Chapter Nine:
"I don't like it. I think you should have an MRI. There could be a tear," Patrick said after he manipulated her knee. Her pain threshold was high, but he knew it had to be killing her.
"I think rest and elevating it will be fine, but thanks."
"That's dumb."
"Thanks," she rolled her eyes.
"Why live with pain when you don't have to? If it's a tear, there is a simple fix and you will feel better."
"It's never a simple fix with me, Patrick," she said and moved to sit back more. His close proximity was making her feel things.
"You're incredibly frustrating."
She sighed and ran her hand through her hair.
"I'm tired of talking. I just need to rest."
He looked at her and shook his head.
"Will you hand Ben to me?" she asked.
"The rat?"
"Yes. He needs his meds and I don't want to get up. If it's a problem, I'll do it."
Patrick got up and walked to the cage. He moved the top and reached in to pick up the animal.
"The bag next to the cage, can you grab that, too?"
He did as she asked and handed Ben to her and the bag. He watched as the rat ran to her shoulder and sat there while she pulled the box of meds out of the bag and took the little dropper, measuring the medicine.
"What is he on meds for?"
Robin moved to hold Ben on her lap and expertly put the dropper in his mouth and gave him the liquid. He didn't like it, but he took it and she scratched his chin.
"He has a tumor on his spine. I was able to compound a form of pain therapy that is helping his quality of life. He was going to be put down a year ago and now he is showing little ill effects of the tumor."
He was impressed.
"Wow. He's lucky you found him."
She looked at Patrick and slowly got up, limping to put Ben back. She went to the kitchen and washed the dropper.
"Why do you insist on walking? I would help you," he followed her.
"I don't want any more help. I would like for you to leave. You seem to be better and I'm glad. I don't think I can be of any help to you any more."
He was so frustrated by her. He was angry she wanted him to leave and he didn't know why.
"Can I ask you something?"
She limped back into the family room and sat down.
"I guess."
"How long have you been HIV positive?"
She looked at him.
"13 years."
He was stunned.
"Before you became a doctor?"
"It was actually the reason I became a doctor."
He was floored. He figured the diagnosis was the end of his career. How could it be the beginning of hers?
"What? You're staring at me and it's unnerving."
"I'm sorry. I guess I just don't know how you did it. I don't understand how you could move on from that. What were you, 18?"
"I was 20, and I had to move on. I owed it to someone."
"Who? Who could you possibly owe?"
She didn't know why she felt the need to tell him. She didn't understand any of her reaction to him.
"I lost my boyfriend to AIDS. I tested positive a few weeks before he died. We had unprotected sex and he was positive, but we didn't know. He had been tested, and it was negative, but it was wrong, or too soon. When I told him I was positive, it destroyed him. I promised him I wouldn't let it define me. I promised him I would always remember my worth. I promised him this disease wouldn't be the only thing I was."
He was silent and finally Robin looked at him.
"I really think you should leave."
"I cut myself while operating on a patient who was HIV positive. I knew I did it, but I didn't stop the procedure. I didn't think it would happen to me, you know? I acted like I had this innate guard against anything bad. I was so arrogant that I truly believed I wouldn't get infected. Given my lifestyle, if anything, I figured I would find myself with the wrong woman and I would live to regret it. I never dreamed that the one thing I was born to do would be the one thing to betray me."
"Why didn't you stop the surgery?" she asked him.
He stood up and paced, crossing his arms.
"I didn't want anyone to know. They still don't. After the surgery, I resigned and said I needed a change- to find myself. I cleaned out my office and never looked back. I didn't test positive until a month later. That was three weeks ago."
She walked to him as he spoke.
"What did you do the whole time you were waiting?"
He shrugged and his chin quivered.
"Prepared for the inevitable, I guess?"
"I don't understand," she began.
"Have you ever done things you weren't proud of? Been the person you never wanted to be?"
She was quiet and he smiled.
