by J. J. McAvoy
“I’m not sure, and I don’t want to make you panic before I know anything concrete. We will do a full workup, and the second I know for sure what’s going on with her, I will let you know. And I’ll make sure to rush it—no kid should spend their birthday surrounded by doctors.” I tried to smile for his sake.
“Dr. Davenport, we’re done,” said one of my interns.
Dr…oh whatever, like I was going to remember who the intern was. I just knew him as Four Eyes; the glasses he wore made his eyes look almost cartoonish. “They’re done, all right?” I said, walking to where the child waited. “Molly, did it hurt? Point at which one has to go back to school.”
She shook her head so hard her bow almost fell off. “Nope, it didn’t hurt. They gave me candy.”
I glanced up at the three doctors who had to bribe a child while taking blood.
They all turned away from me.
“Well, make sure to get more from them; they are going to take you to get your pictures taken,” I said, more to them than to her.
“Pictures, then we leave, Daddy? You promised we could go to the aquarium. I wanna see where Ariel lives!” She pointed to her shirt.
“Pictures, then we leave.” He laughed, kneeling in front of her.
“Get a full scan for me. If there is a line, tell them Dr. Davenport sent you,” I whispered to my interns at the door.
“What if that doesn’t do anything?” the intern with a bun on the top of her head said, which got her an elbow from both the tall and skinny Dr. Stretch, as I liked to call him, and Dr. Four Eyes.
“If it doesn’t do anything, then you’re off my service and in the pit for not thinking of another option,” I replied, stepping out toward the nurses’ station in the middle of the pale blue and beige hall. Sighing, I dropped my tablet on the counter.
“Was I right?” Dr. Handler, Molly’s pediatrician, asked as she came to stand beside me. Her eyes focused on Molly through the panels of the window.
When I didn’t respond, I saw her turn to face me, swinging her dark brown curls, cropped right under her chin. Dr. Handler had been at the hospital for more than twenty years. She was one of the best pediatricians, if not the best, we had. She had known the answer before paging me down there.
“Dr. Davenport—”
“I won’t know the extent of it until I see her scans, but yes, she has a brain tumor. I don’t know what stage yet, but she had trouble following both my finger and the light, not to mention her twitching.” She had just turned seven. Sometimes I really hated my job.
“Her mother died last year, Eli. She was six months pregnant. Please, for me, do everything you can for her, all right? She's been a patient of mine since she was three months old.”
We weren’t supposed to get attached for exactly this reason. I could feel her putting the hope of God on my shoulders. She knew better, and so did I.
“We’ll start tomorrow. Let her at least have her birthday,” I muttered, walking toward the elevators.
Just as the doors opened, I heard a laugh…her laugh, to the right of me. There, walking down the stairs, her blonde ponytail swinging back and forth, was Hannah…my Hannah. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as her head turned toward me.
I ran into the elevator, pressing the close button as fast as possible.
Why was she here? Why the hell was she still here?
The only person who could answer that was on the very top floor. With each level I went up, I could feel my blood pressure rising. My fingertips twitched, my vision became tunneled, even the box I was in felt like it was closing in on me.
“Take the next one!” I yelled when the doors opened. I pressed the close button again, shutting out the group of doctors trying to go up as well.
I couldn’t deal with them right now. It felt like forever until I finally reached her floor and the offices above. Marching across the carpeted floors, I walked toward the wooden doors.
“Dr. Davenport, she’s on a conference —”
I didn’t pay any attention to her secretary, letting myself into her office. “Why is she here?” I snapped so loudly she jumped slightly in her chair, the phone almost slipping out of her hands.
“Ben, I’m going to have to call you back. Sorry,” my mother said, hanging up with a smile before glaring at me. “Eli Philip Davenport, have you lost your mind?”
“No, but I’m about to. How can she still be employed?”
“Who are you talking about, and stop yelling!” she yelled ironically.
