Chapter 15

Mass Hysteria

What was I supposed to do? Kiss the guy's ass? Well tough, I've never been an ass kisser. But the look in Kenna's eyes when I told her that I was screwing up was so painful that I didn't dare share with her what happened the following week. Earlier that month, I had put out feelers just in case Hopkins gave me the old heave-ho. Receiving a request for an interview with Massachusetts General was a God send considering their impeccable reputation. I told Kenna that I was going to a conference on emerging diseases at Harvard and she bought it. After arriving in Boston, I drove to the hospital in a rental car. The interview was with an old med school buddy, Ian McKinley.

"House, you aren't fooling me. I know what's going on down at Hopkins. I also know Carter and he's a bumbling idiot. I don't know why Maki chose him to run the department, but the scuttlebutt is that you're going to be out the door by the end of the year. I just happen to have a position that is going to be funded starting January of next year and you would be perfect for it. We're going to try and diagnose difficult cases using a Gestalt approach and it requires someone who can take numerous baffling symptoms and come up with a diagnosis. We need someone like you. Are you interested?"

This had been exactly what I had in mind to showcase my abilities. It would be the perfect job for me. "You bet I am. It's what I've been doing everywhere I go. The doctors always call me in when they can't put the pieces together. It would be nice to get the recognition and pay for it."

"I remember that when we were interns you had an innate ability to put it all together. You're going to have to go through a couple of interviews and I know you don't interview well. So please try to behave, I've gone out on a limb for you. I've told everyone that you're the perfect candidate for this job, and I believe that, except for the fact that you hate patients and tend to thumb your nose at authority. One thing though, you'd have to teach courses and diagnostics at Harvard."

I shrugged my shoulders and gave him broad smile.

The remaining interviews went well despite the general knowledge among the selectee committee that House had a reputation. After waiting around the following afternoon, House was informed that he was being seriously considered for the job and that the pay would be considerably more than what he was receiving at Hopkins. Mass General was going to start him at $147,000 plus benefits, including a nice 401K contribution. House flew home, not knowing how to break the news to Kenna. Not surprisingly, he had a massive headache that practically blinded him as he made his way home from the airport. He decided that until he was offered the job he would keep silent. When he walked through the door, she was all smiles, getting up, almost running to hug him. He hugged her back tightly and kissed the crown of her head. He loved the way she made him feel welcomed and appreciated. It made him sad to think that he may soon have to leave her behind.

Over the next few weeks, House tried to soak in everything she did so that he wouldn't forget. He insisted that they take their camera almost everywhere, House stopping people and asking them to take a picture of them together. Kenna was amused by this, but not surprised, because every once in a while House would get a bug up his butt and take an interest in something that hadn't interested him before. It was made life with him so interesting.

Kenna made Thanksgiving dinner and invited several of the students in med school over. House invited Doug who came bearing flowers for Kenna and wine for House. The meal consisted of turkey, ham, vegetarian loaf and all the usual side dishes. House was impressed, it was a huge meal and she had been working on it for two days.

XOXOXOXOXOOXOXOXOXOXO

"House, come and carve the turkey." I yelled out to the living room where Greg was propped up on the sofa watching football.

Doug laughed, "Kenna, are you sure you trust House with knives?"

"Don't worry, I gave him a Percocet cocktail, if he does come after me it will be in slow motion."

Doug came over and whispered to me, "I never said how sorry I was for what happened between us. I really screwed up and it looks like House scored big because of it. He got you and I got more dead-end dates. You know, I'm just curious, are you in love with him?"

I felt my cheeks redden and I averted my eyes. I hadn't thought about my feelings for Greg in a long time. I enjoyed being around him, except when he intentionally humiliated me or went on a slob binge. Occasionally, he would stop making an effort to put his clothes in the hamper, clear his dishes, wash out the sink after shaving, put the cap on the toothpaste and in general anything that would constitute being considerate of the person you live with. I'd tolerate it for awhile and then I'd start taking his clothes and putting them in the trash, throwing the dirty dishes on his side of the bed and taking his shaving hairs and putting them in his clean shorts. He thought he could take it, but he really is girly when it comes to his own comfort. Eventually, he would get the hint and straighten up. I came back to Doug's question. Did I love Greg? I knew that if I paused too long he would know that I wasn't sure. I laughed it off, "Doug, what is it to you? Do you want to know if you have a shot?"

He blushed and literally stepped back. "I..I didn't mean..."

"Oh, don't worry, I won't tell Greg. Come on, let's eat."

Dinner was hilarious; I leaked a little I laughed so hard. There were puns about the food, sexual innuendos about turkeys and numerous stories to make us all shake our heads with laughter. Our guests all pitched in to help clean up and then after dessert most of them took off. The few that stayed were more Greg's friends than mine.

After cooking two days and cleaning the house, I was fatigued beyond belief. "Hey you guys, I'm whooped, I'm going to bed. Greg, put the stuffing in the refrigerator when it cools off." I went up and got ready for bed, but the headache that had started as a throb was now a full blown percussion band so I started down the steps to get a glass of water to take some medicine. I heard Doug talking in a hush tone to House.

"What about Kenna? Are you just going to leave her behind?"

"What am I supposed to do? I'll be at Mass General and she'll still be in med school here."

"Maybe she could transfer to Harvard?"

"She's got a full ride here."

"House, you're just going to pack up and leave? Don't you love her?"

"This isn't about love. I'm about to be kicked out of Hopkins after that incident yesterday. I've been offered a dream job at Mass General-well, a dream except for the teaching part-and Kenna has a full scholarship to attend med school here at Hopkins. It would be selfish for me to ask her to come with me, so I won't. Besides, she doesn't love me. She told me that months ago."

"Are you sure she doesn't love you? Who would put up with your crap if they didn't love you?"

"I'm not going to pull her away from Hopkins. I'll be down on weekends. She'll come up." Greg said firmly.

I sat down on the stairs and felt numb. He was leaving me and everyone knew it but me. I practically crawled back into bed and lay there with my eyes closed trying to imagine my life without him. What did I expect? That he would want to stay with me forever? We never once exchanged, "I love you's" to each other. We had companionship. We shared our daily lives, our ups and downs. We shared a bedroom. We shared a bathroom. But we never said were in love. We paid bills, went grocery shopping and made late night runs to Walmart together. But there had been no soppy cards that expressed undying love, no flowers with a little envelope that said, "I love you" and no discussion of marriage whatsoever. I had to face it. He didn't love me. Oh, I knew he cared about me, but he was ready to leave me and move on with his life in Boston without even trying to work it out. I had to steel myself to do the same. I must not love him either-I had to believe that otherwise I knew I'd be paralyzed, unable to move forward. I refused to cry.