“You know what today is?” Elizabeth asks with a smile.
“Your birthday?” I ask, even though I know it’s not, because her date of birth is written right here in the chart, and it’s only a week away from mine. That makes her two years and one week younger than I am. But who’s counting?
“No. Two weeks, Kyle. Today marks the two week point from having the baby. I’m thirty-five weeks today.”
I flip through the chart. “So you are. That’s good, you know. Even if the baby came today it would have an excellent chance of being perfectly healthy.”
She nods. “I know. I read that in my book. But I’d just as soon have it stay where it is for the next few weeks. I can’t take any chances with his or her health.” She looks at me wearily. “That’s okay, isn’t it? Do you think the hospital wants me to have it early so they don’t have to pay more for my stay?”
“That’s ridiculous. Everyone here wants you to get as close to term as possible. Don’t worry about any of that other stuff. You haven’t mentioned your pro bono status to Dr. Redman, have you?”
She shakes her head and furrows her eyebrows. “I just assumed everyone knew, like it was in my chart or something.”
“No. Your chart has no billing information in it.”
“You mean to tell me you went over your boss’s head to get me in?” she asks playfully.
“I didn’t need her approval either way, I just submitted it to the committee. But best not mention it to her, you know how she can be.”
“It makes sense now that I think about it,” she says. “Everyone up here treats me like a paying customer, not some moocher off the streets like that nurse did my first time in the ER.”
“Everyone deserves to be treated the same, Elizabeth, regardless of their financial status or ability to pay.”
“Sadly, not everyone shares your philosophy, Kyle.”
“Well, then everyone can take their misplaced righteousness and shove it up their tight narcissistic asses.”
She giggles. “Why, Dr. Stone, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you speak so harshly.”
“Sorry, it just makes me angry. In my book, everyone is just one unfortunate circumstance—”
“—away from being in someone else’s shoes,” she finishes my sentence.
I cock my head to the side and study her.
She laughs. “Mallory pretty much told me that’s your motto.”
“Did she now?”
“She came for another visit last night. So did your friend, Piper Mitchell.”
“Busy day, was it?”
“Yes, but Nurse Ratched didn’t let either of them take me for a walk because I was bleeding the day before yesterday. But I haven’t so much as spotted in over twenty-four hours. Can you get me out of here for a while? Please?”
I page through her chart, looking at the notes that cover the last thirty-six hours when I wasn’t on duty.
“It says here you experienced bright-red blood over the period of about six hours. They did a blood draw. Results look normal. Ultrasound was good. And you say no bleeding since?”
“Nope, none.” She looks proud, like it’s an accomplishment she had control over. “Please, Kyle. I’m going stir crazy. There is only so much baseball I can watch. A lot of the games aren’t even televised, I just have to wait for highlights. And I’ve read five books since Baylor came to visit. That’s five books in less than four days, Kyle. I need fresh air. I need to smell lavender. I need to eat Jell-O. Please?”
So many things are running through my head right now. Things like how I should get a nurse to escort her to the courtyard. Things like how I should turn around and walk out of this room. Things like how I can remember every detail of her face when we walked into the gardens last week and she smelled those purple flowers. Things like how her piercing blue eyes are begging me to take her.
And I know that, despite all the reasons I shouldn’t, I’ll say yes anyway.
I put down her chart. “Don’t go anywhere, I’ll find you a wheelchair.”
She claps her hands like an excited school girl. “Oh, thank you!”
When I return a few minutes later with a wheelchair, I see she’s removed the strap from the fetal monitor, turned the machine off, and put on her robe. I admonish her with my stare.
“What?” she says. “Abby taught me how to work the monitor. It was always slipping off me. It’s just easier if I know how to do it myself.”
“And the robe?”
She rolls her eyes at me. “It was two feet away on the chair, Kyle. Geesh, and I thought Nurse Ratched was bad.”
“Exactly who is Nurse Ratched?” I ask. “I know it’s not Abby, since she taught you how to work the monitor and all.”
“Her name is Rachel, but she’s a slave driver. She was here filling in for the night-shift nurse.”
