I wake on the couch but I'm glad to have Georgia within walking distance. She's giving me chance to be a father, but not really giving in to wanting me back as her husband. I feel like her very concerned roommate trying to get out of the friendzone. I lie about having all the time in the world hoping it lessens the pressure that I may be rushing her forgiveness. But I am on a shortened timeline, so hopefully, she starts feeling more forgiving soon.
So here we are. Smack dab in the middle of the most inappropriate place for banal banter—fitting me for my radiation mask. Dr. Sharpe has now seen me with my shirt off, so there's not much more intimacy we could have other than...well, you know. I chide myself for even allowing that thought.
Nevertheless, I trip out a "come here often", crack. It was not intended to be cheeky, but more seeking to diffuse the nervous energy coursing through my body. If Dr. Sharpe caught on to my slightly flirtatious comment, she never let it show.
She presses my face into the mold as I fidget. "You can close your eyes," she says.
But why would I close my eyes? Then I can't see her face hovering above mine. It reminds me of the dream I would never admit to having shortly after we met. Her hands are strong and steady, despite her tiny stature and my mind wanders in an effort to distract myself.
Her soft accent feels like an audible anesthetic, but the content of her words is terrifying. She really would make a great Bond villain, stunning yet devastatingly malicious.
She keeps grabbing my hand as I reach for the device buzzing incessantly in my pocket. And I realize for the second time in the past few moments, that we've gotten really comfortable touching each other casually way sooner than it should be possible.
I know her touches are purely professional, but it's been a while and I've been riding the couch as of late, so this is the most personal contact I've had in months. When she makes a quip about torture, she really has no idea. Claustrophobia and slight arousal were battling for dominance of my current mood, so I'm relieved for the escape my pager provides.
I seek to make the best of the most ridiculous situation of most of the city's cardio surgeons being at a conference and now the on-call cardio surgeon from one of our sister hospitals is in our OR. Dr. Sharpe asks why I "choose the hardest road at every opportunity", and I can only reply "Better views."
I know what that means all too personally. Sometimes the hardest-fought battles are the ones that are the most meaningful or the only ways life gains its real meaning. From my experience the tougher the climb the more you appreciate the summit. That's why I'm here. New Amsterdam is my better view.
The day is fraught with peril and impossible wins but in the end, we all manage to survive my decision to take on another hospital's load. While I was optimistic things would work out, there was always the chance that they wouldn't. this time the universe threw me a bone and I'm forever grateful. Hopefully, it has a few more scraps to throw my way.
But it's her face, as she wanders up to the roof, that breaks me a little. I have to find out why she looks so sad. Nothing should put that look of despair on Dr. Sharpe's beautiful face, she was just too good of a person. Then she repeats my simple phrase and I know she must have experienced something intensely heavy. I feel that swell of affection again because she trusts me to unload her feelings and be vulnerable. I like this feeling of being open with someone.
I've always danced around Georgia's feelings, never really allowing myself to be truly authentic. Striving to be that image of Max she wanted. It wasn't her fault, I showed up as a fake from the beginning. So I was always chasing the lie, trying to live up to the version of Max who deserved Georgia.
As I usher Dr. Sharpe into our little party, I feel the camaraderie of the quick family I've made here. They trust me and let me in without hesitation and for the first time, I feel like I want to let someone in too. Let them see me as I am and not who I was supposed to be.
As we let loose and bond over gardening, mentally my mind shifts. Calling Helen, Dr. Sharpe was too formal for a person I was starting to feel so familiar with. She's becoming one of the closest friends I've ever had and not only because of the secret we share.
Helen. I say to myself as I look across at her laughing at a story Reynolds was telling. Her smile really was luminous. It could lighten the most burdened of hearts, and mine never really stood a chance. After all this time, it feels really good to have a friend.
As the party breaks for the night, Helen and I head down to her office. My mold is done, and it sits as a tangible reminder, that I have cancer. I hate what this thing means to me, it means the time I had left to be me was running short.
Helen must have picked up on my shift in mood and tells me that I need to start prioritizing myself. It suddenly hits me that no one has ever given me that option before. Not my parents in the midst of their grief and personal dysfunction, not previous collogues, and not even Georgia who has never understood what really drives me.
Not that they were all inherently selfish, but they each had their own needs or agendas, and it seems that I was the only one capable or willing to meet them or at least twisting myself into knots trying. Then Helen says the words that stopped my runaway brain for a second. "What do you need, Max/" I look at her feeling she might have guessed my darkest secret.
I need to be the real me for once.