The excitement in the room was palpable. At any moment, Dr. Bodhi Wells would walk through that door and grace us all with his genius, his charm, and his good looks. The hour ticked by as Dr. Strong explained how the next two weeks were going to shake out: scheduling, protocol, team member introductions, coffee, doughnuts, even a slide show of his summer vacation in Mexico. Finally, when Dr. Strong saw Mark devour the last chocolate glazed, he called it.
"I apologize for Dr. Wells' absence. I'm sure he will arrive at some point this morning to go over the schedule. That will give us all enough time to get acquainted with each other, again. We've put out some phone calls, and I believe there was some bad weather in the area. His plane was delayed."
This excuse was flimsy and he knew it. I watch everyone - including Dr. Strong - look out the floor to ceiling windows. Outside the sun is shining bright, not a cloud in the sky. Dr. Wells is a no show.
I knew it. Somewhere in my heart of hearts I knew he was a complete jerk. This meeting didn't mean anything to him, because he's not really interested in a team. He's interested in himself. Meet us? He won't even know our names, if he ever shows. To him, we will all just be assistants handing him lasers and keeping the patient alive and stable while he flies into New York, scrubs in, does some laser work, changes his clothes, and jumps back on a plane to do the same thing to a bunch of other dedicated, hard working doctors at another underappreciated hospital. And we will all read about his miraculous work in the medical journals and see it on the news: "Special medical correspondent, Dr. Bodhi Wells is at it again. Whatever will he do next?"
My school girl crush is crushed. That was easy. Back to business.
Blah, blah, blah, and just like that, my internal complaining is mush. The conference room door opens, everyone in the roomâand I mean every single person in the damn room including myselfâturns to watch him walk in. A wave of electricity moves through the room as Dr. Bodhi Wells, wearing clothing appropriate for guerrilla warfare (I actually think I see blood stains) steps into the room, glides through the now-parting crowd, and stops in the center of the room next to Dr. Strong. With his crystal blue-green eyes he takes every person in with one sweeping glance and then lets out a heavy sigh as he nods to Dr. Strong and shakes his hand. There are no words spoken. The two men merely exchange a gentle and knowing look, like two great samurais agreeing that all is forgiven. I think Dr. Strong actually bowed. God, I hope not. I hope he just had a stomach cramp from too much coffee.
Bodhi places his hands at his heart, only his fingertips touching, and looks out at the rest of us who are apparently ready to commit to whatever cult or army he is about to ask us to join.
"Let me apologize, to each and every one of you. I was detained in the Sudan with a team of brave surgeons. We were trying to save the life of a child, a victim of a heinous war crime. Just as we completed the surgery, rebels took over the village. The doctors and the patient escaped in a humanitarian vehicle sent in by the French. There wasn't enough room for all of us, so I waited until darkness fell and then hid beneath a tarp in the back of a truck driven by war lords who had taken control of the region. I must have waited there for two days maybe three, I lost count. With no food or water, the mind, well, you know. When the opportunity arose and I made my escape, I found my way to the border and was helicoptered to safety by our own brave U. S. Navy Seals. Anyhow, the story just gets longer, but I won't bore you with that. The important thing is a child is alive and I'm here with you, the best surgical team in the world. Let's save another life!"
The entire room erupts into cheers and applause. My hands are clapping and I think I just whistled. Wow.
"Let's get to work! Meet and greet," Dr. Strong barks over the frenzied crowd of medical doctors and nurses.
And just like that, my crushed school girl crush is resurrected. But this time it feels like it was fed some kind of nuclear potion. I firmly believe that if there were a graphic novel series about a doctor with super powers, Dr. Bodhi Wells would be the hero prototype. I need to get closer to him and introduce myself.
I'm trying to think of a good opening line when an annoyingly familiar voice whispers to me over my shoulder.
