A Love Like This

by Kahlen Aymes

  The coffee didn’t have the desired effect. In the past, I’d tried stashing energy drinks in the refrigerator next to the coffee pot, but someone always ripped them off. Fucking people.

  I didn’t have time to go to the lounge, so I found a corner of the waiting room and sat down with my coffee, leaning my head on the back of the chair and closing my eyes. I let myself listen to the white noise sounds of the waiting room; people talking in hushed tones, the admitting nurse asking for insurance information, a fussy baby. If I concentrated hard enough, my mind would let me get in a little rest.

  My life felt like a huge, black void, and though I had purpose in work, I hated everything else. I was a walking zombie, unsure how I got through the days. It helped to work all night. I hated the nights at home without her. My life stopped when she said those five horrible words: “You forgot to remember me…”

  Julia. My closed eyes squeezed tighter. She stopped calling and texting, which, I admonished myself, was my own damn fault. I would stop, too, if they were repeatedly unanswered. I was still so angry, but more, I missed her like I’d lost half of myself. I gave a small huff. I guess that’s what happened. I had to stop and think how long she’d been in my life. Three and a half years as my best friend, almost four as my long distance lover, the four months that we lived together during her recovery, six months married, and now six weeks since she’d left me. The longest six fucking weeks of my life, except for the week I didn’t know if she’d live after her car accident. Oh my God! Did we really go through all of that just to let it slip away now? And because of some twit interrupting our dinner a couple of times? Un-fucking-believable.

  Someone’s hand slid up my thigh and I bolted upright, my eyes snapping open instantly and landing on Jane, perched on the edge of the chair next to mine, her hands now in her lap. My heart literally knocked against my ribs, and my hand landed on my chest with a thud.

  “Jesus Christ, Jane! You scared the living shit out of me!” I relaxed back in the chair and closed my eyes again. I took another deep breath. “What is it?” I asked, annoyed that my thoughts had been interrupted, and I would now have to listen to what she said.

  “Um… Ryan, I…”

  My head snapped up again and I glared at her. “What?”

  “I’m… I just wanted to apologize for everything again. I hate how strained we’ve become, and I just want to get back to normal.”

  I blinked and my jaw tightened. I considered her words for a minute. Could we ever go back, considering my world as I knew it was ruined, maybe beyond repair? “I don’t know. I can’t think about it right now. I’m too tired.” I dismissed her hoping she would leave.

  “Just think about it.”

  When I didn’t answer, she finally rose and left the waiting area. The small bit of relaxation I had vanished, so I pushed up from the chair and decided to go for a walk around the hospital. I needed to wake up, so I choked down the now lukewarm coffee and started to move toward the hospital lobby, tossing the paper cup in the trash as I passed.

  Louise was on desk duty. The old woman always had such a cheery smile, and I needed a little sunshine. She was talking to an elderly couple and pointing out directions, and I scooted past into the gift shop. There was always a nice assortment of fresh flowers in the cooler, and I reached in and pulled out a small arrangement of reds and pinks in a small, globular glass vase. There were some of those conversation hearts Julia hated at the register. I grabbed a box of those and then turned and reached for the latest edition of Vogue from the magazine rack. By the time I paid for the items, Louise was free. When she looked up at me, her blue eyes sparkled and a huge smile slid across her face. I smirked at the two bright pink splotches painted on her cheeks and the vivid red lipstick that wasn’t quite staying within the outline of her lips.

  “Happy Valentine’s Day, Louie!” I said, mustering as much cheer as I could.

  “Ryan, you handsome devil. Don’t tease an old woman! It’s hard on my heart.”

  I laughed out loud for the first time since I couldn’t remember when.

  “I’m not teasing.” I grinned at her. “Look! I brought you presents.” I set the flowers down on her desk and handed her the candy.

  “Oh!” Her hand flew to her cheek. “You make an old woman blush! I’m so happy you stopped by! I’ve missed those dimples and sparkling blue eyes!”

  “I’ve been really busy.” I perched in the chair next to her desk. “Sorry.”

