My dad who’s also a surgeon, practicing what I call easy money medicine, aka plastic surgery, once asked me why I chose to become a trauma surgeon knowing how exhausting, ungrateful at times, and demanding the job is. Color me masochist, but there’s an appeal in the chaos that’s the Emergency Department. I know, I know, don’t come at me with pitchforks. Yes, stress is one of the riskiest health challenges of the twenty-first century right after obesity. There’s a whole resistance out there promoting special oils, chants, mantras, and eastern rituals and practices, fighting to make western civilization calm the fuck down. But you know what? Just like everything in life, it’s an individual thing. I thrive on the adrenaline it takes to manage unexpected trauma.
Olivia cranes her neck from side to side, attempting to release the tension in her muscles. She takes a sip of soda while Dan and I take generous bites of the sandwiches in our hands. It’s around midnight. The three of us have been here since, it feels like a year ago, but it’s been only ten hours. We eat in silence, each engrossed in his respective cellphone.
“Okay, I’m out. Come get me if something serious comes in,” Dan pushes back from the chair. We both lift our eyes to him. He grabs our collective trash from the table and heads to the nearest trashcan on his way to the Call Room. Olivia follows him a few minutes later after squeezing my shoulder in silent solidarity. It’s usually livelier around here. There’s just something about tonight. Maybe it’s the rain plummeting on the windows, but everything seems just a little more sluggish and gloomier.
I take a drink of water and pull up my inbox. I have a few unread emails waiting for me, but there’s one that prompts an immediate smile on my face. Bold letters indicating a new message from Anna Nielsen.
Yet again, I have an urge to copy the duo of words and paste them in the google search bar. I’m curious to get a visual. In my head, I picture Anna as a nerdy brunette, but in a cute sort of way. Maybe it’s the whole bookish thing that has me mentally putting librarian spectacles on a freckled, cute face. But I refrain from executing the search. I find it unique and refreshing, getting to know someone for what they are, not by appearance but by their narrative. Not that Anna is a prospect for anything aside from fun correspondence, but it’s still nice to get to know another person this way. Eagerly, I drop my eyes to my phone.
I guess people have a very different perspective on the definition of mornings. See, in my world anywhere before seven belongs to the witching hours part of the day. But I’ll play along, good morning Liam,
I grin, charmed by the kooky babble.
Am I a Tolkien fan? Umm, not a diehard fan per se, but I do enjoy me some Tolkien from time to time. Who doesn’t?
In general, I have a pretty varied taste in books, but if I have to choose a few favorites, I’d say, George Orwell, Jane Casey, Sally Rooney, Tom Perrotta, and Sarah Kay. Oh, I’ve drifted into poems territory here, but you get my point—wide-ranging.
You asked how one gets points in Anna’s world. That’s a tough one to answer, Liam. There are many layers to cover, here. But if we’re talking general terms, I guess one should be a decent human. Kindness, mindfulness, and good deeds would earn you points, for sure. Oh, and blunt honesty.
Sometimes I wish people came with warning signs, or at least they were upfront about stuff. You know what I mean? How much easier would it be if we communicated what’s really on our minds and embraced honesty as a policy?
Okay, I’m willing to reconsider raising your grade to a five, taking into consideration, if I assume correctly that by “serving” with Little Shit you meant you’d be joining him on a Doctors Without Borders mission? You know what, scratch that, that earns you a round, fat, ten.
Are you indeed a medicine man, Liam? And sorry but I’m gonna be upfront here (blunt honesty-> see, I practice what I preach!) plastic surgery doesn’t constitute a medical profession in my opinion, just saying. I’m talking about the “Oh doctor please plump up my lips, butt, boobs,” sort of plastic surgery and not, for example, the burn units, of course.
A chuckle leaves my mouth in surprised amusement. Oh, Anna, you nailed it, sweetheart.
And if you’re indeed a medicine man, mind if I ask for your stand on the connection between food and health? Curious minds inquiring…
What? Who are you, Anna?
Later,
Anna
“Don’t tell me the sky is the limit when there are footprints on the moon.”
I stare at the email for a few moments, sliding my hand over the stubbled smile I can’t seem to subordinate. A new burst of energy propels me to sit a little straighter. I take a rich pull of water and hit reply.
12:30 a.m. -> Goodnight, Anna,
Here’s a little secret, one of my favorite pastime activities besides the obvious . . . is visiting the library. I go there once a week and tend to borrow an older book and a newer one. Feels like I’m covering both worlds.
Wide-ranging is a positive thing, in all aspects of life. Get a taste of everything . . .
Thanks for correcting my points. I’m humbled by your kindness, Anna. And yes, I’m indeed a doctor. Liam Brody M.D at your service, ma’am. I’m thrilled that finally earns me something grandiose, Anna points! Glad that all those years of tedious studying are finally paying off.
Btw, my dad is, yes Anna, you guessed it . . . a plastic surgeon! I’ll be glad to pass along your message that he’s not a real physician. I’m afraid, speaking of points, you won’t be rated highly with the rest of my family. You’re still top on my charts though, if it matters.
