Delicate Hearts | a Collection of Short Stories

Down that Lonely Road

I spend almost 80 hours a week within the four corners of McClaren Medical Center. Being a Chief Resident, its what I do that keeps me alive. Dr. Jennings, a Neuro Surgeon, the Chief of Surgery, and my uncle, is forcing me to move on to Fellowship anytime within this year - he insists, that I have to.  But, I haven't made up my mind about which specialization to choose. 

Most of the days, I grace the halls of the Emergency room with my presence. I work closely with Dr. Hitch, the Trauma Surgeon. He's been encouraging me to pursue Orthopedic Medicine, and if not, General maybe. But like I said, I'm not sure yet. 

Most of my colleagues, interns, residents, even nurses, calls me Elsa. Don't get me wrong, its not my name. They gave that nickname to me probably because they think I'm cold as ice. I don't show any emotion, well except for, mostly sarcasm; and I tend to avoid showing empathy and sympathy towards my patients. Because if I don't, I'll get emotionally attached, and its difficult to move on from that, especially being emotionally vulnerable. It's not that I don't care, I just don't show it. Because if I did, I won't be the doctor I am today. 

Baltimore, Maryland ranks the first as the city with the most automobile accidents, and McClaren Medical Center, sits right in the heart of it. On a daily, we get at least eight cases; and on winters, we get a throbbing twenty. 

But every year, we get at least one miracle. Its that one specific day when the emergency room is not filled with constant hustle and bustle of people. That one day in a year when I enjoy coffee most. I remember walking the halls on the way to the emergency room, the scent of fresh cleaning agents, and spirits used for sterilization lingered at the tip of my nostrils. But what pierced me the most, is the scent of freshly brewed coffee that I glanced sitting at the counter. The nurse handed me one. I asked who brought it, and they pointed at a guy. When I approached the counter, he had just left. I looked at the back of his head, the way he walked, and hoped he'd turn around. 

At first I found it weird, because for several days after that day, coffee kept coming. For two weeks straight, we get free coffee in the morning. I asked who the guy was, and why does he keep giving us coffee, and no one knows. Until I anticipated him one day during my rest day. 

He is pale-skinned, with silky raven hair, his lips were tinted light pink. I watched him walk in and out of the emergency room. 

"Who are you?", I asked. 

"I'm Jaime?", he has a husky voice, yet gentle and sweet. 

"Why do you keep giving us coffee?", 

"Not just you, I give everyone coffee", 

"But why?",

"Why not?", he frowned. 

"You're weird you know?", 

"You too", he argued. 

"And how am I weird?", 

"Isn't it your off day? Why are you here?", 

"Well..", 

He raised a brow and smirked. 

"Its none of your business", I added. 

That little conversation we had pivoted when he invited me for lunch. We got to know each other; I have learned that his parents are a shareholder in the hospital, and he visits, brings coffee to nurses and doctors. We became friends, and for the first time in my life since I entered this hospital, I could smile. My colleagues would often tease me that I have been tamed. I don't take it personally, because I know its not that simple, it won't be that simple. 

"I think we should stop seeing each other here", I meant, hospital. 

"Why? This is where you work; you spend 80 hours a week here. Where else do you want to go, and how?",