  She reminded me a lot of my grandmother on my father’s side. Grandma Nettie. She had the same slight blue tint to her stark white hair and her make-up was exaggerated due, in part, to failing eyesight and the rest to exuberant personality. I sat beside her, reluctant to go back to the ER. Louise lifted the flowers and sniffed appreciatively as I flipped through the magazine.

  “This is for you, too, of course, but I haven’t looked at this issue yet. Do you mind?”

  “Oh, goodness! Of course, not.” She patted my hand as I turned the pages one by one. Julia’s name was still on the masthead page. I breathed a small sigh of relief and turned the page with shaky hands. Somehow, I’d managed to stop myself from calling or going over there to interrogate Andrea or her other staff. She said she’d left the city, but was she really that close all along? “What is that pretty wife of yours up to?”

  “Working a lot.” I tried to keep my voice even and not sound too sad. “We’re both working a lot.” I was at a loss for what to say. I didn’t want to talk about it, but I didn’t want to lie either.

  “You do look very tired, dear. Are you eating right? You seem a little pale.”

  “I’m eating.” I was living on meat sandwiches and the cafeteria salad bar.

  My mouth quirked at her sweet concern, but then, as I casually glanced from Louie back to the page, I froze still as death, my breath leaving in a rush.

  I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the image in front of me. It was a bunch of locks on a fence over a river and at its center, and the camera zoomed in a particular one adorned with a light green ribbon. Ryan & Julia was engraved in cursive silver with May 26 written in the same font, one line below it. It was our wedding date.

  I sat up straighter in the chair and examined the picture more closely. The focus on the lock blurred the background, but a young woman, dark hair blowing in the wind was standing further down on the fence. I’d recognize that profile anywhere. The Eiffel Tower rose in the distance. Now I knew where she’d been all this time. My face turned hot as fire.

  “Ryan, honey, are you all right?” Louie asked. “You’re so flushed all of a sudden.” She reached out and touched her cool, boney fingers to my forehead then my cheek.

  I looked at her face briefly as I registered her voice, but didn’t really hear what she said. My eyes returned to read the headline. The Locks of Love by Julia Matthews.

  She’d never written for the magazine before, but that wasn’t what shocked me. I snapped the issue shut and placed it on top of the desk, rising and shoving my hand around the back of my neck.

  “I gotta go back to work,” I said with an abruptness I couldn’t quell, and jumped from the chair.

  “Ryan, you look ill. Sit down.”

  I shook my head. “No, thank you, Louie. I really need to go. Have a good night.”

  She looked puzzled when I turned to leave and called after me. “Okay. Bye-bye, dear. Don’t take so long to stop by next time.”

  I walked on unsteady legs as I made my way to the backside of the hospital, not sure why I hadn’t thought of it before this. So that was that? Julia wasn’t coming back? Not for months at least. Meredith had finally gotten her way and shipped her halfway around the world. Blood pounded in my veins so loud I could hear it rush in my ears, and it only made my head hurt worse. She used our problems to pick up where she left off last year. The bright lights down the long hallway I was striding through blurred, and looking at the floor, I walked faster, unsure what the fuck I was going to do next.

  **
***

  Two days later, I’d done nothing but work straight through by choice. I didn’t even care that Jane was there. I just didn’t want to go home. I didn’t want to stop and think. I felt betrayed and abandoned by the person who promised me forever, and now, I didn’t give a rats ass if I had one more day, let alone forever. She didn’t love me or she wouldn’t have done what she did. The words bounded out in my head over and over again.

  We were busy and I was thankful, but I was running on fumes. It was the weekend, and we had a lot of drunk driver accidents, more of the gang fights, and a guy who accidentally nailed his hand to a two by four. He was calmly sitting on the table telling us about how his brother-in-law took a jigsaw to the wall to cut out the chunk of wood he was nailed to. He sat in front of me with a nail through the back of his hand and the wood still attached. I ordered IV fluids just in case he went into shock. It would hurt like hell to remove it. I stared at it, carefully turning his hand trying to determine if it would hurt less to try and remove the wood first or see if I could push it up enough to cut off the head of the nail on the top of his hand. Either way, it had to be pulled through.

