Code Blues

by Melissa Yi

He just looked at me. "Yeah. And how many doctors live up to that? You know the doctors who're addicted to prescription drugs, or the docs who abuse their patients."

  "That's not murder," I insisted. "I've never read about a murder in Dialogue. That's the Ontario disciplinary journal," I explained, since he looked confused. "I don't know what the Quebec one is called. But have you read about any murders in it?"

  He shook his head. "Still."

  "No. It's a whole other boundary. I mean, yes, we stop treatment all the time." I remembered this one poor kid with leukemia, and had to shake my head before I continued. "But you don't see doctors running around with machetes. I know we're not perfect, Tucker, but most of us do believe in the sanctity of human life. That's how we got into the game."

  Before Tucker could reply, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a ceramic plate bearing over my shoulder. "Thank you," I said to the server. It smelled delicious.

  Tucker said, "Danke schön," and I mentally kicked myself. I could have figured that one out.

  Tucker's eyes crinkled like he knew what I was thinking. "Bon appétit."

  "Bon appétit." I like how Montrealers often say this before eating. It's not a prayer, but still a sort of benediction.

  I cut into the Balkan sausage first, trying not to wince at the grease squeezing on to my plate. "Hey, this is good!" It actually wasn't as greasy as I'd expected, and had a strong, meaty flavor which went well with the slightly bitter sauerkraut.

  Tucker pumped his hand in the air. "Yes! I knew you'd like it."

  I laughed, but part of me thought it was strange. I'd hardly spoken two words to the guy. How would he know if I liked sausages or not?

  Why had he asked me out, anyway? It was flattering, but I wasn't such a prize that men had bowled each other over for my number in London.

  Could his interest have something to do with Kurt's murder?

  No. That was paranoid. Tucker had respected Kurt and had no apparent motive. On the other hand, no one had a motive except Mireille.

  Okay. Forget the motive. I had to think about the means. I tasted some rice. Not as much flavor, but it helped dampen the diable, the hot Italian sausage. "So what were you up to, over the weekend?"

  He smiled wryly. "You mean, what was I doing on Friday night?"

  Darn. This was me at my most subtle. "Well, sure."

  He shook his head. "You don't remember? I ran into you downtown. Tori and Anu will vouch for me."

  "That's right!" I'd been so distracted by Alex, I'd forgotten all about it.

  His gaze was knowing. "What were you doing Friday night?

  "Uh, well, I was downtown. I had some sushi."

  "Alone?"

  I didn't meet his eyes. I knew what he was driving at. It was the same thing that had been nagging at the back of my head since Alex's disappearance and Dr. Kurt's reappearance in the change room. I said, to my barely-sampled sausages, "It doesn't mean anything. When we found Kurt, he'd been dead for hours. It could have happened at 2 a.m. I bet Tori and Anu can't vouch for you then, right?"

  "A lot better than anyone can for Alex, though. Am I right?"

  Silence. I nodded with my eyes on the sausages.

  "Look. Hope." His hand reached for mine, but I shifted them into my lap. "Fine," he said. "I'm not trying to tear Alex down because he's the competition. I don't think he killed anyone."

  My eyes flew up to his. "You don't?"

  He chuckled and shook his head. "Nah. I've known the guy for four years. He's not my favourite, but he's okay." He looked straight into my eyes. "It doesn't mean I like how he treats women."

  I flicked my wrist. "Except for that time on Friday, he's been pretty good."

  His brown eyes never wavered. "You deserve better."

  Okay. I knew what he was saying. "I'm flattered."

  "But?" He raised an eyebrow.

  "I hear you. You may well be right. But it's just where I am right now. I'm willing to give Alex a chance."

  "Even though he disappeared on you the night Kurt got murdered?"

  I pleated my napkin against the table, sharpening the crease with my fingernail. "You said yourself you don't think he did it."

  "He still ditched you."

  I winced. I'd said the same thing to myself, but it sounded worse aloud. "Yeah. You're right."

  The corner of his mouth twisted. "You're still going with the bastard?"

  I couldn't explain it beyond le coeur a ses raisons que la raison ne connait point. But that was so pathetic. Not rational, not practical, not survival-oriented. I gave him a sad smile. "I'll ask him more about Friday. I was going to, anyway."

