That Thing Between Eli and Gwen (10 page)

“She means spying.”

We both turned toward Eli as he approached in his dark blue scrubs and white coat. He handed a cup of what smelled like tea to his mother before drinking from the other one he held.

“I would never spy—”

“Oh please, you hate surprises. I bet she will be down here every other day, trying to get a peek at what you're doing.”

“Your lack of faith in me hurts.” She frowned, facing me. “I might come down sometimes, but I won’t say a thing—”

“You’ll just feel her eyes burning a hole in the back of your head—ouch.” He stopped when she grabbed his arm.

“I’m going to go before I harm one of my most
precious
doctors. Thank you again, Gwen.”

“I still don’t think we need a mural!” he called as her heels clicked down the hospital hallway.

“You think of your patients, I’ll worry about the hospital.” She waved, but didn’t turn back as she drank her beverage.

He shook his head. “She didn’t even say thank you for the tea.”

“Do mothers really ever have to say thank you?” My mother's comeback was always that she deserved it for giving birth to me.

“Do a decent—” He stopped when his beeper went off. Grabbing it, his eyes widened, then he took off running. It wasn’t just him. All the doctors around me were paged, one by one, and each ran off in the same direction as Eli.

It was hard not to panic at a sight like that. Part of me wanted to leave, but another part of me, the part controlling my feet, slowly walked down the dark blue line they had run along, gripping my bag as I went.

At the end of the blue line I saw “ER” written above the entrance. Staying toward the corner, I watched as men, women, and small children were rolled in by paramedics.

“How many victims?” A nurse holding bags of bandages and gauze ran past me as if I wasn’t even there.

“They don’t know,” the other nurse replied. “Apparently the truck’s tire went down in a sinkhole and caused a ripple effect on the highway, but it wasn’t the only one. A summer camp bus flipped trying to avoid—”

“Bunhead!” Eli yelled, lifting a little boy onto the bed.

The girl, who did indeed have her blonde hair pulled into a bun, ran toward him.

“Did you look him over?” Eli questioned, looking into the boy’s ears.

“He said he was okay. His nose was hurt, but I checked and it was fine. His sister was worse—”

“Stop talking.”

She jumped, closing her mouth.

“Breathe. You said his nose was hurting. Sinus pressure. His eardrums are ruptured, you need to…”

“Page EMT and administer antibiotics for the cuts, and check up every 30—”

He gave her a stern look.

“15 minutes to make sure that was all.”

“Dr. Davenport!” another doctor called from the door.

“Bunhead, keep an eye on him,” he ordered, already walking over to another room. He and the rest of them were everywhere, moving from one patient to another. Some who were in far worse condition were rushed right out of the room toward surgery. Eli stayed back for most of it.

Even in the chaos I focused on him, running back and forth as wave after wave of new bloody, crying, screaming patients were brought in. It was like he was on autopilot—he had to be. Nothing fazed him, not even when an older woman threw up all over his tennis shoes. Instead of jumping back, he held her gray head until someone brought over a small bucket.

“Sorry. I am so—”

“There is no need to apologize, Mrs. Miller. Do you still feel like the room is spinning?”

I didn’t think I would ever admit it to him, but that day I thought he was pretty amazing. All of them were. It went without saying, but seeing it with my own two eyes—and though I loved what I did for a living—in that moment I kind of wished I was a badass doctor, too.

At least now I can think of a way to apologize to him, and a sketch.

Eli

I dropped my shoes in the trash, along with my socks and the gloves I still had on, before falling onto the couch in the attending’s lounge. My whole body ached, and not in the way I liked. It had been one of those days that just kept kicking you when you were already down. I had been feeling like crap for a week and I had no idea why.

“God, what is that smell?” I heard someone say as they entered.

I didn’t lift my arm from over my eyes. “That would be the trash and my shoes.” More from my shoes than the trash, but whatever.

“Yep.” He must have sniffed. “Aftermath of the highway accident?”

