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“Hey, Jas,” I said, coming into the room.
She flicked her eyes over to me, but it was clear that she wasn’t feeling strong enough to do much else.
“Hi,” she croaked.
Her lips had a permanent tinge of blue, despite the oxygen she was on—her heart just wasn’t managing.
“Are they treating you right on my day off?”
Her lips quirked a dry smile, but she didn’t respond. Her dark eyes looked huge in her face, the most alive part about her. It was hard to stay there, knowing that she was only getting worse.
“I’ve got to go, but I’ll be back tomorrow to see how you’re doing,” I said.
I hoped the new day would bring some change for her.
“Dr. Christophers?” Jasmine called as I tried to leave.
I turned and there was fear in her eyes. She flicked her gaze over to her mother, who I hadn’t noticed was sleeping on the sofa in the corner, cocooned under blankets. The poor woman hardly left Jasmine’s side.
“Yes?” I answered, facing her again.
“Am I going to die?” she asked.
I wasn’t prepared for that. Of course, they teach you how to respond to all sorts of things in medical school, how to act professional but compassionate. I wasn’t prepared for that though, for a young girl facing her own mortality. I braced myself.
“Not if I can help it,” I said quietly. “If I have anything to say, you’re going to be like any other kid, running and living and scraping your knees and driving your mom crazy.”
Jasmine gave me a small smile, but her eyes said she couldn’t believe it. That she knew how serious things were and was only waiting.
I said goodbye, and stepped out of the room, acutely aware of the healthy pounding of my own heart in my chest. I walked quickly out of the ward and pushed into an on-call room. Only once I was there did I let the reality hit me—my first patient was going to die, and I couldn’t do anything but watch it happen.
I gasped in lungfuls of air, greedy to feel my cardiovascular system doing exactly what it was supposed to and let hot tears roll down my face.
* * *
My books felt heavy on my arm, and I walked sluggishly back to my apartment.
Aside from having it pointed out to me, I knew I looked like crap. I felt like crap. I trudged up to my building, and in my front door. I left the bookbag on the floor and slid over to my sofa. I lay on it, on the slightly lumpy surface digging in awkwardly. I wasn’t comfortable, but my meeting with Jasmine had completely drained me of energy. I stared at the coffee table and flicked my gaze over to my desk. Regardless of what Adrian had said, I should have gotten up and pulled open my books. I should have found an answer to save a little girl’s life. My brain had decided it was so,sotired though, and my limbs refused to move. I blinked at my desk, as though willing it to do the research for me.
* * *
When I woke up, it was dark.
I reached for my phone in my pocket, and a piece of crumpled paper fell out. It was a little after seven, and upon examining the crumpled piece of paper, I was supposed to meet Adrian at seven-thirty. I groaned. I didn’t have to go. He knew there was a very real chance I might not show up. I didn’t have to let things get more complicated than they already were. My brain was in turmoil, thinking about hearts, and Jasmine, and Adrian, and how I might have handed Adrian a small piece of my heart. It really was grossly unfair that everything happened at once.
Nevertheless, I got up. I pulled off the clothes I’d slept in and re-dressed in a button-up and some black jeans. I stared at myself in the mirror and was annoyed at how correct Adrian had been at his deduction of my appearance. I was pasty, with dry patches warring for space on my face with oily deposits. For the first time in a week, I properly washed my face and it feltgood. I didn’t care if I was late to meet Adrian. I didn’t bother with makeup—after all, we were justfriends. Instead, I pulled my hair back with a clip and deemed myself good enough to be seen by the public. I slipped into a pair of vans and stepped out into the night.
Despite it being the end of September, the air was balmy and I was glad, because I hadn’t thought to bring a coat. I stepped across one road and kept going. I was appreciative of the placement of my apartment—the Christopher Columbus Waterfront Park was only a couple of minutes walk from me, and before I knew it, I was striding over the paths looking for the now familiar silhouette of Adrian Price.
Of course, it took me a few minutes to find him. It was dark, even with the streetlights, and he was on a bench facing the water.
“Hi,” I said.
He turned in his seat and stood, smiling at me.
“You came,” he said happily.
I nodded and tried to smile at him. He was wearing casual clothes, just a t-shirt and jeans, but somehow, he looked impossibly good. Beyond our interactions at work, I barely knew the man, and yet, I found myself wanting to fold into those arms. I wanted to tell him about my worries with Jasmine. I stood a safe distance from him instead, testing out the word he was so insistent on—friends.
