"Excuse me, what did you say?" he asked, speaking up to remind her of his presence.
"Sorry, was I talking too
much?"
"No, no. I kinda spaced out for
a moment." She smiled, blushing, possibly misunderstanding his words. "You asked me about my last relationship and my dating life. I started rambling."
"So it’s been awhile for you too then?" She looked at him momentarily puzzled but proceeded to answer.
"You really did space out. But it has been quite some time. I decided to take some time to focus on school. I’m sure you know about that, since you’re in Med School. Grad school got pretty rough. Dating or relationships weren’t the right thing to be concerning myself with. It’s taken me a while but I feel like I finally got everything together. So….At first I thought you were going to turn me down. Rachel and Ted told me you’re usually busy with school work. They said you’ll be locked away in your room for hours, even the entire day. I was wondering how you would find time." He laughed nervously.
"A very busy life, it’s a real busy life but I still have to make time for other things. Especially a beautiful woman." The last few words fumbled out of his mouth. She didn’t mind. Laughing and blushing she accepted his sheepish compliment. He caught himself getting lost in her memorizing blue eyes, it was her words that brought him back.
"Did you always want to be a doctor?"
"Not sure?" he responded, taking a slight pause to think. "Sort of a created destiny for me. All my life, well most of it, I’ve only known the goal of becoming a doctor. Only a few other things have mattered."
"Your parents pushed you?"
"Yes. My father. In India he was a doctor. I’m not sure of all the details, but we had to move to America. Before we were getting ready to leave there were rumors, whispers, and stories from family and friends of how even though he was a respected doctor in India it may not matter in America. Fear started to build, he thought he may have to do some meager job so he could support and provide for his family. He felt like he would be stuck working at a family owned business and never be able practice medicine again. That’s when he started reflecting his dreams onto me. Once I had the ability to comprehend, he slowly drilled me on everything he knew. It was pretty relentless, which is probably how my hermit like study habits developed."
"Did you miss a lot during your childhood?" she said abruptly.
"What do you mean?" he asked in return.
"Was your childhood not really a childhood because of your father, and him pushing you?" There was no immediate answer, he simply stared her, contemplating. "If I am being intrusive, please let me know. I have a bad tendency of trying to pry a lot from people I’ve just met."
"No," he responded. She didn’t say anything, waiting for him to continue. "I had a good childhood, a regular one I guess. Most of the things a typical child does growing up, I did. Played soccer, had friends, went to birthday parties, played video games, that sort of stuff. Studying turned into priority but I still got my chances to have fun. My father eventually got to practice medicine here in America. This allowed him to let up on me, but it was only a bit. Part of me didn’t want him to. The seeds had already been planted. It was the smallest thought but it frightened me to death, it pushed me further."
"What is that?" Before he answered, he took a long sip of his beer. This acted as a reminder she had a drink of her own right in front of her. She took a gulp, managing to consume a larger amount of her drink than he had of his. Feeling the drink she let off a giddy shiver.
"You’re enjoying the drink?" She nodded and he continued. "The thought of letting my father down, disappointing him. His dreams had been put in me, placed on my shoulders. Whatever needed to be done to fulfill those dreams, I would do."
"Wow. Somewhat noble of you. Taking on something you didn’t have to, and making sure to see it through."
"Not sure about noble, some people call it stupid or weird."
"I don’t think so at all," she said laughing and smiling.
"Thank you," he said.
"So you were born in India?" He nodded his head slightly before answering.
"Yes, lived there until I was about four or five."
"Did you enjoy it? India always seemed like one of the most beautiful places on Earth. Do you remember any of it?"
"Certain things, I remember, others I do not. My father was a very prestige doctor in a small city, so life was relatively good."
"Why did you guys have to leave?"
"I’m not certain. Whether it’s because I was never told or I was too young and forgot, I am not sure."
"Oh yes, I’m sorry you did say that. I guess I spaced out for a moment as well." They both laughed, the tension which had previously been there was slowly being relieved. He felt less stressed, all the talking relaxed him and made him more comfortable.
"I did have a very traumatic experience while living in India" Her eyes widened showing how interested she was. "Because my father was a doctor, I think one of the few doctors in our city our residence saw its fair share of special house visits and house guest. People who lived in villages outside of the city would come to our house seeking treatment. Our house was big enough and we could let a few of the villagers stay with us while my father issued treatments or they waited to be transported to a nearby hospital. One of his main goals in life was to make sure he did everything he could to help people. He would do everything he could, selflessly for them. Often times he treated people from small villages, not charging a fee.
"During the summer, around the time I was four, there was a terrible outbreak in a nearby village. The villagers believed they had been cursed by a witch or some supernatural force. Horrific things were happening, people were becoming extremely ill. A few of the villagers came to our house. My father tells me to this day, he is still baffled by what took place. He had never seen anything like it."
"What was wrong with them?" she asked, with a hand over her mouth.
