by Bri Stone
I knew it required more than that and sure enough, Stan reminded me once I got home.
Stan: You’ve skipped two treatments. What’s going on?
How do I tell him what I’ve done? How do I tell him I destroyed the best woman I’ve ever met?
Thom: I’m not doing the treatments anymore.
Chapter Nineteen: Perrie
I stare at the pair of lungs that are so shriveled up, dried out, and the sac of pus covering the heart, each ventricle fighting to peek through. The veins of the lungs have thrombosed, and I know immediately why he died. I find the connections easy, but dwell on the technical stuff for a while. The two lungs that look equally bad, the heart that has nearly split in two, and the nerves that all have a pair. Nothing exists in humanity on its own.
We are paired creatures.
There is no nerve that stands on its own; the brain has two hemispheres, while we have two kidneys and a liver that can split in two, but still work. A pair of eyes, to always see the people who hurt us and two sets of hands to fend for ourselves. We were not meant to exist in singularity, and even in death we aren’t alone.
When I was young I used to count in my head a lot. I would count everything; the syllables in a sentence, my breaths, how many steps I was taking. It was a bad habit, and when I told my parents about it, they said it was nothing to be worried about. But I was. I was twelve or thirteen, so I brought it up to my doctor and he said the same thing.
It wasn’t until after mom died and I was seeing a therapist that it came up, and to her best knowledge, she said it was just a sign that I overanalyzed things. It was true.
The average autopsy took two to three hours, but it took me at least four. At first, my program advisor let it slide, but then he started timing me. Jonathan Blanchet was everything I wanted to be in this profession, so I took it to heart yesterday when he told me I needed to do better. That he had never seen someone do an autopsy so slow in his life. He is sixty-seven.
It was the first time I felt anything close to emotion since October 23, 2015. One year ago, to the day when we broke up. How fucking ironic. My birthday might just have become a beacon for bad shit.
The original plan was to leave at the start of fourth year, but I couldn’t stay. I left just after Thanksgiving; after seeing Clem and my dad I had a new-found flame to follow. Something to get me out of bed and focused on my goals again. So, I have been here for almost a year, and I still feel stuck in time.
Every night I go to bed and his voice plays like a broken record; I cheated on you.
It did me no good to keep telling myself it wasn’t true, because Thom wouldn’t lie like that. I could overanalyze all I wanted but at some point, I had to stop counting.
I finish the autopsy in an hour and a half, and Jonathan smiles at me like I am the second coming. I tell him the man died because he smoked at least three pack of cigarettes a day and likely hadn’t seen a doctor since ninety-nine.
“Good. I need the report by tomorrow morning.”
I nod and agree, even though it is after seven. I knew the program would be more rigorous, but I never imagined it would be like this. Even still, I don’t mind because it keeps me distracted. Keeps me from thinking about Thom. As I write, I glance at my left ring finger. I didn’t even have it for long enough to get a simple tan from it.
We were supposed to be more than this. And now we’re nothing.
I email the report and start heading home, and call Melinda on the way. I call her every day, since I was able to go into detail about what happened with Thom; which took about two weeks. Melinda was legitimately going to book a flight just to go and beat him up, we all need friends like that.
“How was work? I don’t ask you enough about how you’re doing. I’m sorry about that.” I sit in the back of a cab. I am honestly too scared to try and figure out public transportation. I know people assume a lot of things about other countries, and I haven’t been in the right mind to figure it out.
“It’s really okay, you get a free pass. But everything is fine here. I started a research project last month but it’s so on the ground it isn’t worth talking about yet. I’m just worried about you...” her voice softens.
“I’m fine. Managing.” I answer her.
I know it must have been hard for her to see me in the state I was in.
The only thing that got me off that kitchen floor was the threat of missing work. It sounds stupid, but this residency is all I have; I have wanted this career for years and I can’t just give it up. The one thing keeping me from Thom was the only thing I could use to channel my emotions. The following Saturday I called Melinda and asked if she was busy, wondering if I could visit her. I knew my sister wouldn’t get leave in time. But Melinda came out to see me for just twelve hours and reminded me I was more than my relationship with Thom, even though he was everything to me for so long.
“I hope so. You sound better, but still like crap. It’s okay though. I was right where you were back in college.”
“You never told me that story.” The cab jerks suddenly and he apologizes in French. I’m still learning, but I can order coffee and hail a cab so that’s what matters.
“I... will. One day. How is Blanchet, is he still an ass?”
I half scoff, half laugh. Though a laugh isn’t something I have done in nearly a year. “Not really. I was taking too long for a tops though, and I did well on time today. He has this amazing research project I want to get in on; processes of the nervous system after death. It’s a little Frankenstein but I want in.”
“Oh Perrie,” she laughs, “you are Mary Shelley in the flesh, Miss Pathologist.” I enjoy hearing her laugh, Melinda has a natural energy about her that can get me out of my funk.
“Not yet, a few more months.”
“Wait, when do you finish? My boards are in May.”
“I finish here in March and take the clinical certification exam here. Then when I get back to the states, I do my boards in May as well.”
“And you’ll get the mouthful title?”
