Remission by Ofelia Martinez
Chapter 24
Mentorship
Iwas picking up my mail when my phone dinged with a message.
Unkown: Have you given any thought to dinner?
Hector. Of course he still had my number. I’d never changed it.
Me: I haven’t decided yet.
Hector: Tell me nothing of what I said brought up more questions. Please let me complete the story.
Me: We’ll see.
He stopped messaging after that. When I got back to my apartment, I scanned through my mail and was surprised to find a hand-written personal letter. My pulse quickened when I saw the name on the upper left corner of the envelope: Andrea Carter.
With trembling hands, I tore open the letter and read, and then read it a second time:
Dear Carolina,
I’m sure you can guess the Andrea writing this letter is also the Andrea who was once married to Hector. I’ve taken my second husband’s last name. I wanted to explain the change.
I know it’s strange to receive a letter from me—I can hardly believe I’m writing it at this very moment, but I’m forcing myself to put this in the mailbox because while I may no longer be in love with Hector Medina, I will always cherish him as the father of our child. I still want his happiness.
Marisela has informed me that he is headed back to Kansas City and we can only assume he is trying to get you back. Please don’t be mad at Marisela. We only want Hector’s happiness, and she has convinced me you are the key.
Can you believe I am trying to wing-man my own ex-husband? I’ll have my head examined about it soon.
Hector and I check in on each other on tough dates. Jake’s birthday, holidays—that kind of thing. We remember our son together and keep the memory of him alive in our hearts. It’s also a time to make sure the other is doing well. The last few times I’ve spoken with Hector on the phone have left me worried about him. He isn’t happy, and now I know that unhappiness has everything to do with the distance and years he’s placed between the two of you.
I know seven years is a long time, and I so hope you haven’t moved on, because Hector hasn’t. If you love him even a fraction of the way he loves you, then please, give him a chance.
If you do end up together like I’m hoping, I promise to never meddle again. And I sincerely hope you’ll be okay with our check-ins with each other. Please trust they are all about Jake.
From a new friend,
Andrea Carter.
When one door closes,a window opens—somewhere. It may sound contrived and even useless in dire circumstances, but it is also true. I wasn’t lying to that university student at my lecture when I told her that there are great female mentors in the field of medicine, even if they are rare. Extremely rare.
In my case, I had found a unicorn during Hector’s time away.
Dr. Monica Lopez joined Heartland Metro Hospital as the Chief of Cardiothoracic Surgery a year after Hector’s departure. She was a female chief, which was rare, and Latina, which was even rarer. I had thanked the gods for sending me another mentor even if she was in another department.
Dr. Lopez understood many of the difficulties all women, and women of color especially, face when trying to enter any male-dominated field. She had been instrumental in helping me get back on track when everything had seemed lost.
She was also a no-bullshit kind of gal, so I knew she would have an unbiased opinion. I had always been grateful to her for also advising me on personal matters.
She agreed to chat between surgeries, but only if I brought food to her office, so I stole some of Dad’s leftover chicken mole and rice for lunch.
“Carolina.” Dr. Lopez greeted me from behind her desk as I entered her office. She wore light blue hospital scrubs and still had her scrub cap on. In her mid-fifties, Dr. Lopez was a stunning woman. She was short and curvy in all the right places. Her long, rectangular face was perfectly framed by thick, black curls when they weren’t pinned back under a scrub cap. I only hoped that I aged half as well as she had. “How was your book tour?” she asked.
“It was good—mostly.”
“Uh-oh. I know that look. What happened?”
“No, really, the book tour was great. All the talks went smoothly; I was able to manage my stage fright.”
“No, missy, I know you. Something’s off.”
I handed her the lunch, and her eyes closed when she smelled the opened container. “You didn’t cook this.”
“No,” I admitted.
“I wasn’t asking. I know youdidn’t cook this.”
I smirked. “No. Dad’s friend did. You are safe, Dr. Lopez.”
She took a bite and moaned. “You are a lifesaver, Carolina. My last surgery was ten hours long, and I have to go back in with my next patient in two hours.”
“I’ll keep this short then. I’m sure you’ll want to sleep.”
“Out with it, then.”
“I would like some personal advice.”
“Sure,” she said between bites.
“Dr. Medina is back in Kansas City,” I said.
