by Bri Stone
I set my eyes on forensic pathology. I studied every important name, every case the big guns ever did. I knew it was for me. I decided back then that no one deserves to feel how I felt. No explanation, and no answers as to why my mother was just gone.
Death is not the final step. It’s why.
I wanted to give families the closure they need. I tell them they can rest easy, because there is a reason there loved one is gone. Things don’t just happen. There is a reason for everything.
I want to tell their last story, the most important one.
So, while most people in the first-year seminar of UCSF medical school plan to save lives, I plan to put together the pieces of every puzzle that falls through their hands.
Thom
Harrison and I were not going to get along.
The man is a prick, and he would rather be anywhere but here.
He screamed it. I suppose I would be the same way if I had to teach a class full of people that probably wouldn’t be here in month. However, if I had to wake up at six in the morning, and act like I wanted to be there, he should too.
Now maybe I was a cocky bastard, but I wasn’t like these people. I’m not backing out, and I’m not quitting. Still, I’d rather fast forward through the next nine years, but it doesn’t work that way.
I know it’s going to be hard and I will lose way more sleep than I did in undergrad, but it is what I signed up for.
It is sort of an amazing thing, that everyone in here has chosen the lives of others over their own. I liked to think it’s what I did, but it isn’t. Not really, anyway.
In the beginning, it was for me. To understand my disease. Then I realized it would take too damn long. If I could keep other kids from growing up like me, then I would.
I studied the heart and lungs through videos and over-done Hollywood shows. I begged mom to splurge for a suture kit, and Operation was the only game I ever played. I dreamed of holding two of the most important body parts in my hand. I was ready for it. Built for it. The twelve-year, post high school education didn’t deter me all that much, what else would I be doing until I was thirty?
God, this seminar is lasting forever. I studied the room noticing the stereotype on med students is all wrong.
It reminded me of my mom, and how she was always making sure my head was on right. That I was focused. She worked her ass off to take care of me. Asthma is a bitch, but I’ve learned how to tame it.
I never knew my dad, but mom always made me feel loved. Protected. She worked hard, too hard I think. When she passed, I knew she was just sticking around until she was sure I would make it.
We had the same affliction, but I never expected her to get so sick, so fast.
I wasn’t ready to accept it.
I wasn’t sure I should have come back to school so fast either, but an acceptance to medical school can’t just be passed along or postponed. So here I was, making mom proud every day I was here—
I nearly ran when the three hours was up. I was tired and starving—ha!
Welcome to med school. I guess.
Chapter 1: Perrie
Foundational sciences were going right over my head. Not because I didn’t understand, but because all my patients would already be dead. I had to get through med school to even get there, so here I am, learning about the six domains of science that focused on the contribution to the health and disease of individuals and populations.
It was all important to the training of a doctor, but direct care of patients? Not so much, for what I wanted to do. At least the instructor was nice. She was a fellow at the university hospital; Dr. Beck I think.
By the end of class I had gone through half a notebook, and my laptop was screaming at my stylus to leave it alone. We were lucky to have such good technology these days otherwise my fingers would be crying.
I stopped at the café to buy a quick snack; I smiled when I saw they had my favorite flavor of Chobani Flip, Salted caramel. I chose a table in the corner by the window to sit for a few minutes.
Lecture would kill me, it was way too early. Even the sky agreed, because the sun was only barely peeking through the wide windows surrounding the room.
The girls next to me were too chipper to have been in it, so I thought perhaps they were older. I glanced over, quietly snooping. It wasn’t even how they looked, it’s how they were acting. They kept looking over behind them, laughing, and then speaking in hushed whispers. What on earth is so funny? Their yogurt parfaits?
I was curious though. I turned in my chair and saw the cause of their giggles.
It was a group of a few guys; one was very suburb looking with dark hair; like he lived in the carpool and knew every nook and cranny of his mom’s minivan. The other was shorter, and decent, I suppose; and the other one… goodness.
He looked like he belonged in a medical soap, not med school. That was stereotypical, wasn’t it? Yeah.
But still.
Soap dude was tall; a brooding dirty blonde with a glinting smile that had me entranced. Since my last wreck of a relationship in college, I hadn’t looked at men. Not the way I was looking at him. He demanded my eyes. He held the pear in his hand like it was a forbidden fruit of some sort; well, that’s what he made it look like. The way my breath hitched, and my fingertips tingled told me he would be trouble.
I was too far to make anything else out, only that he wore khakis and a Henley like it was a tailored suit. I turned back in my chair and ate the last of my yogurt. I couldn’t be distracted by the prettiest man in the entire program. I had a job to do here, and it wasn’t to ogle the men.
Tempting as they were.
I watched the girls again. One of them, the boldest of them all, waved at the guys as they walked past. Smiling, the suburban one sat down in an empty seat and called his friend over. But they didn’t want them, I stifled a giggle as they tried to hide their disappointment. They wanted Soap dude. I shook my head to myself and sipped some water, then I checked my watch, I needed to get going if I wanted to avoid the social anxiety of finding an empty seat when the class filled up.
