maxhirsch

[maxhirsch]

lukesantoro​

“A granola bar—”   The annoyance in his tone is mellowed out by the fact he expected her answer. Clicking his tongue and sparing them both a roll of eyes, he sits down, well aware convincing her would take longer than just a couple of minutes.   “Thank God you’re already in a hospital.”   He doubted it would ever get to that, but the joke was still worth it.

Luke scans the papers again, crossing his arms in front of his chest and a knee over his thigh to get more comfortable. Everything about his body language giving away he had no plans of leaving her to it.   “I’d help, but you would just smack my hand out of the way.”   It had happened in the past. And he couldn’t blame her, because the thought alone of allowing someone to try and help with inventory at the end of the night or moving around his bottles drove him insane. — Add the fact people could die on her case, and he really had no footing on complaining.   “When was the last time you had a vacation?”

         ❝  GIVE  ME  A  BREAK  !  ❞  a  grin  fixed  around  a  mouthful  of  irony,  lips  turned  upward  at  a  corner.  ❝  ah,  you  know  me  so  well.  ❞  max  sparred  the  man  another  glance  as  he  sat  himself  in  his  usual  seat  opposite  of  her  before  going  back  to  tabbing  through  the  files.  

        ❝  i  dunno’  —  eight  months  ago  ??  ❞  max  hadn’t  much  reason  to  take  time  off  outside  of  the  sparsely  occurring  self-care  day.  vacationing,  much  less,  was  a  notion  buried  in  the  hind  of  her  thoughts.  even  if  she  had  her  feet  in  the  sand,  her  patients  &  their  circumstances  never  fully  left  her  thoughts.  she  didn’t  want  —  didn’t  know  how  to    —  just  block  them  out,  even  if  it  were  for  her  own  sake.  ❝  a  doctors  work  is  never  done,  though.  you  of  all  people  should  know  that  by  now.  ❞  though  it  wasn’t  his  field  of  profession,  max  considered  luke  knew  her  well  enough  that  it  would  take  more  than  a  suggestion  for  her  to  truly  remove  herself  from  her  patients.

[maxhirsch]

norafreemanx​

The blonde laughed, “Yeah I guess you could say that there is no right answer between the two but I think if I had to choose, I would have to choose the onion jam. The thought of chunky ketchup makes me sick to my stomach too, to be honest.” Nora was not one to venture out to the new world of food - the only time that she really tried new things was when Cooper would cook for her but that felt like a lifetime ago. “I’m not one that is willing to try a lot of new things so I can safely say that I won’t be going home with any of these fancy jams today,” she said with a laugh and a small sigh. “I’m Nora, by the way, “ she paused, motioning down to the sleeping infant in the stroller, “And this is Abbie.” She rocked the child back and forth in the stroller before looking around the market. “Have you tried the homemade fudge that Miranda sells in that corner booth? It’s literally to die for.”

          ❝  I’M  MAX,  ❞  the  woman  retorted,  name  falling  with  a  slight  hush  as  she  finally  allowed  her  sights  to  shift  over  to  the  occupied  stroller.  ❝  it’s  a  wonder  she’s  slept  through  all  of  this  hustle  and  bustle,  ❞  moments  such  as  this  made  max  question  why  she  hadn’t  become  a  pediatrician  instead  ━  perhaps  become  a  mother  herself  considering  her  lack  of  siblings.  the  brunette  considered  herself  unfit  for  such  a  role,  perhaps  she  would  chop  that  up  to  the  people  that  raised  her.  max  could  hardly  award  them  the  title  of  true  parenthood.  the  grin  she  held  moments  persisted  at  the  mentioning  of  fudge,  the  recollection  that  she  was  indeed  committed  to  her  newfound  regimen  quickly  sobering  her  thoughts.  ❝  i  haven’t  but  i  think  i’ll  take  your  word  for  it,  ❞  the  woman  mused  once  more.  perhaps  she’d  stop  by  the  booth  on  her  way  out  and  purchase  a  batch  for  her  colleagues  ( and  sneak  a  piece  or  two  for  herself).  ❝  do  you  come  out  here  often  ??  i  honestly  can’t  remember  the  last  time  i  came  to  the  farmer’s  market  on  a  whim.  ❞

