Remission by Ofelia Martinez

Chapter 18

Results Are In

“You know they’re calling you ‘Flash,’ right?” Mandy said as she tried to catch up to me.

“What?”

“You need to slow down—”

“Can’t. I’ve had a long shift, and I have to finish charting before I can catch a little shuteye—”

“Carolina!” Mandy snapped, and I halted at her tone.

“What?”

“Here.” She pushed a tablet toward me. “You haven’t checked your email today.”

“I’ll do it later—”

“No. Trust me. You’ll do it now.”

I took the tablet again, this time willingly. I let out a breath. I was so tired, and all I wanted to do was go home. But then I saw the email she had already opened for me. It was the statistical report to phase two of my trial that concluded year three. I read and reread the summary in the body of the email. I looked up at her.

“This can’t be right.”

“It is!” Mandy clasped her hands and bounced in front of me.

I shook my head. I must have read wrong. I read the email a third, then a fourth time. No. I hadn’t read wrong. My breath was coming in shorter, more rapid bursts. My pulse quickened in excitement as I realized what these results could mean. When I met Mandy’s gaze once more, she was smiling ear-to-ear, and her eyes were a little misty.

“Thanks, Mandy,” I said in a near whisper, and I broke into a soft jog.

I had to tell him. He had to know.

Over the last two years, we never saw each other again outside the hospital. No more lunches together or meetings in his office. But now I didn’t care. I had to share this excitement with him. Even if the rumors had mostly died down. Even if I had regained the trust of my colleagues and mentors. It didn’t matter. This was a mutual success. He deserved his due credit.

I bumped into Sara on the way to Hector’s office. Her brows furrowed at seeing me jog.

“Everything okay?” asked Sara.

I made sure she had regained her balance before I kept going. “Yeah! Great! I’ll tell you later.”

“Okay, Flash!” she called after me.

Huh. I guess they were calling me that.

I didn’t care if he was with someone; I barged into his office anyway. He stood behind his chair, hunched over his desk, reading the laptop screen. Luckily, he was alone. At my entrance, he looked up, startled. Then he grinned when he realized it was me.

“Is this right?” he asked, hopeful.

I nodded. “I think so.”

“I don’t believe it.” He looked back to his screen, aghast. “Sixty-percent increased remission at year three over the standard of care national average. This is unreal.” He looked up again and ran his hands through his hair. “Dr. Ramirez.” His voice cracked a bit. “This is big. Really big. This will change how the world treats cervical cancer in this age group.”

I nodded again. I was still stunned and breathy from my jog to his office.

“Congratulations, Dr. Ramirez!” He stood and spread his arms wide as he approached me. I didn’t hesitate to embrace him back. Not even a little bit.

This was the first time we had touched since that time outside my hotel room, but it was entirely different. There was no electricity, no sensuality lacing our words, no hunger between us. It was a sweet hug of congratulations, and, dare I thought it, pride. It was a relief to be with him like this—and have it mean nothing more. He still wore that gold band on his left hand, so it couldn’t be anything more.

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” I said once we parted.

“Sure you could have.”

I shook my head. “No. You’ve helped so much since joining the trial team, but I actually mean your past work. If you hadn’t made the strides you did, I wouldn’t have thought of this. We wouldn’t be here today.”

I wasn’t imagining that his eyes misted over, not unlike Mandy’s only a few moments ago.

“This is all you, Carolina. And I’m sorry, I know I’m not supposed to call you that. Please forgive me this once. I am bursting with pride.”

“Thank you.”

“So what’s next for you?” he asked.

“Well, cure cancer, of course,” I said. Everyone always looked at me like I was crazy when I said that. I wasn’t delusional; I knew I probably wouldn’t be the one person who cured cancer. It would take a cooperative international effort to one day eradicate this disease from our planet, but I said those words like a promise: I will do my part.

Hector threw his head back with a laugh. “I don’t doubt it. I feel bad for cancer. I think it has met its match.”

“I have to go. I have to wrap up a few things and go tell Dad.”

“Congratulations, Carolina.”

Dad wasn’tat home when I got there. I turned on the television, but I couldn’t concentrate on anything. I shut it off and paced the small living room. It was so quiet in the house that I easily heard the sound of tires coming up the driveway, signaling his arrival.

“Mija,” he said as he entered the front door. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Then, why are you here?”

I knew he didn’t mean it the way it sounded, but a pang of guilt radiated through my ribcage all the same. I had overworked the last two years, completely neglecting my family and friends. The clinical trial and my patients had consumed me. I had thought of little else. I worked to fill up the hours in such a way that I could not spend a single second of any day thinking about Hector and what we had almost been.

“I’m sorry, Dad,” I said. “I know I’ve been busy, but I have good news.”

When I told him the trial results and explained what that meant in non-medical terms, he wept.

My father was a proud man. He was a strong, hardworking, old-school, Mexican man. A man like that didn’t cry, and still, he’d let me see him cry exactly twice. There was never any shame in it. The first time was at my mom’s funeral, and the second time was at this very moment.

“Really?” He looked up at me with those glistening black eyes. Wrinkles etched the outside corners of each eye—the echoes of constant smiling.

