The Last Name Banks

by Lacy Camey

  “Great. Charming. This way. Now.“ He led me as I followed him like an obedient puppy to the makeshift O.R.

  “Man’s been injured and will be arriving any time now between the next thirty minutes. I need you to sort through these and set the injections up and prepare the cot.”

  We didn’t have much time to prepare. I ran as fast as I could back to the laundry room for fresh sheets and tried to set everything up as fast as possible.

  Dr. McMaster was the chief’s name. I heard Dr. Richard asking him questions.

  I went straight into emergency gear mode. Dr. McMaster quickly adjusted his work station, bringing out a tray of medical devices. I looked around at the devices. To this third world country, this was state of the art. But the equipment was sadly so old. I secretly worried whether or not this man’s life could be salvaged with what they had at hand. I decided to say a prayer for him and wisdom for the doctors in my mind.

  The man arrived lying on top of an interesting looking stretcher as blood poured from his side. Although I had worked in the hospital and made my rounds, blood had never been a factor for me. I’d never passed out, never squirmed. But suddenly, I felt dizzy. The butterflies in my stomach decided to fly faster than they’ve ever flown. Was it my fear of him not being able to make it because of the medical devices? Was it the heat? Was it the aftermath of the roofied drink?

  And then the next thing I remember is waking up to a damp washcloth on my forehead as I heard the doctors speaking back in forth to each other in surgery. I blinked a couple of times as my mouth opened, feeling parched. Josephina was to my left administering the washcloth. The white curtain was drawn where the surgery was occurring.

  “Josephina,” I sat up straighter but immediately collapsed back on the ground.

  “You had a fall, miss. But you be okay. An awful cut there.” I saw blood on the shoulder of my ribbed tank. She helped me up off the ground and led me to a cot. As I lay back against a pillow, my head pounded. She cleaned my cut and placed a fresh bandage on top of it. My hand went to my forehead and I felt a bandage on top of my eyebrow. I touched it further, examining the large feel of the bandage as I felt the familiar medical tape across my head.

  “Can I see a mirror, por favor?” I asked.

  “You’re fine, miss. Just a little bump is all. Maybe you have a concussion.”

  “A concussion? No! I don’t think so. I have to get back to helping . . . . ” I tried to sit up but felt dizzy. “To making a difference.”

  “No, no, Miss. You rest. You just rest. I will be right back with some yummy comida for you. It will make you feel better. But let’s get you back into your bunk.”

  She and Steve walked me back to our bunk and helped me sit down on my bed. I wondered where Vinny was. I felt so dizzy and nauseous.

  She took my shoes off for me and said, “I be right back. You don’t worry.”

  Steve stood uncomfortably then said, “I’ll be outside.”

  “Ugh,” I signed loudly and closed my eyes. “Where’s Vinny?”

  “He’s doing his workout.”

  How was this all going so wrong?

  Minutes later, Logan walked in with a tray of food. I felt a weak smile appear on my face. He was just the person I wanted to see.

  My heavy eyes looked at him. The tray appeared to have chicken, rice, and beans.

  “I don’t even know what to say,” he said as he placed the tray on my lap.

  “I know, it looks worse than it is.”

  He shook his head.

  “No, it’s not that Chloe. I thought you were different, you know.” He started pacing and crossed his arms for a brief moment.

  I watched him wondering what he meant and couldn’t help but to dig into the food. It smelled so good. Cutting, slicing, eating as if I hadn’t eaten in years, all the while my head pounded more and more. I reached up to my head wrap and winced.

  He uncrossed his arms and placed them on his hips. “I mean, I get drinking a little—you’re at a village. The Chief’s house. I get it. But downing drinks like there is no tomorrow, as if you didn’t have any responsibility of you know- helping take care of children in an orphanage.”

  “Wait, what?” I was shocked. I quickly chewed my food. “It wasn’t like that Logan.”

  “You come home so wasted you miss your shift. This isn’t 6th street in Austin where everyone gets wasted. You know, just when I thought—” he started to pace. “Just when I thought—” then he stopped.

  “Just when you thought what?”

  “I just thought you were different.”

  For your information, I didn’t get wasted! I was being a proper guest drinking what the host placed before me. I was being hospitable and courteous because Norah and Maycee—”

  He shook his head and left.

  “Wait!”

  The screen door slammed shut.

  I laid there for a minute, recalling everything as it had just happened and shook my head in disbelief. I couldn’t believe he was so mad at me. It wasn’t like he thought it was. I wasn’t the type of person who ignored responsibility!

  I looked quickly for my shoes but couldn’t find them anywhere. I grabbed my backup pair of Pumas, laced them up and pushed open the screen door. Steve stood with his arms crossed leaning against the screen.

