Unbreakable (12 page)

So I did.

I had my meeting with Fred Parker at NYU that week, and spent quite some time thinking about my research project. My specialty was robotic surgery, and if I contributed anything, I hoped to bring my experience with robotics to pediatric neurosurgery. Pediatric neurosurgeons were already performing minimally invasive procedures using endoscopy and so I had been thinking of doing a study that compared various procedures in terms of efficacy and what conditions are best suited to such procedures.

He thought the topic was excellent and would bring together my own expertise with an expanding field of interest for pediatric neurosurgeons. With that settled, we went over my schedule and the students I’d be supervising. It would be a great year.

“So,” Kate said when I returned to the apartment, “how did your meeting at NYU go about the fellowship?”

I put my jacket in the hall closet and smiled at her, excited to tell her about my plans. We sat on the sofa and I went through all of the details, talking far too long about the research I’d be doing and how excited I was.

“I’m going to be really busy this year,” I said, my voice lowering a bit. “I’ll be leading a research project, supervising neurosurgery residents and doing surgeries. Plus, I have everything else.”

Kate kissed me and wrapped her arms around my neck. “And I’ll be busy as well, writing my thesis, painting, writing for the student magazine. We’ll be like two ships passing in the night.”

“We’ll have to have very good nights to make up for the long days at sea.”

“We will. I am so excited for this year. Our wedding, renovating the 8
^th
Avenue apartment…”

We kissed. “You are so good to me,” I murmured against the skin of her throat, kissing my way up to her ear. “So willing to accept my hectic schedule.”

“You deserve it,” she said, her voice warm. “Of course I accept your busy schedule. I know you’re a neurosurgeon. You have the Foundation. The Corporation. Your music. Now you have me, too. I know you’ll schedule me in. What kind of relationship would we have if I didn’t accept you just the way you are?”

We kissed, softly, affectionately. Then she tightened her arms around my neck and kissed me more passionately, and that ignited my desire for her, my body responding to the need in her kiss.

I was looking forward to the fellowship, the opportunity for research and for getting more experience. Hopefully, Kate and I would both be completely engrossed in our careers during the day and would return home each night eager to be with the true love of our lives – each other. I had worried that she’d feel neglected but she had her own very busy life and plans.

With that concern out of the way, I felt elated and pushed Kate down on the sofa, lying on top of her, kissing her deeply. All worries about the fellowship faded away while I lost myself in Kate.

If you would have asked me, I would have said it was the happiest time of my life up until that point – the weeks after we returned from Africa and I was back in Manhattan getting re-established in my practice and starting, the research project…

That happiness was shattered all too soon by one Dr. Lisa Monroe, resident in neurosurgery at NYU.

On the first day of the fellowship, I met the other fellowship candidate, and the residents – eight of the brightest medical graduates who had done their internships and were now going to specialize in neurosurgery. We would be assigned four residents each and would be responsible for them for the year.

On my way to my office, after we had a joint meeting of residents and fellows, Dr. Monroe, an attractive woman with black hair, blue eyes and a very intense expression, followed me down the hallway.

She caught up with me when we reached the elevator.

“Dr. Lisa Monroe,” she said and extended her hand once more. “We met earlier at the luncheon.”

“Dr. Monroe,” I said and took her hand, shaking. She had been a medical student at Columbia.

“I’m really glad to be working with you,” she said, her voice low.

“You’re with Brodinski?” I said, remembering she was assigned to his group for the semester.

“I would have preferred to be working with you, given your experiences,” she said.

“Oh, how so?”

“You were in Africa; you do robotic surgery.”

I nodded. “Brodinski seems like he’ll be great to work with. Lots of experience and he’s done some robotics as well.”

She nodded and that was that.

While she wasn’t one of my residents, we would often scrub in on cases, since residents had the right of first refusal for all appropriate surgeries. If I had a case, she could scrub in if she wanted to gain experience.