I get her situated in the wheelchair and walk her out to the elevator. Abby and another nurse follow us with their eyes. Elizabeth seems to notice as well.
“What’s their problem?” she asks.
“Don’t mind them. They just think we’re having a torrid affair.”
She guffaws. “They what?”
I laugh. “Haven’t you learned by now that nurses gossip about everything? Patients. Doctors. Other nurses. They work long twelve-hour shifts. I suppose it keeps things interesting or something.”
She joins my laughter. “I guess my room is too far away from things to hear the good stuff. Darn.”
On our ride down to the main floor, the elevator stops and the doors open. Cameron walks in. He looks down at Elizabeth and then up at me. His face cracks into a huge smile that only I can see. We ride in silence to the ground floor, then we all get off.
“See you later, porn star,” Cameron says as he walks away.
“Porn star?” Elizabeth questions me. Then her jaw drops. “Kyle,” she says, before clearing her throat. “Did you pay your way through medical school making adult movies?”
I look around to see if anyone heard her ask. Then I lean down and explain, “I have the unfortunate honor of sharing my name with a famous adult film actor.”
She covers her mouth and belts out a laugh. “Oh, no. That is unfortunate.”
“You have no idea,” I say. “Growing up with two older brothers, I never heard the end of it.”
“Your parents didn’t realize what they’d done, obviously.”
I shake my head. “That was over twenty-seven years ago. People didn’t do internet searches to pick the name of their kid back then. It wasn’t until I was in middle school when some idiot friend of my brother mentioned it to him. My brother researched it for accuracy and then proceeded to wallpaper my bedroom with photos of the guy.”
“As in naked photos?” she asks.
“Not just naked photos. Action photos,” I say. “I was barely twelve. I didn’t even know what the hell was going on in most of the pictures. He practically scarred me for life.”
She laughs again. “Which brother, Chad or Ethan?”
I’m impressed she remembers both of their names. “Ethan.”
“It sounds like you had a lot of fun growing up,” she says. Then she looks down the hall and beckons me down to her level where she whispers, “Isn’t that Billy Hainey?”
I look in the direction of her gaze. “So, it’s not just baseball you like. You’re a hockey buff, too?”
“Is that him?”
“Looks like him,” I say. “It’s not unusual to see famous athletes around the hospital. They do a lot of goodwill work.”
“That’s nice of them. I’ll bet the kids love it, and maybe even some of the adults,” she says, as I wheel her past the cafeteria. “Hey, aren’t you forgetting something?”
“Right. Jell-O.” I back up and push her into the cafeteria, parking her to the side while I gather up our supplies.
“More research?” the cashier asks with a smirk.
I laugh and nod.
Out in the courtyard, we resume the same spot we had last week. And just like last week, she takes in a huge breath through her nose, savoring the aroma of what must be her favorite flower.
I sit on the bench and take the Jell-O cups from her, making a pile next to me. “Whose turn is it?” I ask, as if I don’t know. As if the memory of every minute I spend with her isn’t chronicled in my head.
“Mine,” she says. “I’ve had a lot of time to sit around and think about it, you know.”
“Fire away,” I say.
“Okay. Never have I ever been arrested.”
I chuckle. “Good one, but not good enough.” I leave the cups sealed and untouched. “Although I did have a few near-misses back in high school. One time, a bunch of guys and I got drunk out on a golf course. The night watchman chased us all over the back nine before he pooped out. Damn, I haven’t thought about that in a while. Good times.”
“Now you go,” she says.
I don’t miss the fact that she doesn’t ask me any questions about what I just said. Questions like where was the golf course or what high school did you attend. She doesn’t ask me questions like that because she knows I’d quid pro quo.
I try to think of a question that won’t stir up bad memories. “Never have I ever kissed someone of the same sex on the lips.”
Her face pinks up and her eyes close briefly as she grins and shakes her head back and forth. “Give me the orange one, please,” she says, holding out her hand.
My jaw drops.
She rolls her eyes. “Tenth grade. Her name was Jewel. Let’s just leave it at that.”
I open the orange Jell-O and hand it to her along with a spoon.
“I’m a guy, Elizabeth. I can’t just leave it at that.”
