The Choices I've Made

by J. L. Berg

  “No problem,” I replied, giving her a wink, as I dropped down next to the wife.

  She was easily in her late forties but attractive. They both looked active and fit, the kind of couple who worked hard and traveled a lot.

  “Where on the West Coast? I went to school out there for my undergraduate work.”

  “Oregon,” they answered in unison.

  “Beautiful state,” I replied. “I’ve only been a few times, mostly coastal areas, but I loved the rugged beauty of it. Very different from here but equally stunning.”

  They nodded in agreement, sparking a conversation about travel. We compared the places we’d been. We stuck mostly to beach locations since that seemed to be where their passion resided.

  “Greece? No, I’d love to go though,” I replied to the latest question. “I’ve heard it’s amazing. Maybe I can get Molly to make the trip with me,” I said, giving her a quick smile.

  It was then that I saw her hesitation. The fear she’d talked about.

  I tried not to notice. I pretended not to see it.

  But it was something I couldn’t unsee.

  Was a life with Molly a jail sentence?

  Was I condemning myself to this island indefinitely?

  By the afternoon, my head was swimming.

  Thankfully, it was Friday, and the office closed at noon. There was only one place I wanted to be. Hopping into my rental, I rolled down the windows as I left Ocracoke behind, heading for the ferry once more.

  It was once again a beautiful, sunny day in North Carolina. Rain was forecasted for the evening, but for now, locals and tourists alike were soaking up the sun, riding bikes along the paths, flying kites, and doing everything and anything they could out in the waves.

  It didn’t take long to get to the hospital.

  The fact that I thought four hours wasn’t a long amount of time showed just how acclimated I’d become to the island lifestyle. Taking the first spot I could find, I took one last look at the clear blue sky and headed into the building, ready to greet my friend.

  And make amends.

  It was something I’d been avoiding for too long. I’d forced myself to believe none of this was my fault, that it was just some tragic comedy of errors that Dean and I had landed in during that ill-fated ferry ride together.

  But the truth was, if I hadn’t talked him into it, Dean would still be whole.

  He’d still be happy.

  I signed in, grabbed my visitor badge, and did my best to blend in. Today was not about catching up with the colleagues I’d met during my brief period here.

  I only wanted to see Dean.

  Taking the elevator up to his floor, I felt trepidation.

  Had he meant everything he said to Molly and me? Did we really have his blessing, or was that just something he’d said to ease our conscience?

  Stepping out, I navigated down the hall with ease. I always felt at home in a hospital. The twists and turns of the halls reminded me of late-night triumphs and hard lessons learned.

  It was a place like this where I’d found myself, where I’d discovered exactly how much I was capable of. And where I’d found a new home.

  A quick knock to the door, and I heard his voice say, “Come in.”

  The room was quiet, except for the hum of the air conditioner and the occasional nurse or visitor passing by. The room was fairly spacious and exactly as I remembered it. A small bathroom to the left, creating an alcove before the rest of the room. It initially blocked my view of him, and I wasn’t sure what to expect at first.

  Would he be happy to see me? Angry?

  Would he send me away?

  “Jake!” he greeted me the moment he saw my face.

  The anxiety I had felt lessened slightly as I stepped up to the bed and met him with a friendly handshake.

  With a book in his left hand, and a wide smile spread across his face, he seemed to be in good spirits. It was a far cry from the silent doom and gloom I’d seen the last time I was here.

  “You’re looking good, man,” I said, taking a seat in the chair next to him.

  “Each day gets a little easier,” he said. “It’s a process.”

  “Mind if I look?” I asked, pointing to his arm.

  He shrugged, and I took a short walk to the right side of the bed.

  “It’s healing up nicely. What’s the plan of attack?” I asked, bending down to look at the wrapped wound.

  He’d lost his left arm, just above the elbow.

  The debris from the explosion had torn through so clean, I’d known the moment I saw the injury, he’d lose it…if he didn’t lose his life first.

