Chapter 2 Xander
XANDER
The fine line between life and death trembles perilously close, but at the last second I’m granted a second chance, and the life beneath my hands remains with me today.
A two-hour surgery turns into a five-hour one due to complications found inside them after I get them open and on the table, leaving my other scheduled surgeries to be unfortunately delayed or handed off to other surgeons.
It’s not uncommon, but each patient I work with who ends up under another surgeon’s blade comes with a little guilt.
I’m the one who talks to them, discusses their treatment, calms them, and often reassures them.
Every time someone else needs to step in, there’s a touch of guilt that rises through me as those people go under without the doctor they know by their side.
An unavoidable occurrence in this line of work, but it sits heavily, as always, on my shoulders as I update the surgical board and spot that Mrs. Wilikis, an elderly patient who gave me more chewy toffees than I knew what to do with, is already an hour into her surgery with another doctor.
“Xander.” Fred, the surgeon I spent the past five hours with, appears next to me with a yawn. “Good work in there.”
“It’s just work,” I reply quietly, scribbling down all the important details any other doctor would need if I’m unavailable for my patient. “I’m relieved we got it all.”
“That’s it?” Fred leans against the wall next to the electronic board I’m working on. “You cut her open for a perforated stomach and found a mass behind her kidney at the same time, did two in one, and all you can do is stand there and say it’s just work?”
Adjusting my glasses with one hand, I focus on the board. “She’s not out of the woods yet. It’s not right to celebrate.”
“But she’s not our problem anymore. She’s theirs.” He jerks his thumb back down the corridor toward the ward.
I follow his jerk with a glance and then pause when I see her.
Snow.
Earlier this morning, I heard her getting torn into by that awful woman, Jen.
She might be the head of the ward, but she doesn’t have a drop of compassion left over for her staff.
While being late isn’t ideal, scolding someone in front of passing doctors or nurses is just cruel.
Usually, I’m too busy to get involved with department drama like that, but something about the sight of Snow sitting, wilted, at the desk after Jen left just got to me.
I couldn’t shake how forlorn she looked, but we barely know each other so I had no words of comfort to offer.
She reminded me, very briefly, of my late wife who also wilted after a scolding when people weren’t looking.
She was a strong woman who spent most of her life teaching the children of ungrateful parents.
Unable to shake Snow’s sad face from my thoughts, I bought her coffee before being swept into surgery.
Sometimes, a single nice gesture is all it takes to chase away even the worst of moods.
“Xander?” Fred clicks his fingers to regain my attention and glances over his shoulder. “What’s got you distracted?”
Luckily, there’s more than just Snow around the desk so my quietly wandering eye goes unnoticed and I return to the board. “Nothing.”
“You old dog.” He smirks. “Anyway, I was saying we should go out for drinks.”
“Your shift doesn’t end for another six hours.”
“After.”
“You go. I have things to do.”
“Such as?” Fred lifts one thin, blond eyebrow. “Date?”
“No.”
“Family?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
Tapping the screen, I direct Fred’s gaze to the calendar. “I’m on call, remember?”
“Oh, shit.” Fred wrinkles his nose and sighs. “Alright, well, we should still celebrate.”
“Not until our patient is fully out of the woods.”
“You’re in the wrong profession, my friend,” Fred says, pushing off the wall. “You’re a surgeon, not a family doctor.”
There’s no use replying. I could berate Fred for his lack of compassion, his desire to remain apart from his patients, and even his tendency to treat the patients and their surgeries like a competition, but it wouldn’t benefit anyone.
He’s a fantastic surgeon who distances himself so he can cope with the horrors we see here, and while I don’t agree, I don’t judge.
We all find ways to cope.
“I have notes to write up.” Closing the screen, I move away from Fred. “Have a good evening.”
“Geez, you gotta lighten up and have fun one of these days,” Fred calls after me as I walk down the corridor toward my office. “Life is too short!”
He’s right about that.
Life is too short.
Passing the desk, I glance at Snow, but her head is down with her straight brown hair cascading over one shoulder like a curtain as she scribbles hastily on something in front of her.
As I pass, the phone rings and her head sweeps up.
For a split second, her golden eyes lock onto mine as she tucks the phone against her ear, but she looks away just as quickly and falls into conversation with whoever called.
I continue into my office at the end of the hall and firmly close my door against the hubbub of the hospital.
Peace to write up all my notes in my office is rare.
I usually do them from home since there’s never any time at work, but today’s success and subsequent pushed surgeries grant me a few precious hours to write up my detailed notes and records of my actions today.
I bury myself under a mountain of paperwork and don’t rise until the light outside dims and I’m forced to turn on my desk lamp.
It’s late.
I shouldn’t stay here much longer.
Taking my phone from the top of my desk, I send a quick message to my neighbor, Auriela.
As I hit send, knuckles rap gently against my door.
“Yes?” Placing my phone face down, I brace for any possibility of bad news coming through that door, but my heart lifts unexpectedly when Snow’s face peeks around and her thin lips melt into a nervous smile.
“Mr. Thomas?”
“Yes? Is something wrong?”
She pushes the door open further with her shoulder, shaking her head, and walks in carrying a silver tray laden with food from the cafeteria. “I haven’t seen you leave your office all day, and you had a long surgery, so I thought you might be hungry.”
The second the aroma of gravy, roast beef slices, and potatoes hits me, my stomach answers for me in a loud gurgle that surprises both of us.
Snow’s brow shoots up to her hairline and a dusting of pink flushes across her golden cheeks while she sets the tray down.
“Thank you, that is kind. You’re right, I didn’t have much chance to eat today.”
