“You’re just going to have to keep him in your prayers,” she said. “God will watch over him if you ask.”
Evan didn’t like the idea of the baby being out of his sight, but he knew he had no choice. Looking down at the child again, he wrenched his finger from the tiny grip and placed his cheek next to the baby’s forehead. “You listen here, little one,” Evan commanded, trying to imitate the fatherly tone he had seen on television, “I’m going to talk to God for you every day and He’s going to keep you out of trouble, you hear? But don’t forget, if you ever need anything, your big brother Evan will be there for you, okay?”
The nurse was touched at the sight of the two children bonding. She said a prayer that precious Evan would find a family of his own. But for now, it was time to hand the baby over to his adoptive parents. She bent at the waist and wrapped her arms around the bundle. Evan reluctantly released the child and remained in the rocking chair. He drew his knees up to his chin and rocked ferociously as the nurse left the nursery. Evan watched through the glass window as she placed the blue bundle into the arms of a homely lady. She wasn’t pretty like the baby’s real mother, but he could tell she was thrilled with the child, and he knew she’d be good to the baby. The father looked like the man all of the orphans dreamed of calling dad, but something about his eyes bothered Evan. He was unsettled as the couple turned from the window.
Dashing for the nursery door, Evan ran directly into the nurse who caught him by the shoulders. “Let me go!” he cried, beating his fists against her thighs. He needed to get the baby back so he could watch over him in person. But the nurse misunderstood his tantrum. She thought he was upset by the baby’s departure, and she held him tightly against her midsection until he knew it was too late. The baby was gone. That was the night Evan became a praying man. He was reluctant at first, but he knew it was the only recourse he had to fulfill his promise to protect the baby.
Evan went about his life, moving from foster home to foster home until he had exhausted most of the options and was returned once again to the orphanage. Some of the homes were noisy with kids of all ages, packed to the brim with crying, snot nosed girls and mean, dirty boys. Other homes were almost too quiet, with expensive china behind glass doors and not a speck of dust to be found. None of them were permanent. Even the best of the foster families didn’t want to adopt Evan, and he steeled against that reality by convincing himself that he didn’t want to make any of those homes permanent.
As he moved into his teenage years, it became apparent that Evan was not going to be adopted. He was one of those unfortunate children who had never been chosen for whatever reason. Finally, he landed in another foster home, this time with an older woman. It was no better or worse than any of the others. It was quiet, but there was plenty of dust, and at least there were no other kids to steal what little Evan had. The old woman didn’t seem to like him much, but she offered him a soft bed with clean sheets and plenty to eat. He knew that he was allowed to stay because she needed help around the house. He did everything she asked and stayed in her home longer than any other foster care he had endured. Though Evan knew he wasn’t completely happy with his life, he managed to get by day to day. The woman left him alone most of the time, and he was able to fervently dive into his daily prayers for the little boy he thought about constantly.
When Evan was emancipated at age sixteen, he dropped out of the school she had forced him to attend and moved as far away as possible. He had only one small backpack and took his chances hitchhiking.
Evan met a wide spectrum of people, visited a large number of places, and worked a series of odd jobs. He began his journey by making his way to New York. He was unsure what to do once he arrived, but it seemed like the right place to go. It took him nearly three weeks to get rides for the long distance, but when he saw the first road sign for the state he knew he had done the right thing. It only took him two weeks to realize his decision had been wrong. People hustled and bustled by him on the street as if he didn’t even exist. It was hard to find jobs, and Evan supported himself by collecting garbage in the prosperous neighborhoods surrounding the big city. The meager pay for his new profession barely put a small roof over his head. Though he had shelter, food was slim, and he began to find himself eyeing scraps of leftovers that fell from the garbage bins. Evan continuously prayed for the baby silently, but it never occurred to him to offer a prayer for himself as well, even when his stomach felt scraped clean from hunger.
