Necessary Medicine

by M. K. York

  He saw one patient who stuck with him, not because of the severity of the wound. She was a woman who’d been in an MVA, and she’d been doing everything right—sober, wearing her seat belt, her baby in the backseat correctly secured in its carrier—but the T-bone by another vehicle had been catastrophic, and the ultrasound in the ER had confirmed that she was bleeding into her abdominal cavity, which meant an exploratory laparotomy to see where the bleeding was coming from. He prayed it wasn’t her liver.

  It was her bowel. He neatly clipped off the bowel on either side of the wound, nipping out the bowel that was at risk for necrosis and reattaching the cut edges. As an intern, he would have been filled with fear and dread. In his fourth year, the world was the table and the table was the world. He couldn’t have identified the nurses or the scrub tech he was working with, even though he knew all the nurses on his service by name at that point; all he knew was that when he needed a tool it was there. It felt crisp and clean, rough edges coming together.

  As they were closing up, the attending said, “Good work, Neil,” and it felt like a blessing.

  He visited her the next day. She was sitting up—awkward and in pain, but she was smiling, talking to a visitor.

  “Hi.” He checked her chart as unobtrusively as he could. “Jenny, I’m Dr. Carmona, your surgeon.”

  “Just mine,” she said to her guest. “It’s a personalized service they offer around here.”

  “How’s the incision feeling today?”

  “Good. It hurts, but the pills make it all right.”

  They could stick with the current dose of oxycodone, then. “That’s good to hear. Have you passed any gas yet?”

  “No. Have you?”

  “When I have surgery, I’ll let you know.”

  She laughed. It was a little weak, strained, but he happened to look up and he really saw her for the first time—not just a patient in a bed, not just a surgical case, but Jenny, whose—husband, maybe?—was standing next to her, holding her hand. Her hair was glowing like a halo in the sunlight coming through the window, freckles dappling her cheeks.

  She was alive, he thought, because he’d taken a scalpel to her the night before.

  He turned away from the wheeled computer station to give her the full force of his grin. “All right. How are you feeling?”

  Her husband said, “I was just telling her that Camden was up all night fussing, but he finally took a bottle.”

  “And that’s your baby?”

  She nodded, and he realized that her eyes were bright with tears. “He was fine. They barely even had to check him.”

  The husband added, “Of course, I was right on their asses about it, so then they checked him again and told me he was definitely fine.”

  “Thank God for that car seat,” she whispered.

  Surgeons could play God sometimes, but an ounce of prevention went a long, long way.

  Chapter Thirteen

  When he came back to Kingsland, it was almost May.

  He went by Eli’s office when he got in a few minutes early. Normally he would have gone straight in to meet up with his team and started rounding, but he was feeling hollow inside, something he recognized as desperation even though he didn’t want to.

  When he got to Eli’s corridor, he realized he’d never been up there in the daylight. There was a window at the end of the hall, letting in light, and Eli’s door was cracked open. He listened for a minute but didn’t hear any voices, so he rapped with his knuckles. His mouth was dry and his heart was racing.

  “Come in,” Eli called.

  When Neil put his head around the corner, Eli’s whole face changed, blooming into a stunning smile. He had a textbook open, balanced on his knees, and it looked like he was in the middle of an email. Neil’s heart felt like it was cracking open.

  He wanted to say, I missed you. He said, “Just got back, thought I’d stop in and say hi.”

  “It’s so good to see you!” Eli set aside the textbook and came around the desk, and just like that, Neil was getting hugged, Eli’s body up against his, and his brain started to short out. He managed to put his arms around Eli in return and give him the brief, firm shoulder pat a manly hug demanded.

  Eli let go of him and stepped back, still beaming. “So you survived Central? Do you have time for a cup of coffee?”

  Neil glanced guiltily at the time. “I wish I could, but I’ve got to get going. Maybe later, if I get a break?”

  “That would be great.” Eli reached out and put his hand on Neil’s shoulder, and each finger burned like a brand. “How long are you back here for?”

  “Until fifth year starts, at least. I’m not sure if my schedule for next year is set.”

  “Well, it’s our good luck to have you back.” Eli finally lifted his hand from Neil’s shoulder.

  “Thanks.” Neil jerked his head toward the door. “I’d better get going.”

  Eli was smiling and waving as Neil backed out of his office. When Neil got to the elevator, he held onto the waist-height metal bar like he needed it to support his whole weight. He was breathing too hard.

  It was too much. He’d—forgotten wasn’t the right word, but it was the closest—forgotten, then, how handsome Eli was, how overwhelming. How bright his smiles were and how often he smiled.

  So fucked, he thought.

  He did manage to get coffee with Pete that evening, under the cold fluorescent lights of the ground-floor café. Pete said, “Have you got a draft of that abstract yet?”

  “Actually, yeah. I mean, it’s pretty weak. I was going to look at it again before I ran it by you.”

  “Just send it to me. ACS is in Chicago this year, you could get to go somewhere fun.”

  “It’s still not Hawaii.”

  “No, but you wouldn’t see much outside the convention center anyway, am I right?” Pete snorted. “You probably go to all the panels.”

