11. THE TRANSFER LETTER

"Hallow-hospital?" I manage to croak out after I stared at the man for a full minute. He must be cracking a late evening joke and if that was it, then he was not being funny at all. "I never asked for a transfer."

"I know." He said, reclining on his chair. "Look, Debby, you're one hell of a doctor. I think here is far too small for your potential."

"Let me be the judge of that sir," I answer, forcefully. "Let me decide whether or not I want to leave here."

There was no way in God's name I was leaving this part of town to work in a hospital like that. Hallow-hospital? The name alone brought me memories. Memories I'd rather keep at the back of my psyche. If I brought them to the fore, I'd be broken, all over again.

Mr. Grey looks at me, his fingers in a cross in front of his face. He is not saying anything.

"Mr. Grey, I do not want to leave the community hospital. I like my job here. It's close to my house and I can save a lot. Plus, I am already so used to everyone here. It'll be hard to adjust elsewhere." I attempt to convince him.

"Don't tell me you were planning on starting your residency here?" He asked, instead of giving me a befitting reply.

"Of course. Where else will I go? Here is it for me." I replied.

"We are a small hospital, Debby."

It was true. The hospital was just big enough to accommodate a little above a hundred patients. It was old and tiring, with most of the facilities and tools broken and in need of replacements. But it served the people of Gayville for a long time already. There were only five doctors at the hospital, each of them twice my age and even more experienced.

I enjoyed watching them deal with patients, and perform surgeries and I learned a great deal from them as well.

Moving from this hospital to another one? That too, to Hallow-hospital? It was just not in my books. I never foresaw it happening. Ever.

"Are you downsizing?" I ask Mr. Grey. I need to understand if they could not afford more staff there and if I was the one they could easily let go of.

"Uhm, not exactly." Mr. Grey began. I heaved a sigh and began to bounce on my legs. Whenever he says something like that, he was about to go into a full-blown explanation that will last several minutes, if not hours. "I just think-

"If you can't afford me anymore, tell me. I'll understand." I cut him off, willing for him to get straight to the point.

"It's not that we can't afford you. We can. But think of it, is that truly your worth? I know you've been struggling hard, paying back your student loans and trying to take care of yourself and your brother. It's not very easy if you ask me."

The man stood up and walked towards me. "When that space for recommendation came, I had to put up your name. I could have kept the space for myself but I'm old and tired and almost senile."

"That's a lie." I counter.

"Well, it's more of the truth than a lie. If you think it's a lie, then it's because it isn't glaring yet. My arthritis is on an all-time high and I know it's only a matter of time before I have to check myself into a home for old people."

Mr. Grey had only one son who was far away from home, living life with his own family. He rarely even came home to see his old father and keeping in touch was a chore for him. So the widowed director had stuck to the hospital and given it his all. 

Although he meant for what he said to be funny when I did not even as much as stretch my lips in a smile, he said, "Debby, you'd be paid double or triple even, what you're paid here. I understand your reservations perfectly well but until you overcome all that you feel, you won't be able to move forward in life."

"Huh?" 

"Yes, I know. I know you do not want to go anywhere near town. Most especially that hospital. Because it reminds you of your father. You want to hide away here in tiny boring Gayville, escaping the memories. It doesn't work that way, Debby."

"I wouldn't know. " I said, masking the surprise I felt. "Maybe I should start my residency in psychiatry." 

I wonder how he knew about my father. But then, he was someone who knew a lot of things. I know I was not readable but perhaps, he had known ever since I first came to him to begin my housemanship.

Slowly, I felt my resistance fall off.

"I'll be glad to welcome a member." He said, with a smile." There are a lot of batshit crazy people roaming these days."

"Even if they do pay me much more, it isn't worth the bond we have here. Not to talk of the stress I'll be putting my body through, going back and forth that distance."

"Then you can get an apartment next to the hospital."

"Now, that's a stretch. I'm just digesting the idea of working there and now you want me to live there too?"

"Okay, I'm sorry." He apologized, walking back to his seat. "Do whatever you want. But that does not include visiting clubhouses and getting into trouble."

I gasp, shocked.

"What?" He quipped. "You think I wouldn't find out you were in a club all night on Saturday, got wasted, and got into trouble?" He scoffed. "You should know better. Drinking and losing sleep? You're a doctor!"

Now, this is the scolding I was expecting. Typical of him to find a way around the matter on the ground to give me one. 

"I just wanted to celebrate, that's all. How do you even know that?"

"I am not the director for nothing. I have ears and eyes all over."

"You talk like you're a Mafia lord," I say to him, jesting.

"I could very much be so. When it comes to you." He shook his head, like a disappointed father. "And you complain about Jacob hanging out with his friends every day?" He scoffed again, while he opened a drawer attached to his table. "You two are very alike. The only thing stopping you from being wild is the fact that the responsibility of you both fell on you."

He placed the envelope on the desk and shifted it towards me with a finger. "The transfer letter." He said.

I picked it up reluctantly, staring at the logo of Hallow-hospital crested on edge. 

I'd be leaving. I have to leave. I know I made a joke about moving but I didn't think it would manifest in another way.

Tears welled up in my eyes. I slipped my hands underneath my glasses to wipe them off before they even made their way down.

"I guess I'd be leaving."

He gave me a nod.

"You can start right away, any day within the week that you want, or next week Monday. Monday is the latest though and I also recommend it so that you can have time in between to think it through and make plans."

"I don't want to go. How about Beverly and Tristan?"

"When their time comes, they'll be off. I doubt they will even be as reluctant as you are right now."

"This is all too sudden. God." I cover my face with the letter in hand.

"Get out there and explore. Go get a kind professor to mentor you in whatever field you end up choosing. I'd be here, rooting for you."

"How am I supposed to tell them? My colleagues? The patients?"

"They already know." He delivered without missing a beat.

"What?! What the actual fuck?" I shrieked.

"Language, young lady." He scolded. I felt like I was Jacob for a second. " It wasn't exactly a hidden thing. The offer came in a grand style."

I heaved a sigh.

"Thank you, Mr. Grey," I say, putting the letter in the side pocket of my scrubs. "For everything so far. I am earnestly grateful."

"Don't say your gratitudes too seriously. You make me feel like you won't come visiting when I'm finally in an old age home." He said. 

The seriousness in his strained voice crept up my arms and left goosebumps all over them. 

He dismissed me with that.

If my parents were alive, I know I'd do everything I could to make them happy and healthy. And I'd want to see them often.

Life is rather ironic.