  He gave me a long look. "I could say a lot more."

  My shoulders tightened. "I know."

  "Like, why do women do this to themselves? Why do you do this to yourself?" He set his fork down hard on the table.

  I pointed the tines of my fork at him. "Hey. I am not a type."

  "Women and bad boys. They beat you and you beg for more."

  I glared at him. "I am not a masochist! I've only ever been with one guy, and he treated me fine."

  Tucker raised his eyebrows. "Why did you break up?"

  I waved my fork in the air. "Long story. Basically, long distance. But we loved each other. We did not cheat. He did not beat me. We were together for four years. I bet you haven't seen anyone for half as long."

  He made a face. "Okay. Sorry. You're right about that. The longest I've gone is a year and a half. I'm no one to point a finger—or a fork."

  We both stared at my fork jabbing toward his forehead. I laid it on the table. "Sorry."

  He laughed. "I'm sorry, too. Not for the fork."

  I gave him a crooked smile. "So are we okay?"

  He picked up the fork and handed it back to me, handle first. "Eat your sausages. You're going to need your strength."

  I pretended he meant for emerg. I checked my watch. The past half hour had galloped by. I positively attacked my sausages and polished them off, along with most of the sauerkraut and the rice. When I wiped my mouth, Tucker was shaking his head. "Eat and run, huh?"

  I shrugged. "I'm on emerg. Sorry."

  "Dr. Wie doesn't mind. He always gives us a lunch break."

  "Yeah, but I don't want to leave him alone too long." I threw my napkin on the table.

  Tucker started cutting his sausage. He'd already polished off his chicken schnitzel. "Do you have time for coffee?"

  "Maybe some iced tea," I conceded. I glanced across the street. A pedestrian had stopped dead on Péloquin, scowling at us from under his shaggy brown hair, his body curved in a question mark.

  Alex. Jumping to all the wrong conclusions, after I had so carefully told Tucker thanks but no thanks.

  Tucker had his mouth full, but he twisted in his seat to follow my gaze.

  Alex bared his teeth at him, shot double daggers at me, and turned on his heel, stalking back to St. Joe's. He barely detoured around a little old lady with her walker. His head was bent low. He hardly seemed to see where he was going.

  I didn't call out to him. He still owed me an explanation for Friday night. So I picked up my napkin and smoothed it in my lap, forcing a smile at Tucker. "So. Iced tea."

  In the shade of the umbrella, Tucker's eyes were unreadable. He repeated obliquely, "You're going to need it" and signaled the waiter.

  Chapter 14

  I paged Alex twice more that afternoon. He never answered, and don't tell me it was because palliative care was so pressing. Well, screw it. I'd come here man-free, and less than a week later, I'd blown it with two of them. Fine. There were still many more guys in the city, although at this rate, I'd run through all of them during my two years of residency.

  When I asked Dr. Wiedermeyer to fill out my evaluation form, he said, "With pleasure. I hope we work together again."

  Great. Especially after I'd dared go out for lunch instead of bolting down some leftovers in the fridge. I smiled with relief as I sailed out of the emerg. Career 1, boys 0.
I could live with that a little longer.

  Alex's radio silence made me less likely to blast him about Friday. Maybe that was the point. I shook my head. He was an enigma-and-a-half.

  At any rate, I was glad I'd carted my bike up from London. I felt like pedaling away the stress. I'd pumped up the tires last night and ridden it in this morning, shaving ten minutes off my commute. If I broke it out again, I might even make it on time to my next family medicine clinic.

  The wind fluttered the poplar branches hanging over the bike racks near the ER. I took a deep breath, relaxing to the rustling leaves. It was one of the classic sounds of summer, along with the burr of the lawnmower and the sounds of kids splashing in a pool. My keys jangled as I bent over to unlock my bike, my back to the hospital.

  I caught a whiff of smoke. Patients are supposed to smoke a certain number of feet away from the entrance, but it just moves them closer to my bike rack. Irritated, my keys missed the lock and jangled on to the ground. As I bent over to pick them up, a low voice behind me said, "So."