"Of course you haven't. You have done everything right. You have an amazing career and a wonderful outlook on life. You save cancerous rats and degenerate losers like me," he said and walked away from her.
Robin had enough.
"You know what? You have a shitty defense mechanism. I get that you're pissed, but the way you turn into an asshole when you get uncomfortable is douchey."
"Douchey?"
She glared at him.
"Yeah. You are acting like a dick."
"A douche or a dick?"
She stared at him and they both started laughing.
"I find my IQ drops 10 points every time I have a discussion with you," she sighed and sat down on the couch.
"Is that right?"
"Well come on, Patrick. You make all of these ridiculous assumptions about me and throw my accomplishments in my face like I'm a world-class loser. I don't appreciate it and it's insulting, aside from completely inaccurate."
"I don't think you're a loser."
"Well you act like it," she said. "I've worked really hard to get to this point in my life and not look at my diagnosis as a death sentence. You seem to think it was easy for me, but it's not and it never has been. I went through some really dark days and there are times I find myself back there."
He was desperate to know more.
"How did you become so put together?"
She burst out laughing and he was intrigued.
"Was that funny?"
She wiped her eyes and smiled.
"No, but you see what everyone else does and I was hoping you didn't. I was hoping you might be someone I didn't have to put that act on with. But really, who cares, right? I mean we hardly know each other and I put this ridiculous expectation on you and it was wrong. I guess I must have hit my head harder than I thought. I'm really sorry."
"I only see what you've shown me. I see someone who is strong and sensitive. I see a woman who blows every idea I had about having this disease out of the water. I see a vulnerability behind your eyes that is endearing and it makes me want to know more. I don't see a woman who is perfect. I see a woman who is flawed yet strong, infuriating but humble, mesmerizing and amazing," he stopped.
"You don't think I'm perfect?" she asked with a hint of a smile.
"Well I was afraid you would think that was an insult," he grinned.
"Well yeah, when you're perfect, you can't be anything else."
He stared at her and she held his gaze.
"Can I ask you one more thing?"
"Ask away."
"Do you have a dinner date tomorrow night?"
She was surprised by that.
"I have dinner plans, but it isn't a date. I was actually thinking of asking you if you wanted to join us."
"Who is us?"
"My partner, Dante and his fiancé Lulu. She had been suffering from the flu, but Dante just called to tell me they found out she's pregnant. They have been trying for so long and it's such great news. Lulu has been working to have a dinner party because she has been taking cooking classes and now it will be a celebratory dinner. I think it would be nice if you came with."
He felt like an idiot for being jealous.
"Do you really want me there?"
She looked up into his eyes and shrugged.
"I think I really do, but you need to curb your douchey behavior."
He laughed and caught her smiling.
"I'll do my best. Now how about we have some soup? It smells amazing."
"I would really like that. Come on," she said and they went into the kitchen.
XXXXXX
Chapter Ten:
"So tell me about this Dante guy and his fiancé Lulu. What kind of a name is that anyway?"
Robin smiled as she and Patrick ate the soup and talked.
"Her name is Leslie Lu, but she goes by Lulu. She owns a casino boat and she's a really sweet girl. Dante adores her and they have been trying to get pregnant for a long time. I'm thrilled for them."
"Have you worked with Dante for a long time?"
"He has always been by my side. If it weren't for him, I wouldn't be the doctor I am. He handles all of the hands-on parts of my job so I don't have to explain myself every minute. I can work and research and help people with their quality of life and he does all of my blood draws and procedures which may be challenging because of my disease. I always disclose my status to patients, but this limits my contact."
"And he's okay with that? He doesn't get jealous being your side kick?"
Robin rolled her eyes.
"You've never collaborated with anyone before, have you?"
He shrugged.
"I'm the best, or I was. People got in line to watch me, not the other way around. I always worked best solo."
"I can see why. I don't how anyone could fit into the O.R. with your head."
He smiled.
"Most women like confidence."
