by Ashlee Price
I shake my head. "Not your fault."
"It was, though," Sidney says. "I was supposed to feed it and I forgot to."
Another unsolicited confession.
I frown. "The doctors didn't say you're dying, did they?"
He ignores the question. "Besides, they're busy. But you..." He turns to look at me. "You're not busy, are you?"
I shrug. "Not really."
"Not really," he repeats mockingly. "How can you be busy when you don't have a job?"
I frown. I don't like where this conversation is going.
"Heck, you don't have a life," Sidney adds.
Okay, it's going there.
"Technically, I do have a job," I tell him.
"An honorary position," he says.
"And I do have a life," I argue. "I've traveled to places you've never heard of, done things you've never imagined..."
"Slept with more women than I'll ever meet and spent all the money you made from a single, successful project?" Sidney asks.
"Very successful," I correct. "And no, I haven't spent it all. In fact, I haven't spent much."
"But you will. You're going to throw it all away."
I sit back with my arms crossed over my chest. "What makes you so sure of that? Don't tell me you talked to God and saw my future when you lost consciousness."
"Because I know you," Sidney replies. "Because I know you hate responsibility, because you're scared of doing anything worthwhile."
I snort.
"Fine. Tell me something worthwhile that you've done."
I pause. "I invented something that helps soldiers stay alive, remember?"
"And then you stopped," Sidney says. "So it doesn't count."
"It does."
"It's like you aced one subject and then decided to quit school because the other subjects were too hard or don't interest you. It doesn't mean you finished school, right?"
"I finished school, though."
He looks at me. "Why don't you go back to your robotics lab, Dustin?"
I shrug. "I can't think of anything I want to work on."
He snorts. "You mean you're waiting for inspiration instead of working hard."
"Not all of us can work as hard as you," I tell him.
He sighs. "Clearly."
I say nothing.
"Fine. Let's count that invention of yours as a worthwhile thing. Is that all? Is there nothing else you can say you've done that proves you have at least a shred of responsibility?"
I pause. "I haven't gotten anyone pregnant."
He laughs. "Sidney, that's not being responsible. That's being a coward." He shakes his head. "You can't even choose just one girl and stay around her long enough to let her love you."
"You mean let her ruin my life," I say.
Sidney's eyes narrow. "What happened to you? Mom and Dad didn't abandon you. Arthur, Greg and I weren't mean to you. I can't recall any girl you ever liked whose attention you didn't get."
I don't know, either. I'll have to ask a shrink to figure out how I ended up the way I am.
"I'm fine," I say simply.
Sidney snorts. "You can't even own up to your mistakes or find the sense to learn from them. You just throw things away, Dustin, just like you threw out your old bike when you got tired of it, or the album with your childhood pictures that Mom treasured because you didn't want anyone to see them. You throw things away. That's what you do. That's what you're good at."
I don't answer. He may be drugged, but I know he's not lying. And he may not mean the words he just said, but they hurt anyway. He'll forget them after his surgery, but will I?
For the first time, I realize what my brother thinks of me. I see the extent of his disappointment. All this time, I thought it was just Candace worrying for me, feeling sorry for me, thinking of me as a burden. Now, I know the truth.
And fuck, it hurts.
"At least I'm not the one lying in a hospital bed with a broken heart," I retaliate. "Now who's throwing his life away?"
"Well, at least if I die, I know I've lived. I've loved. And I know people will remember me well. What about you, Dustin? The only ones who will remember you are your family, and when we do, we'll all feel bad because you never had a chance to live and love. Candace, especially, will feel bad. Even in death, you'll still worry her. Why she cares about you so much, I don't know. She must feel sorry for you because she chose me instead of you."
So Sidney's known all along that I had feelings for Candace?
Before I can answer, there's a knock on the door. I turn my head and see a man in the doorway wearing a white coat. I stand up.
"Hi." He offers me his hand. "I'm Dr. Hal Stevens. I'm the one operating on Mr. Montgomery tomorrow."