  I whirled around. Alex was leaning against the trunk of a poplar tree, half-shrouded by the canopy of leaves. He tilted his head to meet my eyes and took a drag off his cigarette.

  "You scared me," I said, my hand pressed against my chest hard enough to feel my heart thumping.

  Alex flicked some ash. "Yeah."

  My annoyance mounted. I wanted to jostle him out of his Camel ad complacency. I scooped up my keys and faced him with my hands on my hips. "You were waiting for me?"

  He shrugged.

  "Or is this just a good place to smoke, where you might light the tree on fire?"

  That drew a laugh out of him. "I'm not going to set your tree on fire."

  "Good. Then maybe you're here to explain where you went on Friday."

  He faded back against the trunk with a mutinous expression. "I told you."

  "You didn't tell me a hell of a lot."

  "What, I have to confess my life story before I can say hello?"

  "Yeah. That and answering my pages might be nice."

  His grey eyes blazed. "After your nice, long lunch? Which one of us are you going to string along, Hope? Or are you just going to hop from me to Tucker and back again?"

  I wanted to slap him, but refused to let him see how much he'd gotten to me. I picked out my bike key and opened the U-lock, reassembling it on my bike. Then I looked him straight in the eye. "You know what, Alex? If you're not going to explain yourself, neither am I. Have a nice life." I tossed my head and started backing my bike out of the rack.

  He walked over to my right, cutting me off. "Hope."

  I started to wheel the bike around him. He blocked it again. "Hope. I'm sorry."

  I stared at him. "Alex, it's getting tired. You can't just screw me around and apologize afterward."

  His expression darkened. "Look. I know I'm not perfect, but I'm not the one screwing around."

  If he expected me to faint over that, he was sadly mistaken. "Yeah. It's a real crime of passion to eat sausages with one of our classmates in broad daylight. So sue me. And get out of my way." I aimed my front tire at his shins.

  He didn't move. I stopped short. "What do you want from me, Alex? You want me to be your pet because we shared a rum ball? It doesn't work that way. You have to earn me. Insulting me, not answering my pages, accusing me of running around when I was just having lunch—" I bit my tongue. I wanted to say, no wonder Mireille left you, but that was low. I shook my head. "I'm starting to think you're not worth the trouble."

  He studied me for a long moment. "Earn you, huh?"

  I nodded firmly, even though I was trembling inside. The grass rustled as he planted his feet on either side of my front wheel and placed his hands on my handlebars. I avoided his eyes, staring at the muscles in his arms, his tanned hands on either side of my own, so close that I could feel the heat from his skin.

  He bent forward and whispered, his lips grazing my ear, "Leave the bike. You're coming with me."

  My hands tightened on the plastic handles. He still hadn't answered me about Friday night. But he was so sexy, he made me want to straddle my bike and promise him whatever he wanted. I closed my eyes.

  He flicked my earlobe with his tongue. "Come on, Hope. Let me''—he explored the tender skin behind my ear—"earn you."

  My fingers tightened on the handles and relaxed again. He tugged my key chain off my index finger. The keys rattled as I let them go.

  My eyes flew open. "Alex—"

  He ran his fingers lightly up my arm, making the hairs stand on end. I shivered. He glanced at my chest and grinned. I crossed my arms over my nipples. He grinned some more and tugged the bike away to lock it up again.

  I watched him lean over. His baggy cargo pants did not do justice to his butt.

  When he straightened, he gave me a crooked grin like he'd read my thoughts. He came closer and ran his fingers along the inside of my arm. I swallowed hard.

  I cast a nervous glance toward my bike. Even with his magnetic pull, I'd heard that there was a lot of bike theft in Montreal.

  "It's all locked up," he whispered. His breath was hot and damp on my neck. "Want to check?"

  Everything was sexual with him. I leaned over and gave the lock a quick tug. "Good job."

  He grinned at me. "I like that skirt."

  Blood rushed to my face as I surreptitiously made sure my white miniskirt was in place.

  We should not be doing this. Over his shoulder, I spotted the faces of two middle-aged women on a bench under some neighboring trees. Their bench faced the parking circle, but they had turned around to gape at us. Alex hadn't even kissed me on the lips, but he'd broadcasted his intentions load and clear. All we needed was for Dr. Callendar to run up at us, brandishing a crucifix and a Bible. I took a step back from Alex.