Evan left New York without glancing back as he made his way south. He saved his garbage collecting wages, stiffed his landlord on the last week’s rent, and walked to the interstate where he thrust his thumb back into the air. Winter was on the way, and he didn’t want to be anywhere cold since he was unsure he could pay for heat.
Evan had almost decided to spend his life on the road with various truckers and travelers when he ran across a quaint little town on the edge of Florida that he was sure he could call home. The sun was warm, and the beach was smooth and white, and Evan never wanted to take his eyes from the ocean. Hunger and reality forced Evan to tear himself from the water to enter the real world. What he saw around him in the cute town was not what he had hoped. The people were rich and set in their ways. He received dirty glances and telltale scowls wherever he went. No one would hire him, and many would not even meet his gaze. When his trash collecting money ran out, Evan visited the ocean one last time, picked up a couple of colorful sea shells, and headed back to the highway to look for a ride. As he awaited a friendly passerby, he prayed for the baby who was no longer a baby. Evan would always think of him as a blue bundle, never a young child.
This time Evan didn’t stop until he reached Las Vegas. He had heard tales about the city, but he never imagined the lights would be brighter than described. Fascinated by the fancy buildings and colorful signs, Evan paced the streets which never seemed to slow no matter the time of day. His last ride had been kind enough to buy him a burger, and days later Evan became desperate for food. His prayers never ceased as he worried about the child he wanted to protect so badly. His thoughts only turned to his own plight when he noticed an open dumpster behind a five star restaurant. There was nearly an entire meal on the very top. It looks untouched, Evan rationalized as he moved to the trash pile and plated his hand firmly around the succulent chicken breast that lay amidst the rice and vegetables.
“Hey, you there!” a voice called angrily behind him just as Evan brought the chicken up to his lips. Dropping the meat back into the trash and turning abruptly, Evan faced a rather plump chef with another bag of trash in one hand and a head of lettuce in the other. “Yeah, you,” the chef called. “You’ve had a long enough break, get back to work!”
Evan was faint with hunger and had no idea what the man was talking about, but he obediently marched through the back door of the restaurant after the chef had thrown away the trash bag and bad lettuce. The chef thrust a pile of dirty dishes into Evan’s hands and shoved him toward a large tin sink. “You better make up for that long break and wash extra fast,” he demanded as he moved to the other side of the kitchen to fire up the grill again.
The afternoon was torturous as Evan smelled various foods being cooked across the room from him. He moved mechanically, washing one dish after another in a trance, hoping the chef would leave his post long enough for Evan to get a bite or two of the latest dish. But the chef never let up, and he never stopped yelling. First at one cook…then another…sometimes even at Evan. As the afternoon turned to evening, Evan was positive he could not wash another dish when the chef looked over his shoulder and said, “Good work, kid. That’s enough for today.” Evan turned, and the chef plunked a platter twice the size of a dinner plate into his hands.
Evan’s eyes roamed over the platter, taking in the fresh chicken breast, the vat of mashed potatoes and gravy, the steaming vegetables, and a huge dinner roll. Without waiting for utensils, Evan dug into the meal before him. He wanted to savor every bite, but he gulped th
e food down so quickly he didn’t even taste it. The chef wordlessly handed him a few small bills, “Come back tomorrow, first thing in the morning,” he ordered.
Evan became the fastest and most efficient dishwasher the restaurant had ever seen. He ravenously ate each meal the chef provided him as his day came to a close and tucked the small bills into his ragged pants. Just as Evan’s belly finally ceased being concave and began to have a healthy curve to it, the chef burst into the kitchen, lit with rage. He was yelling and waving his arms so fast, Evan couldn’t even understand him, so he ducked his head and washed faster. The restaurant manager appeared behind Evan and jerked him back by his tattered color. “You!” he exclaimed. “You are responsible for this?” Evan stared back at the slick-haired man, unable to answer a question he did not understand. “Get out!” the man shouted. “Get out of my restaurant, get out of my kitchen!” Evan scrambled for the door, taking the clean plate in his hand with him. He didn’t know that the chef had mixed up ingredients, nearly poisoning a customer with food allergies and had used Evan as a scapegoat. “I showed that dishwasher how to sanitize the utensils after they touched anything cooked in the peanut oil,” the chef had said. “I caught him doing it wrong once and he promised it would never happen again.” The chef sheepishly laid the blame on Evan without a second thought.