"It isn't confidence, it's arrogance. There is such a thing as humility and humbleness. Sometimes that can be very attractive; hubris isn't. Besides, Dante and I have a very symbiotic relationship. He gets to learn and grow as a physicians assistant and I get to practice in the field I love."
"So he isn't a doctor?"
"No, he's a P.A. Why?"
"That makes sense, then."
"Are you really that chauvinistic? So what if he was a doctor? He would be selling himself short if he worked with me?"
Patrick shrugged.
"I guess not, but I just never thought about working that way."
"In a collaboration? Shit, Patrick, no wonder you're so set on your life being over. You refuse to look at any possibilities."
He crossed his arms and glared at her.
"Which possible scenario has me operating all day every day? Is there a 'Dante' to do that for me? All I did was surgery. I don't know anything else. I don't want anything else. Tell me another possibility and I'll be happy to listen."
She met his anger and leaned closer.
"What if you were suddenly in an accident and lost the ability to use your hand? What would you do?"
"I don't know and it doesn't matter. I didn't lose my ability to use my hand. I lost my ability to be the person I always wanted to be. Now I have this disgusting disease running through my veins and I will slowly die alone."
"You're probably right, but it has nothing to do with this disease, Patrick. It has to do with your horrible outlook on life. You know, for a brilliant doctor, you're an idiot."
She stood up and limped into the other room.
He followed her and his anger was at the surface.
"Okay, Miss always positive, tell me what part of the equation is wrong?"
"It's not what's running through your veins, it's what's in your mind. You don't have AIDS. You have a virus that can be treated and thanks to advancements in medical research, it can stay dormant for years and years. If treated and if you take care of yourself, there is no reason you can't have the life you always wanted. The biggest hindrance to your future is you, not this disease."
"Right, it's so easy to just move forward, right? You say all the pretty words and poof, everything is okay. Life doesn't work like that, Robin. It's not a fucking fairytale."
She walked to him and her face was red from anger.
"Oh, thank you for telling me that. I mean, when I watched my boyfriend slowly slip away and die from the disease that is running through my veins, I mean, that's the stuff of a Disney movie if ever I saw one. The best part had to be when he went blind, or when he lost the ability to move, or, no, wait for it, it must have been when I had to bury him," she yelled at him and her body shook.
"I guess you're right. My life has been picture perfect and I could never understand what you're going through. I was diagnosed and the next day I picked myself up and just walked into the rest of my life. It was easy and I never had a moment of doubt or sadness. I guess I was just lucky."
He wiped his face and turned to walk away from her.
"What's wrong? No witty comeback? No snide remark about my pathetic existence? I'm disappointed."
"Enough!" he said and turned to face her.
"Enough what?" she walked to him. "Look at me, Patrick. I am living with this disease, living, and not dying. It is not a death sentence. It is not the end of your worth. Please see that your life has more value than this diagnosis."
He felt his tears come as the significance of her words hit him. His chin quivered as he tried to walk away, but she reached and took his hand.
"Patrick, look at me," she said softly. "Please."
He turned and his tears fell as he tried to stop them.
"You are going to be okay. You will find a way to move forward."
"Who will ever look at me and not see this disease?" He asked and his voice cracked.
She reached to his stubble covered cheek and held his face.
"It's not about that. It's about you looking in the mirror and not seeing the disease. I don't mean that you forget, but you will learn to give it the attention it deserves and that's all. It has as much power over you as you give it, and although it will be the hardest thing you will do, it can be done."
He reached up and covered her hand with his own.
"I'm scared," he admitted, finally.
She nodded and her own tears came.
"I know, but maybe you can begin to see that you aren't so alone? Having someone in your corner can make all the difference."
"I don't have anyone in my corner, Robin. In case you haven't noticed, I'm not a friend magnet."
"You've just been looking in the wrong places. I think you might be worth another glance."
He smiled a little and she stepped back.
"You think so?"
She walked to the couch and smiled.
"I really do."