What’s my stand on the connection between food and health? I’m aware that there’s a new trend out there about healing yourself with nutrition. I don’t see anything wrong with a healthy diet. After all, you know what they say, the apple thing, and keeping the doctor away. But I also find it irresponsible when people hold on to new beliefs instead of consulting with a physician. Unfortunately, we had to deal with some cases that didn’t end up as well as people hoped.
Now that I showed you mine . . .
Out of curiosity, what do you do for a living, Anna? I’m guessing an elementary school teacher, am I right?
Favorite thing to do/film/podcast? A weird thing you like doing?
Bra size? Most cherished girl on girl experience? I laugh out loud and delete these immediately.
Talk soon,
Liam
“It ain’t all burritos and strippers, my friend.”
I answer a few more emails, given none as entertaining. I make myself a coffee and decide to catch up on the news, see what’s going on outside these walls. A buzz caused by vibration indicates a message just landed on my phone.
Billy: You free Friday afternoon?
Liam: What are you doing up, man? Nuh, week’s brutal.
Billy: Kid is up . . . again. Next week?
Liam: Um, the week after next? Friday, any time after four. What are we doing?
Billy: I’m finally taking you two idiots to Josèphe, kid.
Kid . . . Billy’s four years my senior. The idiot.
Liam: No one else I’d like to pop my barber experience cherry with than you and Fred, Billy Francis Smith.
There’s something about Billy – he likes the good life. And that’s the understatement of the century. Billy embraces metro sexuality like it’s his job. Something that, of course, gets him so much shit from Freddie and me. Not to mention, calling him by his middle name is one of our favorite things. Francis, man, poor guy.
Eagerly, I turn to read the new message from Anna that dropped in my inbox a second ago.
Night Liam,
Okay, do you by chance know or socially associate with Pandora or Victoria? They put you up to it, right? They made you write the library thing, did they? Because if you don’t know them, Liam, you’ve just skyrocketed from a measly ten points to a bona fide gold star in Anna’s world.
Liam, I hereby declare you my number one E-friend/E-pen pal person.
Shut the front doo
r! Your dad is a plastic surgeon? Ahem, Anna just left the conversation . . . to hide under a rock, right after pulling her stupid foot out of her stupid mouth.
I agree with your intake on the food and health connection. However, I wish more physicians were trained on the subject, or at least were a bit more open to the idea of solving problems at the root rather than giving a temporary solution like medicine that might, and quite often does, affect other parts of the patient’s system. Are you familiar with the sick goldfish theory? Giving fish medication will only contaminate them and their environment. Cleaning their water, letting pure water run through their systems, helps them far more and will eventually heal them. Umm, as you can see, I’m quite passionate about the subject.
It was such a pleasure seeing yours, Liam. Well, sorry to disappoint, I’m not an elementary school teacher. I’m just a fitness trainer.
An immediate hot body in tight, tight attire pops into my head. I still picture her as the cute, nerdy, bookish type, but the body she’s sporting now. Damn.
I’m one of those rare people who love what they do. Seems like you’re also one of us, right? I’m guessing no one in their right mind would invest so much in something they’re not a hundred percent passionate about.
You have no idea, Anna.
You asked what’s my favorite thing to do. You mean apart from eating? This chick is the best! That would be hanging out with my friends.
I like that. Thought of that beautiful chick from Poison the other night comes up. I imagine Anna just like that beauty, utterly focused on her friends. Oblivious to anyone around.
Film? That would be Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Have you seen it? The whole concept . . . and it has so many fascinating insights. Like this quote, “too many guys think I’m a concept, or I complete them, or I’m gonna make them alive. But I’m just a fucked-up girl who’s lookin’ for my own peace of mind; don’t assign me yours.”
Oh, how I like this. Another tidbit that just affirms my initial assumption. Anna’s more than just intelligent. She’s intelligent and cool.
Podcast? My Favorite Murder, duh!
I twist my mouth, my brows furrow. Intelligent, cool, and a psycho?
How about you Liam? What makes you happy? What’s your first sin?
Umm, a weird thing I like to do? I guess this one constitutes as weird, here goes . . . I sometimes brew coffee in the morning just for the smell and drink tea. Coffee is like incense sticks for me. I love the scent, especially when it spreads throughout the house. What’s your weird thing, Liam?
This is both entirely bonkers and sweet at the same time. Oh, Anna. My weird e-crush on you has grown exponentially tonight.
Nighty Night,
Anna
“Don’t rush something that you want to last forever.”
Without thinking too much about the precious sleep time I’m missing, I hit reply and start typing.
Thanks for making my zero dark thirty so much more bearable tonight, Anna.
Nope, I don’t know any Pandora or Victoria. Friends of yours, I’m guessing? And no, no one told me to tell you about my library thing. Shocking, but I’m just a guy who enjoys reading.
Now, Anna, nothing has made me as happy as the knowledge of being your number one e-person. Now my life is complete. Just so you know, I’m sitting here in my scrubs, basking in the triumph of my accomplishment. Am I getting a plaque or something for my remarkable achievement?
