Playlist for the Apocalypse

Chapter 16: People Are Strange

EVELYN

When Evelyn first met Adam, he'd been introduced as "distal radius fracture, male, 32," and Dr. Melnyk had introduced her to him as "the scholarship student." 

In the early days of the Blackout, her mentor habitually introduced her like that; he was better with actions than with words and probably thought it was a sufficient explanation for patients as to why a sixteen-year-old in scrubs would be standing in the room trying to take their blood pressure. Unlike the others who'd demanded to see a more experienced medic, Adam didn't bat an eye when Dr. Melnyk assigned her to splint his injury. It's what she first appreciated about Adam. While she never blamed the other patients for feeling worried when they saw how young she was, it still stung. She understood that when people were scared, they wanted assurance and comfort and that no one was more afraid than when they were in pain. Maybe it was the fact that Adam trusted her abilities or at the very least didn't question them that first earned him her respect. 

"Are you curious who Iris is?" He'd asked her as she bandaged his swollen wrist, covering the name inked in swirling, cursive. 

She had felt her cheeks flame when he'd noticed her admiring the art, but Adam seemed completely at ease and maybe even a bit amused.

"That's my daughter," he'd said with a proud smile.

"It's a beautiful name." Evelyn replied, "Like the flower?"

"I got them for my wife on our first date, when I didn't even know they were her favourite. I didn't know anything about flowers, but they were pretty and purple and reminded me of her."

Evelyn returned his smile, "That's sweet. How old is your daughter?"

Adam's smile turned sad, "She'll be three next month."

At that moment, Evelyn had mistaken his expression for the wistfulness of a parent watching their child grow up too fast and absently said "I haven't seen her around the bunker. Does she stay in the lower levels?"

He shook his head, his green eyes were as fragile as glass, and suddenly the heartbreaking truth dawned upon her that his expression told a different story entirely.

"No, she and my wife– we didn't live on the mountain..."

"I'm so sorry," Evelyn said and even though the words felt insufficient for the situation, she poured her heart into them. "My family wasn't living up here either. It's just me."

She felt the gravity in the way he looked at her then, like an x-ray that saw right through the pale, pastel fabric of her scrubs and into the aching, gaping hole in her chest where her heart used to be.

"We might not know where they are, but that doesn't mean they are gone." He'd said in that soft, gentle voice of his.

An unspoken understanding had passed between them then, the kind only two broken people can feel when they share a moment of vulnerability and find a fleeting sense of belonging. In that single look, he instilled her with strength, courage, and the faint glimmer of hope that someday, somehow, they would mend the broken pieces of their souls. In that moment, bathed in the gentle glow of understanding, for the first time in months, they both felt a little less alone.

"How did this happen?" She asked gesturing to his injured wrist and switching to a less painful subject.

"I landed on it during a supply run."

"Soulless?"

He nodded, "We were retrieving supplies from a locked house. Ended up having to bail out the second-story window, not my finest moment."