Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 84802 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84802 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
“Thirty minutes on a cot isn’t a nap.” He shuts the locker door and puts his jacket on, slinging his messenger bag across his shoulder. He opens the bag, grabbing his earphones. “Last time I took a nap on that cot, I woke up with a kink in my neck.”
I laugh at him. “No, that was from when Olivier climbed on top of you.” I grab the cup of coffee even though drinking it black and without sugar makes it even more bitter. “Don’t think we didn’t see him sneak in here.”
“Did you really?” He smiles.
“That’s the same smile you wore when you walked out of the room.” I point at him as I sit down, and he shrugs his shoulders.
“It’s just a little fun,” he says, “and with that, I’m off.” He walks out of the room, and I open my first chart.
I never thought I would be here, never thought I would be a doctor. I was like every other single girl growing up, waiting for her Prince Charming. Wondering how my wedding would be and how many kids we would have in our perfect little house with the white picket fence.
Our lives were never smooth, and I think I realized when I was eight that I was never going to have that white picket fence. My alcoholic father had just left my alcoholic mother, and this time, she said it was for good. The only person I could count on was my big brother, Max, who was a hockey superstar in our little Canadian town. He was seven years older than me, and he always made sure I was okay and that I ate.
When our mother told us that our father was finally gone, it was almost a sigh in relief. The fights would stop, the constant insults that got hurled at each other till one or both passed out, and it was a good thing. Well, boy was I wrong because an alcoholic father is much better than a drug addict stepfather, that is for sure. One day I came home from school, and there they were on that brown matted couch watching Judge Judy. My dirty pink schoolbag fell off my shoulder while my mother took another sip from her bottle of beer; from the looks of all the empties beside her, it was her seventh. “You need to be quiet,” she whispered and slurred at the same time, “he’s sleeping.” She looked over at the man next to her, a man she would later introduce us to as Brian.
Brian grew uglier by the day; his smell made my stomach crawl, and his teeth were rotted. But nothing, nothing, could prepare me for what was to come when I turned sixteen. By then, Max was playing with the big leagues, and he had a contract with the NHL. I was so proud of my brother when they drafted him. I was the only one there with him; well, me and George, the man who trained him and made sure he succeeded.
I came home from school, opened the door, and found Brian sprawled on the couch. I ducked my head and tried to walk past him, but his eyes opened, and he looked at me while his tongue did a sucking noise. “You filling out there good,” he said, and I didn’t bother to answer him. It was creepy and made my skin crawl, so when I went to my room, I turned the lock on the flimsy handle. I didn’t even bother leaving my room to eat dinner. I put on my earphones when the shouting started to finish my advanced English report. I don’t know how I did it, but I was at the top of the honor roll, and I couldn’t wait to be done so I could leave this hellhole behind. Max checked in daily, but he was going through so much already that I didn’t want to bother him. Plus, he had just finished a tough season, so I kept it to myself. Until Brian tried to rape me and Max was arrested for beating him to a pulp.
He took me in, and with the help of Doug Cooney, the owner of the team, he became my guardian. From that moment on, I swore I would make something of myself, and I did. After graduating high school a year early, I found that medicine piqued my interest. The whole healing people and making them better—I wanted to do that. I wanted to be the reason someone was going to get better.
My cell phone ringing pulls me out of my walk down memory lane when I see it’s my sister-in-law, Allison. “Hello, my favorite doctor sister-in-law.”
I greet her and hear crying in the background. “I’m your only doctor sister-in-law.” She laughs.
“Is that my niece crying?” I ask her, thinking of how different Max is ever since they met. It was love at first hate with those two. Somehow, they worked their way through the long history, and I have to say I’ve never seen my brother happier or more in love with someone than his wife.