[maxhirsch]

        MAX  WAS  IN  SO  MANY  WAYS  AN  ISLAND  OF  A  WOMAN.  all  sober  &  solitary,  prizing  her  position  as  head  cardiovascular  surgeon  above  most  other  things  —  including  herself.  though  she’d  lately  been  working  toward  implementing  more  acts  of  self-care  in  her  day  to  day  routine,  it  had  proven  difficult  to  focus  on  yourself  when  her  livelihood  depended  on  her  dedication  to  others.  which  is  where  her  outside  connections  came  into  play.  though  max  often  kept  to  herself,  she’d  made  her  share  of  friends  and  otherwise  and  luke  had  been  one  of  them.  for  a  woman  so  difficult  to  love  it  was  always  a  pleasant  ( though  overpassed )  thought  that  he  stuck  around  so  long.

        ❝  they  really  ought  to  tighten  security  around  here,  ❞  is  all  the  brunette  offered  to  the  conversation  as  the  man  perched  himself  in  her  doorway.  the  time,  much  less  the  inconsistency  malforming  her  diet  was  the  very  least  of  her  worries  when  she’d  been  thumbing  through  patient  files  &  referring  specialists  to  ensure  their  proper  care.  max  only  bothered  to  remove  her  gaze  from  the  manilla  folder  sprawled  before  her  when  luke  door  is  shut  behind  him.  ❝  i  had  a  granola  bar—  ❞  a  beat  of  a  pause  followed  as  max  peered  down  at  the  face  of  her  watch,  ❝  about  five-ish  hours  ago.  and  unless  you  intend  to  file  all  of  this  for  me,  ❞  a  palm  is  hovered  over  the  mound  of  paperwork,  ❝  i  don’t  think  i’ll  be  going  anywhere  any  time  soon.  ❞

when: the middle of the day, a wednesday where: the hospital

@maxhirsch​​

“You got any idea what time it is?”   He doesn’t bother knocking, leaning his shoulder against the door frame as he crosses his arms, and his eyes land on her. She was right where Luke figured she’d be, planted behind a desk with her gaze casted onto papers and more papers. It’s in character as well, that she doesn’t spare him a glance.   “Almost four.”   He’s speaking to himself, really. — If the staff didn’t know by now to let him in without question, he doubted he’d even be there. Or that he’d be told by Vanessa, the nice receptionist, that Max hadn’t left since she started the day before.

Closing the door behind him to shut off the hum of machinery and people, he makes his usual path to the chair in front of her.   “Did you even eat?”   He felt like a sheriff trying to get a confession, going nowhere. And he has to swallow down the chuckle that threatens to ruin his bad cop routine.   “Well, doesn’t matter— let’s go, doc. Shift’s over.”

[maxhirsch]

imran-sayed​

It was almost amusing, the way they’d exchanged pleasantries as if they were strangers. He and Maxine Hirsch had known each other for so long—perhaps a little too long, as the gray streaks that had begun to grow in his head were all too keen on pointing out—though their friendship never seemed to extend past formality and a nebulous sense of competition. The past few months were solid exceptions (and some select nights, even more so), though their dynamic was, in many respects, unchanged. 

For that fact, Imran was almost grateful. He could at least count on the doctor to be a constant variable amid the current turbulence in his life. That she should prove to be fairly decent company was a wholly appreciated, if a little unexpected, bonus.