  Seeing him sitting here, alive, smiling up at me, was nothing short of a miracle.

  “I’ve been in therapy, of course. They’ve got to make sure I’m not going crazy.”

  “And are you?”

  He laughed, a familiar sound I’d grown up hearing. “Nah. Maybe at first. But the doc said that was normal. He said I was allowed to have a full-blown pity party for myself as long as it didn’t last too long.”

  “And now?”

  “Now, I’m dealing. That whole one-day-at-a-time thing. It’s kind of a mantra around here. Can’t run before you learn to walk. Can’t walk before you learn to crawl and all that other poetic bullshit. So, for now, I’m healing and figuring out how hoist myself out of this bed and into a wheelchair without falling on my ass. Once I accomplish that, I’ll move on to something else. Maybe, someday, I’ll find myself back in a fishing boat casting a net next to my brothers.”

  “You will. Guaranteed.”

  He seemed to agree, slowly nodding his head. The deep cuts from the accident that had once marred his face were now a light pink.

  Nothing but memories now.

  “So, what are you doing all the way up here? Surely, you didn’t make the trip just for me? I mean, I know I’m good-looking and all, but come on, you need to move on.”

  I chuckled under my breath, glad to see his humor was still intact. Giving him a light shove in the shoulder, I replied, “Of course I drove all the way up here for you, asshole. Why else would I suffer through all that traffic?”

  “Traffic?” He burst out in laughter. “You’ve been here too long already if you consider Virginia Beach traffic. Aren’t you living in Chicago these days?”

  I looked away.

  “Someone a little homesick?”

  “It’s Molly,” I confessed, unable to look my friend in the eyes.

  I’d wronged him in so many ways. I’d talked him onto a doomed ferry, taken his freedom, and forced him into a life he would never have had to face. Then, I had taken his girl.

  “I’m not mad, Jake,” he said. “If anything, you should be upset with me.”

  “What?” That got my attention. I turned to face him once again.

  “I knew she was yours. Even after you left, it was always Jake and Molly. But I was lonely. She was lonely. We were best friends who thought we could be more, but somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew, if and when you came back, she’d go running back to you in an instant.”

  “I’m sorry, Dean. I didn’t mean for it to happen like this—”

  “Like what? It doesn’t matter, Jake. You’re back right where you’re supposed to be. Life is good.”

  “But is it?” I demanded. “If I hadn’t come back, you’d be back home with your mom and brothers, managing rigs and talking shit with the crew, not stuck here in a hospital bed because your childhood best friend convinced you to take the last ferry home.”

  Dean’s green eyes darkened. “Let’s get one thing straight, Jameson. I am not some poor pity project you get to use to beat yourself up. I made a choice that night to take that ferry home with you. Hell, I made lots of choices that day. I could have taken one of a dozen family boats to the mainland, but I was feeling lazy and didn’t want to think, so I took the ferry in. So, technically, we could blame this whole thing on me. Or what about the fact that I stopped to eat? I could h
ave easily skipped it and picked up something at home. My fault again.”

  He leaned in closer, his expression full of conviction. “So, don’t ever blame this shit on yourself again, got it? It happened. It sucked, but it’s what’s real, and the cards have been dealt. You’re not doing me any favors by taking the blame for this,” he said, pointing toward his arm, “or for Molly.”

  I sat there, stunned silent. I’d expected a beatdown. I’d been prepared for yelling.

  But not like this.

  I didn’t know what to say.

  “So, are we cool?” he finally asked after several moments of silence.

  I simply nodded.

  “Good. Now, go get me a pudding from the snack room. I’m starving.”

  I laughed out loud, thankful for the clever tension break he’d created. I rose from the uncomfortable seat, stretching my back, and did as I had been told. Knowing Dean all too well, I grabbed several cups of pudding, a package of cookies, and a bottle of water.

