This afternoon, Hannah found her father at work in his office. He glanced up as she came in, and his pen paused for only a moment. I could see, however, what Hannah couldn’t—the rush of surprise that rolled through him, and just behind it, a small shudder of relief. He did not like the way they left things, and in the time they have not been speaking, he missed her.
His pride, however, would not let him admit that, and so he kept working on the forms on his desk. Hannah settled down into a chair across from him and waited patiently, studying her father. Finally he set down his pen and folded his hands on the desk. “Yes?” he asked.
I was pleased when Hannah did not react at all to his sarcasm. “May I ask you a question, Dad?”
His eyes narrowed. How exhausting it must be to be so suspicious—one must always be searching for ulterior motives! “What’s that?”
“Why did you become a doctor?”
Now Ramiro was startled. The unexpected question lowered his barriers, and I caught a glimpse of his thoughts and memories—how he had been at Hannah’s age, eager and passionate about his work.
He cleared his throat and shuffled the papers, avoiding her gaze. “Why does anyone become a doctor?” he asked gruffly. “I did it to help people.”
Hannah continued to study him. Her dark eyes, much like his own, were beginning to be unnerving to him. He stiffened his spine, and in that small physical movement I saw much more. I saw how he was hardened, how the politics and the expectations of the job had burned him down, until his passion died away and all he had left to fuel him was stubbornness and pride.
I conveyed this to Hannah as best I could; she, too, was seeing him more clearly. “And is that why you’re still here?” she asked. “Is that why you get out of bed in the mornings?”
Bewildered by the question, Ramiro pushed back from his desk. “Hannah, what’s this all about?”
She was quiet for another moment. Then she leaned forward. “Dad, I get that you just want what’s best for me,” she said. “And I appreciate that. But you have to know that I get to decide what’s best for me, not you. And what I think is best is being able to say, years and years from now, that helping people is still the reason I go to work in the mornings.” She smirked. “Or whenever the hell I’m going to work.”
Ramiro didn’t know what to say. Hannah got up, came around the desk, and put her arm around his shoulders. She leaned down to kiss him, pressing her cheek against his for a moment. “So if you need me, I’ll be in the burns unit.”
She was almost out of the office when Ramiro said, “Did you really just come by to tell me that you’re going to do whatever the hell you want, no matter what I think?”
Hannah glanced back at him with a smile. “Pretty much.”
He glowered at her, but one corner of his mouth twitched up. “You’re as stubborn as your mother.”
“Funny,” she said. “Mami tells me that being stubborn comes from your side.” On a whim, she blew him a kiss, surprising him yet again. “Give me a call when you want to grab lunch.” And she sailed out.
I followed her just long enough to be sure that she was all right, and she was. This morning she was nervous about meeting with her father, but the moment she saw him, she knew that her guesses had been correct. Now she feels that she understands him better, and this gives her confidence in her dealings with him, but also compassion for him. They may not ever be best of friends, but I think their relationship may be just a bit easier in the days ahead.
As for Ramiro, I went back to check on him to find him sitting still at his desk, his forms untouched. He was staring out the window and wondering when the last time was that he got out of bed with the welfare of others on his heart.