I shake his hand. "I..."
"Dr. Stevens, this is Dustin Montgomery, my younger brother," Sidney speaks up. "My brother who likes to throw things away and make the people who care about him worry. Tell me, Doctor, do you know someone like that?"
Dr. Stevens turns to me and speaks in a low voice, "Don't worry. That's just the - "
"Morphine talking," I say. "I know."
Even so...
"Do you know that my brother is waiting for inspiration so he can get off his lazy ass?" Sidney goes on. "That he thinks it's responsible to risk his life chasing every thrill and to sleep - ?"
"I can be responsible, Sidney," I cut him off.
His eyebrows arch. "Oh, really?"
I'll show him. I'll show him that I can do something worthwhile with my money, that I'm not a coward, that I can get things done, that I don't just throw things away.
I head out the door.
"Where are you going?" Sidney asks after me. "Walking away again, are you? I bet you'd throw your family away if you could."
I stop at the doorway and glance at Dr. Stevens before turning around to answer my brother.
"I'm not throwing anything anyway," I say.
In fact, I'm going to do just the opposite.
Chapter Nine
Marian
Why is it that men never do what we expect of them?
The thought rattles my brain in the emergency room as I stitch the arm of a 66-year-old woman who accidentally cut herself with a gardening fork.
Mrs. Watson expected her husband to be strong for her and to help her fetch the first aid kid. Instead, he fainted and she had to drive herself to the hospital with her arm bandaged in rags and baling wire.
As for me, I've been expecting Dustin to call, or at least send me a message, but nope. The screen of my phone hasn't lit up with his name even once. I've been expecting him to show up at the hospital, and yet there's no sign of him anywhere.
I frown. When I wanted him to leave me alone - no, when I asked him to leave me alone - he just couldn't, and now that I want to see him, he's nowhere to be found. It's like he just disappeared after we had sex.
Is he not happy that we had sex, even though he seemed to enjoy it as much as I did? Is he mad at me even though he was the one who asked for it? I mean, he kissed me first.
"Is my arm going to be okay?" Mrs. Watson asks me, worry in her voice.
"Yes, Mrs. Watson," I answer. "I'm almost done. Why?"
"Just that you don't look pleased with it or with the stitches. Have you been doing stitches a long time?"
"Oh, yes." I turn my frown upside down as I continue stitching. "Sorry. It's not that I'm worried about your arm or the stitches. I was just... thinking of... something else."
"A man?" Mrs. Watson asks. "Because in my opinion, they're to blame for most of our worries."
I grin. "Yes, a man."
"Your boyfriend?"
"No," I answer quickly.
We're not even going out. I mean, it was just one date. Still, I wonder: What are we?
"Someone you like but who doesn't even know you exist?" Mrs. Watson guesses.
I just grin.
"I have three daughters," she confides in me. "They've had all sorts of problems with men. On
e of them still does."
I nod. "I see."
No wonder she sounds like such an expert.
She places her hand over mine. "So, was I right?"
Was she? Do I like Dustin? Well, I did have sex with him, and I liked that.
"He knows I exist," I tell her. "It's just that he suddenly... stopped existing."
"Oh."
She takes her hand off mine and falls silent. I finish up the suture.
"You mean the two of you were dating but then he suddenly disappeared?"
I narrow my eyes. "Yeah. Something like that, I guess."
"Did you tell him you love him? Because nothing scares a man more than you telling him you love him when he's not a hundred percent sure he feels the same way."
"No."
I'm pretty sure I didn't. Why would I? I'm not in love with him. Up until a minute ago, I wasn't even sure I liked him. I'm just... curious why he 'suddenly disappeared', as Mrs. Watson put it. People don't do that. They don't just disappear, especially not without giving you the slightest warning.
Did he give me fair warning? No. Well, he was kind of quiet on the way back home, but isn't that just because he was tired? Was he already thinking of disappearing then?