Just as I scooted my chair an inch, I was stalled.
“Mind if I sit here?”
From the ground up, I followed the gruff, yet light voice.
Black sneakers, muscular thighs fighting the tan fabric, gray Henley stretched over a flat slab of abs, a broad chest, and slight muscles; but not thick and ropy like he pumps iron for hours, more like he runs or swims. All the way up to a heart shaped face, structured with the strongest of jaw lines I had ever seen, pointing right to a pair of full pink lips, cracked in a smile. And then his eyes. Whoa, his eyes could make me do anything. They were a cagy gray, the kind that must change color in the light.
I realized then he had asked me something. I stared at him, jaw slack for a good few seconds. What was it? “Um, no.”
To be honest, I was confused. As he sat down and smiled at me, I couldn’t help but wonder why. Classic insecurity at times, how riveting.
The girls who waved him down were pretty, and perfect. Me?
I don’t know if my gray tee shirt made it in the last wash, it smelled good enough, but I still covered it with a blue wool sweater. My jeans were worn to the stitches, one wrong move and they’d rip. I was pale, my hair nice and shiny because I bought expensive hair products. And the only makeup I ever made myself wear was my Blistex chap stick. But he wanted to sit with me?
“First year, right?” He asked.
I nodded and swallowed, “you?”
He nodded once with a crooked smile.
He took a bite out of his pear; how could eating look so…erogenous? I swallowed nervously and glanced over at the girls who were now glaring at me, practically ignoring suburbs and his kid.
“So that seminar this morning? Gosh, I was falling asleep.” He shook his head and I giggled softly.
“Yeah, I was. I was in the front row, so I couldn’t nod off like I wanted to though.”
He smirked another
crooked grin. Hmm. He is very pretty.
“Oh, you’re one of those people who sit in the front row, huh?” He teased.
“So?” I leaned back, crossing my arms as I arched a brow and blinked.
He only smiled and chewed more of his pear. I looked at the girls again. Now they were sizing me up, wondering why he came and sat next to me. Me too, lasses. Me too.
“Nothing.” He shrugged.
“Why aren’t you sitting with your friends?” I pointed to the girls and the two guys.
“Them? I just met those guys.” He nodded towards them.
They weren’t paying attention, they had all eyes on the girls. I wondered what would come of their chance meeting.
“What about the girls? You know they are staring at you.”
Even though I was. I constantly dragged my eyes up from his bare clavicle peeking under his shirt; and back up to his face. Which wasn’t any more of a relief.
“Yeah, they don’t mean it though. Once they see I don’t fit their criteria, they’ll back off.” He shook his head, an unreadable expression flashing across his face before he smiled at me, like he was speaking from experience.
I was going to be late, but I was curious. “What’s um—what’s not to fit?” I chewed the inside of my cheek nervously.
He smirked and shook his head. Then, he leaned back to fish something out of his pocket. The motion made his knee come forward and brush mine. I read enough romance novels and watched enough movies to classify that feeling I just felt as ‘spark.’ But the part of me going into debt to be here told myself to brush it off. I cannot get distracted.
He held up a small l-shaped cylinder to his mouth, pressed the top, and inhaled deeply. Once he was done he made a few more sniffs and put it back. His narrow nose scrunched up, the tendons of his jaw tightening.
“You have asthma, so what?” I shrugged.
The dimples in his cheek pressed in as he smiled and pointed to the table of girls.
They weren’t looking over here anymore. Suddenly, the guys sitting in front of them were more interesting. I widened my eyes in shock and looked back to him. He shrugged with a sad smile. Then I frowned at the thought.
“Did you sit in front of me because I look more ordinary than interesting?” I shook my head, removing the interest. “I have to get to class anyway. It was nice to meet you…” I noticed I didn’t know his name. Better that way anyway.
I grabbed my bag, and trash, but his fingers brushed against my wrist ever so slightly and I nearly melted. His fingers were warm, and soft. They lit me up as I stifled a gasp when I looked down at him.
“No. I sat here cause I had to talk to the prettiest girl I’ve seen since my crush on Jenifer Aniston. This was the easiest conversation I have had all day.” It was half a comical, but it was enough to make me stop.
Okay. I felt a little bad for assuming. Perhaps I am still insecure in some ways, but who isn’t? When a male model plops himself in front of you, you ‘gotta ask questions.
“Oh. I have to get going.” I marched out of there after giving him a quick smile.
Ugh, I felt his eyes on me as I walked away. Don’t trip, don’t trip.
I quick paced it out of there and didn’t slow until I hit the skywalk to the conference room for my next class. Then I broke into a Christmas day smile.
I wish I got his name!
He’s…nice. The genial vibe he gave off was still rolling through me, or maybe it was just him touching me. I wished I could have sat with him longer to figure it out. There was…something.
It was obvious their interest evaporated when they saw that he had asthma. There was nothing to it; just like I took a multivitamin every day at three, he needed a little help breathing. Big whoop.
My sister told me San Francisco was materialistic, but I thought that more of LA than here. Then again, most of the students here were from Los Angeles. Still, I didn’t understand those girls at all.
