Chapter 25 #3
“What did he do to Percy?”
“Is Jade okay?”
“I knew there was something wrong with him! Didn’t you hear him call his ex a whore? He’s the whore…”
“That’s why he never knew where our didactics were…”
“He told us his email didn’t get messages, either…”
And it’s just one hushed, dry remark: “How do we know they’re not just jealous, bitter exes?” that has me rising from my seat.
“There’s nothing fake about my love for Percy,” I announce, deciding that if she has to be a spectacle, she can share the spotlight with me.
Percy’s eyes meet mine, stunned, cautious, then hopeful, all in quick succession.
And it’s her tender, timid smile that gives me the courage to approach.
I walk up to her on the podium, embracing the permanent hit to our reputation this past hour has granted my family, and reach into my pocket.
I turn to the audience. “Despite many rumors to the contrary…”
Shakily, I pull out the velvet-green box, holding it up for all to see. “I haven’t gotten to do this yet. Not with the real one, instead of the decoy promise ring.”
I take a deep breath.
Time to make a spectacle so grand that the focus is all on me, not Percy.
Good thing I already have a speech.
“Percy,” I say, looking directly at her, holding the ring close to my heart, “Do you know what it means to be sick sick?”
She nods, inhaling sharply.
“When I saw patients who were sick sick, at the point of almost no return, I used to think that was the worst possible human experience. And for most people, it is. Being so physically ill that you end up in the SICU is unbearable. Multi-team rounding, more lines than limbs, drips to keep you out of pain and awareness.”
I swallow.
“But when I didn’t match last year, I learned a new dimension to sickness. Surgeons aren’t supposed to feel sick in the head.” I laugh, but for the first time, it doesn’t come out as hollow. “Not that it mattered, since I didn’t match into surgery.”
“So I had no one to blame but me, and I stopped taking care of myself. I devolved into my most narcissistic vices—arrogance, self-pity, isolation.”
I smile at her.
“But then you came into my life like a meteor crashing. Blasting craters into my facade of indifference, parading me around like I was worth dating, spiking my blood pressure every time you walked into the room, reminding me that I’m still alive.
“I started spending my free time thinking instead of moping,” I continue. “I hated it. I don’t like thinking about myself. I’d rather work myself to death than self-reflect. But I did it anyway, because I needed to work through how I’d reinvent myself to match again.
“I like victories. I like cutting someone open, fixing something, and then putting them back together.
And I like feeling noticed. It was all about what I could do for someone growing up.
Deliver the girls to school. Organize the finances for Father.
Make it into medical school so I can devote myself to my patients.
“But it wasn’t enough. I didn’t feel satisfied making incisions.
Or managing pre- and post-ops. I felt empty when I went into work, and I felt emptier sitting by myself at home.
And I kept trying, convinced that if I could just make it in and treat my life like an endless responsibility list, that it would be enough. That I would feel better.
“But I was distracted. All I could think about was how much I would miss you when you left. Who would send me blurry photos of the weather? Accept my gifts without complaint? Chase me down in the hospital just to make a point?”
I lean in closer, dropping a kiss to the crown of her head.
“I’m applying to family medicine this time,” I tell her, taking a steadying breath.
Percy’s eyes widen, just a fraction, but then her smile curves up.
Beaming at me.
The audience gasps, but I couldn’t care less. The only person I care about is right here.
Thank Heavens. Jade was right. She doesn’t care.
“I wanted to be a surgeon this time last year. For my enigmatic ego. In a vain pursuit of valor, an undertaking that trapped me in a permanent mindset of sick sick.”
I drop to my knee, opening the box.
Trembling, I pull the ring out.
Platinum gold setting. Diamond so heavy that my hand shakes as I lift it. Lined with emeralds across two vine-like bands, dotting them like leaves, hand-picked by me to match her eyes.
“But for you, I would gladly die again, and become someone completely new.”
I look up at her beautiful, perfect face. “Persephone Ophelia Lovelace, will you marry me?”
Please, I beg her.
Please tell me you love me back.
Her eyes water, stepping forward tentatively, wrapping her hands around my wrist, still holding the box.
Then it hits me.
Are you really?
That’s what she’s asking, fingers pressing into my wrists. It’s what she’s trying to ask me in private, despite being surrounded by a room full of people.
It’s our first consent system. So that it never goes too far.
But I’m all in now.
I place my other hand over hers, squeezing back.
Yes.
“Yes!” she screams, and the room erupts into chaos.