.
“My office?” I asked, hoping to keep it professional.
I had no doubt she was going to call me out for my lack of professionalism, and my heart sunk at the thought. She had every right to, but it didn't mean I looked forward to it.
“No,” she said. “I’d rather somewhere that people can’t see us.”
Even though the blinds could be shut on my office, I understood what she was saying. She didn’t want anyone to see her entering or leaving with me, especially when we both knew there was cause to question our relationship to each other.
“The stairwell, then,” I suggested, and she nodded curtly.
The stairwell was frequently used as a meeting place for any quick discussion that needed to be had, and I hoped it would help dissolve some of the suspicion around us if anyone caught us talking. We headed there in silence, keeping an appropriate distance, and once we were there, I turned to face her.
Stevie’s face was a storm and yet somehow, completely unreadable. She had her arms crossed across her chest, like she was protecting herself, and her eyes swirled with defensive emotion. Her face was a blank slate. She didn’t let me see any hint of what she was thinking, and it was terrifying in a way. She reminded me of her father, but I knew she would hate it if I mentioned that to her.
“I need to know why you’re avoiding me,” she said.
Her voice held more power than it had in the OR, but I thought I detected a slight waver. I wondered if she would break if I spoke to her too firmly and why. Why did she get to be the one to break?
“I’d think it would be obvious,” I scoffed, crossing my own arms.
She just tilted her head and pursed her lips. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. She clearly wasn’t going to ask the question aloud, so I continued.
“You came to me after speaking with your father about our relationship, and then slept with me,” I stated like it was obvious.
It should have been obvious.
“And then you started talking about the board and how your contract said you had to declare relationships,” she replied stonily.
I nodded, not seeing where the issue was there. I had tried to hand her my heart, and she had slapped it away like it was an annoying fly. I braced myself, and just decided to say it out loud.
“Stevie, it’s damn hard to be civil with someone who just used me as a pawn in her revenge, and I’m sorry if it’s taking me some time to act like your teacher again, but—”
“I’m sorry?” She asked incredulously. “A what? A pawn? And who, precisely, am I exacting revenge on?”
“Your father,” I answered, growing irritated. “It was obvious from the moment you left the office!”
My voice was louder but then we heard a door open somewhere and both stood there, staring angrily at each other while someone flew down the stairs, not even stopping to see us. Once we heard them take another door, Stevie glared at me.
“My father has no clue we slept together that night,” she hissed. “I didn’t think my sex life was pertinent information.”
“He doesn’t have to know for you to feel like you won something over him.” I pointed out. “Honestly, it felt pretty shitty to be used like that!”
She laughed derisively.
“Used?” She returned, “If you want to talk about using people, you should take a damn good look in the mirror!”
I stared at her, mouth agape.
“Oh, please, tell me how I’ve used you!”
“I’d think if you needed a lay that badly, you could have just gone out and found some desperate girl! It’s fine for you, though; it’s not your job