She laughs right before taking her bite. “Eww,” she says, making a face. “Definitely not my favorite.”
“Did this kiss involve Jell-O?” I ask. “Or perhaps melted chocolate?”
“Oh, my God, Kyle. No. It was a dare. But I got the idea she liked it way more than I did. She stalked me for weeks after. It was humiliating. Rumors started. Apparently, I was the only one in tenth grade who didn’t know she liked girls.”
“Was she blonde or brunette?”
“What?” she asks, scrunching her nose. “What does that matter?”
“I have a thing for brunettes,” I say. “Was she blonde or brunette?”
“Oh, I’m . . . I mean, uh . . . she was brunette.”
I can’t help my smile. She was about to tell me she’s a brunette.
“My turn again,” she says. “Never have I ever stolen anything.”
“Doesn’t that kind of go along with being arrested?” I ask.
“No, not necessarily,” she says.
“You’re right, it doesn’t.” I pick up a spoon and take a bite of the orange goo.
She’s raising her eyebrows at me, waiting for an explanation.
“I was fifteen. We had recently moved to L.A. and I was going through a rebellious phase. We were in the mall and I swiped a pair of sunglasses. Funny story, it’s actually how my brother, Chad, got discovered as an actor.”
She looks vaguely embarrassed. “I know, Mallory told me.”
“Told you my brother was an actor, or told you I stole something?”
“Both. I just wanted to see if you were an honest thief,” she says. She nods to the two remaining cups. “You only have one left to try and I have two.”
“Better choose our questions wisely then,” I say with a smirk.
“Do your worst,” she says.
“Never have I ever cheated on a test,” I say.
She shakes her head. “Nope, sorry, me neither. Um, never have I ever played strip poker.”
I don’t touch the Jell-O cups. “Sorry, but no. Never have I ever gotten a tattoo,” I say.
She looks down at the ground and huffs out an unhappy sigh. Then she holds out her hand. “Let me try the lime-green one.”
“Wait,” I say, holding it back from her. “That’s not how this game works.”
She looks apprehensive and she nervously twists the thick bracelet around her wrist. “I’d show you,” she says. “But then I’d have to kill you.”
“Oh, it’s one of those, is it?” I say, handing her the cup as I wonder just where she has a tattoo. Her inner thigh, maybe. Or perhaps low on her back near the globes of her ass. I find myself shifting around in my seat thinking about it.
Maybe I’ll get to see it if I assist on her surgery. Surely Dr. Redman will let me do that after looking out for her all this time.
“This is it,” she says, giving me back the container. “Only one last flavor for us to try.”
“You’re up,” I say. “Make it a good one.”
She looks around the courtyard in thought. I follow her eyes. She stares at an older couple strolling hand-in-hand, the woman in a hospital gown. The man stops their progress and kisses the woman chastely on the lips. Then he takes her hand again and brings it to his mouth, kissing it as well before they continue their stroll.
Elizabeth brings her pinky finger to her mouth and starts chewing on the nail. She looks almost scared when her eyes come back to meet mine.
“Never have I ever wanted something I can’t have,” she says, her words hooking me somewhere in my chest.
We share a long look. Not just any look. A deep, powerful, all-encumbering look.
Volumes are spoken between us in these few seconds. Her eyes are more expressive in this moment than I’ve ever seen them. She’s trying to tell me something without actually telling me something. And ethics be damned, I’m all too willing to let her.
She’s not looking at me like I’m her doctor. She’s not even looking at me like I’m her friend. She’s looking at me like the old man was looking at his wife. With sincerity. With reverence. With passion.
“Elizabeth,” I whisper.
I don’t even break our stare when my hand fishes around for the remaining container on the bench. I open it, surely spilling some as I blindly stick my spoon in for a bite. Without any words, I bring the spoon up to my mouth and eat the brightly-colored blue Jell-O. Then I nod my head at her. I nod my head in answer to the silent questions in her eyes. The questions she doesn’t have to ask because I’ve already answered them all with my stare.
“On second thought,” she says, finally breaking eye contact. She grabs the container from me and silently finishes every last bite.