"And you didn't say anything about wanting to be with him forever or wanting to have babies with him?" Mrs. Watson asks me.
I shake my head in disgust as I pick up the scissors. "No."
I'd never do that.
"Did you have sex with him before he disappeared?"
The scissors in my hand snap shut. The suture breaks.
I draw a deep breath. Thank goodness I cut it at just the right place.
I stick a strip of bandage over the stitches and turn to Mrs. Watson with a grin. "I'm done."
She frowns. "You did, didn't you? Which means that the reason he disappeared is probably because he already got what he wanted."
As much as I hate to think about it, Mrs. Watson's theory holds water. Dustin never hid the fact that he wanted to have sex with me. In fact, he was trying to seduce me from the beginning.
And a few nights ago, he succeeded. Mission accomplished. Game over.
I sigh.
"Oh, sweetheart, don't you lose your sparkle over that good-for-nothing jerk." Mrs. Watson touches my cheek. "And don't you beat yourself up for it, either. It's not your fault he only sees you as a piece of meat. Some men are simply wired like that. Must have been raised wrong by their mothers."
I know it's not my fault, but I still feel stupid. I thought I knew better by now. I thought I'd learned my lesson, but once again, I'm worrying about a man who abandoned me after sex.
Just like what happened six years ago.
Suddenly, my hand clasps over my mouth. Oh, shit. We didn't use protection.
Six years ago, I got a scare, thinking I was pregnant after having sex I didn't plan with a man I didn't know and couldn't remember. It turned out that I wasn't. I was just under stress so my period got delayed a few days. But what if I got pregnant this time?
I shake my head. No. It can't be. I just finished my period a few days ago.
Still, I slap my forehead. I wasn't drunk this time, so why didn't I remember to tell Dustin to wear a condom?
"Dr. Carver?" Mrs. Watson looks at me in concern.
"I'm fine," I tell her.
This isn't like last time. I'm older now, wiser. I'm not going to panic. Dustin is going to show up. He's probably just busy or off skydiving somewhere.
Wait. Nothing bad happened to him, right?
I mean, what if he was skydiving and his parachute malfunctioned? Or what if he was rock climbing and he fell? What if he was surfing and he drowned or got eaten by a shark?
Again, I shake my head.
Where is my brain getting all these crazy ideas?
Mrs. Watson sits up. "Are you sure you're alright, Dr. Carver?"
"I'm fine, Mrs. Watson," I repeat.
And so is Dustin. He's fine. And he's going to show up soon. I know it. I have a feeling.
I should stop worrying about him.
I scribble some instructions on a piece of paper and hand it to Mrs. Watson.
"Just follow these instructions and your arm will be fine," I tell her. "And if ever any problem comes up, you can just come back."
She smiles, then surprises me by pulling me in for a hug. "Thank you, dear."
I pat her back gently. "You're welcome."
She pulls away.
"Oh, and no gardening for a while. Let's make sure that wound doesn't get infected."
"I understand," Mrs. Watson says. "I'll let Saul do the gardening."
I nod. "Do that."
She places her hand on my cheek. "And about that man, you're better off without him. I know you young women seem to be in a rush to find 'the one'. I was, too. But don't let that blind you or cloud your judgment. The right one will come along and he'll be better than you ever expected. Just stay put."
"So Saul is better than you ever expected?" I ask her curiously.
She shrugs. "Not always. But I do love him, even if he faints at the sight of blood."
I smile.
I help her get off the bed and she walks off. As I'm putting my suture kit away, I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn around.
"Dr. Hansen." I straighten up.
The image of her kissing an intern pops into my head without warning, but I push it away.
"What can I do for you?" I ask her with a sweet smile.
"You're scrubbing in with me this afternoon."
My eyebrows arch. "You mean the triplets?"
She nods.
I'm confused. She's never asked me to scrub in before. I've scrubbed in with her, but never at her request. So why is she suddenly being nice to me?