Taking a deep breath, I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Hannah. Hannah Sophia Harper. I hope she is not still working at this hospital.”
“Why wouldn't she be?” She calmly placed her hands in the middle of the table. “She’s a good doctor.”
“Mother!” Do not yell. Do not yell. Again, I took a deep breath. “Mother, she can’t work here. She—”
“Why, because she left you? She broke your heart? All of those are personal reasons, Eli. I can’t have her fired for that, and you know it.”
You’ve got to be kidding me. “Mom.”
“Sweetheart, as your mother, every time I see her, I want to wring her skinny little neck ’til her head pops off. But as the chairwoman of this hospital, I can’t get involved with personal matters between doctors. That is the risk you took when you chose to see each other. Dr. Harper is a good doctor, and this hospital employs good doctors.”
“When did she come back?” I whispered.
“A week ago—”
“A week!”
She folded her arms over her chest.
“A week ago I was here, why didn’t I see her?” Not that I wanted to.
“Because she asked to be put on a different floor and a different rotation than you. Why were you on peds anyway?”
“I was called in for a consult by Dr. Handler.” Pinching the bridge of my nose again, I tried not to think that her request meant she didn’t want to see me, either.
“Sweetheart, just avoid her until…until looking at her doesn’t hurt anymore.”
I couldn’t deal with this. Why had I gotten involved with someone I worked with? Never. Again. With nothing left to say, I just moved to the door.
“Eli,” she called.
I had to stop. Not looking back at her, I said, “Yes?”
“Believe me when I say, the moment she slips up in any way, the moment I can say she isn’t good enough to be at this hospital, I will have her out of here as quickly as possible.”
She was trying to comfort me, but it wouldn’t work. I knew Hannah wouldn’t screw up, at least not big enough to get her fired…
Well, I thought I knew her.
“Sorry for bothering you, chairwoman. I’ll come over for dinner later in the week.” I tried to give her a smile before closing the door behind me.
I hated this. I hated how I was torn between never wanting to see her again and hoping to run into her one more time.
Why was I like this?
Guinevere
“You can do this,” I said softly to myself, staring at the five-star restaurant in front of me. I gripped the present in one hand, smoothing down my dress with the other before taking a deep breath and stepping into what I knew would be the mouth of hell itself. Reason told me I should avoid this place at all costs, yet I knew I couldn’t.
You’re going to be fine.
When I walked in, I noticed the place looked like an 18th century palace. Everything was either gold, white, or beige, with the exception of the blue sky painted on the ceiling, where fat angel babies danced on clouds, with harps…yes, the baby angels were playing harps.
This is so like her.
“Gwen!” She stood and waved from the table filled with other women covered in pearls and diamonds on their wrists, necks, and ears.
I almost felt the need to take the cuff earring off the top of my ear before I moved forward.
At the table, she pulled me closer to her, kissing both of my cheeks. “Gwe
n, you look so artistic! Guys, this is my friend, Guinevere Poe, she’s a famous painter.”
Stevie, what happened to you? I smiled at the people she was trying to show off for before sitting down.
“Guinevere Poe?” A woman with long, styled brown hair raised a cosmopolitan to her pink lips. “I’ve heard of you. Stephanie, I didn’t know you were so big into the art scene.”
“Oh gosh, I used to love painting, it’s such a nice hobby.” She laughed loudly, and with such fakeness.
I winced. Nice hobby?
Stevie Spencer—or Stephanie as she seemed to go by now—had come with me from our small town of Cypress, Alaska, to study art at NYU. She, however, had dropped out during her third year after meeting Nathaniel Warren Van Allan, son of something something Richie Rich. We had gotten into a big fight about it, too. I thought she had lost her mind; part of me still did. How could she just throw away everything she'd worked so hard for, just for a guy who to me didn’t understand a thing about her? He looked like such a tool, and I told her so… We didn’t talk to each other for a year after that. Only after I apologized did we try to rebuild our friendship, but it was much harder than even I had thought it would be. She was a whole different person.
