Chapter 3

Sight:
Origin:
bef. 950; ME (n.); OE sihth (more often gesihth, gesiht; c. G Gesicht face; cf. y- ), deriv. of sĔon to see 1 ; see -th 1
–noun
1. the power or faculty of seeing; perception of objects by use of the eyes; vision.
2. an act, fact, or instance of seeing.
3. one’s range of vision on some specific occasion: Land is in sight.
4. a view; glimpse.
5. mental perception or regard; judgment.
6. something seen or worth seeing; spectacle: the sights of London.
7. Informal. something unusual, surprising, shocking, or distressing: They were a sight after the fight.

Two days later

Carmen pinched the bridge of her nose and smoothed down her white coat. She did it absent-mindedly, as she exhaled. Then, she headed to the Surgical Unit trying hard to think about nothing, especially about nothing related to the death of Mr. Balford.

– On my table. I’m sorry. On my –

“You’re early”, Dr. Helena Peabody said, dragging Carmen out of her thoughts abruptly.

Carmen watched her. She watched her surgical uniform, her surgical cap and the mask that hung loosely around her neck and realized – or suspected, at least – what was going on.

“What’s going on?”, she asked anyway, frowning slightly.

“Kit Porter was looking for you”, Helena replied, her arms folded, her face sympathetic.

Kit Porter. The Hospital Administrator.

Carmen exhaled a shaking breath and pretended to act nonchalant. Even better. She decided to ignore Helena’s words.

“Don’t I have a mitral valve to do?”, she asked casually.

Helena scrutinized her attentively.

“They canceled it”.

“Who canceled it?”, Carmen snapped, trying to repress a sudden outburst of irritation.

“Bette Porter…”, Helena arched her eyebrows knowingly.

“And why are you telling me?”, Carmen retorted, sounding a bit harsh.

“She was busy”.

Carmen scoffed.

“Yeah, sure. She was chickenshit”.

She snorted and turned around. She felt like every single member of her staff was suddenly freezing her out. As soon as she started walking away, Helena’s hand grabbed her forearm.

“Carmen, you’re sick”.

Carmen wiggled out of her grip.

“I’m not sick”.

Helena placed her hands on Carmen’s shoulders and watched her straight in the eyes. Her face looked worried, sincerely concerned.

“You’re sick”, she repeated, “You can’t operate”.