"Tell them to hold off," I say, turning my wipers on as the rain comes down harder.
"Why? Are you and Lauren fighting again?"
Even my father knows how much we fight. Lauren and I used to reserve our fights for when we were alone but they became such a regular part of our relationship that we started arguing in front of our parents. Now we argue more than we don't, and yet our parents still think we should get married.
"Let's talk about it later," I say, trying to merge into the other lane.
"You didn't break up, did you?"
I might as well tell him. Then he can tell Helen, who will tell Eve, and by the time I get home tonight the whole family will know.
"Yes. Lauren and I broke up."
"Well, obviously, you'll get over it. You always do."
"Not this time. We're done for good. I told her this morning."
"So this was YOUR decision, not hers?"
"Yes, but neither one of us is happy. All we do is fight. It needed to end."
"Corbin, you're being rash. You had a fight and you're angry. Give yourself time to cool off and you'll feel differently."
"We didn't fight. That's not what this is about. I've given this a lot of thought and I just can't see us together in the future."
"Of course you can. You and Lauren will get married, have successful careers, a couple children. Perhaps buy a house near your father. I can see it plain as day. And if I can see it, you can as well."
"You don't understand. I don't want that with Lauren. Marriage? Children? A house? I don't want it."
"You don't want children?" He huffs. "I expect grandchildren, Corbin. More than one."
"It's not that I don't want a family someday. I just don't want it with Lauren."
"You're clearly angry with her but you'll get over it. You just need to give it time."
"I've already given it time. I've given it years and my feelings haven't changed. I don't love her. And I'm not staying with someone I don't love." I turn into the other lane. "Dad, I really have to go. Traffic's bad and I'm late to work."
"This isn't over. We'll discuss this later," he says in a harsh tone, then hangs up.
The phone rings again and I answer it, thinking it's the office calling.
"I'm almost there," I say.
"Corbin!" I hear her shrill voice and realize it's Lauren. Shit. I shouldn't have answered.
"Lauren, I can't talk now. I'm in heavy traffic and trying to get to work."
"How DARE you try to break up with me!" she yells. "Do you have any idea how lucky you are to be with a woman like me?"
"We're not talking about this now. I—"
"You are NOT ending this, Corbin. We are getting married and you will propose to me this weekend at a dinner hosted by YOUR mother on Sunday night. I've already told her we'll be there."
"You what?" I slam on the brakes, almost hitting the car in front of me. "Lauren, this is one of the many reasons this has to end. You do things without even asking me."
"I don't have to ASK your permission to do things."
"You do when it's planning a dinner in which I'm supposed to propose!" I say, raising my voice. "You can't seriously tell me you don't see what's wrong with that?"
"We can't keep waiting on our engagement. Mother needs to reserve a room for our party, which we've tentatively decided will be in June."
"Tell your mother there isn't going to be a party," I say, clenching the steering wheel. "We are NOT getting engaged. It's over, Lauren. I'm not going to change my mind about this. It's not working and I don't want to do this anymore."
She's quiet, then says, "Who is she?"
"What? Who?"
"The woman you're seeing," she snaps. "Who is she?"
"I'm not seeing another woman. I'm not cheating on you. This isn't about that. It's about our relationship needing to end. Lauren, I don't want to keep talking about this. There's nothing more to say. You can take your time moving out but we're not going to be together. I'll sleep in the guest room until you find a new place."
"You're not doing this," she snaps. "I'm NOT moving out."
"I have to go." I end the call, too angry to keep talking to her. She really thinks I'd cheat on her? I'm not that type of guy. Never have been, which she would know if she actually took time to get to know me in all the years we've dated.
My phone dings with a reminder to call and check about a patient's test results. Working in urgent care, I usually only see patients once for whatever they came in for, then refer them to their regular doctor to handle any follow-up care. But in this case I wanted to follow up myself.
I call the radiology department.
"Hey, Jim," I say when he answers. "It's Corbin. Just checking in on the Raynor girl. You get a chance to review the scans yet?"
"Yeah," he says with a sigh, "and it doesn't look good."
I rub my jaw, which is still tight from talking to Lauren. "I was afraid you were going to say that. How bad is it?"
"There's definitely a mass in her lungs. And there's more, farther down in her abdomen."
I blow out a breath. "Have you told her pediatrician?"
"Not yet. I will when he gets in. Sorry I couldn't give you better news."
"It's part of the job. I just wish I'd been wrong about it. She's so young."
The patient is a five-year-old girl that came in last week with what her mom thought was bronchitis. I could tell when I examined her it was more than that. I told her mom I wanted to run some tests, trying not to alarm her, but when I mentioned a CT scan I saw the fear in her eyes. She knew what I was looking for and now I've confirmed it. Her daughter has cancer.
"Corbin, I need to go," Jim says. "I've got another doctor on the other line."
"Yeah, go ahead. And thanks for the fast turnaround."
"You bet." He ends the call.
Cancer. The little girl with the pink dress and blond hair, smiling and showing me her stuffed unicorn, has cancer. Her mother will find out today, and from that moment on, everything will change. Their lives will never be the same.