"A few things. The two main things were these bloody pustule’s which formed all over their bodies. I’m sorry is this grossing you out?" he asked politely. Without a word, she shook her head. Her body language gave him the signal to continue on. "Their eyes, it was their eyes too. Something out of a horror movie. Those small villages are exposed to so much, it's really hard to determine how they get sick sometimes. It takes a strong medical professional to handle what you may face in those situations. We had about five or six of these sick villagers in our house, who were somewhat quarantined off.
"One night I was sleeping in my room. I was already nervous because of strangers staying in our house. Having problems sleeping I tossed and turned most of the night, staying wide awake. Often my mother or father would stand in my doorway, checking on me. There was a particular night when it was terribly hot, unbearably. A really foul stench had also started to build up in our house. Couldn’t even think about sleeping it was so uncomfortable. Seeing the figure of a man standing in the doorway, I automatically thought it's my father. I jumped out the bed, and ran to him. Found myself in the arms of a man who instead of being my father was a dying villager. He's standing before me crying tears of blood, his face filled with bloody pustules. He said something I didn’t understand then died on his feet. Fell right on top of me. Once we hit the ground, a few of the pustules burst open spraying me with blood and pus. I couldn’t get him off of me, he was crushing me, and the blood from his eyes and pustules spilled on my face. It got in my eyes and mouth, I could taste death. I screamed out for help. Don’t even know how long before someone came, but it felt like I was trapped under this guy forever."
"Sounds very dramatic," she said somberly. "Traumatic."
"My mother didn’t make matters any better. She was terrified I'd caught whatever illness the villagers had. She constantly stressed over this, there were check-ups, several of them. She had it in her and my mind my blood got poisoned. At one point she considered going to see a village shaman to have my blood cleansed. My father would hear no such thing, wouldn’t allow her. My dad and a few other doctors ran a lot of test on me, never found anything. But I was fearful, and it had a pretty bad affect on me."
"Hmmmmm," she said. "That's really really interesting. Did your father ever figure out what exactly happened in that village?"
"No. We don’t talk about it much. He’s still somewhat interested but I don’t bring it up at all. Oh wait. From all the test and me not getting sick, my father started to believe the outbreak in the village may have been a genetic illness." Momentarily his voice got harsh and irritated. The change of tone did not go unnoticed, she raised an eyebrow.
"Are you alright?" she asked concerned.
"Yes, sorry. It’s something that gets to me."
"It’s alright, seems like it really got to you. So don’t worry. We all have those experiences."
"Thank you. You still enjoying the drink? How is it?"
"Yes. It’s strong and it’s good." She grabbed the drink off the table, taking another hearty gulp. "Great choice. Thank you. It’s great. Do you get it often?"
"Every once in a while," he said smiling.
"Yeah, it’s great," she said smiling back.
The room was stifling. He had to
continuously wipe his forehead with his sleeve. For the hundredth time, he took
the sleeve of his scrubs and wiped off beads of sweat. Overcome by a familiar
nervousness, he was unsure if he’d be able to do what he needed to. He’d
practiced a lot, and made the effort to get better but still felt uncertain.
"This is no good," he said
stepping away from the medical table. He needed to take some deep breaths.
Quickly he walked over to the sink on the other side of the room. Removing his
gloves, he ran some water into his cupped hands and splashed the water on his
face. He was so nervous he had forgotten his glasses were still on his face.
Taking off his glasses and shaking some
of the water off, he sat them down on the edge of the sink. Looking into the
mirror before him, he ran his still wet hands through his hair. His heart beat
in his chest like it was trying to escape. His nostrils flared, and his mouth
twitched. Gazing into the mirror, he was getting lost in his own image. Under
his eyes, the brown skin was darkening from bags forming. The reflection he
stared at didn't seem to belong to him. Beeps brought him back. Behind him, the
heart monitor beeped at a much steadier pace than his own heart. "What is wrong with me?" he questioned himself. "This is not so different from the other times, from all my recent practicing." Turning away from the mirror he took a glance at the woman on the medical table. She lay on the table, naked with a sheet covering everything below her chest. Her arms were at her side with the heart monitor tube and a few others in her arm. Her chest moved up and down at a steady pace, this only caused his heart to beat faster. Ruffling his hair again, he picked up his glasses, washed his hands, grabbed a new pair of gloves and walked to the table. It was slight but he noticed an irregularity in the pace of her breathing. The sudden change in pace was sign of his time running out.
"I have done this before. Studied most of my life, I've been preparing. There's no way I shouldn't be able to do this. No way." Attending Tufts University School of Medicine, a social life had been thrown away. Hours, hundreds of hours were spent in the library. He took in knowledge through whatever he could get his hands on, whether it be medical books, journal articles, or even video recordings. Whenever the opportunity presented itself he worked with cadavers. No longer could he keep track of the number of dead bodies he'd practiced on. There were times when one of his only friends would sneak him into the medical building where she worked, allowing him more time to work on dead bodies. Even with all the preparations this time would be different, it would be real.