My lips threaten to smile at her nickname for world class double board certified forensic pathologist. It is a mouth full... “yeah.”
“Are you home yet?” She asks.
“Um, pulling up now.” I pay the cabbie and tip him, then start the trek up to my room.
I live in a hostel, but I got the studio room so it’s private. “I just walked in. Have you, oh never mind. I forget the time zone difference.” It must be around four or five there.
“Yeah, I’m on a break. I have a knee replacement soon, going solo.”
“Oh, that’s great.” I practice my enthusiastic voice.
Just because I have my own shit to deal with doesn’t mean I cannot be happy for her, or at least pretend to be.
“Yeah. It isn’t my first, but I still can’t believe I’m a surgeon.”
“Yeah, we’ve come so far.” I kick off my boots and collapse on the ugly yellow couch, not caring I still smell like the lab in my scrubs. “Where are you thinking about doing your fellowship?”
I hear her chewing. “I don’t know. I can honestly take anywhere at this point, but the whole interview tour is insane. I think I’ll just drive a bidding war up and go to the best. But hey, I’m thinking of New York Presbyterian, you should too. New York is capitol of medical examiners.” She giggles.
“You watch too much television, but it is true. I just put in applications last week.” It was a grueling process that reminded me of match week, but then that reminded me of Thom and then I became a spiraling mess. I submitted them five minutes before the deadline.
“Well good. We may end up together...have you eaten today?”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah.”
“Besides coffee.”
“Um...” I clear my throat.
I hadn’t been eating right for a year. I thought it was just a phase, Melinda did too. But let’s just say I lost all the weight I gained and then some.
Clem was s
o worried I would slip back into a depression, and I combatted it with phone calls to my loyal therapist. Talking with Clem and talking things out with Melinda helped too. But I always felt on the verge; I always would linger on that precipice, as anyone dealing with a condition would be. I focused on work and family. I ate enough to keep moving, but no, I wasn’t getting my fifteen hundred calories a day.
“Perrie, you have to be more nutritious. I know it’s hard, believe me. But just think how much worse it will be if you lose your ass! You have a great ass!”
I laugh once. Progress. “I’ll make a frozen dinner.”
“Look, Thom obviously...I don’t know what to say, truly. So, I won’t lie to you. But you have to let him go, it sounds easier said than done—believe me; but you just have to try. You made it this far, so just think how much better it will be in a few months.”
I swallow back a lump of tears. “I know.”
Melinda sighs, “have you told your dad? I never asked.”
“Yeah. Some cover story. He loved Thom, and I know he would take my side, but I just don’t want him to have hard feelings, he is way too close to the Navy Seals to risk it.” I find myself making a joke.
“Oh wow, okay. Well, look I have to go scrub in but I’ll text you later.”
“You don’t have to check up on me anymore.” I say, feeling bad.
“I know, I just want to bother someone. Talk to you later.”
“Kay. Bye.”
I shower for nearly an hour. With raw skin, I climb into bed and dream of the only thing that doesn’t cripple my heart; the future.
Chapter Twenty: Perrie
One year later
The current case Blanchet was working on made sure I was properly trained in serology and ballistics. Blood analysis, serology—played a huge role in the end game, more than I ever thought. And ballistics, well...when two people are murdered at gun point with multiple bullet holes and blood spills mixing, I had to know how to differentiate the two to determine who died first.
I watched Blanchet discover that the woman died first, hinting that she was the target and not the man she was with. It turned the inspector’s investigation around in a complete circle, and they found out she was part of an underground drug ring. That was the job; it wasn’t just determining how they died by finding a kill shot or cause of death. It was determining why. And it was what I lived for at this point.
“I have seen you do very well over the years.” Blanchet called me into his office after we finished. My scrubs were soiled with sweat from standing for hours, analyzing samples, and working.
“Thank you. That means a lot.” I say honestly.
I had only a week until my final report and two more autopsies left to complete my certification.
I couldn’t believe I made it this far. A year ago, I thought it was all...I didn’t think I could be the same again. I know I’m not the same, and I probably won’t be, but at least I can eat normal meals now and don’t start crying at the simple thought of Thom. Everything used to set me off; if I saw a Henley, or a guy that looked remotely similar to him; I couldn’t even look at my eyes directly in the mirror because the gray reminded me of him.
“That being said, I know you’ve had a lot on your mind. It seemed, when you came here...” he trails off, and I think he is finding the words in English.
He has very good English and an understandable accent, but I know sometimes he tries to translate things for me. “You were running away from something. I know it’s none of my business, but I consider myself a mentor to you. I want to make sure when you leave here, you really learned something you will sustain for the rest of your career. And don’t give me a bad name.” He smirks.
I put on a fake smile that doesn’t reach my eyes. “I was running from an old program, sure. Maybe I was running towards this one.” I tuck my hair behind my ear. That I have cut short since the past year. It stops at my shoulders and I like it better this way. “I learned a lot, truly. I never thought I would be...this is one of the best opportunities I’ve ever had.” I say honestly.
He nods, but I see him thinking. He leans back and scratches his jaw; he has a very strong jaw and deep brows. Very French features, I must say. Blanchet is also very tall and has dark hair and dark eyes and is a total silver fox.