With no other job prospects, Evan placed his worn backpack over his shoulder and went back to what he knew best, the highway. When a truck pulled over to give him a ride, Evan wondered where he would end up this time. He pulled his thoughts from his own troubles and began his silent prayers for the little boy somewhere out there that he had promised to protect.
As Jay hitched his fourth ride in six hours, he began to tire of traveling. He wanted to settle somewhere. Life had been hard for two long years as he had no friends and no family anywhere in the world. He had lived on the streets or in the cars of travelers too often. The next place I land, I’ll stay, he vowed. “Where are you headed?” he asked his latest ride.
“Illinois,” the trucker replied in a grunt around the toothpick that protruded from his lips.
“Illinois it is then,” Evan said, more to himself than the trucker. The truck took him nearly to Chicago, and Evan was sure this place would be different than all of the others. It wasn’t as beautiful as Florida, but the people looked at him as he passed them on the street. It wasn’t as big as New York, but he found a new job easily at a rising fast food chain. A few grease burns later, Evan settled into his job and flipped the burgers with ease. He hoarded all of his cash, protecting his backpack from other wanderers, until finally, he could afford to put a roof over his head.
The apartment was shabby and smelled faintly of smoke, but it was the first place Evan felt he could truly call his own. He furnished it with crates from the fast food joint and eventually saved enough to buy a mattress which he placed directly on the bare floor. Evan tired quickly of eating fast food on every break at work and was thrilled when he had enough money to make a trip to the grocery store. He filled his basket with the essential milk, cereal, bread, and deli meat and then rushed back to his apartment to garner his dusty fridge with the items.
Once Evan’s life seemed to have somewhat stabilized, he realized work in the fast food industry was a dead end road. He had always excelled in school without difficulty and he knew far too well that anything he was going to get out of life was going to be because of his own efforts. He looked into getting a GED and began studying after work for an hour a day. This time would have been a small amount to anyone else, but it was plenty of time for Evan to glean all of the knowledge he needed to pass the test with flying colors.
With his first real accomplishment in hand, Evan worked every available shift and started to look into college. The GED had been easy enough, so Evan knew he should seek a higher education. It would give him options in life, and anything had to be better than smelling like grease day in and day out. After being accepted at the local community college, Evan was elated to be granted enough scholarships to cover all of his tuition fees. He would only have to pay for books.
He worked through his college courses much like he had the GED, studiously attending the sessions, studying minimally, and exceeding any expectation each teacher placed upon him. He certainly didn’t look like a star student with his gruff exterior and long unkempt hair, but he surprised them all by turning in one perfect paper and test after another.
As Evan graduated with highest honors, he wished there was someone to cheer his name as he walked across the stage at the ceremony. He had a few acquaintances from class, but no one he would really call a friend. He was too busy for friends. He had taken a full class load each semester so he wouldn’t waste any of the scholarship money. When he wasn’t in class, he was working to cover his shabby apartment and the books that he needed. He had kept up with his daily ritual of praying for the baby boy who had left his arms so long ago. Now he wondered where that child was and kept count on how old he would be. Evan’s greatest hope was for the baby to have an easier life than he had the past few years. Beaming at the crowd of strangers, Evan moved across the stage and wondered what was next. He had majored in biology because he found it the most interesting, but he didn’t know what kind of job a biology major generally pursued.
Tiring of life at the fast food restaurant, Evan dreamed of making stacks of money. He would have everything he always wanted, and he wouldn’t have to work such long hours, so he could make loads of friends as well. He had heard that doctors made good money, so after collecting his meager check for a huge amount of hours, Evan decided that he would become a doctor.