  “Logan, wait!” The bright sun made me wince. I squinted my eyes and felt a little dizzy but was able to spot Logan a few yards away, heading into the thick jungle with some sort of cart that held empty water jugs.

  “Wait!” I yelled to Logan.

  But he kept on pushing the cart.

  So I kicked it into overdrive, a full on sprint. I had run sprints in my day back in high school. I could catch him. But there was just a small problem.

  “Chloe, where are you going?” Steve had grabbed my shoulder.

  I turned around. “Look, Steve. Please,” I pleaded like a bratty four year old who doesn’t want to take her nap. “Please just let me do this on my own. I’ll be in the custody of another man.” I turned around to yell again for Logan.

  “Logan, wait! I know you hear me!”

  “Protocol Miss Banks. We . . . I made a promise to your father.”

  Racking my brain, trying to think of something to sway his mind I said, “Please. Just give me fifteen minutes. Pretend like you didn’t see me.”

  He opened his mouth to speak.

  “And if you do this one favor for me just this once, I can promise you a date with Maycee,” I added.

  A small smile crept on his face as he thought about my proposal.

  “I, uh . . . . ”

  I started peddling backwards and turned around and ran as fast as I could towards the thick jungle.

  Footsteps were treading behind me. I had to get Steve off my back.

  “Yes, you can! For once, just break the rules. Have you ever just done that? Know how good it feels? And how good it will feel if you go on a date with Maycee?” I yelled.

  I finally caught up to Logan who had his hands full with the water jugs. He rolled his eyes.

  “See, this man needs my help.”

  “Then at least let me help,” Steve said.

  “Yeah,” Logan said quickly.

  “No. Steve. No,” I said in such sharpness I surprised myself. “Listen. I’ll just be with him, helping him assist . . . .” I trailed off and eyed his water jugs. “Assisting him draw water from somewhere.”

  His weight shifted as if he were actually considering it.

  “That’s right. Date with Maycee. You never saw me. In fact, I’m in the shower right now and I’ll be out in fifteen minutes. A girl’s gotta shave her legs.” I let out the most convincing smile as I turned around, thinking of the fact that maybe I should flash him some leg. I pushed the cart facing Logan who rolled his eyes and looked annoyed as ever.

  “Fifteen minutes,” he grunted.

  “And I’m deep conditioning my hair. So it may be twenty-five minutes,” I added over my shoulder.
r />   “Chloe, if anything happens to you, you know my job is on the line.”

  “Nothing will!”

  “You better guarantee it. Whatever it is you have to do.”

  “It’s a two mile walk both ways just so you know,” Logan said.

  I stopped in my tracks.

  I heard Steve sigh and make his way back on the gravel, not sure if he heard that last part about the two miles, which meant I was really deep conditioning my hair.

  “I’m also doing a mud mask! Which will take forty-five minutes!” I yelled after Steve.

  “Logan, look. It wasn’t like what you thought. I am different. And now I’m chasing you out into the jungle because I think it’s important for you to know that.”

  “You really think you’ll be safe with me out here in the jungle?” Logan asked. “I mean, how do you not know I’m not some serial killer?”

  “Because I saw your file. You’re not serial killer. You run an orphanage.”

  “Exactly. Which would make it more interesting and twisted.”

  “Gosh, what are you? Some Stephen King fanatic?” He shrugged his shoulders. I guessed he was.

  I started getting tired already pushing the cart, but I was determined on my mission to prove my point.

  “You saw my file?” He cocked his head, then turned around to lead the way down a small dirt path.

  “I saw Steve and Vinny going over it, is all. Didn’t see too much. I’m not that nosey,” I added honestly.

  We stopped where the dirt road ended and a thick jungle appeared.

  “Look, I get it. You’re wanting to prove a point, but I don’t get you coming out here helping me get water. It’s pretty much an all day thing,” he said as he wiped his forehead with a handkerchief.

  I looked at the cart and counted the eight large gallon jugs.

  “This really is more of a man’s thing. The water jugs weigh about twenty-five pounds,” he said as he pointed into the jungle. “And as you can see, there is no path to the well. Which means no more pushing the cart. We make trips.”

  “I’m certain,” I nodded my head. “Back at home, I lift weights.”

  He rolled his eyes, annoyed.

  “Look, just say what you have to say. Spare yourself the torture of manual labor which you probably have never been subjected to a day in your life.”

  “Wow! Really? That’s exactly what I am talking about! Your mean side is back,” I complained. “I’m going. It’s final. I’m going.”

  Annoyed he said, “Mean side? I don’t have a mean side.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  He sighed. “Look, I really need to get going with these jugs.”

  “Which is why you need my help. Admit it,” I said.

  He shook his head.

  “I don’t need your help. I do this every week. In fact, I like the alone time nature offers me. I don’t need anyone,” he said casually.

