Page 98 of Asystole

“Dr. Porter told me I needed to stay in town next week and offer to take call this weekend for missing my spot in the OR this morning.”

“Okay, well, that’s fucking crazy. You guys are allowed to take days off, right? I mean, like legally, you have to have time off,” I argue.

“Technically, yes, but he told me it ‘wasn’t a suggestion,’” Chase says, using air quotes. “I think he means to kick me out of the program if I’m not here.”

“That guy isn’t God, Chase.”

“He kind of is,” Chase rebuts.

Setting my fork down, I look at the man sitting across from me.

“Can I ask you something?” Chase nods slowly. “Let’s skip ahead five, six, maybe even seven years. Where do you see yourself? Where do you live? Who are you with? What are you doing?”

“That’s a lot of somethings,” Chase grumbles.

“Humor me,” I fire back.

Chase looks at his watch. His brows pinch together, and he begins to stand.

“I’ve got to⁠—”

“Two minutes,” I interrupt, my hand darting forward to catch his wrist. “Give me two minutes. Answer the questions.”

We’re drawing stares, so Chase sits back down.

“I don’t know,” says.

“Yes, you do. There are no financial or academic constraints or expectations in this exercise. Just your perfect vision for your future.”

The cafeteria is loud, the lights are bright, and people are constantly walking by our table. For a brief second, I’m not sure Chase is going to be able to focus, but then he closes his eyes and answers my questions.

“I see myself still in Boston. I like it here. Plus, one of the best pediatric oncology centers is right here in town,” he says without hesitation. “Oh,” he says a second later, realizing the words that just left his mouth. “I guess in a perfect world I’d be doing pediatric oncology.”

“Good,” I say encouragingly. “That’s good. Does that have a residency?” I ask, completely ignorant of what the different specialties require.

“Yes, but it’s different,” Chase says. Color is finally returning to his cheeks; his eyes are brighter, and it’s like I’m watching someone pour energy into him. “If I were to do pediatric surgery, I could continue with the general surgery residency I’m in now, but what I want to do requires a different track altogether. It’s three years of a pediatric residency without surgery and three years of a pediatric hematology/oncology residency. It’d be so great, but I’d lose the work I’ve put in since last summer,” he says. “And dropping out of a residency doesn’t look good. At all. Especially if I were to drop this residency.”

Forgetting my surroundings, I reach for his hand.

“Okay, so you lose ten months and start over. No big deal. You’d be doing what you love, what you were meant to do. What’s the other option? Continue down this road and be miserable for seven more years and all the working years that follow? And as for your parents’ money, fuck that. I make enough to keep us afloat, and it isn’t like you make nothing. This seems like a no-brainer, Chase.”

He squeezes my hand.

“Maybe you’re right,” he says before his eyes get that wicked gleam in them.

“What?” I ask.

“Don’t you want to know who I’m with in my perfect world?”

Suddenly, a shadow descends over our table, and a deep, emotionless voice hits my ears.

“Well, I, for one, am dying to know, Dr. Matthews,” Declan Porter says before looking over his shoulder at the rest of Chase’s co-residents. “How about you all?”

I recognize several of them. Sarah’s eyebrows are at her hairline as she stares down at mine and Chase’s hands.

“Fuck,” Chase mutters, ripping his hand from mine as he stands.

“Dr. Porter, I was just⁠—”