The fork in her hand stopped mid-air on the way to her mouth. “What?”
I nodded, and she put the fork down so she could study me.
Dr. Lopez knew everything Hector had done—from my perspective. She’d caught some of the rumors when she first came to Heartland and advised me on how to handle them. She was so experienced, and she often made my head spin. I relayed all the information Hector had given me at the café.
“It’s plausible,” she said and reclaimed the fork to keep eating. “From what I hear, Dr. Stuart’s priorities left the oncology department in a bit of a disarray. But your new Chief of Oncology should have more insight. Why are you talking to me and not her?”
“I respect her and value her opinion,” I said. “But she is my boss; I don’t really talk with her about personal stuff.”
“I see you still keep up unnecessary walls.”
“I’m working on it.”
“Fine, so what’s the problem now?”
“Hector wants to have dinner tonight. Says he has more to say. I was so angry at him then, I don’t know what to do.”
“And you don’t want to have dinner with him?”
“I didn’t, at first, but I still have questions. ”
Dr. Lopez chewed as she mulled over everything I had said, so I continued. “Then, there’s the fact that his wife sent me a letter.”
“What?” She almost spat out the bite she was working on.
“Yeah. It was so strange, Monica. I swear I don’t know what to make of it.”
“What did it say?”
“She wants me to give Hector a chance.”
“That is super weird,” she said, but there was a twinkle in her eye, and the corners of her mouth turned upward into a smirk. “But I like this woman. She has cojones.”
I threw my head back with laughter. “Yeah. I guess she does.”
“Honestly, Carolina, I don’t know why you are here. If you could stop listening to your head for even a second, you’d know what your heart wants.”
I sighed and rubbed my temple but said nothing to that, because what could I say? She was right.
“Or are you too proud?” she asked.
“Too proud?”
“Yes. Too proud. Don’t let an opportunity pass you by due to pride. I’ll say it plainly: that would be stupid. Are you too proud to forgive him now that you know he didn’t really intend to steal your trial?”
“It’s not just that. I didn’t have answers for seven years; that’s a lot of time to forgive.”
“Yes. I see it now. The pride—”
“Oh my god, it’s not that—”
“It is, and we both know it. You’ve always had a chip on your shoulder, trying to prove yourself. I recognize it because it’s the very same chip I carried on my shoulder for the first two decades of my career—only I didn’t have an amazing mentor to point it out to me and help me shake it off.”
“What on earth are you talking about?” I asked. “I don’t have a chip.”
“Yes, you do. Or are you going to tell me that proving to every man in this hospital that you belong here hasn’t been the driving force of your career? Are you going to tell me that anytime someone made a comment about affirmative action being the only possible way you could have become a physician, it didn’t bother you because you knew better?”
“I don’t see what that has to do with Hector,” I said.
“Everything, amiga. I saw how hard you worked to regain the respect your name once carried. You had to prove to the world, and more importantly, to yourself, that you could thrive without him. You did such a good job, now you are convincing yourself you don’t need him—and before you say anything, no, you don’t need him for your career to continue to flourish. But what if you do need him in your life, even when you don’t need him in your career?”
“What are you dancing around, Dr. Lopez?” I asked.
“What if you love him?”
“I did once,” I admitted.
“And are you so sure it’s gone? Because just you, sitting here, in that chair, agonizing about whether you can believe him again or not, tells me there are still feelings there. If you are so done with him, as you seem to be convincing yourself you are, then it would be easy to dismiss him and move on without a glance backward.”
Sometimes I hated this woman and all the sense she made. I narrowed my eyes at her.
“I know you, darling,” she said. “And you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t already know what to do.”
“You talk about me like I’m a petulant child throwing a tantrum.”
Dr. Lopez placed the lid on the now empty container and handed it to me. “Aren’t you?” she asked as she stood and pushed her chair to the side. “Feel free to stay here and think for a while if you’d like. I’m going to an on-call room to get a couple of hours of sleep before my next surgery.” Before she closed the door behind her, she spoke once more. “Oh, and Carolina, when you come to your senses, I’d love to meet him.”
She shut the door, and I sat there looking out the window. She was right, damn it, and it was so annoying. I knew I wanted to give him another chance to complete the story, but it would be the absolute last chance.