Conscious of the large crowd, Imran hummed in thought and began to devise a more convenient arrangement. “Tell you what. Why don’t you tell me your order and I’ll pay, then you could save us…” Imran pointed his index finger towards the booth he’d earlier been eyeing, “…that spot, over there.” He wouldn’t be surprised if the cushions hadn’t been replaced since the pediatrician was here last, about five, six years ago. The sporadic flicker of the fluorescent tube did not seem entirely appealing, either, though it wasn’t as if they had the luxury of choice at present. “In case you get the wrong idea about me being a gentleman, I’m not paying,” he began, almost defensively, “but you could buy me lunch the next time around.” In assuming a next time, Imran did not consider himself presumptuous—they had worked together, and so the chances of her returning the favor, from one doctor to another, would not be so unlikely. But he had curled his lips into a smile regardless, teasing the doctor lightly.  

          HER  LINE  OF  SIGHT  TRACED  his  own  as  imran  gestured  toward  the  unoccupied  booth  across  the  establishment  before  retracting  to  meet  his  higher  gaze  once  more.  ❝  deal.  ❞  max  concurred  nearly  immediately.  ❝  me  thinking  so  highly  of  you  ??  ❞  the  words  form  with  feigned  defense,  brows  raising  and  falling  on  her  forehead  in  jest  as  max  held  a  hand  to  her  chest.  ❝  wouldn’t  dream  of  it,  ❞  she  reasoned  with  a  dimpled  grin.  since  days  of  school  yard  antagonization,  maxine  had  considered  imran  as  an  opponent  —  one  of  the  few  she  found  to  be  formidable  enough  to  stand  against  her  academically.  it  remained  as  such  for  a  handful  of  years  but with  all  things  considered,  &  a  new  ( fairly  intimate )  outlook  gained,  maxine  had  been  able  to  look  upon  her  colleague  with  a  freshened  perspective.  

          ❝  making  plans  so  early  ??  you  haven’t  even  gotten  my  order  yet.  ❞  maxine  added,  grin  hardly  displaced  as  she  retorted.  though  she  preferred  to  dine  on  her  lonesome,  company  was  sometimes  welcomed  &  that  much  was  applicable  to  imran  in  most  instances.  the  insistence  of  her  paying  when  their  paths  crossed  next  was  easily  humored  ( fuck  gender  roles,  right  ?? )

          max  steeled  herself  for  a  moment,  as  if  captured  by  the  stray  thought.  ❝  speaking  of  which  —  i’ll  have  a  turkey  wrap,  with  a  side  of  fries  &  a  coffee.  ❞  coffee  certainly  wasn’t  the  best  choice,  especially  at  a  diner,  but  it  was  the  pick-me-up  she  needed  to  power  through  the  rest  of  her  extending  shift.  without  another  word,  max  was  spun  on  her  heels,  &  bound  for  the  empty  booth.

[maxhirsch]

PIVOTING EPISODE 2: MY FRIEND DIED !

[maxhirsch]

for:  @rxbnblke​

location:  woo  to  see  you  boutique,  whatever  time  works

                RETAIL  THERAPY  HAD  BECOME  something  of  a  monthly  habit  for  max.      for  the  habitual  workaholic,  perhaps  it  was  for  the  better  —  it  was  refreshing  to  treat  herself  &  not  the  wounds  of  others  for  once.  ❝  hey,  hi  !!  excuse  me  —  could  i  ask  your  opinion  on  this  dress  ??  ❞  the  brunette  made  her  approach  to  the  closest  stranger,  brightly  colored  fabric  flowering  around  her  petite  frame.  ❝  do  ya’  think  it’s  too  much  ??  it’s  for  a  benefit  dinner,  ❞  the  brunette  added,  surveying  the  stranger  with  hopeful  eyes.  though  she  typically  preferred  understated  fashions  that  bordered  on  vintage  silhouettes,  something  about  the  gown  interested  her.  