  Unexpectedly, he reached up to my shoulder. "Give me your backpack."

  I backed away some more. "But I need—"

  "Relax. I just want to carry it for you. And look at you." He grinned, his eyes crinkling.

  "Then you'll have two." His own army surplus bag was slung over his left shoulder.

  He shrugged and slipped mine on his right shoulder. "No problem."

  I did feel liberated without my backpack, but also more naked. Alex urged me on to the subway station, occasionally dropping behind me to squeeze through the sidewalk crowds, but when I glanced at him, he was checking me out. He raised his grey eyes to meet mine, unashamed.

  Urban foreplay. Somehow, he knew exactly how to make me hot.

  We headed into the damp coolness of the metro, down the escalator, past the woman selling day-old flowers and the dépanneur stand. I started to reach for my backpack, to grab my tickets, but Alex waved me off. "I'll take care of it."

  He dug out his wallet and dropped two tickets in the fare box. He said, "Go on." As I pushed through the turnstile, he grabbed my ass in a quick squeeze.

  I whirled on him. Ryan had never grabbed me in public. My white miniskirt inspired a lot of illegal moves. "Don't do that."

  "Hey, I paid your fare." He waggled his eyebrows at me.

  I scowled. What, he thought he could buy me with a two-dollar ticket? There was a line-up behind him, so I stormed toward the stairs. Alex reappeared at my shoulder. I snapped at him, "Ryan, that was—"

  He went very still. "Who's Ryan?"

  Ersh. I was a bucket of surprises today. "No one. Sorry. Must have been a patient."

  He went very still. "Don't lie to me."

  That was the last straw. I snapped, "Why don't you stop lying to me?"

  "Excusez, Madame," a middle-aged guy, reaching somewhere beyond my midsection for the transfer machine.

  Alex pulled me back toward the wall, out of the way of rampaging commuters. He ran his hand through his already- disheveled hair. He said, low and fast, "Look. I fucked up. You fucked up. Can we start over?"

  "I did not fuck up!"

  He sighed. "Okay. I'm the fuck-up. I left you in the
café. I didn't tell you about Mireille."

  "Yeah!" I got mad just thinking about it.

  "My bad. But—" He leaned closer. His grey eyes filled my vision. I could hear him breathing, even feel his exhalation against my upper lip. We were close enough to kiss. "You are fantastic."

  "Yeah?" My mouth felt dry.

  He pressed so close, our noses nearly bumped. "I could take you right here."

  "You could not." But my heart skipped a beat. I glanced at the waves of people rolling by. The black-stained red brick walls. The fluorescent pot lights. The station attendant in his Plexiglas-and-stainless-steel booth. The screech of the trains below us. It would be a very messy and public place,

  He bent forward and kissed me, hard and fast, with a possessive thrust of his tongue. I still had my eyes closed when he drew away and said, "But I'll try and wait until we get to my place. If that's how you want it."

  I looked into his grey eyes and thought, I want it.

  No! I blinked again, rubbing my forehead. Ryan and I waited over two months before we stripped. I hadn't known Alex two weeks.

  On the other hand, Alex was very tempting and seemed a lot more experienced. Do not think about Mireille. I pushed her image out of my head, concentrating on Alex, his smell, the line of his cheek, the warmth of his hand lingering on my hip.

  Alex smiled, a slow curve of his lips. But all he did was gesture me down the stairs. "After you."

  He moved his hand to my shoulder as we descended. Neither of us wanted to break contact now. When we reached the platform, I looked for non-existent space on the few benches along the wall, but Alex kept me moving down the line until the crowd had thinned. Then he stood behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. The entire length of his body pressed against me, somehow managing to press his hardness against my ass. I shifted, but he moved with me, his hands tightening on my hips.

  I glanced around. For once, no one was looking. I relaxed slightly.

  He rested his chin on top of my head. I could hear the smile in his voice. "Why did you wear this skirt to work?"

  I bypassed the whole looking-older-for-patients conversation. "To drive you crazy."

  "It's working." His voice lowered further. "How could you ride a bike in it?"