It was February 16th, and as I walked to my car on my way into work, there was the head of a doll, just the head, hewn in a smile, rolling down the walk, parallel to the driveway, pointed toward me, as it rolled.
It was my last semester of my internship before I got my nurse practitioner’s license. On an unseasonably warm day, the type of day when the sun seems to peak through the clouds a little more than normal but everything still seems rusty, like spring has to shake the kinks off of it and stuff, the birds have to add WD-40 to their vocal chords, I made my way in. The parking garage of the hospital was the same, but there was a briskness about things, with the weather being warmer, I could feel it.
I could still remember the day I’d decided to get into the field of medicine with my life. I was watching a video of the remnants of the big earthquake in Haiti, and there were bodies piled upon bodies, regular casseroles of blood lining that once beautiful country.
My father passed away when I was 14. Cancer, a regular smoker. He’d held my hand, and said, son, Just do what you want to with your life, just make your mom happy. We went out to eat after the funeral. Nobody said much. I had no brother or any guy cousins, and my girl cousins all wore a bunch of makeup, and courteously deferred conversation.
I became better friends with my buddy Mitch after my dad died, and we even messed around a few times, just joking around. Nobody ever knew, I never told my mom or anyone. Mitch and I never played the same sport, so it was pretty easy to hide the weirdness. I think my older sister sensed it though, a little bit, and she looked at me despondently after this, but it was only jealousy. Just more weirdness, and we’d all see what was on TV, me, Mitch, my sister Erin, and the mailman named Axe whom she’d made friends with.
I still lived at home when I was finishing my internship. It made the most sense. Whatever, I just stayed out of trouble.
I’d never thought about this, but it was funny, on a day like this 45 degree day in the middle of February, when everything started to be turning up, when the old ladies down the hall started talking a little louder about getting their nails done, seeing a guy whose jaw was imploded, whose face was jaundiced, whose eyes were distant and still, and whose neck seemed solidified in a 12 degree right tilt.
On my first day I was to work with the new guy, I went to bring him his towels, just so he could look at them. It was a courtesy I’d make, which I knew full-fledged nurse practitioners probably wouldn’t have time for, but who was thinking about the future?
“Whadya think of these, old man?” I said.
He gave me a weary thumbs up.
Then there was nothing to say, so I walked away, and sensed that old stillness in the room as usual, but maybe remembered a few extra things this time, the deep velvet blue of the company tapestry somehow seeming to come alive.
That night I went to play tennis with a platonic friend, Nancy.
“How’s work goin’?” she asked.
“Oh,” I said. “Lotta old people.”
“At least you get to SEE people. My head is stuck in books all day.”
“Wanna grab a mocha later?”
“I can’t, actually I have a date!”
“Oh,” I said. “Can I come?”
“Haha,” she laughed, “ok, but you have to buy the Jujyfruits for us.”
“Agh, those are an arm and a leg!”
“You’re used to arms and legs.”
And as always, it got dark before we thought it would. I got home physically rejuvenated, but thinking, I hope that boy brings me my towels again tomorrow.