She seemed vaguely familiar to me, but I couldn’t place her. I assumed I’d seen her around at Columbia for she’d been a medical student when I was teaching, and she did her internship at NYP. I must have seen her but I couldn’t remember where.

Over the next while, we were often together during rounds or weekly conferences going over cases. She always stood close to me and tried to engage me in discussion about patients or procedures. I assumed she was just a bright student hoping to show off her knowledge and skills. Surgeons, as a rule, are brimming with self-confidence. You have to have that kind of confidence in order to cut into the human body, especially the brain. So I took her attention as just a new resident eager to please and to show off.

On a bright sunny Manhattan morning in mid October, just a week before my wedding, I saw her standing at the edge of the group of physicians gathered for the first grand rounds for all residents and fellows, held by the faculty and senior pediatric neurosurgeons. I felt her gaze from across the room, and when our eyes met, she smiled. I glanced away, not interested in her nor did I want her interested in me.

After rounds were finished, I left on my way to the conference room, having forgotten about her, only to hear her call out my name.

“Dr. Morgan.” She caught up and walked by my side. “Good morning, Dr. Morgan,” she said, as I strode down the hallway to the boardroom where we were scheduled to meet. “Can I call you Drake?”

“Hello, Dr. Monroe.” I didn’t look at her when we got to the room and went inside. “Of course. Can I call you Lisa?” I said, trying to be friendly.

“Of course.”

“How is your day?” I asked, not that I was curious, but wanting to be polite.

“I’ve been busy adjusting,” she said. “Resident life is a lot different from being an intern. You’re responsible for a lot more and there’s a great deal to learn.”

“You’ll do fine,” I said, distracted, trying to find a spot to sit. A number of our colleagues were already inside so I took a seat between two others and tried to focus on the white board where a case file was projected for our conference discussion. I sensed that Lisa sat across from me, but I didn’t meet her eyes.

Throughout the session, I felt her glance on me, but I never met it. Instead, I kept my focus on the front of the conference room, on the monitor on which the patient charts were projected. Dr. Brodinski, the other fellow in the program with me, was leading the session and asked Lisa a question about a particular case. She was bright and knew her stuff.

After the session, Lisa left with Brodinski, and that would be it until later that day when I was enroute from the clinic where I was seeing my patients in my office.

Lisa caught up with me. “Care to go for a coffee?”

I turned to her. “Sorry,” I said as politely as I could. “I have to get through a lot of material before the end of the day.” I shrugged and walked on a little faster. She kept up beside me, despite how brusque I was trying to be. We arrived at the elevator, and I pressed the elevator button.

She turned to me. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you alone.”

“Oh?” I said, feigning an ease I didn’t feel.

“Yes,” she said and stood a bit closer, her voice lower. “You don’t remember me?”

I shook my head and forced a smile. “Sorry. I know you were at NYP for your internship, if that’s what you mean.”

“Well, I was wearing a mask the first time we met.”

I frowned and turned to her, glancing over her, trying to recall…

People wore masks all the time at dungeon parties, if they didn’t want to be recognized.

Had we been at a dungeon party together?

“A mask? Did we meet at a Halloween party?” I said, trying to play dumb in case I was wrong.

“Well, it was a party, but not for Halloween…We have mutual friends and I’ve heard a
lot
about you.” She smiled.

“Oh, really?” I said as the doors to the elevator opened. “Who’s that?”

She smiled coyly. “Derek Richardson.”

That stopped me in my tracks, but I tried to recover, entering the elevator and turning to face the bank of buttons. I didn’t reply.

“You must remember him,” Lisa said, following me on to the empty elevator. Her voice dropping a register. “He has a huge mansion in Yonkers?”

 “Richardson?” I said softly, wondering how well she knew Richardson. He was one of the wealthier men I knew in the lifestyle and hosted a monthly dungeon party at his home. I’d attended many times and had taken Kate there after we started our relationship.

I felt a thrill of adrenaline and a pall of dread that she knew me from that life. Worse, that I might have topped her at some point but couldn’t remember when. We left the elevator and went down the hallway to my office.