“I believe you. I know you’ll be an amazing examiner, but truly...you remind me more of the bodies on my table rather than anyone I have met before. Usually, we don’t get like that until ten years in.”
I should take most of that as an insult but all I dwell on is that he said ‘we’ and I realize I’m a real forensic pathologist. One of the few thousand medical examiners there are in the states. Mostly, I don’t care much to get angry because I know he is right, and he is an honest man so trust him to point it out. But even I related more to the bodies on the slab than the people walking on the street. Cold, dead.
I was...a part of me died when Thom and I broke up and there was no way to bring it back to life. The other pair of me is gone.
“I guess in ten years, I’ll be ahead of the game.” My sarcasm had partially returned, so that was definite progress.
He laughs with his deep voice, “Ah, Perrier. Of all the people I’ve trained, you’re the only one worthy of truly being world class.”
My eyes sting with tears but for the first time they aren’t from sadness or devastation. It was... I hadn’t felt it in so long I didn’t know how to describe it. I didn’t know how to feel it.
“Thank you.” I swallow. He smiles, and we finish our case report like nothing happened.
It isn’t until I get home and get off the phone with Melinda that I fully understand it. That I see what I’ve completed and what I have ahead. That I have lived without the one person I thought I would never have to and still knew what happiness could feel like.
Chapter Twenty-One: Perrie
Fifty autopsies are the requirement to complete the anatomical and clinical certifications, and because I technically did two programs, I came out with seventy-two autopsies. My flight back to Massachusetts was long and I found it hard to believe I was done with the education and training, technically. I still have a one-year fellowship, but Mass Gen wanted me, and there really wasn’t anywhere else I wanted to beg for. Sure, I planned to gun for Johns Hopkins or another bigger school, but if there was anything I learned over the years was that numbers didn’t matter. The clinical program in Paris wasn’t widely known or gunned for, but Jonathan Blanchet was. Dr. Sandy Webb was widely known, double board certified, and had years of experience and high-profile cases under his belt, and he would be my chief ME at Mass Gen.
I learned the institution didn’t make the people, the people made the institution and I was trained by some of the best people there were. I didn’t consider myself better than anyone else at my stage because it was too soon, but I felt more prepared. Surer about myself. Without a man to call my own or a marriage and two kids, at twenty-eight years old I wasn’t like everyone else; but I accomplished something for me and it was all I cared about. I knew it would be better to have something other than just my career to focus on, but it’s where I’m at for the time being.
“You don’t have an accent. You didn’t do it right.”
Marcus actually makes me giggle. I suppose I was fine to an extent by now. A year and a half later, just about. But the gaping hole of hurt and pain was far enough at bay that the burned edges didn’t leave a bad taste in my mouth anymore.
“Do what right?” Coming into the office after this long should feel different, but it doesn’t. My desk is the same, Marcus is the same...
“Go to Paris. You’re supposed to have an accent, talk about the higher order...”
“I think you watch too many movies, Marc.” I sit down and power up my computer. I put my bag in its usual spot, and he slides his chair over to perch his feet on the edge of my desk. Just like old times. Except I haven’t gotten used to the time zone difference, so it feels like the afternoo
n when it’s only nine in the morning.
“Uh huh. Well, since you’re better than me now, you can do all the work.”
I roll my eyes. “We have like one month until the boards, what could there be to do?”
He smirks. He has since cut his hair short and looks slightly older around the eyes, but not by much.
“Don’t jinx it. Seriously, you barely answered my texts when you were gone. What did you do?”
“Sorry about that. Honestly, it was the same. Only difference was the protocols and teaching, the extra training certification.” It was a little more than that. The whole essence of being ‘world class’ laid in the word. If a victim was killed here and somehow ended up overseas, I would be of the few qualified to do the autopsy. And vice versa. I was trained in foreign protocol and teaching practices, it set me apart.
“Hmm. Sounds good.” He scratches his jaw and looks at me funny, I avoid his funny look. “Sorry, I was just thinking, shouldn’t you be married by now?”
Healing is a myth. There is no such thing; only pause. And betrayal from my own heart and soul. I should have...accepted by now. I should be able to simply think back, let the memories pass without...
My hands shake as I tuck my hair behind my ear, which doesn’t help to hide my red cheeks. I feel my nerves coil and recognize the feeling. I go cold.
“No. Um, excuse me.” I nearly trip getting up and rushing to the bathroom. I lock the door to the single stall and splash water on my face.
It doesn’t calm me down or cool my face down. I expect it to work like putting oil on an oily face, but it doesn’t. My chest heaves with the threat of sobs and I have no choice but to let them out. It rips through me and the tears from my eyes flood to match it. I bend over the sink and let the sobs rack my body. I think of Thom, I picture him... the way he used to look at me and the way he used to love me, and it kills me slowly. I cannot imagine, even still, why he broke up with me. Honest to god I would have forgiven him; everyone makes mistakes... but maybe he just didn’t love me anymore. Maybe... maybe it was just over, and I couldn’t accept it—can’t accept it. Even still.
