Perfectly Reasonable (7 page)

Margo winced. “I didn’t mean–”

“No, it’s fine. I get it,” he interjected. “Mutual admiration. I’m not sure which of the boys will be there. The text goes out. Whoever shows, shows.”

Margo shifted her purse on her shoulder. “Oh. Of course. Look, I’d better not. I had a busy day today, and tomorrow is an early start. Thanks for the invite, though.”

“Yeah, no problem. We’re still on for Friday?”

“Yup. You’re going to bring the answers to your essay questions?”

Trace looked at her. “I’ve been chewing through them. They’ll be done by Friday,” he said with false cheer.

“Great. I’ll see you then.”

He paused. “Would you like me to pick you up?”

“That’s okay. It’ll be easier for me to meet you at O’Malley’s. I’ll be out and about anyway.”

“Okay, then. I guess I’ll see you on Friday.” He reached behind her and opened her door.

Margo held her breath when he moved toward her and released it on a sigh when he reached past. “Do . . . Do you want a ride?”

He shook his head. “Nah. I’ll walk,” he said with a shrug. “It’s not far and the cold air will do me good. Drive safe.” He closed her door for her and stepped back with a wave.

As she started the car, she watched him walk away, his hands in his pockets and his shoulders hunched. Her stomach churned.
Good job, Margo. Way to make someone feel bad.
What was wrong with keeping it professional? She couldn’t get involved with him. She couldn’t go there. She sighed as she watched him in the shadow of the streetlight. Too late.

Chapter 12

Margo watched the snow fly. The flakes were falling softly and melting as they hit the ground. Time for snow tires, Margo thought.

She wondered if the little blue hatchback even noticed. He slid to a stop when the light turned red and then fishtailed out of the intersection with the green.
Time for some winter driving lessons, buddy.
And a few lessons on safe lane changing wouldn’t hurt either. What was it about blue car drivers? Was it a blue hatchback sin to stay in one lane for more than a three-minute stretch? Maybe they were all a little paranoid and needed a reason to be constantly looking over their shoulder.

She accelerated to get out of the hatchback’s blind spot and turned into the parking lot at Breaking Bread. She was a little earlier today. With Chloe’s help, the second coat of paint at their current job had gone on quickly, and they had to take a break so it could dry. She was out the door by three o’clock and had time to go home, have a bite to eat, and change.

It was three forty-five when she pulled open the back door and walked in. Margo slipped off her coat and hung it up.

“Hey, baby girl. Come on in out of the cold.” Hattie stood at the stove stirring an enormous pot.

“Something smells delicious.” Margo leaned over the pot and inhaled the spicy steam. “Three bean soup?” she guessed.

Hattie wrapped her free arm around Margo’s shoulders and gave a squeeze. “That it is. Three bean soup with corn bread.” She winked. “And butterscotch ripple ice cream for dessert.”

Margo laughed. “I saw the goal. It was a good one.”

A grin split Hattie’s face. “Ottie is very happy. He’s asking for dessert first.”

“He could eat a full meal, and he’d still have room for butterscotch ripple.”

They laughed together and Margo got to work setting out the dishes and preparing the table for the buffet.

“He’s a nice boy, that Trace. I think he’s got his eyes on you. He’s mighty interested in your schedule.”

Margo hid her wince. “He is a nice guy. I’m helping him apply to medicine.”

“Are you now?” Hattie turned to look at her with a surprised glance.

Margo tried not to blush. “I don’t know how much help I’ll be, but he asked–”

“Of course you’ll be helpful. Who better to ask? Does all that revisiting put you in a mood to try it out again?” Hattie had never hid what she thought of Margo’s decision.

“Not so far.”

“We can always hope. Speaking of medicine, Ottie’s been complaining about his ear again.”

“I could take a look. I could bring the otoscope in next week.”

“I was hopin’ you’d offer. I snagged the otoscope and ear syringe from the clinic tonight before they closed. I told ’em I’d bring it back tomorrow, but they was happy to lend it. It’s there on the counter.”

