The first week back to work and my second year started as chaotic as anything ever could be. New rules, new people and also now we were supposed to have interns under us. It was awful. The whole week went by rushing and rushing and rushing. I had worked 100 hours out of 168 hours and the remaining 68 hours went into reaching home and sleeping. I couldn’t remember the last good meal I had had. My home looked like a hotel room, untouched and unlived and my answering machine was full of vile messages from Emma, my best friend who lived states apart as a reporter for a news channel. So obviously when Sunday came, I had plans. To sleep till I couldn’t anymore and eat. Which is what I was trying to do when I got a text from Sadie, my colleague at the hospital, to “show up at the bar at 6 or I’ll have your name suggested for all the bowel operations”. Obviously she did not have the power to do this but well, who was I to take chances when the threat was so disgusting?
So here I was, at the bar habituated by the people who had a life and who did not see dying people or the insides of humans on a daily basis. The place boasted of the usual crowd. People getting drunk, dancing, with strangers falling on each other, intentionally or otherwise, screaming, shouting, blaring music. Ironically if I closed my eyes I could easily picture myself in a hospital during a mass accident. No, no, no don’t think about that place, now. Atleast not now.
Sadie spotted me, which should be celebrated what with all the crowd and dancing lights, and took me to a corner of the bar which was relatively calmer but not quite enough. She went to get us drinks, which should again be applauded because of the wild crowd (mostly with ladies showing their boobs quite eagerly) screaming their orders. He would have really liked being a bartender instead of a lawyer, I laughed. Hell, here we go again. My brain couldn’t just not think about him. But it was true. This was his kinda place; girls either too drunk or too sad or too wild. Opportunities for sex with no commitments; check. As soon as this thought dawned on me I strained my neck in an attempt to spot the wavy hair and the mediocre stature of our womaniser. But no luck there, obviously. Just then, Sadie came back with a tray full of different coloured drinks and an evil smile. She placed everything down and with a wave of hands, motioned me to start on the drinking. I laughed. This was getting crazier than I had anticipated. She took a blue one and I, a brown and we gulped it down at one go. Oddly, that’s the last thing I remember doing.
I woke up. Or maybe I was reborn. I was floating. And everything was wet. And painful. And too bright. I turned over and closed my eyes.
I woke up and sat. and then I cursed loudly. I was in my bathtub. Which was not as disturbing as the fact that I had slept in my bathtub. I was soaking and there was a constant throb in my head. i got out and started getting ready for work.
As soon as I reached the hospital, I got hold of Sadie.
“Hello sunshine.” She said with a smirk.
“What happened last night?” I whispered angrily.
“Heck if I know. I woke up on someone’s bed. Although a good and athletic someone, judging by his butt.” She said, gazing far across.
“God Sadie, you’re so fucking dead. I swear.” I said and went off.
To add to the pain of my head, today seemed to be endless. I had assisted three surgeries back to back and my interns were being the crazy snobs they could be. As the day finally ended, I thanked god. On my way back to home, I noticed his car and him, looking as heart stopping, soul bubbling as ever in a red jacket. I couldn’t keep my eyes off him and thankfully he didn’t notice me.
I reached home and stuffing a couple of cookies in my mouth went straight to my bed without bothering to change. I slept as soon as I lay down.
There was a distant noise. A periodic rapping. And it became louder as I began waking up. Someone was at the door. And someone was definitely not someone usual because he was not ringing the bell. I fetched a baseball bat we used when we were kids and went down to open the door. The thumping had turned to banging. And my heart started beating to the rhythm of the sounds. I placed the bat besides the door and peeped through the keyhole. He was standing there, sans the jacket. What could it be this late? I took a breath and opened the door.
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YOU ARE READING
An Unfinished Business
Roman d'amour"I was screwed. I knew this even before I could know what screwed meant. I loved blood more than dolls, biology more than fashion, medical drama more than chickflicks and 'Newman's book of biological facts' more than boys. For all I know, if you'r...