Her red hair had always been tied into a braid so she could keep it out of paint. We never spent money on our nails, or even put that much effort into makeup and jewelry…not because there was anything wrong with that, but because it got in the way of our work, and work was everything…or it had been. Now her hair was down and fluffed up, and she wore thick, heavy makeup along with a small fortune’s worth of accessories…including her engagement ring. That's why we were all there: for her bridal shower.
“Now that we are all here.” The same woman who'd spoken before stood up. “Let’s give a toast to the newest member of the Van Allan family. To you, Stephanie, may your life be filled with splendor. I’m so glad you and I are the best of friends, you truly are the sweetest.”
“Here, here.” We all raised our glasses.
“Aww, thanks you guys! And thank you so much, Josephine, for putting this together. You are amazing.” Stevie laughed, giving everyone small, one-arm hugs.
“Of course! Who else would do it?”
For some reason I felt like her words were directed at me, even though I had no idea why.
“Excuse us, ladies.” A server came over with three bottles of wine.
“We didn’t order this,” Josephine said in confusion.
“1920 Blandy's Madeira Bual, sent from Mr. Van Allan. He hopes you ladies have a beautiful evening,” the server said, placing the black bottles on the table.
“Oh my gosh,” the ladies whispered.
Stevie looked like she was going to cry.
Leaning over, I put my arm around her and whispered, “You’ll ruin your makeup if you cry, Stevie. If Nathaniel hears you cried over a glass of wine, he’s going to think he did something wrong.”
She laughed and nodded. “I know! But he’s just so sweet.”
The ladies giggled. “Nothing says love like twenty thousand dollar wine.”
“Twenty thousand? Dollars?” I gasped, looking at the deep red liquid in my hand. “I feel like it should at least come with a gift or something, for that price.”
Stevie let out a small laugh next to me, but she was the only one.
The others just raised their eyebrows at me.
“The gift is the taste.” Josephine smiled at me. “Ms. Poe, believe me when I say you will never forget your first glass of Bual.”
“With that price, I can’t afford to,” I whispered to Stevie.
She elbowed me, one hand over her lips to hide a smile.
Maybe she isn’t that different.
“Wait, you’re Sebastian Evan’s Guinevere!” Josephine gasped, turning toward me, though she didn't seem that shocked.
“No—”
“Isn’t your wedding in like, two weeks? Where is your ring?” She leaned closer to look at my fingers.
I slid my hands slowly under the table.
“Josephine, that isn’t really…” Stevie tried to figure out what to say.
I put my hands on hers and smiled, looking back to the rest of the waiting women. “Our wedding—”
“Oh my god, did he really leave you for someone else’s bride?” One of the women lifted up her cellphone. “I just googled him. He owns Class and Rebel magazines, right? Is this true?”
There were gasps and a few shocked giggles. Some women covered their mouths as they waited for me to respond.
Reaching into the middle of the table, I grabbed the bottle, poured myself a full glass, and drank. I didn’t stop until I'd finished the whole thing.
“Yes…” I paused for a second with my hand on my chest to keep from burping. “Yes, it’s all true, and I don’t have to give you details about it, nor would any of you find it worth giggling about it if had happened to you. Do you have more questions, Josephine? Or would you like to actually talk about the upcoming wedding of our dear friend here?”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know—”
“Of course you didn’t. Let’s just not talk about it again so you don’t look like a horrible person.” I smiled, shifting the bottle back into the middle of the table. “And you were right, I’m sure I’ll never forget that glass.”
“Well, maybe you’ve had enough,” she announced to the rest of the ladies at the table.
I felt like asking what the hell her problem was. What had I done to her?
Stevie squeezed my arm. “Gwen, that’s enough,” she whispered.
I didn’t know how much longer I could do this. If it hadn’t been for Stevie, I would have left a while ago—or probably never come there at all. I could see I didn’t fit in with these people, and I couldn’t lie, it bothered me how well Stevie did.
