11/3/11 (written around 11pm)

   Luke Mullenix loathed his life. He built his career on the foundation of his father’s words he heard as a boy, repeated when he failed an exam, repeated when he was rejected by a girl, repeated when he was bullied. “Son, you can never be as strong as me if you keep on this womanly charade. Grow a pair.” He didn’t believe it was fair for his father to tell him this as advice, but he knew that it was the right thing to do to follow it. He needed to be stronger than him. He needed to be better, even.

   He was a cardiothoracic surgeon, had been for thirteen years. Luke was practiced enough that he found a true passion in saving lives, in helping these patients. The only real problem was that he felt empty afterward. He’d go home, pick up a novel conveniently lying on his bedside table, read until the emptiness grew to an insurmountable conclusion, and he’d sleep. He’d only dreamt of Barbara enough times to count on his fingers since her death, and otherwise, he’d dream of blackness. The real excitement was digging through an open chest. Was it morbid? Maybe. He didn’t tell anyone, though, not even Barry, this intern he’d grown to apprentice. This secret was too much for anyone to bear.

   “Doctor Mullenix, your three o’clock cancelled. You’re free to leave.”

   Luke looked up from his desk. It was a nice mahogany desk, a nice mahogany chair to go along with it, all in a nice office at the hospital. He had made his way to the top and was pushing further, but he had made sure to get that goddamn office everyone else wanted. No. This would be his. This would be his goddamn office. Anyways, all they needed to change was the first name on the plaque beside the door. Good thing he wasn’t one for holding a grudge and had kept his father’s surname.

   “Oh, thank you, Barry,” he said softly, his voice only a whisper. He didn’t look at Barry, but he didn’t really look at anything in particular at all. He just wanted his eyes averted. Barry was one for quick inference and would probably leave soon after the encounter.

   “Are you alright?” Barry knelt beside Luke and glanced at the papers on his desk. “What’s that?”

   Luke shrugged, his scrubs smooth on his shoulders. He better get his goddamn scrubs soft, too. “I’ve been nominated for the hospital-wide Doctor of the Year Award…”

   “That’s great-”

   “Again.” Luke still kept his eyes away. Barry could always get what he wanted out of Luke. Whether it was the leading questions or the great trust Luke held in him, he knew he’d crack. Barry was the only son he’d ever had and they didn’t even share blood. Of course he’d crack.

   Barry straightened up. “Well, you look stressed. How about I take you to lunch?”

   I’m starved, thank you so much. “No, I’ve already eaten lunch, but thank you anyways, Barry.”

   Barry decided to be exceedingly ignorant today, Luke thought. “But, Dr. Mullenix, are you sure you don’t want to do anything? Amanda isn’t in the state, so if I don’t hang out with you, I’ll be alone at home watching old Andy Griffith reruns.”

   That’s what it was, then. Not ignorance, but desperation for company. “I’m sorry, I’ve got errands.” Go to the mall or something. Isn’t that what you do anyways?

   Barry left and closed the door with a click, his farewell a sigh drenched in sorrow. Finally, the room was silent.

   “Am I depressed?” Luke asked the air. It didn’t answer, which didn’t bode too well for him. Maybe it was depression, but maybe it was denial of depression, too. He closed his eyes and yawned. He was tired and hungry. The offer from Barry seemed golden by then.

   Luke couldn’t sleep in that chair. He stood, his bones sore and tight in their sockets, his knees cracking beneath his weight, though as small as he was. His body was too awkward to function. He swallowed pills for the arthritis he kept in his travelling doctor’s bag, the only thing his father had passed down to him, other than his reclusiveness.