Page 24 of Obeying

I shake my head and keep walking, and he keeps walking, and that's it. Yet I replay the encounter all the way to the lounge.

Priya is already seated when I get there. She takes one look at me and tilts her head.

"What's different about you?"

"Nothing."

"No, something's different. You look..." She narrows her eyes. "Relaxed. Did you sleep well? Did you eat something good? Did you get laid?"

"Priya."

"I'm just asking. You walked in here smiling. That's new."

"I wasn't smiling."

"You were. I saw it." She hands me a coffee even though I already had one, and I take it because there is nothing like too much caffeine. "Also, did I just see you and Dr. Maxwell talking in the hallway? Like normal people? Without you hiding behind a chart or him interrogating you about splenic lacerations?"

"We said good morning. That's it."

"That's not 'it'. Two weeks ago, you avoided him like the plague. Now you're making conversation in the hallway? Smiling! Is the war finally over?"

"There was no war."

"There was definitely a war. I have witnesses." She grins. "But seriously, I'm glad. Whatever happened, you seem lighter today."

I smile. "It's what happens when I get a full eight hours of sleep. That's more of a miracle to me than not arguing with Dr. Maxwell."

Priya laughs. "Fair enough. Let's go. I have a feeling today's going to be a long one."

We head to rounds.

The morning is good. I answer questions without hesitation. I speak up. When Logan asks me about the management of a tension pneumothorax, I answer clearly and completely.

"Needle decompression at the second intercostal space, midclavicular line, followed by chest tube placement."

He nods and moves on, and it feels normal now. Like this is just what we do. He asks, I answer, nobody dies of awkwardness.

At one point during rounds, he's explaining a complex case to the group and he pauses briefly, scanning the chart before continuing. His eyes are still a little red. He catches me looking and gives me the tiniest head shake, as if to say don't you dare laugh right now, and I have to stare at the floor for a solid five seconds.

I work a case with Priya after rounds, a gallbladder that needs to come out, and we prep the patient together.

"So walk me through the critical view of safety," she says while we're scrubbing in.

"You need three things before you clip anything. The hepatocystic triangle has to be cleared of fat and fibrous tissue. The lower third of the gallbladder needs to be separated from the liver bed so the cystic plate is visible. And you need to clearly identify only two structures entering the gallbladder: the cystic duct and the cystic artery. If you can't confirm all three, you stop and reassess. You don't clip blind.”

"You're good at this, you know? The teaching part. You explain things like you actually want me to understand, not like you're showing off."

I smile. "Thanks, Priya."

We get through the case fast. The patient does well. Priya high-fives me in the scrub room after, and I high-five her back awkwardly. She gasps.

"She high-fives! She smiles! She makes conversation with Dr. Maxwell! Who are you and what have you done with Kristen Portland?"

"Shut up."

"Never. This is the best day of my life."

At lunch, I sit in the cafeteria and eat an actual meal instead of grabbing something from the vending machine and eating it over a chart. I text Priya about a patient we're sharing, check the afternoon schedule, and think about Logan's red eyes and his deadpan 'allergies' excuse. I smile into my sandwich, and I don't stop myself this time.