“Perfect. How much time until dinner?”

“Twenty minutes. He’ll be bustin’ happy if you could help him hear again.”

“Let me talk to him.” Margo picked up the otoscope, walked into the dining room, and glanced around. The room was starting to fill up, but she saw Ottie in his usual chair. She made her way over and as soon as he saw her, he grinned, stood up, and tipped his hat.

“Did you hear we’re having butterscotch ripple?” he asked.

She laughed. “I did. Well played.”

He smacked his lips. “I can’t wait. Trace was as good as his word, taking me to the game, and stocking up on ice cream after the first goal. And he’s never without a smile. I like him.”

Margo smiled.

“And he slipped in the odd question or two about you. Real subtle. Not too pushy.”

Margo’s eyes widened.

“So I told him what I know. I think he’s all right for you. Better if he was a doctor. You don’t want a bum. But he’s pretty sharp with all that fancy math stuff. I think he would work out.”

Margo choked out a laugh. “Good to know. I’ll keep it in mind. Hattie mentioned that your ear is bothering you,” she said quickly to change the subject.

He put his finger in his right ear. “Can’t hear out of this one. Good thing we watched the game at the pub. No way I could listen to it. I think it might be the wax again.”

“Come with me, and I’ll take a look.”

“I’d appreciate that.” He followed her to a small room off the kitchen.

She put the otoscope to his ear. “You’re right, it’s wax.”

She syringed it out with warm water, and Ottie let out a sigh of relief when his hearing returned. “Thank you very much. I was beginning to feel a little crooked with my ear blocked like that. Wow, that is some improvement.” He wiggled his head. “Thank you. Sure is handy having a doctor at the dinner table. One stop shop.”

Margo put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m happy to help. Bean soup with corn bread tonight.”

“Oh, I’m looking forward to it. And to the butterscotch ripple,” he added with a wide grin.

“Enjoy your meal, Ottie.”

He went back to the dining room, and she cleaned up and went to help Hattie serve.

At the end of the evening, with the dishes done and stacked away, Hattie turned to Margo. “You have yourself a wonderful weekend. I hope your plans include some fun. Maybe some fun spelled T-R-A-C-E,” she said with a wiggle of her eyebrows.

Margo smiled weakly and slipped her jacket on. Another matchmaker, just like Ottie and Mrs. Crombie. Did they get together on public transit and plan? Discuss how other people should run their lives between stops?

Oh well, it could be worse. They could be yellow car people.

Chapter 13

This was supposed to be fun. She kept telling herself that. She pulled on jeans, a long-sleeved dark purple shirt, and a sweater splashed with bright flowers.

She looked in the mirror at the dark circles under her eyes and smeared on another layer of make-up. Fun. Her hair curled around her face. The snow had stopped, and the air was dry, so at least her hair wasn’t poufy. She left it down and hooked dangling pink and purple earrings in her ears.

What could be more fun than meeting up with the one person who, if they really knew you, would have nothing to do with you?

She sat down on the edge of the bed. She really needed to spruce up the color in this room. It was such a downer. Maybe she should buy a gallon of bright pink, with the energy and happiness of a five-year-old girl. That would liven things up. Of course, then she might not be able to fall asleep.

She sighed and picked up her black leather ankle boots, carried them into the living room, and set them down by the front door.

This room was better. The walls were gray with an undertone of blue in the light. But it was the blast of color in her collection of artwork that really pulled her in. A collection of six square photographs in substantial black frames hung above the sofa – colorful blossoms with the energy of spring. Her own painting, an abstract in blues and greens with a hint of orange, hung on the opposite wall. She routinely changed the cushions on the sofa and right now, in winter, tried to infuse the warmth of the sun with a splash of red and orange. Black piping mimicked the frames on the walls and added to the symmetry. She found the color energizing rather than soothing, and that usually worked for her.

She shrugged on a black jacket, tied a red scarf around her neck, and slipped her feet into the boots. Checking for her keys, she headed out.