It's frightening how life can change that quickly and yet, as a doctor, it's a reality I live with every day. It's why I can't stay in a relationship with someone I don't love. And why I can't keep pretending to be someone I'm not. I wish my family understood that but they don't and never will so I need to stop waiting for that to happen and just live my life.
I haven't even considered what that life will be. For so many years I pictured the life my father wanted for me. The one Lauren had planned for me. As for what I wanted myself, I'm still figuring that out.
The rain continues to pour and the traffic isn't moving. I'm already ten minutes late to work and I'm guessing it'll be another ten minutes before I get there. I text the nurse to let her know.
Someone honks and I look up and see a car turning down a side street with less traffic. I decide to do the same. I turn on my signal and as soon as the car in front of me inches forward, I sneak around him to the other lane.
Just as I'm about to turn, I see something in front of me. Before I can hit the brakes, my front bumper slams into a bike and I watch in horror as a small body is thrown up in the air, then back down, landing on the street in front of my car.
"Oh God!" I shut off the car and jump out.
My heart pounding, I race in front of my car and see her on the ground. A young woman dressed in black pants and a black jacket. She's on her back, her legs twisted, her arms extended out, her head on the wet pavement.
"Miss!" I kneel down beside her as I get my phone out to call for an ambulance. "Miss, are you okay?" I take her wrist and check her pulse. It's strong but she doesn't seem to be conscious.
The emergency operator answers and I tell her where to send the ambulance. Then I tell her I'm a doctor and give her my initial assessment of the girl, although without running tests, it's hard to be sure of her injuries.
As I end the call people gather around me, all shouting questions.
<
br /> "What happened?"
"Is she dead?"
"Did you call an ambulance?"
I keep my focus on the girl, checking her head and neck for injuries that could lead to paralysis.
I can't believe this is happening. I can't believe I did this! I'm always such a careful driver. I always check before I turn, but I didn't this time. I didn't even look. My mind was still on that little girl, and I was angry about Lauren, and frustrated with my father. And then the rain. It was fogging up my windows.
I didn't see her. I should have, but I didn't.
She's hurt. I don't know how much yet but she's definitely hurt. She could be paralyzed. She could be paralyzed and it'd be all my fault.
What the hell have I done?
Chapter Three
Star
"I don't know," a man says in a hushed voice. "I'll call you later."
I hear him getting up, followed by the sound of footsteps as he walks away.
Where am I? Last I remember I was lying on the ground. There were people all around me, yelling, asking questions. Cars were honking. And there was a man beside me. He wrapped his hand around my mine and held it in a strong yet gentle way that, along with his deep soothing voice, calmed me as I laid there, scared and confused, having no clue what was going on. He asked me to stay with him. I wasn't sure what he meant.
My eyelids feel weighted down and I struggle to open them. After several tries I manage to pry them apart enough to see myself lying in a bed, covered in a sheet.
I'm covered in a sheet? Am I dead?
When I try to sit up, pain shoots through shoulder, my arm, my back, down to my leg.
"Ugh," I moan as I lie back down.
"Star?" a man rushes up beside me. He has his phone to his ear and says, "She just woke up. I have to go."
I open my eyes wider to see him. He looks like he hasn't slept in a while. Or shaved. Or combed his hair.
He sits beside me on the bed. "How are you feeling?"
My foggy brain struggles to figure out how I got here. Why can't I remember?
"What happened?" I ask but it doesn't sound like me. My voice is low and hoarse, like when I have a bad cold. Actually, I kind of feel like I have a cold. My head's congested and I have a sore throat.
"You were hit while riding your bike," the guy says. "It was pretty bad but considering what could've happened...well, you were lucky."
Who is this guy? Do I know him? I can't know him. I've lived in Boston for less than a week. I don't know anyone but my roommates, who I've only seen a few times since moving in.
"I got hit on my bike?" I try to sit up but pain shoots from my ribs, making me wince.
"Don't get up." He gently places his hands on my shoulders and coaxes me back down on the pillow. "You need to rest. "
"What's going on? What's wrong with me?"
He sits back, folding his arms over his chest. "You have a concussion, stitches near your eye and on your knee, swelling and bruising along your shoulder, arm and back and swelling around your ribcage. As I said, it could've been much worse but even so, it's too soon for you to be getting up. We need to run some more tests and then—"
"We? Who's we? Are you the—"
Before I can finish, the door swings open and a nurse walks in. "Dr. Sterling, Dr. Miller will be here shortly."
The guy next to me stands up as the nurse walks over and checks the beeping machine next to my bed.
"She woke up a few minutes ago," the guy says to the nurse. "She doesn't seem to remember what happened but that's to be expected."
So this guy's my doctor? He looks too young to be doctor. I'm 23 and he looks like he's only a few years older than me. He's wearing black pants and a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Both the shirt and the pants are really wrinkled. Shouldn't a doctor be in scrubs or a lab coat or at least be wearing clothes that aren't so wrinkled?
The nurse, a young petite blonde wearing pink scrubs with hearts all over them, records something in her tablet, then looks at me with a sad smile. "How are you feeling?"
