3. Alexis
It’s been a long day.
Hell, it”s been a long week. This is my fourth and final year of residency in emergency medicine, and I can honestly say this week was the worst in my career. After Slinky”s attempt to ruin my life, within the first two hours of my next shift, there was a ten-car pile-up, with my E.R. being the closest level-one trauma center. We lost four patients that day, performed two limb amputations, and gave thousands of stitches. I”ve seen death plenty of times, both traumatic and peaceful, but this was on another level. I ended up needing an emergency session with my therapist just to cope.
And it just got worse from there. I spent two nights in the on-call rooms rather than sleep at home, we were so busy. It got to the point where half the staff was convinced we”d been cursed or that a planet was in retrograde, making our lives a living hell. The reality is this is what emergency medicine is; some days or weeks are just shit.
But what matters is how many people we heal because that far outweighs those we lose.
I’m still wrapped in my thoughts of work when I step out of the elevator and stop dead in my tracks. There is a box outside my door.
With a bow.
What the hell?
If Dateline and true crime podcasts have taught me anything, it’s that you can’t trust random packages you weren’t expecting.
I slowly inch my way to the box, probably a bit irrationally afraid that the vibrations of my feet will set off the bomb that is most definitely inside. Once I’m actually at my door, I can see there is a note tucked under the ribbon.
As slowly as humanly possible, in case it”s attached to a trip wire, I slip out the card. I”m only a little embarrassed that I squeaked in fear once it was free. I have a moment of panic that the card could be filled with anthrax, but then I remind myself that it wouldn”t be attached to a box if that were the case. I think.
Taking a deep breath, possibly my last, I open the envelope and take out the card.
Is this in Latin?
I’m not exactly sure how long I stand there deciphering possibly the worst handwriting I’ve ever seen (and as a doctor, that’s saying a lot). But once I read it all, I can’t help but smile like an idiot standing in my hallway at ten in the morning, completely alone.
The box isn’t a bomb, so that’s good. But even better, Jason Adams doesn’t think I’m a complete psycho.
Dear Dr. Alexis Masters,
I think anyone who has the title of a doctor should use it. You earned it. Never be ashamed to flex your accomplishments.
Even though I was pretty quiet the other day, I thought you and Slinky were really cool, and I hope to run into you more often. In the box is something I thought you both would like; my sister has one and her two cats are obsessed. I hope you like it.
Your Friend,
Jason
P.S. I’m in apartment 511, in case you ever need something. And I’d love to see a picture of you and Slink enjoying the gift sometime, 310-555-9595.
I have to shake myself to get moving and actually open my door; I”m so giddy over this note. I set the box on my counter and greet Slinky, who comes running when she hears me. Even though she has an auto-feeder that can last for a couple of weeks, she definitely misses our cuddles when I”m gone at work. She chirps and weaves between my legs, giving me an affectionate rub.
”Now, Slinky, we”ve got a gift to open. I”m still salty at you about taking off and scratching Jason”s face, but since he clearly doesn”t hate us, I might be prepared to forgive you.”
She continues to rub against my legs as if to say yeah, duh, Alexis, you never stay mad at me. And she’s right. Can’t hold a grudge to save my life.
“Alright then, let’s open this gift.” I rip into the wrapping (I’m always too excited to be mature about it), and I’m speechless when I finally get to what’s inside the box.
Tears in my eyes.
You can chalk it up to the emotional stress of the last few days, but this is so thoughtful I can barely hold it together.
I pull out the gray sweatshirt to show Slinky. ”Look, sweet girl, this has a kitty pocket so you can walk around with me!”
I immediately shove my body into the sweatshirt and open the zipper pocket. Then, before she can run away, I snatch up my cat and stuff her in the pouch, zipping the opening almost shut but with enough room for her head to pop out. Which it does. I snap a quick selfie, and hands down, it is the cutest picture I”ve ever taken with Slinky. Shockingly, she seems happy in the lil kangaroo pouch.
Trying not to overthink it, I shoot off the selfie and a quick text to Jason so he knows I got the gift, then get to work on tidying up the apartment.
I definitely don”t send six follow-up texts in less than one minute…. Nope, definitely not.