Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
JADEN
Something about Nyla is different today. She’s been tense all day, and ever since tears suddenly started running down her cheeks in Treatment Room One, she’s also seemed pensive.
She’s been feeling bad for hours now and seeing her like this is hard for me. I wonder what’s tormenting her, and also how I can help her get rid of it.
Now she’s standing in front of our quirky patient, from whose hand a splinter has to be removed, and asking him how the accident happened.
‘It was the perfect day to finally get my garden gnomes properly into position. After all, it was a project I’d been putting off for a long time. New gnomes keep turning up, and of course they all have to go in exactly the right place,’ he replies without pausing for breath even once.
Our eyes meet. While I can barely keep from grinning, her expression stays neutral. Even when the man with the wild hair and professor glasses starts talking about his garden gnomes as if they were people, she can’t laugh.
I give her a fond, questioning look; she lowers her eyelids.
‘So I picked him up, the little show-off in his garish clothes who always stands in the garden acting like he’s achieved something in life just because he’s made of wood and not plastic,’ the man now explains with expansive gestures.
Only with effort does Nyla lift the corners of her mouth.
Is it because of our encounter in the ambulance yesterday? The way I was so dismissive at first was wrong. I shouldn’t have shut her out like that and should have admitted that I made a mistake out on the cliffs.
For a moment, the pinched face of my boss, who confronted me after yesterday’s shift about the rescue operation at the cliffs, flickers through my mind.
And her incredulous look when I assured her that it wouldn’t happen again in the future—something that probably never would have happened without that conversation with Nyla.
‘I wanted to turn him a little, and what happens?’ Our patient throws his arms in the air. ‘The guy who’d stood obediently in his corner for years suddenly came flying at me like a miniature rocket launcher!’
Nyla startles, as if she’s just woken from a dream.
‘Okay, hold your hand still so we can see what we’re doing,’ I ask the man.
He stretches out his hand, and I spot the splinter immediately. Getting that out won’t be easy. ‘We should numb the area locally. What do you think, Dr. Moore?’
Nyla nods and gets to work.
Unimpressed, the man keeps chattering away. ‘But instead of backing off, I wanted to save it, so I grabbed for it. And what does the stupid garden gnome do? It twists in the air and lands— I swear, it was like in a bad action movie—right on my hand.’
Normally I would burst out laughing now, the man is damn funny, but I can’t when I see Nyla in this mood. ‘Wow, it really put you in your place,’ I say absentmindedly.
‘Please place your hand here.’ Nyla points to the mobile table on which she has spread out a sterile cloth.
The man does as she asks, then he leans toward me. ‘What’s wrong with her?’ he whispers to me.
If only I knew…
Instead of answering, I lift my shoulders. While Nyla switches on the lamp and positions it so she has a good view while she works, I watch her.
It probably has something to do with the old man who stirred up so much in her at the beginning of the shift. When his test and examination results arrived a few hours ago, it was clear that he was not doing well and would have to be admitted as an inpatient.
She was deeply sad when she told him. Almost as if she had informed him that he would be leaving our world today.
Maybe he will have to, I think, and for a moment I see Camee’s face before me. Her tired eyes, the forced smile, the pale cheeks.
A stab shoots through my chest and I focus again on our patient, who is chattering away nonstop with Nyla.
He tells her how he called his garden gnome to account after the attack and warned it never to do anything like that again.
With an expression somewhere between worry and tension, she administers the local anesthetic and hums her agreement.
When she removes the splinter a little later, it almost physically hurts to look at her. She’s perched on the rolling stool like a picture of misery.
‘I’ll clean the wound, then we’ll put a bandage on it, which you should change regularly,’ she explains to the patient. ‘I’m also going to prescribe an antibiotic for you, just to be safe.’
He doesn’t really need an antibiotic for this tiny splinter.
That she’s prescribing one anyway doesn’t surprise me, though.
No matter whom she treats, she just can’t leave well enough alone.
A few days ago I thought she was only this overcautious with me, but she seems to fear the worst for every single patient.
Admittedly, sometimes she prevents bigger disasters that way. Like yesterday. Taking precautions does apparently have its advantages now and then.
‘Avoid putting excessive strain on the finger over the next few days.’ Nyla sticks the bandage on. ‘Clean the wound daily with warm water and mild soap. No harsh disinfectants, they could irritate the skin.’
Visibly confused, the patient nods. He clearly hadn’t expected so many instructions.
I study Nyla. Why is she actually so overcautious? Is she afraid of making a mistake and harming patients because of it?
Has something like that even happened to her before?
‘If the finger starts to hurt more or turns red, report to the emergency room immediately.’ She gets up from her chair and pulls off her gloves. ‘Watch out for signs of infection, severe swelling, or fever. If that happens, react right away.’
The patient grows paler with every passing second. ‘Do you think that can really happen?’
