Hush by Jess Wygle Page A

only did Callem have a professional image to uphold, he was my driver.  I suppose it was best if he didn’t indulge, even if only a little.
    “What do you usually get here when you come?” I asked Callem, feeling a bit overwhelmed by all of the mouthwatering choices in front of me.
    “I try something new every time,” he explained.  “Let’s see, I’ve had the stuffed shells, both the chicken Angelo and the chicken Monte Carlo.  The baked ziti is good.  The eggplant parmigiana and spinach ravioli are good too.  Their pizza though, that’s where it’s at.”
    I looked over my shoulder at the two men still making the pizza pies behind me.  “It sure does smell wonderful in here,” I noted, turning back to the menu as Rafe returned with our drinks.
    “Would you like to order any appetizers?  Baked ravioli, some cheese and garlic bread?” Rafe offered.
    Again, Callem looked at me.  “No, thank you,” I replied.
    “Do you need a few more minutes?” Rafe asked.
    “Yes please,” Callem said, without a consulting gaze this time.
    “Not a problem.  Take your time. I will check on you in a few minutes,” Rafe explained before turning back to the host stand.
    I cupped the delicate wine glass in my hand and took a long drink.  I could feel Callem watching me for a long second before averting his eyes back to his distracting menu.  “Oh, that hit the spot,” I mumbled, carefully setting the glass down.  “My nerves went a little crazy back there.”
    “Social anxiety,” Callem said, referring back to the topic of conversation over our first meal together.
    “Yes, exactly.  I didn’t think it would bother me so much because I’d be in a room of colleagues rather than coeds, but I guess it’s all the same.  Everyone still looks at me like a little girl.  I don’t think they take me seriously.  I know I’m just being paranoid, but I can’t shake that feeling of insignificance.  If it’s not that, I’m an attraction.  I should have had my own panel at the conference and opened it up to questions.  That’s what it felt like.  Everyone I met wanted to know about my bedside manner and my patient’s reactions to my age and my work load and my residency and how I got my foot in the door already.  I’ve never felt so judged before in my life.  Sorry, I shouldn’t be dumping all of this on you.”  I picked up the glass again for another pull.
    “No need to apologize.  I can see why you wanted a drink,” Callem said, closing his menu and giving me his full attention.
    “I don’t even know if I want to go tomorrow.  I wish the cancer care team seminar was today.  It’d really give me an excuse to duck out early.  That particular seminar is the only reason I came to the conference to begin with so I can’t miss it.”
    “I thought you’d been to these sort of things before?” Callem asked.
    “I have, but when I’d go to the other ones, I was with Dr. Sladek or with a group of students, people I knew who could shield me or deflect.  I’ve never gone alone.  I didn’t know so many people knew about me, either.  Dr. Sladek must mention me more than I thought.”
    “That would mean he thinks highly of you, wouldn’t you say?”
    I shrugged.  “I suppose, but just because he mentions me to his colleagues, that doesn’t mean it’s always a positive conversation.”
    Callem turned his head sideways slightly.  “That’s a cheery outlook you have there,” he noted.
    I smirked with a sigh, shaking my head.  “I know, I know.  After a lifetime of being held back, even with my accelerated lifestyle, I supposed I’ve been conditioned to assume it’s my destiny to be cast in only one light.  I’m doomed to be seen as a child playing doctor.”
    “You’d think the stereotype would diminish with time.  Experience; tenure cures everything.”
    I nodded.  “It’s getting to that point and my patience has been tested on the journey to tenure.  I mean, you started