He took a small assessment of his medical instruments inventory. After peering over them for a few seconds, he looked over to the woman. Picking up a scalpel he held it in his hand as if it was a pencil. His shaking persisted, he had the nervousness of a student about to take a test they didn't study for.
"Everything will be alright." He heard these words from a female's voice. A sense of calmness overcame him after hearing the voice, it was sweet, comforting, and familiar. Nerves soothed temporarily. "You're nervous, don't be. You know what you're capable of, you know that you can do this. Move forward, go."
He starred down at the woman, trying to catch his breath. To pace himself, work up to what he had to do. Inching closer to hover over the table, he gazed into her partially open eyes. Only the lower part of her green eyes could be seen. Brown curly hair laying over the medical table and flowing off the edges, she had an Angelic resemblance. A few more deep breaths and he knew it was time. He grabbed onto her arm, her skin soft and silky. Cringing, he began to lower the scalpel into her skin. Pressing the scalpel slightly into her chest, he started to make an incision. Blood oozed out of the cut, not too much. Seeing the blood caused him to twitch baldly. The sudden twitch caused him to make his cut too deep. Blood squirted from the wound, even getting on his hands. Startled he backed away from the table, stumbling, and tripping over his own feet.
"Oh my. Oh my God," he shouted, falling to the ground. Getting another glimpse at the blood on his gloves, he rolled over and crawled to the sink. "I'm sorry. That wasn't supposed to happen."
"It's ok." The same female voice from earlier spoke to him. This time it wasn't as comforting, it was strict and eager. "Nothing to worry about." Close enough to the sink, he used it to hoist himself up. Standing up he turned the faucet on full blast, dropping the scalpel in the basin. Taking a bar of soap he vigorously scrubbed his hands, even though he still had gloves on. Only a few drops of blood had gotten on the gloved but he washed them feverishly. As soon as he took the gloves off they were thrown away and he washed his bare hands even harder. His eyes met the water in the sink basin. Blood from the scalpel had turned the water a light red color. He turned away feeling queasy, but continued washing his hands. Faster his heart beat, anxiety was setting in. Not able to get himself together, but knowing his time was running short he moved away from the sink. Stumbling forward across the room. Bumping into things, he almost took a spill when he ran into a small table. He managed to make it to a counter. On top of the counter sat a group of orange bottles filled with pills. In the process of snatching up a specific bottle he knocked over several others. Giving the top a twist, a little too hard, he split pills onto the floor. Not at all concerned by what he dropped, he held the bottle to his mouth and poured out pills. Quite a few of the purple diamond shaped pills made it into his mouth, others went to the floor. Staggering back to the medical table, he grabbed a bottle of water. He took a long drink of the water, not moving as he drank. In front of the medical table, he dropped the bottle and picked up a new scalpel. A moment of hesitation, then he picked up a surgical saw too.
"It's five pm, time for your only news at five. Top story on tonight's evening news, Twenty four year old college student Wendy Russells is still missing. The Graduate Student has been missing for about three days. There are yet to be any leads on her whereabouts. We really......" He turned off the TV hanging in the corner of the room, not sure why it got left on. Typically he needed silence to work and concentrate. Glancing around the semi empty room, slowly he tried to once again calm down. When he was about to turn around his phone rang. Not answering it just rang. When it immediately began to ring again, he took off his gloves and checked his phone. The name or number of whoever was calling got his attention, he answered.
"Hello.....Yes, yes, yes," he said. "Sorry, I was in the middle of it......Yes, I am trying, it's been very difficult.....It was easier last time with you here......Yes, doctor my fear is somewhat getting to me, only some what though.......No..........I did have a slight problem with some blood........my mother?.......Yes, I did hear her voice, I don't know why but it's extremely soothing to me.......That feeling of her being near or at least thinking she is helps. I'm going to try and not make it messy......Yes, I will call you once I have finished and I will see you on Friday. Thank you."
With a heavy and deep breathe he turned his focus back onto the woman. He put on another pair of gloves and picked up the scalpel. The surgical saw was left this time, but he made sure to know where it was for easy access. He took the woman's arm firmly as he bent over her. Visibly shaking, he lowered the scalpel toward the incision he had already made. Cautiously he pressed the scalpel, dragging it from her chest down toward her stomach. A sudden twitch of the women's body startled him, but he did not stop. Continuing to cut, he squeezed the woman's arm tighter. The hold he had on her was strong, it was like she was the person saving him from drowning.
Like a newborn baby, the woman began to open her eyes. Unable to completely open her eyes she was becoming aware of her situation. Noticing she was awakening and she could see him, he gave a deformed comforting smile. Her eyes darted back and forth slowly, assessing her predicament. Terror, fear, and hopelessness appear when she saw he was still cutting into her. She strained herself to not avail. Couldn't scream, couldn't move, couldn't do anything, but watch. Cutting deeper he was still wary of any blood, but he kept that almost maniacal attempt of a reassuring smile on his face, for his sake and hers.
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