[maxhirsch]

norafreemanx​

Why Nora insisted on going back to the farmers market after everything that happened with Cooper was beyond her but here she was finding herself with the stroller in front of her walking down the different sections while Abbie slept. She had stopped and gathered a few things throughout the market and put them at the bottom of the stroller when she found herself staring at jams and spreads that she probably wouldn’t get but found herself drawn to them. She was in her own mind space when she heard some next to her talking about the tomato jam and she had to laugh. “I never thought of it that way but yeah I’m thinking that it really is just chunky ketchup and that makes me sick to my stomach,” she responded, glancing over at the girl next to her. She was pretty and definitely not who she had expected to be staring at jams, but she shrugged her shoulders. “I find that one to be quite odd but then again I just found one that there is an onion jam and I don’t know how I feel about that one either. Which would you rather eat? The tomato or onion jam?”

          FOR  A  WOMAN  OF  REFINED  TASTES,  ketchup  was  one  of  the  many  exclusions  made  from  her  flavor  palate.  she  hadn’t  realized  the  knot  that  had  wedged  itself  in  her  stomach  until  the  other  woman  mentioned  it.  ❝  i  feel  like  there’s  no  right  answer  here,  ❞  the  brunette  mused  with  a  grin,  arms  folding  jut  of  her  waist  as  she  shifted  on  sneakered  heels.  max  contended  with  the  joking  inquiry  for  a  moment,  brows  knit  together  as  she  thought  it  over.  ❝  though,  onion  jam  feels  like  a  safe  choice  ??  something  about  the  insinuation  of  chunky  ketchup  is  definitely  more  off-putting  than  i  initially  considered  it  to  be.  ❞  she  added  with  a  chuckle.  perhaps  it  could  have  been  a  tasteful  ( albeit  overpriced )  addition  to  her  newly  found  diet.

[maxhirsch]

for:  closed  starter  for  @norafreemanx​

location:  main  street  farmer’s  market,  midday

          A  WOMAN  THAT  THRIVED  on  the  concept  of  timeliness,  the  morning  had  hardly  passed  max  by  before  she  had  started  her  day.  enduring  the  ( admittedly  bullshit )  keto  breakfast  she’d  challenged  herself  to  brave  for  the  week,  max  set  out  for  her  morning  run  without  a  single  hitch.  all  until  she  happened  to  stumble  upon  the  weekend  farmer’s  market.  &  perhaps,  even  for  just  a  moment,  max  was  thrusted  back  into  her  childhood.  walking  alongside  her  mother,  a  rumble  of  flowers  cradled  in  arms  too  lanky  for  her  body  —  sun  casting  warmth  on  freckled  skin.  that  same  WIDE-EYED  curiosity  known  as  a  child  is  reignited  at  the  sight  of  one  of  the  many  ‘artisanal’  stands.  ‘ paula’s ’  pantry,  as  the  sign  read,  hosted  a  peculiar  array  of  jarred  jams  and  spreads.  precursory  smile  offered  over  to  the  woman  tending  to  the  stand  ( whom  she  could  only  assume  to  be  paula  herself ),  continuing  to  browse,  max  set  hazel  sights  on  one  of  the  many  labelled  jars,  lowering  her  stance  to  read  it  over.  ❝  tomato  jam,  ❞  the  brunette  spoke  aloud,  a  slight  weariness  &  perhaps  disbelief  enshrouding  the  words  she  hadn’t  realized  were  made  audible  to  the  stranger  stood  near.  ❝  isn’t  that  just  —  chunky  ketchup ??  ❞ 

[maxhirsch]

imran-sayed​

( @maxhirsch​ ) 

location : roxy burger ( gastown )  time : lunchtime 

Breaking his routine, he had left his workplace immediately after his shift to grab a more palatable lunch elsewhere. He took to exploring the streets aimlessly, eventually winding up in one of those homey mom and pop places that he’d frequented in high school. The burger place had been one of those establishments whose primary draws were inexpensive food and bitter nostalgia—and, evidently, Imran was not immune to either one. His feet tapped the floor incessantly as he waited impatiently for turn to order, having been unable to beat the bustling lunch crowd and thus was last on the queue. 

