The Pearl Inside of Anything

August 17, 1:30 p.m., admissions desk, Good Samaritan Hospital

"Who?" says the girl behind the desk. She has her hair in two long blonde ponytails, and I'm hit with a flash of long hair envy and short hair doubt. Again.

"Ben Taylor? He works here." I try to sound cool, but my heart is beating so loudly I'm afraid she'll check me in for an EKG. This is my second trip to Good Samaritan in two days. Yesterday I just stood outside the glass panel doors and looked to see if Ben was inside. I waited almost an hour, but he never showed.

"Sorry, never met him. We're not supposed to give out information on staff."

"He's not staff, he's a volunteer."

"Oh, whatever," the girl shrugs.

"Um, could you tell me if Dr. Taylor, any Dr. Taylor, is on today?"

"Same rule," says the girl. She's starting to sound a bit chippy. "Is there something you need a doctor for?"

Can I say heartsickness? Is that a thing?

She leans to the side to see if there's anyone else with something easier to deal with, like maybe an urgent case of appendicitis that could bump me out of the way. Since there's nobody, I don't move. That's when I notice the "Translation Services Available" sign is down. What if I'm living in some alternate universe and there is no Ben? No Doctors Taylor. No Nurse Andrea in blue scrubs with pink kitties on them, writing notes on a clipboard and coming right my way...

"Nurse Andrea!"

Nurse Andrea looks up at me.

"May I help you?" she asks. Of course she doesn't remember me.

"I was here before. I'm Wendy Riley, a friend of Ben Taylor's. I just wondered if he was here."

Nurse Andrea pauses. "A friend of Ben's?"

"I told her we can't give out information on staff," snorts the candystriper, crossing her arms.

"Yes, thank you Mandy, you're doing very well," Nurse Andrea says to her kindly. Mandy beams and settles back in her chair. I mumble a "thanks, anyway" and turn towards the exit.

"Now I could use a breath of fresh air." Nurse Andrea says loudly, catching up to me as the sliding doors open. "You're Wendy? Is that right?"

I nod and we step outside together. "Ben and I go to school together. I was here last week with my little brother—he had Pink Eye. You were busy helping a little boy named Roberto."

At this Nurse Andrea's face lights up. "Oh, Berto! But I have to say, and don't mind this, I see hundreds of new faces every day, but I'm afraid I don't remember you. And with your hair. I think I would remember!"

"I... um, had a bit of a makeover?"

"Well! That must be it. Now Mandy is right, we can't offer information about our people. Ben isn't here though, I think that's alright to say."

"Oh," my heart sinks and I can't hide my disappointment. I'll probably never see him again. This is the end of everything, even The Campaign, and I feel even sorrier thinking that. He'll probably be doing Grade 11 by correspondence after a long day of setting up a health clinic in Dar Es Salaam, or at a penguin rehab station in the South Pole.

Nurse Andrea studies her clipboard. Flips a page and runs her finger down to a point she taps with her finger.

"Looks like the Taylors are on vacation," she says, not lifting her eyes from her clipboard. "Oh, did I say that out loud?" She looks up at me, slaps her hand on her forehead. "Don't tell Mandy! She's all about the rules, that girl." Nurse Andrea turns around and the glass doors open sesame for her.

"Don't worry," she calls over her shoulder. "He'll be back."

Don't worry?

I know, I know. It isn't pretty, and it doesn't help.

August 18th, 8:45 p.m., the Sigurdsen front lawn

"Walkies!"

Benny and Bjorn come racing around the house. "Don't jump up! No jumping!" I scold, snapping their leashes on them. They ignore me, like they have every night for the past week. Patrick and I are on the neighborhood nightshift of dogwalkers now, since the Sigurdsens are away until September. They said they were going to Hawaii, but who goes there in the summer? They have probably run away to the nearest Motel 6 just to get a break from their wacky dogs.

I confess though, Benny and Bjorn have grown on me. In a Dirt and Bran kind of way. They are just so crazy happy to see us every night. Especially Patrick. "Yee haw!" he hollers, waving the cowboy hat I brought him back from Dallas in the air as the dogs tow him away from me and down the block.

"Wendy?"

I turn, and standing there under the lamppost is Ben. He looks at me uncertainly and I am suddenly painfully aware that I am wearing one of Dad's old shirts and a tattered pair of painter pants, streaked with dirty paw marks. Not lovely.

I run my hand nervously up the back of my hair. What's left of it anyway.

"How was Texas?" Ben calls across the space between us. He doesn't move, but he is studying me closely.

"Oh... air conditioned." I take a deep breath and walk towards him. "How was your vacation?"

"Okay. Read a lot."

I stop. I am close enough to touch him if I reach out, but I don't. "Anything good?"

"One thing was."

"Really?"

"Your note."

"Oh, Ben ..." I falter. I practiced so many times waiting outside the hospital what I would say, about how how sorry I was not to have met him at the beach that day, how I was never any help to him in Study Hall, how I did like him, I do like him...

"It's okay that you weren't there," he doesn't look at me. "I figured something came up." He stuffs his hands in his pockets and shifts his stance towards me, just a little.

Before I can answer, I hear the mad scratching of claws on the sidewalk.

"Guys! Hey guys, wait UP!" cries Patrick.

Too late, Benny and Bjorn run right at us. They wind their leashes around our legs and pant joyfully at our feet. I fall against Ben's chest and look up at him. He wraps his arms around me.

"Steady there, Borwyn" he says gently.

The space between us is gone and when he kisses me his face feels soft and warm and wonderful next to mine.

"I like your hair," he whispers in my ear and I can hear him smile. "Now I can see your eyes."

And then I do what any intelligent person would do in a situation like this. I kiss him back. With all my heart. And in that moment, I am one-hundred-percent sure of three things:

how Ben is a Kind One,

how lucky I am...

...and how it turns out I'm a dog person after all.

The End

Victoria Miles was a teenage hair model back when there was no such thing as "too big" hair. She lives in North Vancouver, Canada with her family which includes a senior cocker spaniel who seems to be getting younger every day. The Pearl Inside of Anything... is Victoria's eleventh book and first foray into online, serialized fiction.

Until recently, her hair was still pretty big...but that's another story.