She had planned to drive, with the intention of delivering some artwork to a client who lived close to the pub. But as the week wore on and her mood went down, she decided alcohol might be helpful to make it through the evening. So Plan B, walk. It wasn’t far, probably only twenty minutes or so. But the temperatures had dipped and the sidewalks were icy, so instead she moved to Plan C and waved down a taxi. She sat back in the warmth for the short drive.

O’Malley’s was hopping. Some patrons sat, some stood at the bar with a beer in hand, eyes glued to the television screens. As she made her way across the bar to the tables in the back, the crowd cheered in unison. She dodged the jovial backslapping, squeezed past the revelers, and spotted Trace in a booth off to the side.

He stood as she approached. “Where was that on Wednesday night?” he asked looking at the screen.

Margo laughed as they took a seat across from one another. “I heard Ottie got his butterscotch ripple.”

“He was gleeful. He can do a fine little jig when he’s excited.”

“I bet he can. Ice cream’s a precious rarity.”

Trace nodded with a grin. “Would you like a beer?”

“Anything light would be great.”

Trace caught the waitress’ attention and ordered for them both.

Margo looked at the stack of papers. “You’ve been a busy bee.”

“When someone tells me something is due tomorrow, I generally figure I can do it tomorrow. If it’s math. It’s going to take a little longer to wade through all of this, I think.” He paid the waitress when she set down the drinks.

Margo took a sip of her beer. “Show me what you’ve got.”

He picked up the top sheet of paper. “This is a spreadsheet with the five schools I’m applying to, the questions they want answered, the maximum number of words required, and the due date.”

Margo raised her eyebrows. “Very organized.”

“Thank you.” He pulled out the next pile of papers and removed a paper clip. “The questions are similar but just different enough to be annoying. Here’s the most comprehensive.” He handed her four typewritten pages. She read them slowly.

Why do you want to be a medical doctor
?

I have wanted to be a doctor from a young age. Doctors can be very influential and can positively affect someone’s life. When my grandfather passed away last year, his encouragement and insight made me realize how much I would like to strive for this goal.

I may not be the best at medical research, but I am very interested in it and feel that I could contribute to the analysis and methodology of many studies.

There are a wide variety of jobs within the medical field and this appeals to me. I particularly like helping people.

Should medical doctors have higher moral standards than construction workers
?

Yes, doctors have access to private information and need to keep it private. Construction workers don’t have the same privileges or have the need for the same level of professionalism.

Describe an experience where you showed collaboration.

When I tutored, I had to work with each student and determine their unique way of learning to develop a strategy that would be most effective. We worked together to find a time to meet, which was sometimes quite difficult when we both had busy schedules. We would have to determine their individual needs, figure out what they didn’t understand and come up with a plan to help them learn the material. This was often time consuming. Ultimately, the students really appreciated the time I took and seemed to improve in their learning.

What qualities should every physician possess? Which qualities do you have? What do you need to work on?

Physicians should be smart, compassionate, dedicated, good listeners, good at giving advice, and involved in medical research.

I am smart, dedicated, interested in people, and fairly good at listening. There are many medical research papers with flawed statistical analysis and that is an area where I excel.

I’m working on empathy but feel that it is within my reach.

Margo finished reading.
First, do no harm
. She looked at Trace. He sipped his beer and watched the screen across the room. He leaned back with a smile when the bar erupted in another cheer. And then noticed her watching him.

“That bad?” he asked with a lopsided grin.

“No. You’re answers aren’t bad.” She frowned. How honest should she be? “They’re good. Not excellent, but they would do.”

“I don’t want mediocre. I want to get in.”

Okay then. Brutally honest. “I know. I know.” She took a sip of beer. “You’ve answered the questions, but you’ve really just scratched the surface. Two things are important.