"When I'm late it's because my toilet backed up," Mark says, out of the side of his mouth. "This guy with his tousled hair and five o'clock shadow, come on, it's barely eleven in the morning. And if I had the cash to throw down on fifty-dollar T-shirts, I'm sure my biceps would look that good too. He's so pushy with his Bodhi-ness."
"I'm sensing you don't buy what he's selling," I say, grateful for the outside perspective. "Maybe you're right. His story is a little over the top."
"A little," he says. "Please, I'm pretty sure that story was right out of Tom Cruises' last movie. Dude was stuck in line at Starbucks after waking up from a bender that left him a little worse for wear. I get it. Been there, done that. Let's just call it like it is, not make excuses."
"Total poser," I say in agreement. Jeez, I'm like a ping pong ball. What is wrong with me?
"For sure a poser," Mark agrees. "You should totally get with that."
"What?"
"Just because he's a douche doesn't mean he's not a good kisser," Mark says with utter astonishment. "But he probably uses too much tongue; aggressive with it."
Before I make the big mistake of jumping head first into one of Mark's demented fantasy worlds, Dr. Javier Mendes approaches us and interrupts.
"Dr. Matthews," he says, nodding to me with respect. Then he turns to Mark. "Javier Mendes, and you are?'
Mark extends his hand, "Mark Friendly, RN."
"You and Dr. Wells," Javier asks, implying that he couldn't help but notice Mark's strange fascination with Bodhi all the way across the room.
"No, no, no, I'm just studying him. He's here a short time, so I need to soak it in. Pick up as many pointers as I can."
"I get it," Javier says, nodding in some kind of dude understanding.
"I'm trying to get Kate here to sleep with him so I can get the inside scoop, but she doesn't seem to get him the way I do," Mark continues, not only embarrassing me, but himself.
"Is that what this is about?" I ask. "If you want to know how that works, you can find out first hand."
I'm pretty clever when I want to be.
"Well, if I weren't spoken for and one hundred percent sure Wells is straight, I would totally get some of that and report back to you," Javier says, watching Bodhi make his way around the room.
"Thanks, man," Mark says.
"No problem," Javier replies. "We're a team."
The two men bump knuckles and Mark gives me a disappointed look. What kind of weird world have I become a part of suddenly?
My question is quickly answered, as Amir and Peter approach. Ah-ha, I have just become the only female member of a well-respected geek club.
"Hey dude," Amir says, extending his hand to Mark. "I'm Amir your most awesome fiber optic machine."
"I'm Peter, without whom that machine would be nothing," Peter says in a lyrical tone and gives Mark a bear hug.
I hate this. I'm the frickin' surgeon. Mark's my nurse! Anyone want to shake my hand? Give me a hug? All I got were nods from across the room, as Dr. Strong listed off my accomplishments.
This is going to be just like the war lords and dragon club my parents forced me into joining in elementary school. Before my parents knew I was a prodigy, they thought I wasn't social enough. So they asked around and decided that the solution was to subject me to a made-up club created by the neighborhood boys. That club was the Feudal Lords of Meadowville. (We lived in Meadowville.) Unlike me, they were not geniuses. My parents dropped me off for the weekly geek and meet, where I watched a group of pre-adolescent males try on capes and crowns and practice sword fighting with brooms and plungers. How my parents thought that these boys were more social than me is beyond my comprehension, but it left a mark. If I hadn't already felt bad about not belonging to the normal every day crowd, I felt worse when the feudal boys kicked me out because I wouldn't agree to be their Ancilla. Translation: female slave.
"If you boys don't mind," I say with much irritation, "I'm going to get to work..."
No one is listening to me. Instead, they are staring at Bodhi who has lifted his t-shirt to show the interns a large healing wound across his washboard abs.
"Is that a twelve pack? I thought only a six pack was possible," Peter asks, seeming genuinely confused.
"Alright, so this is it. Douche or cool?" Mark asks. "I'm torn."
"Cool," Peter answers immediately.
"Cool," Amir agrees.
