Moonlight Over Manhattan(5)

“It was what my father did.” And Ethan had never wanted that. His choices were the focus of lively arguments whenever he was home. His grandfather kept telling him he was missing out by not following a family through from birth to death. Ethan argued that he was the one who kept them alive so that they could go back to their families.

“All these months we’ve worked together and I never knew that about you.” Susan scrubbed her hands. “So you come from two generations of doctors?”

They’d worked together for over a year but almost all their conversation had been about the present. The ER was like that. You lived in the moment in every sense.

“Three generations. My father and grandfather both worked in primary care. They had a practice in upstate New York.” He’d sat, five years old, in the waiting room watching as a steady stream of people trooped through the door to speak to his dad. There had been times when he’d wondered if the only way to see his father was to get sick.

“And your mother?”

“She’s a pediatrician.”

“Jeez, Black, I had no idea. So it’s in the DNA.” Susan yanked a paper towel from the dispenser so vigorously she almost removed it from the wall. “Well, that explains it.”

“That explains what?”

“Why you always act like you have something to prove.”

Ethan frowned. Was that true? No. It certainly wasn’t true. “I don’t have anything to prove.”

“You’ve got a lot to live up to.” She gave him a sympathetic look. “Why didn’t you join them? Doctors Black, Black and Black. That’s one hell of a lot of Black right there. Don’t tell me, you just love the warm fuzzy feelings that come from working in the emergency room.” Through the door they heard the woman yell fuck you and exchanged a wry smile. “All those cute patients enveloping you with endless love and gratitude—”

“Gratitude? Wait—I think that did happen to me once, a couple of years ago. Give me a moment while I cast my mind back.”

He didn’t feel as if he had to live up to anything.

Susan was wrong about that. He walked his own path, for his own reasons.

“You must have been hallucinating. Lack of sleep does that for you. So if the rare dose of gratitude isn’t what does it, it must be the patients who curse you, throw up on your boots and tell you you’re the worst doctor that ever graced god’s earth and that they’re going to sue the hell out of you. That works for you?”

The humor got them through days that were fraught with tension.

It sustained them through the darker shifts, through witnessing trauma that would leave the average man on the street in need of therapy.

Everyone in the trauma team found their own way of dealing with it.

They knew, as most people didn’t, that a life could change in an instant. That there was no such thing as a secure future.

“I love that side of it. And then there’s the constant buzz of working with adoring, respectful colleagues like you.”

“You want adoring? Pick a different woman.”

“I wish I could.”

Susan patted his arm. “In fact I do adore you. Not because you’re cute and built, although you are, but because you know what you’re doing and around here competence is as close as it gets to an aphrodisiac. And maybe that’s driven by a desire to be better than your daddy or your granddaddy, but I love it all the same.”

He shot her an incredulous look. “Are you hitting on me?”

“Hey, I want to be with a man who is good with his hands and who knows what he’s doing. What’s wrong with that?” Her eyes twinkled and he knew she was winding him up.

“We are still talking about work?”

“Sure. What else? I’m married to my job, same as you. I promised myself to the ER in sickness and in health, for richer and for poorer and I can tell you that living in New York City the emphasis is definitely on poorer. But don’t worry—I wouldn’t be able to stay awake long enough to have sex with you. When I leave this place I fall unconscious the moment I arrive home and I’m not waking up for anyone. Not even you, blue eyes. So if you’re not here for the love and positive feedback, it has to be because you’re an adrenaline junkie.”

“Maybe I am.” It was true that he enjoyed the fast pace, the unpredictability, the adrenaline rush that came with not knowing what would come through the doors next. Emergency medicine was often like a puzzle and he enjoyed the intellectual stimulation of figuring out where the pieces fit and what the picture was. He also enjoyed helping people, although these days the doctor-patient relationship had changed. Now it was all patient satisfaction scores and other metrics that appeared to have little to do with practicing good medicine. There were days when it was hard to stay in touch with the reasons he’d wanted to be a doctor in the first place.

Susan stuffed the towel into the bin. “Know what I love most? When someone comes in all bandaged up and you never know what you’re going to find when you unwrap it. Man, I love the suspense. Will it be a cut the size of a pinhead or will the finger fall off?”

“You’re ghoulish, Parker.”

“I am. Are you telling me you don’t like that part?”

“I like fixing people.” He glanced up as one of the interns walked into the room. “Problems?”