  “I try to get my money’s worth,” Neil protested weakly.

  “I’m getting dinner Saturday with Cathy. You want to join us?”

  Neil shook his head. “I’m working. Sorry. My next day off isn’t until next Wednesday.”

  * * *

  “Are you submitting anything for ACS this year?” he asked Eli the next Tuesday night.

  “I am, yes. I’ve got a talk on some work we did looking at the specific morbidities for interventional cardiology procedures.”

  Neil raised an eyebrow, eloquently, and Eli burst out laughing.

  “It’s not just to make this department look bad if they pull the funding,” said Eli. “Promise.”

  Neil shook his head slowly, putting his tongue in his cheek. “If you say so.”

  Eli laughed again. “So what’s your week looking like?”

  “I’ve got tomorrow off, and then call Thursday night.”

  “Oh, do you want to get lunch tomorrow?”

  It was such an innocent question. The smart thing to do would be to say no, confine this thing to office hours, the time they spent with the work groups.

  “Sure,” said Neil easily. “Where?”

  * * *

  When he found Eli sitting outside at the crunchy hippy restaurant the next day, he almost stopped dead; Eli was frowning down at his phone, wearing a pair of glasses.

  It was ridiculous, what that did to him. It made him feel something sharp and hot and domestic, made him think of Eli pulling off the glasses and setting them on the nightstand.

  He made himself keep going, and he sat down across the table. “Are those new?”

  “Hmm?” Eli lifted a hand to touch the frames. “Oh. Yes. My ophthalmologist says I need to accept that I’m getting a touch of presbyopia.”

  “Time comes for us all,” said Neil stentoriously.

 
Eli rolled his eyes, pulling the glasses off and tucking them into his shirt pocket. “I think he’s exaggerating how much I need them. I’m not going to bifocals yet.”

  “What are you getting for lunch?”

  “I thought the soup, maybe.”

  “Don’t overwhelm yourself with luxury.”

  Eli chuckled. “You should see the size of the soup bowls. They’re incredible.”

  “I guess that makes up for it a little.”

  They talked about the hospital, inevitably, Neil getting the undiluted gossip about the administrators’ internal war over the diversity initiative and funding. Neil thought he should have resented it more, putting this much thought into the hospital on his one day off, but the whole conversation felt easy and light.

  He watched the sunlight glittering on Eli’s hair, and the way Eli’s crystal-blue eyes glowed as the sun fell through their anterior chambers, and he thought it was his best day off in a long time.

  “Any big plans for your golden weekend?” asked Eli.

  “Surfing,” said Neil promptly.

  Eli nodded. “Weather should be good for it. Have you been lately?”

  Neil made a face. “Not in—God, way too long. I’m going to fall on my ass out there.”

  “The important thing is to have fun.”

  “No, the important thing is to look good even when I’m wiping out.”

  Making Eli laugh wasn’t that hard, but it was rewarding.

  * * *

  Gay marriage was legalized nationally that summer. Eli gave him a smile and a firm pat on the shoulder when the news came out. Pete pretended he was blowing his nose because of allergies. Dr. Li actually high-fived him when she ran into him at the cafeteria.

  He was on Facebook on a call night—everyone did it on the long nights, pulling out their smartphones in the call room.

  It felt like a punch to the solar plexus: Justin is in a relationship! And there was the guy, a handsome man, didn’t look much at all like Neil. Somebody stable, probably, with a good job, the kind you could leave at the office.

  He hadn’t really thought—but then, maybe on some level, he had. Because in the dark, on hour twenty of his shift, tears were prickling his eyes.

  * * *

  Mark came back to Kingsland for his next rotation. They were almost at year five. They’d missed his birthday, but Mark said he didn’t care. He’d been on call anyway.

  Mark looked like hell. He’d looked like hell since before Neil left for Central, and Neil was still, months after coming back, afraid to say anything about it.

  “You want to get beers tomorrow night?”

  Mark shook his head. “Think I’m just going to sleep.”

  He didn’t tell Mark about Justin. It didn’t seem like Mark had room for it in his head.

  * * *

  On August 11, he texted Eli, Happy birthday, want to get lunch?

  Thank you. Wish I could but clinic is swamped

  Chapter Fourteen

  Fall rolled around a lot faster than he was expecting. The department secretary stuck her head into the dictation cubicles. “Neil?”

  He leaned out so she could see him. “Yeah?”

  “I’m making the arrangements for the trip to ACS.”

  “That’s fancy, last year I had to figure it out myself.”

  “Yeah, well, last year you were going about twenty feet.”

  “What do you need?”

  “Just wondering if there’s anybody you don’t want to sit next to on the plane. I’m making the final adjustments, we got a deal on a block of tickets.”

  He paused, briefly electrified. He could ask—no. Better not to.

  “Nah,” he said, “anybody’s fine.” He’d just put on his headphones and try to sleep.

  “Do you have your hotel booking yet?”

  “No, should I?”

  “Neil.” She was exasperated. “You should have done that weeks ago. You’re going early, right? For the skills workshops?”

  “Yeah, damn. Do you know if anybody’s looking for a roomie?”