"Oh, don't give me that hopeful look," she tells me. "I'm not doing this because I want to. It's because I was told. Anyway, don't be late. When I send you a message, you better come running."
"Right," I answer.
But I'm still confused. Dr. Hansen doesn't take kindly to following orders.
So who ordered her?
~
"Dr. Carver, I'll only say this one more time." Dr. Townsend gestures to the empty chair next to him. "Sit down."
I obey. I don't know what I did. I've just returned from the operating room. But he looks pissed.
I glance at the sheets of paper spread out in front of him.
Maybe he's just in a bad mood because of all the paperwork that comes with being appointed Chief Resident. He's been in a bad mood ever since he got the job.
He's not going to order me to help him, is he?
"Now, what does this lounge need?" he asks me.
I send him a puzzled look. "I beg your pardon?"
He frowns. "Do I have to repeat everything, Dr. Carver? I'm asking you what you think this residents' lounge needs."
"Oh. Are we renovating?"
"Apparently," he answers. "And not just the lounge. Apparently, we're renovating the pediatric and surgical wings, too."
"Really?" My eyebrows arch.
It's good news, of course, but I didn't know the hospital had that kind of money to spare.
Dr. Townsend taps his fingers on the table. "Really."
"Hmm." I touch my chin as I look around. "I'll think of something."
"Think fast. I need it before the weekend."
"Okay." I nod. "But you know, you don't have to go with my ideas. Aren't you going to ask the others as well? They should have - "
"Dr. Carver," he cuts me off.
I look into his eyes. "Yes, Dr. Townsend?"
"The Chief of Surgery told me to ask you."
Dr. Fuller did?
Again, I feel confused. "Why me?"
What did I do?
Dr. Townsend shrugs. "Ask him yourself."
~
I do just that. I go to Dr. Fuller's office and ask him why he wants my opinion and whether he was the one who ordered Dr. Hansen to let me scrub in on her su
rgery and why. He says yes, the order came from him. As for the answers to my other questions, he directs me to the Director of the entire hospital.
So here I am at Dr. Easton's office, a place I've never been to before even though I've been working at the hospital for nearly two years.
The six-foot-tall, fifty-something former family medicine physician takes off his eyeglasses and sends me a wide smile from behind his mahogany desk.
"What can I do for you, Dr. Carver?"
I draw a deep breath and open my mouth. "I..."
"Oh, I'm sorry," he interrupts too soon. "That's not your last name anymore, is it?"
My jaw drops. What?
"Though I understand if you want to keep it the same, you know." He winks. "Or if you want to keep your marriage a secret, especially since your husband is wealthy and all. If that's the case, my lips are sealed."
He makes a zipping motion over his lips with his fingers.
I stare at him with eyes about to fall out of their sockets. Inside my head, my thoughts are splashing around in circles.
Husband? Marriage?
I glance around. Did I come to the right office? Am I still in the same body, in the same world? Did I maybe drift off to sleep without knowing it? Because right now, nothing makes sense.
Just to make sure, I pinch myself. Then I wince at the pain.
"Ow."
Dr. Easton stands up. "Are you okay?"
So I'm not dreaming. I'm just... lost.
I clasp my hands together on my lap as I meet his concerned gaze.
"I'm sorry, Dr. Easton, but did you just say 'marriage'?"
Chapter Ten
Dustin
"You're going to stick with your marriage?" Candace asks me with wide eyes. "With a marriage that you don't even remember happening? That you never intended to happen?"
"Yes," I give her the simple answer.
A moment of silence hangs over us as we sit on the bench in the garden. The plants bask in the bright light streaming from the hospital windows. The evening breeze sends Candace's hair adrift and it brushes against my cheek. As she pulls it back, the floral scent of her shampoo grazes my nostrils. I turn away.
"Are you sure?" Her question breaks the silence.
I nod. "Yeah."
"Can I ask why?"