time. That was when he’d stumbled upon the idea of sailing. He enjoyed the water, and being on either Puget Sound or Lake Washington looked exhilarating. So after much research and a series of sailing lessons, he’d bought his own sailboat and made a friend in the bargain. Phillip got along well with his sailing instructor, and the two often went out together for a couple of hours. They weren’t bosom buddies, but it felt good to hang out with Fred.
Phillip spent many a summer evening on Lake Washington, soaking in the sunshine and the warm breeze. Recently he’d been invited to join a poker game with a group of other physicians. He’d accepted and enjoyed the camaraderie. Cards had never been his forte and he’d lost far more than he’d won, but being able to laugh with the guys was all the compensation he needed. The funny part was that despite the fact that he always enjoyed himself, he often had to talk himself into going. At heart, he was still a loner.
He logged off his computer, ignoring the long list of emails requiring his attention. They could easily wait until morning. Most evenings he grabbed a quick meal in the hospital cafeteria. The food wasn’t half bad; it was tastier than anything he could make himself and it was a damn sight more nutritious than anything he could pick up at a fast-food place.
As he headed down the wide corridor he recognized several nurses. Since he’d started at the hospital a few of them had made it clear that they wouldn’t be opposed to seeing him outside of work. Rule numberone in Phillip’s book was not to get involved with anyone in the medical profession. That was a lesson he’d learned early on in his career, and it’d stuck.
Every now and again he wondered about Heather. They’d met in medical school, fallen in love, moved in together, and decided to marry when they finished their residencies. That was the original plan. But they both worked crazy hours and they barely saw each other. With so little time together it felt like they slipped out of sync—they practically had to start at square one on the rare days they both had off at the same time. He knew they were drifting apart but he didn’t realize how far until one day he returned to the apartment only to find it empty. Heather had moved out. He tried to talk to her, to reason things out, but she hadn’t listened.
Fine. Whatever. He played it cool for a month or so, gave Heather space, and waited for her to come to her senses. Only she never did. The next thing he heard, Heather, the love of his life, had married another doctor and moved out of the state. Just like that.
It took him six months to get over the shock of it. He dated again, but the results were mostly the same. Marsha Lynch, a reporter who worked for
The Seattle Times
, and Phillip had dated for almost a year before she called it quits. It’d shocked Phillip because he thought their relationship was going along just fine. Sure, he worked long hours, but that was to be expected with his profession. They’d actually discussed marriage at one point. When Marsha walked out she claimed marriage was out of the question. With tears in her eyes, she told him he was remote and too hard to get close to. She said he worked ridiculous hours, but she could live with that if he wasn’t so closed off when they were actually together. The ugly scene had lingered in his mind for months afterward.
His problem, Phillip had reasoned, was that he didn’t understand women.
It took almost eight months for Phillip to realize that Marsha had pretty much hit the nail on the head. Phillip was married to the hospital, but there was more to it than that. He hadn’t viewed himself as remote or distant. He’d never been one to share his troubles or wearhis heart on his sleeve, but that didn’t make him emotionally inaccessible, as both Heather and Marsha had accused. And yet his tendency to keep his thoughts and feelings to himself seemed to be a problem. His
Phillip spent many a summer evening on Lake Washington, soaking in the sunshine and the warm breeze. Recently he’d been invited to join a poker game with a group of other physicians. He’d accepted and enjoyed the camaraderie. Cards had never been his forte and he’d lost far more than he’d won, but being able to laugh with the guys was all the compensation he needed. The funny part was that despite the fact that he always enjoyed himself, he often had to talk himself into going. At heart, he was still a loner.
He logged off his computer, ignoring the long list of emails requiring his attention. They could easily wait until morning. Most evenings he grabbed a quick meal in the hospital cafeteria. The food wasn’t half bad; it was tastier than anything he could make himself and it was a damn sight more nutritious than anything he could pick up at a fast-food place.
As he headed down the wide corridor he recognized several nurses. Since he’d started at the hospital a few of them had made it clear that they wouldn’t be opposed to seeing him outside of work. Rule numberone in Phillip’s book was not to get involved with anyone in the medical profession. That was a lesson he’d learned early on in his career, and it’d stuck.
Every now and again he wondered about Heather. They’d met in medical school, fallen in love, moved in together, and decided to marry when they finished their residencies. That was the original plan. But they both worked crazy hours and they barely saw each other. With so little time together it felt like they slipped out of sync—they practically had to start at square one on the rare days they both had off at the same time. He knew they were drifting apart but he didn’t realize how far until one day he returned to the apartment only to find it empty. Heather had moved out. He tried to talk to her, to reason things out, but she hadn’t listened.
Fine. Whatever. He played it cool for a month or so, gave Heather space, and waited for her to come to her senses. Only she never did. The next thing he heard, Heather, the love of his life, had married another doctor and moved out of the state. Just like that.
It took him six months to get over the shock of it. He dated again, but the results were mostly the same. Marsha Lynch, a reporter who worked for
The Seattle Times
, and Phillip had dated for almost a year before she called it quits. It’d shocked Phillip because he thought their relationship was going along just fine. Sure, he worked long hours, but that was to be expected with his profession. They’d actually discussed marriage at one point. When Marsha walked out she claimed marriage was out of the question. With tears in her eyes, she told him he was remote and too hard to get close to. She said he worked ridiculous hours, but she could live with that if he wasn’t so closed off when they were actually together. The ugly scene had lingered in his mind for months afterward.
His problem, Phillip had reasoned, was that he didn’t understand women.
It took almost eight months for Phillip to realize that Marsha had pretty much hit the nail on the head. Phillip was married to the hospital, but there was more to it than that. He hadn’t viewed himself as remote or distant. He’d never been one to share his troubles or wearhis heart on his sleeve, but that didn’t make him emotionally inaccessible, as both Heather and Marsha had accused. And yet his tendency to keep his thoughts and feelings to himself seemed to be a problem. His
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