  By the time I returned, I discovered Dean was no longer alone. By his side was an attractive nurse checking his vitals and making small talk. She was tall and slender with short crimson hair and she had Dean’s full attention.

  A knowing smile spread across my face as I snuck in behind her. It did no good because she caught sight of me the second I sat down.

  “You must be Jake!” she exclaimed, holding out her hand.

  I took it, politely shaking it.

  “I’m Cora, one of the nurses here. Dean’s told me so much about you. I feel like I already know you!”

  “Nice to meet you,” I said, giving Dean a sideways glance. “Thanks for taking care of my friend here.”

  “Of course.” She giggled. “He’s easy. Now, the old man down the hall? Don’t get me started!”

  We all laughed.

  I liked her. She was bubbly and sweet, and most of all, she made Dean smile. I took a backseat, letting her finish up what she was doing. I quietly observed the two of them, noticing how much Dean watched her while she wasn’t looking.

  “So that’s your nurse, huh? She’s cute.” I said the moment she left, shutting the door behind her.

  “I know,” he sighed. “But I’m pretty sure she doesn’t know I exist past that damn chart she brings in each day.”

  “Well, it would be pretty unprofessional of her to fall for a patient, no matter how cute and adorable you might think you are.”

  “I won’t be a patient forever.”

  “No, you won’t, my friend. You get better and then bang your nurse. Solid plan.”

  He shook his head, laughing. “It’s not like that. Well, not entirely.” He grinned. “I want her to meet my mom, and I want to take her out on one of the boats. I’d love to see how her fiery red hair blows in the breeze along the water. God, I really do have it bad. Is that what you feel like with Molly?”

  I nodded. “That, and a healthy dose of trepidation, fear, and doubt.”

  “Why?” he asked.

  I sighed. “Molly and I have done this before, and look where it left us. Broken and alone. What if our second chance expired long ago? What if we’re trying too hard at something that is just doomed to fail? We’ve had twelve years apart. That’s a long time, Dean. We’ve established totally different lives in that time. Can we create one together?”

  “Do you love her?” he asked.

  “What? Of course I do. I never stopped.”

  “Then, nothing else matters. You’ll figure it out. You always do. It might not be easy. In fact, it could be the hardest fucking thing you’ve ever done. But, if you truly love each other, you’ll work through it. You’ll find a way.”

  “Like you and your Florence Nightingale?”

  He chuckled under his breath. “Maybe. If you two can finally make it work, then I sure as hell can.”

  I met his gaze. “I don’t know, Dean. Do you see me making a life in Ocracoke? Because Molly won’t leave. I know that much. I mentioned the idea of taking a vacation this morning, and she nearly had a panic attack right there in front of her guests.”

  He nodded. “Aside from small trips up the ‘banks, she never leaves the island.”

  “Why? I don’t understand.”

  “I don’t think she does either.”

  I let out a long sigh. “The hardest thing I’ve ever done, huh?”

  He nodded, smiling.

  “When did you become so damn wise?” I asked.

  “Happens when you lose an appendage,” he replied with a shit-eating grin. “Like those people who lose their sense of smell, and their taste buds heighten. I lost an arm, so now, I’m wise like Buddha.”

  I shook my head, laughing. “You’re an idiot.”

  “A wise idiot.”

  “Thanks for not dying out there on that ferry.”

  “Anytime,” he said. “Thanks for saving my life.”

  “Anytime, buddy. Anytime.”

  I left Dean’s room in high spirits, like a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders. There was a reason Dean and I had always been friends. We had an uncanny ability to connect with each other, no matter the distance or time that separated us.

  The fact that he shared my unique sense of humor didn’t hurt either.

  Before leaving, I’d promised I’d check in on his mother. He’d said she was having a hard time with him being so far away. She visited whenever she could, but it was not nearly as much as she liked. She felt like she’d somehow abandoned him up there in that lonely hospital even though Dean assured her nightly that he was well taken care of. Hopefully it would get better when he moved down to Nags Head for in-patient therapy. Two hours was better than four and at least he’d be in the right state again.