Evan didn’t realize when he made that decision how rough the road ahead would be. Despite his stellar grades, he had to claw his way into the medical program. He was persistent and eventually found a school that would accept him. Though the lessons still came easily to him, he was no longer at the top of his class. He had to work three jobs to support himself and his mounting bills, and that left very little time for extra studying. Luckily, Evan only had to run across the information once, and it was embedded in his brain, ready to be used at a later date.
The complicated language rolled from Evan’s tongue as if he had been born with medical knowledge. He impressed every teacher and fascinated the overseeing residents once he began his internship at the hospital attached to the medical school. The seasoned doctors knew Evan Rodriguez could be any kind of doctor he chose. Many of the doctors tried to push Evan into their own specialty so they could groom him to take care of their department in the event of their retirement. But Evan had a mind of his own. He listened politely and then moved closer to his goal.
At first Evan didn’t want to specialize in any medical field. He didn’t want to be limited to any one area. He knew he was good at the entire practice of medicine, and he loved the variety. Eventually, Evan was pigeon-holed into choosing one section, and he began to specialize in oncology. He thought, what better way to leave a legacy than to aid in curing the incurable? Evan knew his hands would cure patients of every kind, but he hoped his mind could cure a few that had been doomed by cancer as well.
When Evan received his degree seven long years later, he couldn’t believe how far he’d come from a small orphanage to the streets and now all the way through medical school. He accepted a position at Memorial hospital where he had trained. There were no openings in the oncology department, so Evan would consult with the oncologists while he practiced general medicine. He could have moved anywhere in the country and found a prime position as an oncologist, but he remembered the promise he made to himself to settle where his last ride dropped him, and that meant staying where he was. His life was really beginning to take form. He gave himself a crooked haircut to present a more professional image. He was no longer “Evan.” People would call him Dr. Rodriguez now. He had never felt connected to the Rodriguez name which was given to him by the orphanage. Finally, however, he felt proud to hear it spoken when Doctor was plac
ed in front of it. When people called his name now, it would be because he was truly needed, respected, and in charge.
* * * *
As Evan’s pager blared at his waist, he realized he had not made his escape from the hospital quickly enough. They must have known he was still in the building or they would have paged the doctor on call. Excusing himself, he shook hands with Jay and rubbed his weary eyes as he rushed to the latest emergency, vowing to catch the slightly younger man again soon. They had both enjoyed their brief visit.
Jay swung his foot back and forth as he tipped the small cereal box up to his mouth, tapping its end to pour the remaining crumbs onto his waiting tongue. When he placed it upright on the table and brought his head back down he noticed he had new company at his table. Cory sat before him, looking years older and worse for the wear.
“Good morning Cory,” Jay greeted tentatively. “How’s…”
Cory shook his head in reply, “No change, I’m afraid.” He rubbed his hands back and forth on the knees of his jeans. “I just don’t know what to do to pull Jordan out of this.” Jay noticed a slight quiver in the bottom lip of the man before him. He knew how much Cory loved his wife. He could feel the thick cloud of emotion between the two every time they were in the same room, despite the inevitable one-sided conversations.
“I think you’re doing exactly what needs to be done,” Jay assured. “I think Jordan hears every word and is fighting with all of her strength to return to you. She has a lot to live for, Cory.”
Cory shrugged, “I suppose…if you call an old man like me a lot to live for.” He faked a smile and ran his hand over the stubble on his face.
* * * *
It was hard for Jordan to tell the difference between being awake and being asleep. She couldn’t open her eyes either way, and the dreams she had when she slept were very similar to the thoughts of her wakefulness. This confusion led to one continuous ball of memories mixed with the present; she no longer knew the difference between the past and the here-and-now. The only thing that stood out in her day was the frequent glow of the bright light and warm temperature that overtook her intermittently, removing her from what she thought was the present and placing her distinctly into her past. As much as she enjoyed the peaceful feeling it brought over her, she still worried about its presence and what would become of her if one day it didn’t fade away.
Someone Always Loved You Page 18