  “I can take it, doc.”

  My eyes met his without wavering. “It’s going to hurt like a mother when this comes out. I think we should sedate you.”

  The dude was huge; bald with long stringy sideburns and big beer gut. He was sweaty and smelled like dirty socks. “Look man,” he protested, “I wasn’t sedated when this fucker went in, I ain’t gonna be sedated when it comes out.”

  This dickhead was a glutton for punishment, but whatever, I was too exhausted to argue. I put my hands up in resignation. Whatever, asshole. “Fine. I warned you.”

  Kari and another nurse, Nancy, assisted. While Nancy was unwrapping some of the surgical tools and assembling the materials for the sutures, I took Kari aside, whispering so only she heard me.

  “Stinky over here will be squealing like a pig in about ten minutes, so have a syringe of morphine handy.”

  She held back a giggle and nodded her head. “Got it.”

  He was at least two hundred fifty pounds, and I doubted that Kari and Nancy together weighed that much. The brother-in-law was still in the room, and I asked him to help hold his friend down after we strapped his arms and legs on the table. I had him lean all his weight across sweaty guy’s right shoulder while Nancy got the choice job of leaning across his thighs. I pushed on the wood side to see if I could ease it up enough to get the pliers around it and not pull out chunks of his skin.

  “Doc, why don’t you just saw off the wood? Take it off in pieces around the nail?”

  “It isn’t safe. I’m not going to risk cutting your hand in half. This is going to take a while.”

  I pushed hard on the wood and clamped around the nail head with the pliers, pulling on with subtle pressure. I needed to raise it up enough to get the cutters under it to remove the head. I’d then grab the wood and yank it out as fast as I could. The man hissed and bucked on the table as I worked to get enough space to slide the instrument in. Sweat started to bead on my forehead. We all had on gowns, gloves, and eye guards, making it hotter than a sauna. It was a tight fit, but I finally got the clamp on it and began to manually turn the small round blade, like cranking a can opener. Slowly, it began to grind through the metal shank of the nail.

  “Fuckin’ A! That hurts like a bitch!” The patient began a steady stream of cuss words. I kept cranking, the muscles in my arms straining with the pressure I had to use to help the blade go deeper into the metal, and my fingers getting numb from holding the instruments so tight for so long. Finally, the head of the nail popped off into the hand Kari had positioned to catch it.

  I dropped the device on the metal table and tried to work the feeling back into my hands. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m golden.” I could see his bravado start to wan even if his words didn’t.

  “Last chance for juice.” I looked blandly at the fat guy in front of me. His machismo act was just making my job harder. “If you thought that hurt, it was like a kiss compared to what’s coming.”

  Sweat rolled down the man’s face in rivers, and his shirt was wet with it.

  Kari was washing his skin with iodine soap.

  “There is no shame in taking the pain meds. This is a nasty injury.”

  “I said, no, doc.”

  “Okay, hold him down. Kari, help Nancy.”

  I made eye contact with the man still lying across his chest, letting him know this was it. I was through screwing with this guy. If he wanted to be tough, I might as well get it the hell over with. I was too tired and too hot to keep fucking around. I wrapped my gloved hands around the wood block with the nail embedded in the center.

  “Okay, on three.” My upper body and back muscles flexed. “One!” I yanked with all my might, and the man screamed like I was sawing off his hand. The nail dragged through his flesh with a sickening suction when it finally came out.

  “You sorry fuck! You said on three! Son-of-a-bitch! Jesus!”

  I moved away, peeling off my gloves, and putting on a new pair. I was bored with this stupid jerk. Blood oozed from the wound on both sides, and I examined it. It looked clean.

  “My hand is on fire!”

  I looked at him, expressionless, my tone brooking no argument when I addressed the nurses. “Kari, apply topical on both wounds. Nancy, 100 mils morphine. The syringe is on the tray.”

  Her eyes got big and round. “What?”

  “I said 100 milligrams of morphine. Put it in the IV.”

  Kari looked at me and held up a hand to Nancy. “Doctor, may I speak with you for just a second before we get started?”

