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Thankfully, by the end of the day, the humidity wasn’t nearly as bad when Dennis stepped out of the ER department, stepping into the night with his backpack strapped behind him.
Trinity left him for the dust. At the lockers, she told him to walk home and that she’d be back later, probably off to have a heavy drink. He remembered spotting her and Garcia having a few private talks here and there during this shift, so maybe that’s why. She didn’t even glance at him, only muttering the excuse and taking it as an opportunity to leave him in the dust.
He had also spotted Samira, too, and there was an even harsher glare in her eyes as she left the building, Whitaker watching with unease. He knew why.
Do you need to go home?
You should go home.
It wasn’t pretty. In fact, it was a shit show. Every syllable spat with about as much conviction and mockery that Dennis felt his mind go back to that place he really wish he hadn’t.
Because when he felt it, he sees it.
“Whitaker! Got a second?”
Robby’s already making his way straight over to where Dennis sat and made himself comfortable on the park bench next to him.
He remembered a conversation a few days after Pittfest—that a few of the staff (including Robby) had gotten beers here in this same area. Save, of course for Dennis and Trinity, who were too busy becoming roommates.
Shema Yisrael Adonai Eloheinu Adonai Echad.
I don’t need the fucking liability.
Go home.
It’s all Whitaker can think of when he feigns a smile to Robby, because he can’t find it in him to muster a real one. Like the other ones from today. The ones from earlier in the day when Robby had given him his badge. Or the ones when Robby praised him in from of Duke, which is the reason why he’s here, along with the keys to his apartment that he agreed to house sit.
He can’t even begin to focus on Robby’s words, because all that there is in Whitaker’s head is a loop. Of Jewish prayers he hadn’t studied in Theology classes. Of the mocking tone that Robby used when he spat it in Samira’s face.
That tone. Like he’s above it all. And in a way, Dennis felt like Robby was, sometimes. It’s why he felt the way he did all those months back, looking up to Robby, at his power, at his authority and how the room always froze when he spoke. The last hour of their shift when he thanked them all for their service during Pittfest.
Robby was amazing. So in control and always with a tough exterior, wherever he went. It almost felt like he was perfect.
But he’s not.
I don’t need the fucking liability.
Go home.
That tone. It reminded him so much of his father, and the way he used that tone back in Broken Bow. Whenever Dennis was bullied by his older brothers, and he ran to find him, only to be told to tough it up. Be a man. Don’t be a pansy. He’s not raising a fag, after all.
“I don’t think you should’ve lashed out at Dr. Mohan like that, sir.”
He doesn’t know why he says it. Maybe it’s the bold new badge on his hip. Maybe it’s the fact that he knows what Robby knows, very well.
It takes Robby by immense surprise. Wide eyes, the ones that were always so expressive and looked at Whitaker with praise. He clears his throat and nods. “You’re right…”
But then he goes on a tangent with that. He can’t help but think about the ways in which of his father would do the same in arguments, throwing every excuse in the book with enough power to Dennis’s ears that he would forget most of it by the end of the day. The ED is no place for outside forces. Dr. Mohan was taking her business and bringing it to the workplace. She should’ve known better. The cherry on top was that he did, in fact apologize by confessing it was unprofessional and telling her to stop feeling sorry for herself, and to refocus on her patients.
“I understand.” Dennis is quick to say it. Because he knows he’s walking on eggshells when he sees Robby’s lips purse into a very suspiciously vicious expression, as if waiting. “It’s just…”
It’s dumb. He doesn’t even know what he wanted to say with that last comment. Why did he have to push it? For what fucking reason? Robby wasn’t even talking to him. He was talking to Samira. It wasn’t like Robby hurt him. Robby never has. So why is he picking this fight?
To get back at his dad, who’s not even here? No, that was a corny was of thinking. Maybe it’s because it’s the fact that it wasn’t him being yelled at, but Samira.
Samira, who showed a moment of weakness for one day, and Robby decided to use it as a way to mock her. Had Robby ever mocked him like that?
“Her mother is out here, Dennis!” Robby pointed to the ground below them, and it’s not lost on Dennis how patronizing the action comes across as he glares right at him. “You keep everything out here, because that’s what separates the best doctors, and the ones that don’t make it.”
“You didn’t.”
And that’s where he knows a line is crossed, because Dennis feels the weight of his body lift from saying it, and he knows nothing’s ever going to be the same. He remembered when Robby asked him during that first shift, if he’d said anything of the tears that spilled down his bloodied eyes as cartoon animals decorated the walls.
Robby wiped his forehead, huffing in disbelief. “You’ve been waiting to use that one on me, huh? Feel like a big man now that you got it out of your chest? Got the one up on me now, Whitaker? You don’t know fucking shit about me, and you can forget about house sitting.”
The air escapes him when Robby gets up, and so does Dennis. He’s looming over him, with dangerous eyes that made him realize how badly he messed up.
But that only made Dennis angrier, because he feels it again. He senses the mocking tone, the range of fire in the way that only Robby knows how to do. Because that’s how he rolls as the attending, who’s the only one able to say something that nasty to Samira, and the only one to get away with not having that nastiness directed back at him.
Until now. Until Dennis, who loomed over a sobbing Robby on the floor, back against the wall as he prayed the Shema, lifted him back up. Dennis, who saw all the signs of a broken man who had given his keys away to his resident, and who’s ready to ride 12 hours after a long shift without any helmet.
Dennis, who saw all the slights signs of venom in Robby that reminded him of a drunkard’s words in Nebraska, and realized he no longer felt any admiration for.
Dennis, who only sighed as he backed away slowly, and turned away, the same way he turned away from his father and brothers.
“Go home, doctor Robby.”