"Who cares," Javier says, looking bored.
"Cool it is," Mark high-fives each one of them. "Alright, this is serious. No more carbs, gym twice a week. That guy is a work of Man Art. I'm going to need to focus. I only have him here to inspire change in me for the next two weeks."
Marks's jumping up and down now in front of them, like a boxer about to fight. "Someone hit me. I need to snap to."
The three doctors, and I repeat doctors, look at one another to decide who will do Mark's bidding. Javier shrugs. He turns and hauls off, smacking Mark across the face.
"Another," Mark says, shaking off the sting of the first hit.
Javier gives him another.
This is happening. Mark has somehow pulled three of the most intelligent men in medicine into his warped little world.
"I don't think you're putting enough into it, Dr. Mendes," Peter quips. "Plant your feet a bit more and that will create more torque. Then you can really give it to him."
Javier plants his feet and slaps Mark hard across his jaw. The three men stare at Mark, as he takes in the full impact of the hit.
"Thank you," Mark finally says."I feel clear. Javier? Nice smack. Good and strong. You got my attention. I'm ready to rock."
I'm about to say something snide to Mark when I smell something that grabs my attention. It's like a moose wearing coconut oil is standing next to me. Mark's antics had me so enthralled that I'd lost track of Bodhi, who had made his way around the room and was finally greeting me.
"Dr. Matthews, saving the best for last," Bodhi says to me, his hand extended, "I'm a big fan."
"I'm a big fan of yours too, Dr. Wells," I say. That was easy. So far, so good.
His large hand grasps my smaller hand and we shake like the professionals we are. At least he did. I wish that was all that happened to me, but if I'm going to be completely honest, the moment his hand made contact with mine it was like lightning gently struck my nether region. Goosebumps moved up my body and back down, and I had to shake to get my focus back.
"I'm Mark Friendly," Mark interjects, shoving his body between us. "I'm actually a surgical nurse. I'll be assisting on the surgery for Kate, Dr. Matthews, here. We go way back. I couldn't help but notice your abdominal muscles over there. Do you adhere to any dietary restrictions?"
Bodhi doesn't flinch at this line of questioning. "I eat what is available," he says, matter-of-factly, never even taking his eyes off of me.
"Me too," Mark exclaims, raising his hand for a high five. It doesn't come. Instead, Bodhi continues the conversation he had started with me, the person he actually crossed the room to talk to.
"Dr. Matthews, I look forward to these next couple of weeks, working so closely alongside such a talented surgeon. Wow, and at what? Only twenty-nine years old did I read?"
He's read about me? What is happening? I have to stay calm. Be gracious and professional. You are a woman, thus anything you do or say can be misconstrued as flirtingâwhich in this instance would be rightâso I must communicate carefully.
"She'll be thirty in two weeks," Mark cheerfully announces.
I want to be the one that hits him now.
"Is that right? You keep the doctor's calendar for her, too?" Bodhi asks, still keeping his eyes on mine.
"Apparently, yes," I answer, clearing my throat a bit to show my discomfort with Mark's actions. I step slightly in front of Mark making it very clear I'm shutting him out of this part of the conversation. "Dr. Wells, yes, I am younger than the average surgeon in our field, but I've been working diligently on staying current with the newest technology, staying ahead of the game so we may find ways of changing the outcome of our previously failed surgery techniques. Also, before we get to work, I want to thank you for requesting me and giving me this amazing opportunity to grow as a surgeon and human being."
Wow, I just said that. I just pulled that out of my ass and said that. I'm unstoppable. Where is my high-five?
"First of all, call me Bodhi and I'll call you Kate, if that's acceptable with you."
I'm nodding in agreement. I can already tell that my control of this situation will be fleeting.
"I'd like us to work together as one mind with four hands," he says, taking my hands in his. "You and I together are going to learn to complete each other's sentences, actions, thoughts. And when it's all over, perhaps we'll celebrate our accomplishmentâand your birthdayâtogether?"