  “I’ll check the list. Damn it, Neil.”

  Half an hour later he got an email. Hey, Neil, I checked the list. The only person I know for sure is still looking for a roommate is Dr. Newcombe. His roommate had to cancel. I’m letting him know you’ll be rooming with him.

  He stopped dictating the note to gently bang his head into the desk a couple of times. He did it quietly, so no one would hear.

  * * *

  He was flying out the night before the conference. It was going to be about four and a half hours, not too awful, nonstop. He was leaving after almost a full shift on, which sucked, but there wasn’t much to be done about it.

  When he got through security and found the terminal—he hadn’t cut it too fine—he saw a familiar flash of silver hair and groaned internally. He walked up and dropped into the seat next to Eli.

  “Hey.” His voice came out rougher than he’d intended. It had been a long day, and he hadn’t gotten much sleep.

  Eli’s head jerked up, startled. He had a book in his hands—of course he would—and as he registered that it was Neil, he relaxed again.

  “Hey, yourself.” Eli set the book down, tucking the dust jacket in to mark his place. “Ready for the conference?”

  “I’ve got my thumb drive around my neck.” He held out the chain it was dangling on. “And it’s uploaded to the cloud and emailed to myself, and basically, unless there’s an act of God, I’m not losing my slides for this talk.”

  Eli laughed. “Better not tempt fate.”

  “Got any plans to be a tourist while you’re out there, or have you been to Chicago so many times you’re bored?”

  Eli shook his head. “I’ve done most of the tourist stuff. Have you been out there before?”

  “Just when I was interviewing for residencies.”

  “Well—” and Eli looked him right in the eye as he smiled “—I think we got the better end of that deal.”

  Christ. Eli could just say things like that, and not mean anything by it, and smile at him like it was nothing. It killed him.

  He slumped back into his seat, sighing. “Think we’ll board soon?”

  “I do, actually. What row are you?”

  “Twenty-seven. You?”

  “Oh, that’s funny.” Eli fumbled in his inner coat pocket, producing his boarding pass. “I’m twenty-seven A.”

  Neil pulled out his boarding pass and took a closer look. “Twenty-seven B.”

  “Looks like we’ll be seatmates! I asked for a window seat, will being in the middle bother you?”

  “No, no.” Neil tried not to grit his teeth.

  Maybe being crowded in on the other side would help. Maybe it would be someone he hated from the hospital.

  * * *

  They boarded. Eli was assiduously kind to the people around them, helping a frail older woman get her bag overhead. He wasn’t quite as tall as Neil—few people were—but he had no trouble heaving the bag up into the bin.

  Neil watched him with a sort of sad fascination, and once Eli had slid into his window seat, he followed.

  It was a special kind of hell. They were so close that they were almost touching, and every time Eli moved, they were touching, his elbow glancing off Neil’s arm—never hard enough to hurt, but enough that Neil couldn’t help but notice.

  The aisle seat was taken by a thin young girl, couldn’t be a day over nineteen, who immediately pulled out a magazine and buried her nose in it. So much for getting distracted by the person on his other side.

  “How important would we have to be for them to fly us first class?” he murmured to Eli.

  Eli chuckled soundlessly. “Much more im
portant than we are.”

  “I should have asked if there was an upgrade available. My legs are going to kill me.”

  “Hazards of being tall. I’m sure you’ll survive.”

  “Watch me for signs of a DVT.”

  “Do you have something to read?”

  He held up the book he’d rescued from his bag before stowing it overhead. “It’s been a while since I read something for fun.”

  “What is it?” Eli was tilting his head, trying to read the spine.

  “It’s fiction. Just a story about spaceships.”

  “Is it any good?”

  He looked at Eli’s face for a minute. “Yeah,” he said. “It’s good.”

  “Do you think I could borrow it sometime?”

  “Yeah, of course.”

  Eli nodded, settling in. The flight attendants came by—this was a beverage service—only flight—and they crept back, row by row, at a glacial pace. He stared at them and wondered if he could survive the wait for a glass of apple juice.

  They were about halfway back when he heard something. He glanced over at Eli, but Eli had slumped sideways, clearly fast asleep with his book on the verge of falling off his knees. His breaths were coming out as soft little snores. Neil grabbed the book, marking the spot and tucking it into the pocket on the back of the seat in front of Eli.

  Neil took a quick look around. A few rows ahead he could see the familiar profiles of a couple of other surgeons from Kingsland, but he and Eli were near the back of the plane. There wasn’t anyone behind them or across from them that they knew.

  He turned back, and this time he let himself steal the luxury of just having a few solid minutes to look at Eli. Eli’s face was slack with sleep, mouth just barely open, and he was breathing shallowly.

  He watched Eli until the flight attendant at the front of the cart asked him what kind of beverage he’d like.

  “Apple juice.” Once they’d handed him the glass with ice and the can, he cracked it open and poured.

  Maybe an hour into the flight, when he was feeling pretty sleepy himself and they’d already come back for the trash, he felt something on his shoulder. He looked down, but it was Eli, sliding sideways until his head had come to rest on Neil.