Clem was six years older than me and killing it in the Air Force. She was nowhere near combat, as she was a psychologist at their base in Texas. I didn’t get to see her often, but her hours were relatively normal, so I would get to call her when I got back.
Some days I need her advice more than others. But that day?
It would be a session of ‘how to avoid hot guys in med school, and why are bitches so rude?’
Chapter 2: Thom
I forced myself to joke with the two frat boys from hell, just in case I would need their help later. That was all college and med school is about, hanging out with people you don’t really like so you can hit them with that ‘can I see your notes from class?’
Anyway.
Chris and Donald weren’t too bad, but still.
“Hey Thom, grab lunch with us.” Donald clapped my shoulder like an old uncle.
I stopped my eyes from rolling at the thought of having class with him.
“The ‘h’ is silent. But sure.” I slung my bag over my shoulder.
He shrugged, and we headed for the café.
I was glad to have gone, because I met her. Not the blithering group of girls, but the sweet, Chobani eating honey drop. There was no insult there, it was just her hair; that hot honey color that you drizzle over your apple at the County Fair. A sweet face, soft and round, with light gray eyes that almost matched mine.
She high tailed it out of there so fast I didn’t even get her name. There were barely two hundred of us, I could look through the list until I found her picture. Even so, maybe my game was off because I couldn’t breathe.
I’m used to not being able to breathe, but she took my breath away.
She was easy to read though, she was here to focus on school and she screamed it with her demeanor. I wanted to try and get closer to her even though her demeanor screamed ‘I’m focused.’ The same invisible force that led me here, told me not to let that girl go.
I smiled to myself and finished off my pear. Already late, I strolled past Chris and Donald and their group of cheerleaders towards small group. I took a wild guess at how they would react when I used my inhaler, but I was spot on. Back in junior high, and maybe high school, it would bother me. Now, not so much.
I found a way to work out without gasping for air; and the inhaler always helps. I was constantly switching medications to find the right one, so far Flovent was sticking.
The classroom was small, only for about ten of us. With one minute until the start of class, I strolled in and scanned the room.
Then I saw her.
She was right in the front, her honey, wavy hair, lit under the fluorescent lights. She was staring down at her laptop; while fiddling with the sleeve of her sweater where the ends frayed.
The sight of her was…refreshing. Something I haven’t felt in a long time, if ever. Back in high school, if a girl took my breath away I was most likely just having a mini asthma attack.
Thankfully, there was an empty seat next to her.
“Mind if I sit?” I appeared next to her.
She turned quickly, her eyes narrowing before her cheeks colored with the most beautiful peach blush.
“No.” She shook her head. She eyed me suspiciously but went back to staring at her notebook.
The other students were chatting with each other. The guy next to me was playing chess on his phone, and the five on the other side were making plans for something, I wasn’t really listening.
There were two girls, both cute, that were staring at me subtly. I willed myself to react, but I kept going back to the timidly sexy girl right next to me.
What I noticed most was her scent. It didn’t irritate my nose, as most perfumes do. Maybe it wasn’t perfume at all; but it was a subtle, sweet scent. I don’t go around identifying scents, so I couldn’t place it. Linen and lilacs, maybe? Or a mix of berries.
“Small world, huh?” I nudged her arm with my elbow. I swung the rolling chair to the side to look at her. She offered a small smile with a turn of her neck.
�
��I guess.”
Just as I was about to ask her name, the facilitator called our attention. I expected the first day to just be an easy introduction or something, but we started discussing the lecture of the morning for about ten minutes.
“Good, I just wanted to make sure you were all there.” He laughed. “I’m Jason Marx and I will be leading the ground school block up to M2. I’d tell you about myself, but you probably don’t care. Anyway, let me make sure I have everyone’s names down.”
Chobani leaned back with a heavy sigh. What’s so bad about names? This Jason guy seems like a prick, and he looks like one too. A real-life Edward Cullen in looks and demeanor. He went around the room, and as always gets my name wrong.
“Thom?”
“The ‘h’ is silent. It’s just Tom.” I explained.
I felt her look at me, now that she knew my name. I patiently waited for hers.
“And Perrier?” I felt her eyes roll.
“It’s Perrier, like the drink.” She explained softly.
Jason nodded, and the girls across the table snickered. Aren’t we too old for that?
“That’s an awesome name.” I said to her, loud enough for tinker and cad to hear.
She turned to me and smiled softly, and I felt the jealousy radiate off them. I held her gaze as long as I could before we had to pay attention again.
Small groups were designed to ‘immerse’ us into the physician role. We would spend the first three weeks on the structure of the body, function, and regulation. Basically, it was tough shit.
For the next two hours, we focused on musculoskeletal structure. If you didn’t know your shit, it would have been real embarrassing.
“I will see you guys next Monday,” Jason concluded.
Everyone started packing up to go. It was the last part of the day for all of us. I kept my eyes on her, on Perrier. It is a cool name, and it fits her. Rare, interesting.
It was an urge, bigger than the need to inhale deeply when I felt an attack coming on.