What is happening? He has entwined his hands with mine and invited himself to my imaginary birthday gathering. How many people are watching this? It feels like a lot. This is very uncomfortable, yet I can't seem to extract myself from his magnetic fingertips.
"Perhaps we can all celebrate together," Mark interrupts, "Her birthday is the day after the surgery."
I feel my heart drop along with my hands. "What? No, that can't be right. I've got to...," I hear my voice trailing off as I look at the whiteboard calendar. Sure enough, the biggest surgery of my career is the day before my thirtieth birthday. The same birthday before which I planned on losing my virginity.
"Let's make history," Dr. Strong yells, as he marks today off on the calendar. Come on, it's barely lunch time, I yell at him in my head. Why are we rushing? I'm beginning to feel defeated on all fronts when the last person I expect to save me from my growing lack of will power does just that.
"Well, hello, Dr. Bodhi Wells," Grace says, as she shoots me a sly smile and takes Bodhi by the arm. "May I?"
Yes, please, I want to say. Lead him to your secret sex lair and give me back my sanity. I watch as she wraps her fingers around his bicep, making it look like the most natural thing to do to a man you just met. How does she do it?
"Feeding time already," Mark says.
"Oh shut it," I bark at him. I'm still pissed off at his behavior. I give him a stern look. "Don't treat me like your personal Ancilla. I'm your boss, got it? I put you on this surgery, I can take you off."
"What did I do?" he asks, with his hands in the air. "An Ancilla?"
"You heard me. From now on, you need to treat me with the respect I deserve. I speak for myself, think for myself, and will have sex with myself."
That didn't come out right. Fortunately, Mark doesn't notice my gaffe, because he doesn't take me seriously and is already talking to the Feudal Lords about who knows what.
Fine, I take the left over coffee urn and head to my office. While Grace keeps Bodhi busy with her forked tongue, I will prepare for the surgery. I am more powerful than my hormones. I can weather this and come out on top. Prepare, practice and perform are the three P's in surgery. There is no fourth P. I enter my office and pound the coffee. When I finally look up from my computer it is ten o'clock at night. Look at me! I worked all day uninterrupted. I am on fire! Time flies when you're kicking some surgical ass. I'm about to shut down when my computer notifies me that I have an email from Lacy.
It reads: Hey Sis. I'm going to bed. I'm zonked from studying. Let's get started first thing tomorrow. I've included a link to a site you might really like. Love, Lacy.
Damn it, we were supposed to go over her plan to get me laid. I'm a horrible sister. I'm going to be even more horrible when I tell her the plan is off due to scheduling conflicts.
As I try to think of a reply that will actually hold water with a woman who could care less about my "saving lives" lecture, my curiosity to open the link she has sent begins to build. I should look at it, so I can at least say I did. She obviously put a lot of work into this or she wouldn't have sent it.
I click on the link: Aphrodite 101. Immediately after touching the cursor to the link, illustrations of men and women having intercourse pop up. Those illustrations are quickly followed by actual videos of men and women having intercourse in various positions all over my screen. Apparently, if one is inclined, she can click onto any of these videos and watch people have sex. I quickly find out that if you don't choose one to watch, the site will pick one for you. I watch wide-eyed as a very well endowed man grabs the very fit buttocks of a scantily clad woman. There is knocking at the door. They don't care. They keep doing what they are doing. I wonder who it is. There is more knocking. Shit! The knocking is at my door.
I quickly close the lap top and look up. Bodhi Wells is peeking into my office doorway with a somewhat quizzical look on his chiseled face.
"Hey, thought we could go over the patient history together. Unless you're busy?"
"Sure," I say with nervous enthusiasm. And maybe then we can watch some porn? God, how much of that did he hear? I push my chair back to join him at my conference table, but instead Bodhi grabs a chair and slides it right next me behind my desk.