I thought back to my interactions with Richardson. I’d topped a few of his submissives.

“Yes,” she said. “He’s a…” she said and paused, smiling, “very special friend of mine. You and I have a lot of interests in common.”

I nodded, and tried to keep my voice calm. “I haven’t seen Richardson for a while,” I said lightly, fighting a sense of dread. “He’s still in Yonkers?”

“Yes,” Lisa said. “We’re not together any longer, but I did my apprenticeship with him.”

I shook my head. “I’ve been out of the country for the past six months.” I felt a knot in my gut. How was this going to affect my fellowship? Could we work together and more importantly, had I topped her in the past? She had to be a submissive…

“Well, it’s nice to finally meet
Doctor
D.” She smiled again and went off down the hallway.

The way she said Doctor, emphasizing it, could only mean she was referring to my other alias,
Master
D.

If she knew Richardson and had been his submissive, and if I had topped her, she knew who I was and what I was. It sent a shiver down my spine at the prospect that one of my students might know of my background in BDSM, and worse, that I might have topped her at a play party.

I tried to push that thought out of my mind and not expect the worst, but I had a bad feeling about it that I couldn’t shake.

Later, after I’d seen my patients, I went back to the ward to check on those I had already operated on the previous few days. I stopped in at each room and spoke with the patients, checking out their incisions, and asking how they were feeling, reading the patient charts and the nursing notes on the patient’s progress. Everything was going smoothly, and I felt positive that if I kept the right attitude, I’d be able to manage the semester with Lisa Monroe present.

I had enough on my mind with my wedding to my beautiful, loving fiancée coming up, my fellowship and my practice. Life was good.

On my way out of the ward, Lisa caught up with me again. I sighed, frustrated that she seemed intent on following me around.

“Hey, Drake,” she said and caught up with me, despite how fast I was walking down the hallway trying to avoid her.

“Hello, Lisa,” I said, pushing the door to the stairwell open so hard it slammed against the wall. “Sorry, I can’t talk, gotta run.”

She didn’t take the hint and followed me down the stairs.

“Come on, Drake,” she said playfully. “Be collegial. We have so much to talk about. Why don’t you come for coffee and we can talk about our mutual interests?”

I stopped when I reached the landing, my hand on the door. “Sorry,” I said softly. “I’m busy and can’t stop. Got some research to catch up on.”

I left the stairwell and of course she followed me out. When I arrived at my office, I used my key card in the lock, hoping beyond hope that she’d take the hint. She didn’t follow me or respond, so she must have. When I opened the door, I glanced down the hallway to see her still standing there, her face determined.

She did
not
look happy. Not at all.

Something in the way she looked made me feel a little uneasy, like I was making a mistake I’d regret down the road.

I shoved it into the back of my mind, determined not to let her affect my day at all.

Still, a sense of gloom hung over me whenever I was at NYU, in case I ran into her or she tried to be friendly. Usually, I could handle these things quite well, but with Lisa, I was uncertain how much she knew about me. If she knew nothing and merely was trying to be collegial, I hoped I didn’t come off as unfriendly. If she knew everything, I didn’t want to be too dismissive. I wanted my private life to remain private and if she was angry with me, she could cause problems.

Things were going well for the next week. Lisa seemed preoccupied with her own work, and so I relaxed and even accepted an invitation from Fred to go out with the new residents to a local pub for a drink after we’d all finished for the day.

Big mistake.

I made sure not to sit next to Lisa, but during the hour, with people getting up for more drinks or to use the washroom, seating changed and down plopped Lisa beside me when the seat became empty.

“Lisa,” I said, trying to be polite but slightly cool.

“Drake,” she said and held up her glass of draft. “Let’s toast,” she said, a slight slur in her words.

“To what shall we toast?” I asked, trying to humour her.

“To our mutual interests,” she said and wagged her eyebrows, then she turned to the other residents, “to neurosurgery, of course!”

They all raised their glasses and repeated
To
neurosurgery!
With slightly tipsy enthusiasm.