  You don’t need anyone?

  He walked over to me and put his backpack on my shoulders and placed a jug in there. He walked in front of me snapping the buckle quickly over my chest, careful not to have anything to do with the proximity of my, well, I couldn’t help it, my busty chest! I even wore a sports bra over my regular La Perla bra to calm the ladies, but it didn’t really help.

  Trying to help him out with his obvious discomfort to the tiny bit of cleavage showing in my tank top I said, “But isn’t it, oh, I don’t know? Dangerous? That you’re out here by yourself?”

  He shrugged his shoulders as he grabbed one of the empty jugs.

  “It’s a chance I always am willing to take. All for the children and their health.”

  “Well, all I’m saying is maybe you should begin a buddy system from now on. You never know what can happen out here.”

  He eyed my watch.

  “You’re speaking from a place of luxury. Not everyone gets bodyguards and special surveillance.” He pointed towards my watch. “That’s some watch you have there.”

  I looked down at it.

  “It’s just a watch,” I said quickly.

  “Looks like it cost more than my undergrad. It’s just a fancy watch, is all, to be wearing out here in Venezuela. There’s no one here to impress unless it’s one of those special watches,” he said as he held up quotations when he said special.

  “For your information, Mr. Meany-pants, I have to wear it for precaution.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked as he shifted his weight, clearly interested. “And I’m not mean.”

  “If I told you, I’d have to kill you. And yes you are,” I said.

  “Yeah, yeah. I get it. I’ve watched a few E! network shows with my sisters to know enough about what you’re avoiding saying. It’s a panic watch, isn’t it?”

  “I, uh. No, . . . I didn’t say that.” It was. I had had it ever since I turned sixteen. Just as a precaution.

  “Yeah, the one I saw with my sister was for some billionaire’s daughter, which hey, seems a lot like you. It doesn’t have a compass does it because if it did, that would, like, totally be great,” he said, certainly not void of sarcasm.

  “No, it doesn’t have a compass. And it’s clearly not one of those watches,” I said, not wanting to tell him.

  “Fine. Whatever you say. Then let me take a look at it. I love watches. Seriously.” He reached for my hand and just the touch of his sent a chill through my body. So much so I got tongue-tied.

  Not expecting that, I quickly said, “Only under one condition.” I jerked my hand away.

  “What’s that?”

  “You promise to be nice to me again.”

  “Oh, I am nice to you,” he said.

  I shook my head and let out a small laugh. “Oh, let’s be honest here, Logan. You don’t like me. Haven’t liked me since the moment we met. You just felt sorry for me when I was washing the sheets and felt the need to be kind after you misjudged me. Now all of the sudden, you hate me again. And I already tried to explain it to you, I am not that type of girl.”

  He stared at me with an intense gaze. His jaw clenched. “That’s really not true. I don’t hate you.”

  “Oh yeah? Then why is your jaw clenching?”

  He quickly turned around and reached for his compass out of his pocket and held it up.

  “My jaw isn’t clenching.”

  “Yes it was. Let’s be honest, like I said. You don’t like me. On a scale of one to ten, how much do you like me as a person?”

  “This way,” he ignored my question and motioned for me to follow after him into the thick mouth of the jungle. We were quiet for a minute, paying special attention to the tree roots. I had never been in as thick of a jungle before and I started to feel a little, teensy-wincy freaked out. But I had to be brave, to be strong, so I probed further with my question.

  “One to ten, Logan.”

  “One to ten?” he sighed. “Gee, that’s kind of, you know . . . . ” he stopped and wiped the back of his neck with his compass still in his hand. He studied the device for a minute and then said, “This way.”

  “You sure do know your way around here. Okay. Clearly you don’t want to answer. So I’ll make it easier for you. On a scale of one to two, how much?”

  I wasn’t sure if this was consciously or not, but he quickly sped up his pace. I was trying my best to follow suit.

  “Now that’s either love you or hate you.”

  “So do you love me then?” I teased, because even from a few feet behind him, I could see his neck redden from blushing.

  He turned around and faced me, “Look, Chloe. I don’t hate you. Okay?”

  “So, then you love me,” I said. Teasing.

  He looked at me and let out a giant sigh. “You’re good.”

  “It’s either hot or cold, baby. You should know that. Being a preacher and all. Jesus himself said to avoid being lukewarm so I’m taking it you love me,” I said lifting my chin, feeling proud of my Bible reference, completely knocking him off guard.

  �
�That’s not entirely what that passage means. And I’m not a preacher. I’m just the chapel lesson giver. And besides, it’s in regards to—”

  “Yada, yada, yada. Blah, blah, blah.” I held up my hand immolating a duck’s yapping mouth.

  “So, it’s settled. You hate me.”

  He turned around and kept walking.