"Not great," I mutter.
Her smile brightens. "We'll have you feeling better in no time." She winks at the guy next to me. "Dr. Sterling will make sure of it."
"Thanks, Shannon." He gives her a smile as she leaves.
He has a nice smile. It goes well with his face, which is very symmetrical. I took an art class a few years ago where we learned how to draw faces and the teacher said a truly symmetrical face is very rare. Most people have uneven eyes or a nose that's a little off or a crooked mouth, but this guy has everything aligned perfectly. And he has beautiful eyes; a deep rich brown that match his thick, dark brown hair. He's really hot for a doctor. Not that doctors can't be good looking. I've just never seen one this good looking in real life.
"So you're my doctor?" I ask.
Before he can answer, a man walks in. It's an older man with gray hair, wearing a lab coat.
"How's our patient?" the man asks Dr. Sterling. It feels weird to call him that. He doesn't seem old enough for that title.
"She's experiencing some discomfort," Sterling says to the man in a very formal, professional tone. "And she's having trouble remembering what happened."
"That's to be expected," the other doctor says. He's beside me now and asks, "Do you know your name?"
"Yes. It's Star."
His brows rise. "Last name?"
"Jenkins. Star Jenkins."
He smiles. "Interesting name. One you don't hear very often."
"Actually Jenkins is pretty common," I kid, knowing he's referring to my first name. "Like Jones or Smith."
He laughs a little and looks over at Dr. Sterling. "Her sense of humor is intact. That's a good sign." He looks back at me. "I'm Dr. Miller. I'll be taking care of you until you're released. Now that you're awake and alert, we'll need to collect some information about you, such as the name of your personal physician."
"I don't have one," I say. "I just moved here."
"Well, we'll at least need your insurance information but we can worry about that later."
Insurance. I don't have insurance. How am I going to pay for this?
And then I remember, I do have insurance. It's through my new job. That's where I was going when I was hit. I have a job. It was my first day. Shit! I missed my first day!
"I need my phone," I say, frantically searching the room for it.
"Relax," Sterling says, coming around beside me and putting his hand on my arm. "Getting agitated will just make your head hurt more."
"But I need to call my boss!" I say, coughing through the words. "I missed work!"
"You won't be going to work for a while," Dr. Miller says. "You need to recover from your injuries and get over that cold."
So it IS a cold. How did this happen? Everything was going great. I was finally living on my own with a real job. And now I'm in a hospital bed with a broken body and a cold.
Maybe if I call and explain to my boss what happened, she'd be okay that I missed a day.
"How long have I been here?" I ask.
"They brought you in yesterday morning," Sterling says. "So about a day."
It's a whole new day? I'm missing another day of work! I'm going to get fired!
"I've ordered some more tests to be run later this morning," Dr. Miller says. "Until then, try to eat something and get some rest."
He leaves the room but Sterling remains.
"I need my phone," I say, making grabby hands at him as though he's hiding it somewhere on him.
"I don't have it," he says. "It's at the nurses' station. They're keeping it in case someone calls."
"In case? You mean no one's called?"
"Uh, no, not yet," he says as if not wanting to imply I'm a loser that nobody noticed was missing even though that's probably what he's thinking. Whatever. I don't care. I just need my phone.
"Could you go tell the nurse I need it back?"
"Let's wait until we get your tests run
. It'll only take an hour or so."
"You don't understand. Yesterday was my first day on the job and I didn't show up. If I don't tell my boss what happened I'll be fired and I really need this job."
"I'm sure he'll understand." Sterling sits beside me. "I'll talk to him myself if it helps."
"It's not a him, it's a her, and she's very strict about being on time. My friend, Haley, showed up two minutes late one time and almost got fired. And that was after she'd worked there a year. This lady doesn't tolerate people not showing up. I have to call her. It can't wait."
"Star, I really don't think—"
"Please." I put my hand on his arm and look him in the eye. "I'm begging you. Let me call her. I can't afford to lose this job."
He looks at me a moment, then nods. "Okay, but keep it short." He stands up. "While you're at it, you should call your parents and anyone else who needs to know what happened. They'll want to know you're okay."
"My parents don't need to know. But I'll call Haley and tell her what happened. I'm surprised she hasn't called yet but she did just start a new job so she's really busy."
Sterling's brows draw together. "You're not going to tell your parents?"
"Why would I? I'm 23. I'm an adult. I don't tell my parents everything."
"Maybe not, but this is something they should know."
"Trust me, it wouldn't make a difference. It's not like they're going to drive all the way to Boston to check on me."
"Where do they live?"
"Worcester."
"That's not that far. I'm sure they'd make the drive."
"You don't know my parents. Now could you get me the phone, please?"
He leaves the room and returns with my phone. He hands it to me and I see the screen is cracked. It must've happened during the accident. It'll have to stay that way. I don't have money for a new one.
"I'll get that fixed," Sterling says, noticing my concern over the cracked screen. "Or I'll just get you a new phone."
"Why would you get me a phone?" I ask, giving him a confused look.
My phone rings. It's Haley.
Lucky Star Page 2