Senses still on high alert, he heard the door chimes to indicate a new customer arriving. Looking for distractions from the grumble of his empty stomach, he tilted his head to the entrance, only to find the new customer had been yet another uprooted memory. In high school, he never held anything more than vague irritation towards Maxine Hirsch. Now colleagues, that dynamic hadn’t changed much—though recent events made him gain, at the very least, a murmur of affection for his former academic rival.

“Hirsch,” he greeted, not unkindly, “are you dining in?” Imran tilted his head towards the booths, unfilled save for one by the corner window. “If you are, we might as well grab a booth together. Seems everyone and their mother thought of getting greasy food today.”

          THE  LIFE  &  TIMES  OF  A  MODERN  WOMAN.  a  workaholic  career  woman,  that  is.  while  max  had  intended  to  spend  the  latter  portion  of  her  week  relaxing  with  a  good  book,  sipping  on  a  perpetual  glass  of  cabernet,  work  had  deterred  her  much  like  it  always  had.  the  faltering  had  become  something  of  a  routine  —  the  moment  the  woman  had  been  able  to  found  any  solace  outside  of  sewing  patchworked  people  back  together,  work  called  out  to  her  like  a  siren  song.  

          on  the  descending  end  of  an  emergency  call  shift,  maxine  had  managed  to  stabilize  her  patient  &  scrub  out  before  midday.  though  she  considered  rewarding  herself  with  a  ( very  scarcely  occurring )  lunch  to  herself,  her  plans  had  been  foiled  when  the  realization  that  someone  had  been  able  to  devour  her  pre-packed  salad  before  she  got  the  chance.  she  hadn’t  quite  been  able  to  recollect  her  reasoning  for  settling  on  the  familiar  eatery  —  maybe  the  walk  there  was  an  excuse  to  get  some  fresh  air  —  but  when  she  ducked  into  the  establishment  her  fellow  colleague  was  the  last  person  she  expected  to  see  at  the  end  of  the  queue.

          ❝  dr.  sayed,  ❞  the  brunette  echoed  his  surname  back  with  a  pleasant  enough  tone.  the  occupational  formality  hadn’t  felt  quite  right  on  her  tongue  considering  the  informal  dining  setting,  &  yet  she  persisted.  that  was  the  thing  about  max,  even  if  she  retired  her  white  coat,  her  professional  mindset  was  not  easily  disengaged  even  when  separated  from  the  sterile  environment  that  was  their  workplace.  frankly  she  intended  to  tote  her  lunch  back  to  her  office  and  perhaps  put  a  dent  in  the  paperwork  that  sat  in  a  mound  at  the  edge  of  her  desk.  though,  his  suggestion  happened  to  sway  her.  lips  fixed  to  say  otherwise,  max  took  a  moment  of  pause.  ❝  sure  —  why  not.  ❞  she  couldn’t  say  the  lunch  rush  was  particularly  unexpected,  but  max  had  certainly  grown  accustomed  to  the  assurance  of  being  able  to  dine  on  her  lonesome.  ❝  let’s  just  hope  there’s  a  booth  left  for  us  to  begin  with,  yeah  ??  ❞  hazel  orbs  shift  momentarily,  eyeing  down  the  few  booths  left  inhibited  amid  the  throng  of  patrons.

[maxhirsch]

#me when men compliment me

[maxhirsch]

GENERAL.

full name:  maxine hirsch

age:  thirty-nine

gender:  cis woman

sexuality:  raging bisexual

pronouns:  she/her

residential area:  downtown vancouver

occupation:  cardiovascular surgeon

two positive traits:  hardworking, intuitive

two negative traits:  blunt, pedantic

length of time in vancouver:  28 years

faceclaim:  sophia bush

QUOTE.