‘You can never be too careful.’ Nyla’s expression is as serious as if the man’s life were at stake. ‘If you have any questions or feel unsure, get in touch.’
Unsettled, the man runs a hand through his hair.
I quickly wink at him. ‘And next time, please don’t let the garden gnome bite your finger.’
The man laughs hesitantly. But at least he laughs; with Nyla, all I see again is that forced grimace with which she now also says goodbye to the patient.
As soon as he has left the treatment room, that artificial something gives way once more to her brooding expression, which by now causes me physical pain.
This can’t go on. ‘Is there a problem?’ I ask carefully.
Surprise appears on her face. For a while she studies me, as if she had to think about her answer. ‘Yes.’
I knew she would react like that or something similar, and still I asked, and part of me regrets it. Another part just wants to see her happy again and is even willing to cross boundaries I have carefully drawn.
‘Can I help you solve it?’ I try to sound relaxed, but I don’t know if I succeed.
She walks back to the treatment chair and places the used instruments one by one into a kidney dish. ‘No.’
Something in me breathes a sigh of relief, something else tightens. ‘Why not?’
Out of nowhere, she stops. ‘There is no solution, only unchangeable facts,’ she says so quietly that I can barely understand her. ‘No one can do anything, it is what it is.’
If that’s the case, then I know what she needs to feel better again: light thoughts, carefree moments, something beautiful to comfort her.
‘There’s a fair going on over in Halifax Common right now. With live music, rides, cotton candy, and street performers.’ I walked past a poster this morning, and now I’m glad it comes back to me. ‘That would be the perfect way to round off the day, don’t you think?’
Briefly, her gaze wanders to the clock on the wall. ‘Of course, the shift is over anyway.’
Wow. That was surprisingly easy. ‘Great, then out of the coat and into the fun.’
‘What? You want me to come with you?’ She buries her hands in the pockets of her coat, every single muscle in her body tense.
‘Sure, who’s going to make sure we have fun if you’re not there?’ I ask, raising my brows meaningfully. That doesn’t work either.
‘I already have plans today, I’m sorry,’ she says curtly, grabs the medical file, and presses it tightly to her chest as if it were a shield.
‘Let me guess…’ I tap my index finger thoughtfully against my chin. ‘You’ve got a date with your cuddly blanket, dried kale chips, and Health TV.’
She nibbles on her lower lip, and that’s when I know I’m right. There is no way she should be alone at home tonight, left to her worries. Especially not when that won’t change her problem anyway.
‘So, a hot foursome. You, the blanket, the chips, and the TV,’ I say, even though it feels wrong to be making jokes right now. It’s stupid, but I don’t know what else I could say.
Luckily, her expression softens a little.
‘I figured as much. After all, I’ve known since our first encounter that there’s a little minx hiding inside you.’ Oh God, what am I saying?
For a moment the corners of her mouth twitch, then she turns to the door. ‘Bye, Jaden, I’ll see you the day after tomorrow at the rescue center.’
No. I don’t want to let her go in this state. ‘You have tomorrow off? All the more reason to enjoy the evening.’
She doesn’t react. If she goes home now, she’ll take whatever is dragging her down with her. If she comes with me, at least she has a chance at a few pleasant hours.
I hurry to the door and lean against it so she can’t leave the treatment room. ‘Your rejection is breaking my heart, you do realize that, don’t you?’
There. A small flicker of warmth in her eyes.
‘And how am I supposed to go on with a broken heart, huh?’ I look at her intently. ‘You’re a doctor, you know that’s not possible.’
Her features slowly relax.
‘Come with me.’ I reach my hand out to her.
She doesn’t take it; instead, something else happens. A strange mood settles between us as we simply look at each other.
I try to read in her eyes what’s going on inside her, think I understand that there’s nothing she’d rather do than go to the fair with me, but that there’s something holding her back.
Is she worried that we’ll get as close again as we did yesterday?
Does she think I’ll try to kiss her again?
But why does that scare her so much? It wouldn’t mean anything more than that we both let go because that’s what we feel like doing right now.
Enjoying life. Without obligations. Without questions. Without making plans.
You don’t really believe that yourself, a voice whispers inside me.
‘Please, Nyla,’ I say quietly.
She raises an eyebrow. ‘What happened to Miss Worst Case?’
She’s not important, at least not right now. ‘I just want you to feel better.’
‘I know.’ She looks down at the floor.
But if she’s aware of that, then why… ‘I don’t understand you.’ But I’d really like to.
‘It’s complicated.’ She lets out a long breath.
‘Yeah, life is complicated.’ Once again, I hold my hand out to her. ‘But being happy isn’t.’ And that’s what she should be, simply happy.
Now she lifts her lids and looks straight at me—hopeful, full of longing, a faint smile on her lips. Beautiful, she’s just plain beautiful.
I grab her hand before she can change her mind. She’s trembling slightly, but Nyla still comes with me.