  She placed some items in the trash and I joined her in the corner of the room.

  “Ryan. 100 will kill him. 15 maybe, because he’s so big.”

  “Holy fuck,” I murmured, the gravity of what I’d almost done hitting me hard. “I meant 10 mils.”

  She turned and held up ten fingers to Nancy, who nodded and placed the syringe in the IV port.

  I didn’t say another word as I sutured up the wound, and though unknown by anyone but me, my hands were shaking.

  Afterward, I ripped the gloves, mask, and eye guard off and left the room in search of Jameson. He was my attending and he’d decide if he’d take it to the chief of staff. I found him in his office and knocked lightly on the glass.

  He waved me in. I slumped into one of the chairs, my foot bouncing nervously. I felt weird, my hands were numb, and I was jittery like I’d just snorted a long line of cocaine and utterly exhausted at the same time.

  “Yes, Dr. Matthews? Still having trouble with Miss Cooper?”

  I shook my head. “I almost overdosed a patient.” I held up my hands and they shook like a leaf. “I can’t feel my hands, I feel like I’m about to jump out of my skin.”

  Dr. Jameson put up a calming hand. “What was the drug?”

  “IV morphine. I can’t believe I just did that! I’ve never done anything close to that irresponsible before. Am I out of the program?”

  “Does anyone else know about this?”

  “Yes, two of the nurses. They caught it in time.”

  “So no one was hurt?”

  “No.” My knee continued to bounce rapidly.

  “Ryan, calm down. You’re overworked. How long have you been on?”

  “I don’t know. Since Tuesday evening?”

  “It’s Friday morning. So, no, you’re not out of the program, but you are restricted from working more than twenty-four hours. It’s irresponsible and the hospital would be liable. Are you on anything? Be straight with me.”

  “No! I don’t sleep,” I blurted. “I can’t… seem to sleep.”

  “Like I said, you’re overworked. I’ve seen it happen before. Your dedication is admirable, but go take a week off.” He pulled out a prescription pad, wrote a scrip, and leaned forward to hand it to me. I reached for it, glancing down at the words. “That’s an order
.”

  “But…”

  “Ryan, stop talking before I reconsider keeping you in the program. You have a brilliant future ahead of you. Don’t screw it up. Fill that at the hospital pharmacy and go home.” He turned back to the report he was working on. “That’s all.”

  I felt like my ass was glued to the chair as I stared at him, stunned that I hadn’t just ruined my entire career. I finally stood and walked slowly from the room. I’d go to the pharmacy for the meds, but then I was heading straight to one of the sleeping rooms. I was still reeling from the knowledge my wife was in Paris, and I didn’t think I had enough physical stamina left for an hour on the subway.

  Suddenly, it hit me that I had an entire week at my disposal. A week where I couldn’t avoid the subject of Julia from bombarding my mind, and it all became so clear that I didn’t want to avoid her anymore. A slow smile spread across my face. With the help of the sleeping pills Dr. Jameson prescribed and the knowledge that, when I woke, I would get on a plane and get my fucking life back; I was going to sleep like a baby.

  *****

  It felt so good. I was floating and warm, and Julia was with me. Nothing could be more perfect. I could see her face smiling down at me, her green eyes all soft and filled with love as she looked into mine. Her hair fell in a dark curtain around her face, tumbling over her shoulders; tickling my neck. Her fingers pushed my shirt up, and I reached up to tangle my fingers in the silky strands.

  We were outside and the sun was shining; the vivid blue sky, dotted with fluffy cumulous clouds, created a brilliant backdrop. She was so beautiful and she smelled amazing. Her perfume wafted around me and I inhaled it deeper, wanting her very essence.

  “Baby, we have to go to class,” I murmured regretfully, sitting up slightly, my hand reaching out to pull on her shirt; only it was my T-shirt. It was almost summer vacation, and I’d be going home to Chicago and Julia to Kansas City. We’d fallen asleep in my dorm room late last night after I’d finally caved and told her I loved her. I’d wanted her for so long, and I regretted every second I waited. Pretending to love someone you don’t is hard, but pretending not to love someone you do… is fucking torture.