  With a little extra time on my hands, I decided to check in on those colleagues I’d been trying to avoid on my way in. Now that I’d succeeded in my first priority, there was no harm in saying a quick hello to everyone else.

  Especially if I was going to in fact stay in Ocracoke. Establishing a relationship with the area hospitals would be essential for the small-town clinic and the patients I served. I hit the surgical floor first, chatting with a few doctors I’d teamed up with following the ferry explosion. Several asked how the investigation was going. I sadly had no answers.

  “No one really knows anything,” I replied to one of the nurses.

  “Is that normal? For it to take so long?” she asked as others gathered around the nurses’ station.

  “I don’t know honestly. The sheriff’s station has been pretty tight-lipped with any information they give out to victims and their families. I don’t know if that means something more is going on or if they simply don’t know at this point.” I shrugged.

  We moved on to another topic. I asked about several of the patients I’d worked with. All had now moved on, either to other hospitals or rehab facilities or back home to be with their families. It was good to hear they were moving forward with their lives.

  “So, you’re staying?” Dr. Fisher asked, joining our small group.

  I was glad to see his familiar face.

  I nodded. “I think so,” I said.

  He shook his head in disbelief. “I don’t think I could do it, man. Living here has been an adjustment, and I live five minutes from a Target.”

  Laughing, I replied, “It’s not for everyone; I’ll give you that. But I grew up in Ocracoke. It’s an easy lifestyle to adjust back into.”

  “Well, we wish you the best,” he said. “And, hey, I guess that means we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”

  “It does. Take care of my patients when you get them, will you?”

  “Sure thing. And you know, you’ll always have a home here if you get the itch to be in the OR again.”

  I nodded. “Thanks. I might just take you up on that.”

  I said my good-byes, still slightly shocked with myself that I’d actually committed to staying. Out loud.

  I knew what it meant.

  It meant a lif
etime of staying in one place.

  Never moving.

  Never changing.

  But it also meant a lifetime with Molly, and if I had to choose one or the other, I’d choose her.

  This time, I’d make the right choice and choose her.

  Making my way toward the elevators, I headed back down to the main floor. It was packed. Several patients were being transported, and there were a few visitors and staff. I stood in the back, staring at the floor numbers like everyone else.

  I had one more stop.

  As everyone filed out from one floor to the next, I made my way to the ER, wanting to see a few people before I left. Again, it was a multipurpose visit. I’d worked with many staff members after the explosion, both as a patient when they’d cleaned up my wounds and as a doctor.

  Also, with the limited resources on the island, this was where my patients would usually end up when a major event occurred. I needed these people to know I appreciated and trusted everything they did.

  Being a visitor to the hospital, I didn’t have the clearance I had several weeks ago. Headed to the check-in desk to flash my credentials and get access to the back of the emergency room, I instead ran into a familiar face.

  I didn’t know his name, but he was a Coker for sure. He was a patient of my father’s and owned a local restaurant.

  The moment his eyes landed on mine, he jumped up, a feat nearly impossible for his old frame, and came running toward me. “Dr. Jameson, thank goodness.”

  “Hey,” I said, feeling horrible because I couldn’t remember his name. “Everything okay?”

  “It’s Terri,” he said.

  My eyes went wide as I looked past him. There, in the back of the waiting room, was my next-door neighbor. The woman who’d helped raise me, who’d been more of a grandma than my own relatives. As she was slumped against the chair, her eyes were closed, and she was clutching her abdomen.

  “What’s wrong? Why didn’t anyone call me?” I said, grabbing his arms too tightly before running toward Terri.

  “I did. We did,” he answered. “I came to visit her late this morning and found her like this. I called the clinic, but you were already closed. I called the inn, thinking you might be there. Molly’s been trying to get ahold of you ever since. I didn’t know I’d find you here.”