“Yes, Dad. Really.”

He was sitting now, and I knelt before him. I placed my head on his lap like I had when I was a little girl, and he patted my head. I didn’t care that his clothes were full of black stains from the garage, or that the smell of grease would end up in my hair.

“Papi,” I croaked out. “I could have saved her.”

It was a hard admission to make. I couldn’t look at him. It was irrational—to feel shame at not being able to save her when I had only been a child. The scientific, rational part of my brain assured me it couldn’t have been my fault. But my irrational side, the side that sometimes won out in internal battles, the side of my heart, that side didn’t free me of the shame of failure.

He stroked my hair gently. We wept now, our sobs the only sound in the quiet house.

“I know, mija. I know.”

“You think she would forgive me?” I asked, even fully understanding how irrational that line of thinking was.

“There is nothing to forgive,” he said. “Look at me.” He grabbed my chin and pulled my face up to force me into looking at him. I sat back on my heels. “Carolina Isabel Ramirez Fuentes, there is nothing you could have done. You hear me?”

“I know. But if it had been now, I could have—” I insisted.

“Yes. But time is stupid that way,” he deadpanned. I let out a laugh, but it chortled and caught in all the snot from my ugly-crying. Us Ramirezes—there’s a good reason we don’t cry often. It’s a fucking mess.

“This is what I do know,” he said. “Your mother would be so incredibly proud of you. Almost as much as I am.”

The iceover my eyes helped. I pressed the frozen spoons to the skin that had turned into bags overnight. I’d gone home after speaking with Dad and cried myself to sleep. In the morning, I was paying the puffy-eye price. Nothing about crying is attractive.

The phone buzzed on the kitchen counter, and I had to set down one of the spoons to make out the name on the screen.

When Mandy called me, it was usually either really good or really bad.

“Hello?”

“Hey, can you come in?”

“No can do. It’s my day off, and I haven’t actually taken one in a long time.”

“Let me rephrase. You have to come in.”

I set the other spoon down. “What is it now, Mandy?”

“Dr. Stuart came to find me at the information desk and asked me to call you. He said he needs you in his office ASAP.”

Had someone seen Hector hugging me? Were they trying to dig up those long-buried skeletons? It had been two years. This was unbelievable. I was beyond annoyed. I was pissed. I wouldn’t let them do this again. I had more leverage, and I didn’t have a single thing to lose anymore. Not more than I already lost: the best mentor I’d ever have in my career.

I actually saw the smoke coming out of my nose. “I swear to god, Mandy, if they are trying to bring up this old bullshit again, I’m taking my next trial to another hospital.”

“Take me with you?” she asked.

“You got it. Please tell Chief Stuart’s secretary I’ll need an hour to get there.”

Let him wait. I wasn’t going to go in there, making demands and taking names, in my pajamas. I would look my best. I put on a pair of dark blue slacks and a crisp white shirt. My hair went up into a slick ponytail, and I put on the brightest red lipstick I could find. I wasn’t one for makeup, but if I was quitting my job today, I was going to do it in style.

Three men waited for me—the chief, Hector, and a third I didn’t recognize. They all stood when I entered the office.

“Dr. Ramirez, this is Dr. Drake.”

“Hello, Dr. Drake.” I shook his hand. “Have we met before?”

“No, we haven’t, but you may recognize the name. I’m Chief of Oncology at Peak View Metro in California. We have two physicians administering your trial there.”

“Is something wrong with the trial?” I asked, my heart lodged in my throat. Why would someone make the trip otherwise?

“Quite the contrary,” said the chief. “Dr. Drake got on a flight as soon as his team got the report on phase two of the trial.”

“Oh.” I pressed my palm to my chest. This was good.

“I’m sorry if we scared you,” Hector said, making his presence known once again.

“What can I do for you?” I asked.

“Dr. Drake would like to speak with you,” said the chief. “He afforded me the respect of coming to me first before giving you an official offer.”

I looked among the three men. They had been discussing me. Hector had a guilty expression on his face, and Dr. Stuart shifted his weight from one leg to the other.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“I wanted to talk with you about your plans when your contract is over here at Heartland Metro,” said Dr. Drake.

“I was hoping to continue,” I said. “I have something similar in mind for a breast cancer treatment trial. I was also thinking about adding a psychological component—”

“That’s great!” Dr. Drake interrupted me. “I’m hoping we can compete with Heartland Metro. I trust you will find our offer more than generous.”

The way Dr. Drake’s long neck moved slightly when he talked made me think of a snake. He was tall and slender, and his movements were precise but unnatural. My instincts were to step away from him, but I forced a smile. I’d never willingly work for a man who interrupted a woman mid-sentence simply because he could, but he was giving me leverage with Chief Stuart. The more the chief thought I was interested in going to a top-tier hospital in California, the better.

“Why don’t you give Dr. Drake a tour of the hospital?” said the chief. “I’m sure you two have a lot to talk about. I’ll submit Heartland’s competing offer by the end of the week. Hector, mind staying behind for a bit?”

Dr. Drake and I were dismissed. By the time the tour was over, I had him convinced that I was sincerely interested in the offer. I imagined him slithering his way all the way back to California, thinking he had tempted me.