Looks like you have quite the knowledge on the, I’m guessing, gut to mind correlation? Is it linked somehow to your job as a trainer? I get your standpoint and believe me, I wish more people had further knowledge about how some of their most innocent habits cause great damage. Unfortunately so, many physicians don’t have the capacity to educate their patients. By the time we get to see them, there’s a problem that requires immediate treatment rather than just a symptom to mull over. I’ve heard it more than a few times, but I think the whole education on prevention through lifestyle is not something that falls on physicians. Let’s agree to disagree on this one, shall we?
What makes me happy, Anna? Right now, you.
My first sin? Now, Anna, this escalated fast. By sin, you mean me and that cute girl in my Grandpa’s cabin in eighth grade? Or do you mean that time when Freddie and I stole a cigarette in sixth grade and ended up coughing like idiots for a whole afternoon? Whichever you meant; these are my first sins.
You should know how this works by now, Anna. Your turn to show me yours.
Shit. The sound of a helicopter heading our way, together with my pager going off, brings me back to reality. That sound can only mean one thing – some really bad emergency is coming in.
Hey Anna, sorry, I gotta go, I’m being paged. I still owe you a weird thing and a quote.
Night, L
“Olivia,” I tell the intern who just came in for a drink, “go get Dan. A helicopter just came in.” I shove my phone into my pocket and hurry to the trauma bay.
It Involves Alcohol and Fishing . . . and the Occasional Ranger
“This place is unreal,” Kayla observes my studio apartment with huge eyes and a slightly opened mouth. I’m familiar with the reaction my Hygged place prompts. Did I mention my mom’s an interior design Rockstar?
“Wow, just wow.” Finally, Kayla turns to me. “This is—can I move in . . . and hibernate?”
I laugh it off. “Not sure about the moving in part. You see I sorta love my quiet space. But you’re more than welcome to drop by whenever your little heart desires.”
Kayla nods. “I might just take you up on that. It’s the perfect place to work on my songs.”
Kayla came over to hang out till Victoria picks us up later on tonight. We’ll all drive together to Green Lake for some late evening fishing, catch and release sort of thing of course. It’s our thing, we do it every so often. Nothing beats a good Rosé, friends, and fishing. Fish stench, worms, and pinkish alcohol, we’re classy like that.
“Coffee?” I ask Kayla. “We have time, we don’t have to leave before eight-ish.”
Kayla, in a casual oversized black hoodie, skinny ripped, black jeans, dark liner, and her bright red bangs combed behind her ear, looks like she just walked out of a rock and roll photoshoot—the leisure edition.
“Did you work with a designer to style the place?” Kayla follows me to the kitchen, a space that’s like the rest of my place in a palette of soft pinks, grey hues, and dark wood. My favorite part of the kitchen is the duet of a retro style, soft pink KitchenAid mixer, and toaster. A housewarming gift from Pandora, Vic, and my mom.
“Sort of, my mom decorated the place. She’s a Hygge interior designer.” I’m surprised to learn that Kayla actually knows what Hygge is.
“What made her specialize in that area, the whole Hygge thing?” Kayla takes the mug I offer her and opens a couple of cupboards in search of sugar. She twists her mouth when she realizes there’s only coconut sugar. She throws me a frown but uses it anyhow.
“My mom’s a Dane. You could say it’s in her genes.” I smile at my teacup.
Kayla seems to have one of those epiphany moments. “That explains the whole genuine blond look you and Victoria got going on. And the insane shade of blue eyes you both have. I won’t lie, at first sight, I suspected some expensive bleach and colored contact lenses.”
I let out an amused snort. “All’s real. And you know just what a freak I am about unnatural things.”
Kayla grins. “First sight, I said at first sight. And yeah, I know. I know, everything plant-based, no processed shit, no what was it? Sugar. Essentially no everything-that’s-good-in-life.”
I shake my head, albeit in a fond way. I’m used to it. People who are worried that I should be eating more “nutritious stuff,” and if I’m sure I get enough vitamins/protein only because I’m a pescatarian that opts for gluten-free and dairy-free products. They usually preach their concerns while shoving processed food poison into their mouths. But, you know, to each their own.
I’m still a little spacey in my own joyful bubble, still high on my nocturnal correspondence with Liam. Not to mention the quick note I woke up to this morning.
Shift’s over, heading home to get some Zs. But since I’m a man of my word, here goes.
Weird thing . . . okay this one is not directly about me, but I live it vicariously through my grandad, my eighty-year-old grandad who’s . . . brace yourself, Anna, a DJ. An electro-swing DJ, nonetheless. And here’s another morsel about him. Ready? Before he retired, he used to be a cremator. So, see it’s plenty weird to be claimed by proxy.
Great day, Liam
“Just be happy it drives other people crazy.”
Something changed in Kayla’s demeanor while I got lost in my thoughts. I catch her absorbed, looking a shade somber, gazing out the window.
“Hey Kayla, you okay?”
She shakes out of her moment and frowns. “Let’s just say that if someone dressed as a clown invited me into the woods right now, I’d probably just go.” We both crackle in unison. She turns pensive again. “It’s just. Remember the guy I mentioned the other night at Poison.”
by Mistake: (Poison & Wine, book 1) Page 4
