Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 85135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
“Fine,” I say, wanting him to get to the reason he’s really here. “How can I help?”
“Well, we’ve really enjoyed having you in the practice, and as you know, we have a huge demand for services. Patients have gone up by thirty percent since the start of Covid. We had a partners meeting last night and wondered if you’d like to join us on a more permanent basis?”
I smile. Charlie’s a nice man and this would be a good gig for most doctors—it’s central, the pay is good and the patients are nice. But, as Dad would say, this isn’t my calling. “That’s really nice of you,” I reply.
He chuckles. “That’s the politest no I’ve ever had.”
“Sorry. I’m just—”
“Oh, are you still going to ride huskies?” he asks. I must have mentioned it in my interview.
“Something like that.” Also known as figure out my life and calling.
“Fair enough.” He slaps his hands down on the armrests of the chair and stands. “If you know of anyone who might want to join, let us know, would you?”
“Absolutely. It’s a great place to work and my answer really isn’t personal.”
“Didn’t take it that way. Hopefully our paths will cross again at some point.” He heads out, and I sit back in my chair.
Saying no to him was so easy, it’s the final evidence I need that being a locum GP is not what I want to do. It’s not my calling.
I know what I want. I want to be an NHS GP, and I want to be with Vivian. I have a plan for one but not the other.
If only winning back the woman I love were as easy as figuring out my career.
I close down my computer and head out. Hopefully, an hour’s walk across London will help me formulate a plan.
As I come out of the door onto Welbeck and head north toward Euston Road, my phone buzzes in my pocket. For a split second, I think it’s going to be Vivian, but when I pull it out, it’s Madison. I ignore it and head up the road. It’s cold and a coffee on the way home seems like a good idea, so I head to Coffee Confidential. I don’t know if I’m deliberately torturing myself, but I find myself retracing the steps Vivian and I took when we were together. Last week, I had a cancellation just before lunch and so I took myself off to the National Gallery.
I’ve never been like this before. It’s getting worse, not better. I’m constantly wondering what she might be doing or who she might be doing it with. I’ve deliberately not Googled her. If I saw her dating someone, I’m worried I’d spend endless nights obsessing about whether it was a genuine date or a new fake boyfriend in her life, and I can’t bear the thought of either.
I should be focusing on my new career, making applications and networking, but all I can think about is her.
I arrive at the coffee shop and wait in line. I don’t recognize any of the staff. I’ve not been in here since Vivian left, but now it’s like I’m addicted to memories of her.
I order a flat white—more evidence that I’m a masochist. It’s not something I’d ever drink, but there’s a part of me that thinks I might feel closer to her if I drink her coffee order.
Who am I?
I collect the order and walk through the park, passing the skeleton sculpture and heading up toward the roses. We never came here at least—too many people—so there are fewer memories for me to worry about. Except I don’t need to be where we were together to remember her. She lives in my brain. In my heart. In my soul.
“Fuck!” I shout out loud. I stop. “FUCK,” I scream at the top of my voice, like I’m trying to perform some kind of self-exorcism.
I take a seat on the bench on the side of the path and pull out my phone. Let’s just rip the plaster off and see what she’s up to. I type her name into the search bar.
I scan my screen. There’s a news story from yesterday, but before I can read what it says, Madison’s name flashes up.
“Fuck off, Madison,” I say. I don’t mean it, I just need to focus at the moment.
I cancel the call and click on the first headline.
Vivian Cross releases surprise new music.
I scan the article, but it doesn’t say anything about where she is or who she’s with. At least it doesn’t say anything about her getting back together with her ex.
There’s a still from a video in the article. She’s sitting at a grand piano in jeans and a white shirt. She looks incredible. But then she always does.
I continue to scan the article, which says Vivian’s not doing the world stadium tour, but instead will perform the dates she’s already announced and some smaller venues that will be announced soon.