Nodding, I tried to drown out the voice of Dr. Ian Seo, a plastic surgeon attending of both Korean and American decent whose calm and relaxed voice frustrated me to no end. Every day he enjoyed a fresh, home-cooked lunch he'd had time to prepare…because, well, he was a plastic surgeon. He would take his time, walking through the hospital as if nothing was going on, sucking fat from women who barely had any to begin with, doing a few breast and butt lifts before calling it a day. Every time I saw him, I wondered why I too had not chosen the path of serenity that was plastics.

Because I would gouge out my eyes from boredom, that’s why.
I laughed at that, sitting upright, then rolled my eyes at him eating his banana-flavored yogurt, his black hair pulled into a small ponytail and his dark-eyed gaze on me. “Why are you still here, anyway? You're usually gone by five.”

“Aw, you noticed?”

“How can I not? That’s when my headaches stop.” I got up and headed to my locker.

“You are hurtful.”

“I know.” I smiled, pulling open the door. No longer paying attention to him, I was surprised to find a pair of navy and white Nike men’s tennis shoes waiting for me.

What in the hell?
The note on the laces read:

Dr. Davenport,

Here. Sorry for judging you.

You did well today.

You were kinda cool today.

I won’t be calling you Dr. Asshole again.

If the shoes don’t fit, sorry again, I guessed, receipt is in the box.

See you at home.

See you back at the apartment.

Bye,

Gwen.

She could not be serious.
Had she even thought this through before writing it? Oh dear god, why hadn’t she used a new piece of paper?

“What is so funny?” Dr. Seo said when I looked up.

“What?”

He pointed his spoon at me. “The smile on your face right now, it’s blinding me. What is so funny?”

“I’m not smiling, because nothing is funny—”

“I took a picture.” He held up his phone, the photo showing me in profile.

“You what!”

“And I just sent it to everyone in the hospital!” He clicked a button.

I was tempted to cause him bodily harm. “Are you twelve? What is wrong with you?”

“No one would believe me if I said you smiled.” He shrugged. “I had to prove it.”
What is this, junior high?

“I smile all the time, you ass,” I muttered, grabbing the shoes and undoing the laces.

He snorted, licking the lid to his second yogurt. “That thing you do with your face to patients does not count as a smile.”

“You are an—” I stopped when I slipped my feet in, and sure enough, the shoes fit perfectly. My feet relaxed into the soft foam.
How in the hell did she know my shoe size?

Click.
Glancing up, I saw that the asshole had taken another photo of me.

“You were doing it again! Now you’ve got to tell me.”

Putting on the other shoe, I got up and grabbed his stupid phone from his grimy little fingers, walked over to the bin, and dropped it inside.

“Hey! I just got that!”

“Not my problem,” I replied, turning to leave, but stopping when he came over to the trash. “Take any more photos of me, and I will tell the chairwoman what you did in the fourth floor lab.”

“That’s your big threat? You'll tell Mommy?”

I pulled out my phone and began to dial.

He sighed. “Fine.”

“Goodnight, Ian.”

Leaving the lounge, I tried my best not to make eye contact with any of the staff who I could tell had gotten his bloody photo. They giggled, and it made me want to go over there and grab all of them.

Making it to the front entrance, I stopped when I saw her, still in her dark ripped jeans, yellow v-neck shirt, combat boots, and hat. She leaned against the wall under the hospital sign, bopping her head to whatever she was listening to as she drew.

She’s busy. But, I should thank her for the shoes.
Without realizing it, I had already walked to her. She was so into her own little world, she didn’t notice me until I dropped down in front of her and waved.

“Jesus Christ of Nazareth, you scared me.” She jumped, hugging her drawing to her chest. I couldn’t deny my eyes were glued to her breasts for a half a second as she pulled out her earphones.

“I scared you?” I replied, sitting next to her.

“All day, no one has seen me.” She laughed, closing her book.

“What are you, a ghost? What do you mean no one saw you?” She was kind of hard to miss.

She shrugged. “You doctor
folk
are focused. I spent most of my time floating, looking for ideas for your mother’s mural.”