“It gets like that sometimes,” Snow agrees, then she clasps her hands together.
“I mean, not that I’m comparing what I do to what you do.
Totally different things, and yours is way more important and stuff.
I just mean it can get busy. Although I suppose everything I do is much easier to step away from than a surgery is for you. ”
She rambles on hurriedly and her left ear, which holds back her hair, turns crimson at the tip.
“It does get busy,” I agree. “Thank you.” Adjusting my phone out of the way, I pick up the knife and fork.
Snow turns as if to leave but she hesitates at the door.
Watching her over the top of my glasses, I take her in.
Her poker-straight hair comes down to just above her waist and moves like a waterfall.
She’s wrapped in a grey pencil skirt and a white blouse, with a ladder running up the back of her tights on one leg.
Given how hectic things can be for her and people in her position, I imagine she goes through her fair share of tights.
“Actually…” Snow turns back toward me. “Mr. Thomas?”
“Xander.” While all of our interactions in the past up until this moment have been purely work-related, it’s oddly awkward to hear my name like that when she’s just brought me food.
“Xander,” she repeats. “Thank you for the coffee earlier.”
“It’s no problem.”
“Why did you do that?”
Spearing one small roast potato with my fork, I gaze up at her. “Why did I bring you coffee?”
“Mhm.” She chews briefly on her lower lip. “No one’s ever done that before.”
“No one has ever bought you coffee?”
“Not at work.”
“Why did you bring me dinner?”
The flame of red at the tip of her ear burns brighter for a moment. “Because I thought it would be a nice thing to do.”
“Exactly.”
“But also to say thank you. Was your coffee a thank you?”
There’s a strange note of suspicion in her eyes, as if she thinks the coffee holds some sort of secret meaning that she’s unhappy about.
It really was just coffee. And if I’m truly honest with myself, maybe it was just to see her smile.
She has a beautiful smile. It always creeps up with a half curl as if she’s nervous to admit something makes her happy, then it blooms into a wide, bright smile that lights up her entire face.
It’s a rare kind of smile but I like to see it, especially after a hard day.
“Do you want my honest answer?”
She nods.
“I heard Jen berating you and decided that starting your day with such negativity was too impactful, so I hoped it would lift your spirits.”
“You heard that?” Her cheeks turn crimson.
Perhaps I was too honest. “I did. Jen has quite the volume when she gets going.”
“I deserved it. I was so late, it was just…” She catches herself suddenly. “You don’t want to hear all about that. Sorry. Please, enjoy your meal.”
“Maybe I do,” I reply calmly.
“Huh?” Her eyes widen and the hand she has on the door tightens. “You… do?”
“Maybe I do,” I affirm. “You decided that for me before I’d had a chance to decide.”
“I…” She hesitates and confusion tightens her features. “I should go.”
“Tell me.” The urge to have her stay for company while I eat is stronger than my disinterest in the lives of the staff here.
Except Snow’s… for some reason. Maybe Fred is right. Life is short and Snow’s the first decent, non-medical conversation I’ve had all day.
“You… want me to tell you why I was late?”
“If you want to.” Forcing her to stay isn’t my desire, but she’s an animated person when she talks. “Company while I eat wouldn’t be terrible.”
Snow frowns. “You have an odd way of asking for things,” she replies. “Your tone makes it sound like you want me to leave while your words sound like you’ll listen if I want to talk.”
“Is that odd?”
She shrugs. “It’s weird.”
“Is it?” Popping another small potato in my mouth, I chew slowly. “The way I see it, I told you company wouldn’t be terrible and I asked you to tell me. But I won’t force you to do either of those things because it’s your choice. My tone is my tone. Sadly, not something I can do anything about.”
“It is weird!” Snow moves further into my office and the door gradually closes on its own behind her. “You make it sound like you’re interested while almost making it sound like my presence would be a bother, like you don’t care either way.”
I bite back a small, amused chuckle for fear of offending her. “How can I be clearer than saying tell me?”
Her lips part and a flash of indignation warms her eyes, then she changes her mind and sighs. “I suppose… that’s pretty direct, actually.”
“Yes. So, will you tell me?”
Snow finally sits in the chair on the opposite side of my desk and gives me what’s clearly a toned-down version of her morning.
An alarm that didn’t go off, lost car keys, an aggravating roommate who is no help whatsoever, and a patch of ice that delayed her rush to find a good parking spot.
“Sometimes, the world works against us,” I say after my last mouthful of beef.
“You’re telling me,” Snow sighs. “And I understand Jen, to a point. I know a lot rides on what we do here and it’s my fourth or fifth time being late these past two months, but it’s never intentional.”
“Maybe you need a better alarm.”
She scoffs. “I used to use my phone alarm, but he… I mean, my phone kept vanishing while I slept, and I’d never hear it, so I switched to analog.”
“A vanishing phone?”
She rolls her eyes slightly and smiles that hesitant smile. “I’m a rough sleeper.”
“Clearly.”
“I bet you sleep like a log.” Snow chuckles. “All the work you do must be insanely stressful and just wipe you out at the end of the day.”
“Sometimes,” I agree. “Other times, it’s more like—”
The sudden frantic beeping from my pager cuts through my words.
Pulling it from my hip, the rolling code details a large incoming trauma, and nothing else matters.
“Urgent?” Snow asks as she stands.
“Yes. I have to go.” Routine has me halfway out the door before I finish talking, but I catch myself and turn back to Snow, who stands in my doorway. “Thank you, Snow. For dinner. It really helped.”
Her warm, hesitant smile is the last thing I see before I sprint down the corridor.
I like that smile.