“My favorite story of Stephanie is…” Josephine tried to think, and then snapped her polished fingers. “When we were in Brunello Cucinelli, trying to find gifts for Nathaniel and David, but we didn’t know their sizes, so we pulled over the clerks and had them wear the clothes—”
“Josephine!” Stevie giggled, smacking her napkin at her.
“I promise you, no clerks were hurt in the process.” Josephine went on as the rest joined Stevie in laughing.
I just smiled. It sounded fun…sort of. I guessed it was one of those things where you just had to be there.
When their giggles died down, they looked to me, waiting.
“Oh, it’s my turn.” I sat up, grinning.
“Oh, good.” Stevie put her head in her hands.
“Well, you might not know this, but Stevie and I were the biggest tomboys in Cypress, and we always got in trouble with the boys—”
“No, you got in trouble with the boys. I stood in the background,” she replied, pointing at me before drinking.
“Really? Who pushed poor Jeremy in the river with the sockeye salmon and threw fish food at him because he said she looked like a redheaded bear?”
She coughed, almost spitting out her wine.
“She what?” Josephine frowned, confused. “What happened after?”
“Jeremy screamed like a baby and never called me a redheaded bear ever again,” Stevie said, proudly nodding her head.
I nodded along with her.
Josephine faked a laugh. “If I was Jeremy’s mother, I would have been so angry. He could have gotten hurt.”
“Who do you think gave her the fish food?” I muttered, drinking water this time.
“Good ol’ Cypress,” Stevie whispered.
I wondered if she missed it as much as I did. Our small town had sometimes felt like a prison when I was in it, but now that we had left, I could see all its little charms. By accident, I glanced to my right, and for a second, I thought I saw him.
Bash?
It’s just the alcohol.
However, when I saw the blonde woman beside him flip her hair off her shoulder, I stood up.
“Gwe
n?” Stevie stood up beside me. “Are you okay—”
“I have to go.” I gathered up my things as fast as I could, but when I turned to leave, I ran into the server bringing in all of our desserts. The silver platter slipped, pouring all over me before falling to the carpet, and my first instinct was to look up to see if he had seen. I thought he must have moved because I couldn’t see him.
“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry…” I said to her. “I have to go. Sorry, Stevie.”
I ran. I ran as fast as I could, my purse and jacket in hand. My ankle twisted once, but, ignoring it, I just threw myself out the door, the cold air blowing across my face.
“Gwen!”
I didn’t want to look back.
She caught up to me and placed her hand on my shoulder. “Gwen, what is it?”
“He’s in there, Stevie. I saw him, he and she—”
“Gwen.” She gripped my sides. “He wasn’t there. It looked like him for a second, but when he looked over after the plates shattered…it wasn’t him.”
“Not him?” I echoed in a whisper.
She shook her head. “No. Come back inside.”
I wanted to smack myself. “I’m so sorry, Stevie.”
“It’s okay, come back inside and let’s order dessert.”
“Look at me, I’m a mess. I’m just going to sit this one out. I don’t want to mess this up any more for you, okay? I’m sorry, please go back in. Your friends are all waiting! This is supposed to be happy, remember? Go be happy. I’m okay, I swear.” It was a lie.
She looked me over.
I forced a smile, giving her a little push. “Go, or I promise I will tell even more embarrassing stories at your wedding. I can even gather photos.”
“I’m going, I’m going.” She lifted her hands and backed up. “Text me later?”
I just nodded and waved, because I knew if I said any more I wouldn't be able to keep it in, and it wasn’t fair to take over her day worse than I already had. When she went in, I turned and walked quickly, trying to use my coat to hide the stains on my dress, wiping the tears from my eyes. God, this sucks. Why am I like this? It wasn’t even him.
Eli
I pressed the close button for the elevator doors when she limped in, heels in her hands and a mess of something all over her blue dress. Her mascara was smeared, and she just stood there as the doors closed and we went up.