“It’s not my mother’s mural, so don’t go painting a giant portrait of her just because she is paying you.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry, I’ve come up with some pretty good ideas. It came a lot faster than I thought it would.”

“Let me see?” I reached for her book.

She hugged it again.

“What?”

“No one is going to see it until it’s finished. I have a process.”

“Jeez, you artists are so emotional.” I backed away.

She kicked her foot against mine.

“Watch it, I just got these.”

“Hey.” She leaned up off the wall, grinning. “You’re wearing them! They fit?”

“I wouldn’t be wearing them if they didn’t fit. How in the world did you know my size, anyway?”

“I was pretty much a tomboy growing up—”

“Shocker.”

She glared at me. “I’m sure you were a charmer as a teenager.”

“Of course. Just look at me.”

“I am—”

“
Anyway,
you were a tomboy?” I pressed on, before she forgot what she had originally been saying.

“Oh yeah. I spent most of my time with this group of boys from my neighborhood. We all basically grew up together, and we were always barefoot in the rivers. I can kind of guess a guy's shoe size when I compare it to theirs in my head.”

In the rivers?
“Where are you from?”

“Cypress, Alaska, home of the best wild salmon in the country.” She raised her head up and nodded.

“Wow.” I couldn’t stop laughing. “Is that really a place? Cypress? Alaska? You?”

“It is a real place, and it’s more beautiful than a city boy like you can handle.” She pouted.

“It is the home of
the
best wild salmon in the country…I’m sure I could handle it just fine,” I repeated back with a smile.

She got up. “You are such a—”

I cut her off, standing up. “Thank you for the shoes. You didn’t have to say sorry for anything, though your note was funny.”

“Urgh. I ran out of paper, and I didn’t want to bug the nurses any more than I already was to put it in your locker,” she muttered.

“So, that’s how—” I paused when I saw her come through the glass hospital doors. Her blonde hair was done and she wore a straight skirt and light pink blouse. Since her shift was opposite mine, she was most likely arriving to start hers. I had waited around too long.

“What are you looking at?” Guinevere tried to turn around.

I grabbed her sides, holding her in front of me.

“What are you doing?”

“Do you have all of your stuff?”

“Yes, why—”

Taking her by the hand, I kept my head down, trying to make it out the doors before Hannah faced us.

I almost made it, too.

“She’s—” Guinevere stopped.

Damn it
.

“Guinevere,” I said to her, hoping Hannah would just keep walking, but luck was never on my side.

She whipped her hair to the side as she faced us.

“Let’s go,” Guinevere replied, allowing me to take her outside again. We didn’t stop until we could only see the distant light of the hospital disappearing behind us as we entered the park. Neither of us said anything, and it took me a second to realize I was still holding her hand. I dropped it.

“Do you feel sixteen?” she whispered, looking up at the sky.

I thought about her question for a second. “Running probably was the least mature thing we could have done.”

“Screw being mature, it’s a pain in the ass anyway,” she muttered. “I forgot that was her hospital, too. You told me, I know, but I forgot. What if I see her?”

“Throw paint on her,” I joked.

She giggled. “That would probably make her feel better…she would think we're even or something. I guess it would be best to do what you’ve been doing—”

“Avoiding? Running? No, I’m tired of doing that.” I really was, but what I found odder was the fact that I was more worried about her making a scene than anything else. It would just be messy for my mother and the hospital.

As we walked silently, I felt like there was something between us. For the first time, I really thought of her as a friend.

“What is it now?” She moved in front of my face.

“What?”

“You have this weird look on your face.”

“Move. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Chapter Nine

A Cry For Help

Eli

Looking to my phone, I stared at the background, her painting of a small boy just standing in the rain, an umbrella broken at his feet.

What is she doing right now?

After thinking for a second, I texted her.

‘Con artist.’

‘I thought we were being civil!’

I grinned.
‘Sorry, force of habit.’

‘Yea sure, Dr. Asshole.’ … ‘Sorry, force of habit.’