He sits down and opens the patient chart. "So, we've got . . . what is that?"
"What," I say, sitting back down and nonchalantly sliding my chair a few feet away from him.
"That smell," he says, sniffing the air like a hound dog about to find his mark. "Is that a candle?" He moves closer to me. "Don't tell me that's your hair?"
Is he serious? What is with this guy? Alright, I have to put a stop to this before he thinks I'm just another twenty-something ready to fall on my back for him.
"It's just shampoo," I say, using my bored voice.
"You smell like you just showered. Did you? Did you just shower?"
Regardless of how warm my body is getting, he is way out of line.
"Ah, no, I showered this morning, doctor. Now if we could look atâ," I say, grabbing the patient's blood work up.
"Man, I love a good shower," he interrupts. "So many times I've been stranded in a remote country, no water, much less a shower. What I would have done for just a cup of water to pour over my body."
Why does my mind go there? Why am I suddenly envisioning myself standing next to a bare-ass naked Bodhi in the Serengeti pouring a pitcher of water over his hot body? Why won't my hormones let me be?
"That must have been really tough," I say, trying to sound completely unaffected by him. I must control my breathing.
"It gets so hot, and although I don't mind the smell of a good sweat and natural pheromones, it's nice to just be clean sometimes. You obviously agree, the way you smell."
It's too much. My body jumps up and I fall back over my chair. I spazzed. No way around it. Like an animal in the wild, I reacted to a situation where I felt vulnerable and I leapt.
I'm standing up now, hyperventilating, and trying to recover but there is no recovery. It's just weird.
"So sorry to do this, but can we go over this on Monday? Yes? So great! Thanks!"
I am now running out of my office like a zebra fleeing a lion. In my haste, I forget about the wall and run smack dab into it. I don't exactly black out. I kind of gray out. There is a difference.
"Are you alright?" Bodhi asks, holding me in his arms and checking my pulse. "You're flush and your pulse is off the charts. Let me help get you on the couch."
"No! God no! I have to get out of here," I say out loud, grabbing at the bookshelf and knocking medical books onto both of us.
"Ow!" Bodhi yells at me, after a large anatomy book lands on his head. "You need to lie down before you give us both a concussion."
No means no, I think to myself. I will not be taken care of by my co-team captain. That would definitely put him in some kind of power position, and I will not give him any more power than I seem to have already given him.
"Do you have any conditions I might need to know about?"
"Conditions," I repeat back to him.
I am not his patient. I struggle to standing and grab my bag.
"Nope. Perfectly healthy. See you Monday!" I rush out the door and slam it shut behind me. "No, no, no," I mutter to myself pacing in front of the door. How do I recover from that? He's going to think I'm crazy. I need to give the impression that everything is normal.
I knock on my office door and casually yell through it, "Lock up when you leave!"
Damn, that seemed like a good idea before I did it. I'm doomed, I realize as I push the elevator buttons. I lost all composure over a conversation about shampoo. I must get home and go straight to bed. Tomorrow will be a new dayâa day to show Dr. Bodhi Wells that I'm not a bumbling idiot who smells good. I'm a brain surgeon, damn it! When am I going to get that through my stupid brain?
I'm the one who has made leaps and bounds in this field. I'm the young surgeon who Medicine Today proclaimed was the Future of Modern Medicineânot Bodhi Wells, Mr. Can't Stop Flirting And Get To Working. I'm the "It" Girl, the One To Watch, the Rising Star. And yet, I ran out of there like he was all those things. That's it, when I get back to work on Monday I'm going to be the Dr. Kate Matthews that everyone wants to work with, not that scared little girl who ran out of her own office because she was a little turned on. It's time to take back your power, Kate. I've got actual work to do. I don't have the luxury of experiencing hormones and lust. Just tell Lacy the game is off and that she will have to go back to school knowing that her sister is a brilliant neurosurgeon who just happens to still be a virgin. End of story.