“First, the focus should be on you. Specifically, what have
you
done with respect to the statements you’ve made? You say that doctors can be influential. What happened to make you realize that?” The crowd cheered again. Margo glanced over at the screen and tried to explain. “A hockey coach wouldn’t recruit a player without knowing the player had talent. They’d want to see that dedication on and off the ice before they signed him. Same thing here. You need to convey in your answers your specific experience to show how you’ve prepared yourself for a career in medicine, how you can handle the rigor of the curriculum, and how you’ve worked to develop interpersonal skills. You’ve thought about it, you’ve taken steps to make sure you know what you’re getting into, and because of that, you know medicine’s a good fit. Specifically, for you.”

“Skip the royal ‘we’, stick to what I’ve actually done,” Trace repeated with a lift of his eyebrows.

Margo nodded. “Yes, exactly.” Margo picked up the napkin and wiped the condensation off her drink. “Second, you should ask yourself why they’re asking the question. How does it relate to the qualities they’re looking for in a doctor? The question about the construction worker may be about ethics. Or about being judgmental. Who knows? Collaboration is all about communication skills, teamwork, leadership, time management. In your answer you need to address the qualities and again relate it back to you.”

“Hold on.” Trace flagged down the waitress and flashing a smile, asked if he could borrow a pen. The waitress produced one with an equally interested smile, and ignoring Margo, walked away with an exaggerated sway of her hips. Trace grinned appreciatively when Margo smirked.

“Okay, I’m going to write this down. One, focus on me. That shouldn’t be too hard,” he said with a grin. He made a note on his spreadsheet. “Two, the doctor perspective. What else?”

“Do you want more?” she asked hesitantly.

“Yes. Lay it on.”

She sighed. “Let’s go over each one. First question. Your reasons are good, just add more specific examples. And don’t put yourself down.”

He nodded and made a note.

“Two. Stating that construction workers don’t have the same level of professionalism is judgmental,” she said. “You need to change that. Discuss why doctors need to have high moral standards. Give an example where you’ve had a reason to keep something confidential, respected someone’s decision, advocated for human rights, whatever. Make it about you. Then speak to when construction workers would also have to have high moral standards. Point out the differences, but the bottom line is the basic human need to be treated well.

“Question three. You need an introduction. You taught math at the undergrad level so many hours a week. Details. Relate how your tutoring has prepared you for a career in medicine.”

Trace scribbled and then looked up at her. “Because it helped with communication skills?”

“Yes, but what specifically?”

“Showed I like working with people. That I can adapt how I teach something to different styles of learning.”

“Yes. Good. And patients come with varying levels of literacy, understanding of English, and desire to learn. You have to explore all that and make sure, at the end of the day, they understand what you’re saying. In medicine and in math.”

“Got it.”

“You can add you honed your time management skills, and worked for a team. Did you ever have to advocate for a student?”

Trace thought for a moment. “Twice, actually. Once to challenge a grade and once to support a deadline extension.”

She nodded. “Perfect. That’s part of collaboration.”

Trace tapped the pen and then made a note. “Advocacy. Relate to medicine.” He looked up expectantly.

“Fourth one. Add examples. Be brief. Be concise. Take out the diss about medical papers. We don’t like team members who stab us in the back. And remove you’re working on empathy. You’re going to master that before your interview.” She looked at him pointedly and he grinned. “Whenever you’re asked for a weakness, you need to come up with a weakness that’s actually a strength.”

“What?”

“Yes. Selflessness can be detrimental to you, but ultimately good for society so that’s a good one. Whatever you choose, always mention you recognize it as a weakness and the steps you’re taking to improve.”

“K. What else?”

“One trait that would be good for you to mention, is that doctors have to be lifelong learners. Your interest in research would be a good example of that because ultimately you’ll be contributing to the ever-changing face of medicine.”

Trace wrote it down and tapped the pen. He raised his eyebrows at her.

She smiled. “I think that’s everything.”

Trace leaned back. “Whew. That’s a lot. No wonder I didn’t get an interview last time. Here I thought I did a good job.”

“You did. But this will up the ante to excellent.”

The crowd cheered again, and they both glanced over at the screen.

“To winning,” Trace said as he tapped his mug with hers. “And to not giving up.” He watched her over the rim of his mug as he took a sip.