“ i don’t have to forgive to heal. this anger has healed me in more ways than forgiving a person ever could. ”

BIOGRAPHY.

tw:  mentions of academic pressure, neglectful parents

her parents never legally married, and so they never attempted the traditional farce of staying together. if maxine thought about it, they hardly suffered one another’s company in the first place. the reason they kept her for was—well, no one really knows exactly why. she was never bold enough, or maybe cruel enough to demand an answer. perhaps they felt they wanted a child because it was the last bastion to cross, the last fence in the orchard of adulthood. the final magnet on the fridge of accomplished people. maybe they had simply seen a challenge, as it was so often their style, and launched headlong into it. they would approach child-rearing with the precision of mass reviews, as journalists do with great disasters, until it had the featherweight touch of a quantitative analysis: a rulebook to be followed to the letter.            

  they did all they were supposed to, adjusted maxine according to this litmus test. doctor visits, stellar extracurricular programs, language exchanges & debate clubs overseeing genovese lakes. they provided the bare essentials for this aluminum blueprint; anything superfluous, of course, would skew the results. maxine was the experiment they invested in, a uniform whole, rather than a sum of parts. if you judge it by any other name, the trial was a success. she had become the best version she could’ve ever been, all things considered. what if it was hollow, as all polished shells are? it was light enough to float. given the haphazard turns of her mind, the way it led itself to a fool’s gold chase that could’ve ruined her long ago—yes, given all these fatal flaws, her parents tempered as much as they could.          

   it was a twisted environment to live in, both the scion’s and the scholar’s; a microcosm of academic renown, foreign dignitaries, elizabethan plays instead of bedtime prayers. wealth, of course, and diplomacy went hand in hand, their fingers threaded together like the tails of small monsters. it was a world illuminated, but sterile—incandescent for all the wrong reasons. to her parents, everything remote required undiverted attention, even as it took place on the other side of the world; everything human grew tepid within seconds. the child learned to speak two, then three languages, and moved deftly between their unspoken rules—even as the deeper meaning eluded her. growing up, she would spend half the year in vancouver, where her mother had settled, and half in whatever place her father had a scholarship in. at times, a few months would get swapped in the schedule like tactical retreats—when a conference or a lawsuit came up, those unmissable, unmitigable things, maxine would suddenly find herself with more time to spend with one parent, and very little left to say. she never protested ; she learned this, early on, how to shape discontent into purpose, how to bevel disadvantage into a three-card trick.        

     she never protested most things—to her, feelings were best tasted in dreams, and even then they had to wear the face of others. she exuded a strange, stoical calm. there was authority, but there was also an ominous fire. as if she saw what might happen, and steeled herself throughout it all, even as her mind shied & sheathed back into itself. it was this air that got her through most of the situations where she had something to prove; that made up for her real, mercurial nature, which no one could even begin to guess at. it was this which acted as ransom, as guarantee, and bid others to follow her. an air of bravery which surpassed girlhood, and of wisdom which surpassed even will. above all, she learned to spin the narrative so that she was always turning. summers spent country clubbing in cambridge are long gone. the following years are spent in residency at john hopkins, and yet, she never managed to stray too far from home. with a newfound opening for the position, vancouver called max home like a siren song and she’s served as one of the lead cardiovascular surgeons since.  

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

ex-fiance  /  flings  /  exes  /  coworkers  /  best friends  /  drinking buddies  /  acquaintances  /  people that genuinely can’t stand her lmao  /  occupational rivals  /  past academic rivals

[maxhirsch]

anne carson, stanzas, sexes, seductions /  ada limón, the noisiness of sleep / florence + the machine, moderation / emily brontë, wuthering heights / yves olade, when rome falls

[maxhirsch]

May Directed by Lucky McKee (2002)

[maxhirsch]

Sophia Bush 2021 TIFF Portraits.

[maxhirsch]

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