I never thought about that side of being a doctor. Being a doctor was always biology and chemistry, formulas and equations. My job was to look at a disease, a mutation trying to take up residence in someone’s body, and come up with a way to get it out. To defeat it.
I never thought about the actual people these diseases were living in. I never thought about the human eyes that I would have to look into while they asked me if they were going to die.
How did a man do it? When their scientific equation, their scientific solution failed, then what? My failure could cost lives.
When I stepped into the apartment, the aroma of rich tomato sauce wafted through the air. God, I was starving. I couldn’t remember the last time I ate something that wasn’t from a vending machine. The day before yesterday maybe?
I stepped around the corner and she was there. I didn’t need to drink coffee. If I wanted a boost of energy, all I had to do was look at her.
“Hey, handsome,” Dani said, turning from the stove. Her caramel-colored hair fell down her back in a thick braid. “I’m making spaghetti.”
She was dressed in a pair of black yoga pants and a loose T-shirt. She was beautiful to me. My hands itched to touch her and my feet obeyed, suddenly forgetting they were tired and taking me over so I could wrap my arms around her from behind and nuzzle her neck, playing at her collarbone with my tongue.
“Mmm,” she said as I pulled her earlobe between my lips.
She spun in my hold, reaching up to kiss me, the kind of kiss that melted away days of being at the hospital. “How was school today?” I asked, pulling back but keeping her in my arms.
“Good. Track meet this Friday…”
I kissed her again, just because I could.
“The pasta is going to boil over!” She laughed, trying to push me away. Her attempt was pathetic because she liked when I was close.
“I have a noodle for you,” I said, wagging my eyebrows at her.
“You did not just say that.” She groaned, rolling her eyes.
I released her and she went to check the pasta, but before she could go, I pulled her back. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” She swatted me with a kitchen towel. “Now go wash your hands.”
After dinner, it was my turn to do the dishes. I tossed them in the sink and poured water over them, then turned away. “Let’s go out for ice cream.”
“How can you even think about food? I am stuffed.”
“You know me.” I joked. “I’m insatiable.”
“One of the many things I love about you.”
I winked.
“What about the dishes,” she asked, lifting an eyebrow.
“They need to soak.”
She giggled. “Fine. Let’s go.”
It was after eight, but the traffic on the roads was moderate. Jacksonville, North Carolina, was a place that never seemed to sleep completely. Yes, the roads slowed down, but because it was such a military town with young Marines and bars everywhere, the place never truly slept.
Cold Stone closed at nine, but I wasn’t in a hurry because I knew we’d make it in time. It was a warm night, typical of the south, and we drove with the windows down. Dani had her bare feet propped up on the dash, singing along horribly to a country song on the radio. I couldn’t help but glance at her as I drove. Long wisps of hair escaped her braid and fluttered around her head like a halo.
Maybe I should have realized that was my sign.
My sign that everything was about to change.
I should have known such an angel wouldn’t be allowed to stay on Earth.
The car came out of nowhere. Running through the intersection, completely ignoring the red light. I saw it at the last second, reaching out and slamming my arm against her, trying to protect her even as I spun the wheel, trying to get out of the way of the speeding car.
But we didn’t make it.
The sound of shattering glass and groaning metal weren’t even loud enough to cover up her screams. I would hear those screams until I died.
When the car finally stopped, screeching to a halt on the side of the tree-lined boulevard, the sound of silence, the feeling of stillness washed over me.
In those few heartbeats, I knew everything was about to change.
“Dani!” I yelled, grappling with the seat belt, trying to get free. Her non-responsive behavior scared me, and I began to struggle harder.
Finally, it let me free and I dropped onto my side, ignoring the cutting glass and shouts from people running to help. I saw her lying in the seat beside me, hunched over with a single rivulet of blood running down her temple.
“Dani, baby,” I said, reaching for her, wrapping my hand around her arm.
Behind me someone opened the driver’s side door. “Are you okay?” someone yelled.
“Call 9-1-1!” I screamed.
The door on Dani’s side was wrenched free. Hands appeared and lifted her out. I scrambled through the wreckage to free myself and drop beside her on the pavement. The scent of burning rubber and spilled gasoline filled the air. The sound of people talking, of people crying, pressed in around us. The distant sound of sirens headed in our direction was like a beacon of hope on a hopeless night.
“Dani,” I said, “open your eyes.”
In the dark, her lashes fluttered. Brown eyes looked up, unfocused and confused.
“Hey,” I smiled. Relief like no other poured through my body, making my hands tremble. “Hey, babe. Thank God.”
“Gavin?” she asked, her voice weak.
“Shh,” I told her, brushing away the hair from her face. “There was an accident. Help is on its way.”
Then I remembered I was a doctor. I could help her now.
I clicked into clinic mode, assessing her injuries, feeling for a pulse. She was hurt, hurt badly. It seemed like she had some internal bleeding and her breathing didn’t sound right. I was afraid she had a punctured lung.
“Where’s the ambulance!” I yelled over my shoulder.
No one offered me an answer.
It was dark out here, so dark. How was I supposed to make a diagnosis in the dark with no medical supplies, not even so much as a napkin to wipe her blood?
I palmed her cheek and gently turned her head in my direction. “Listen to me, Dani. Help is coming. Everything is going to be okay.”
She smiled at the sound of my voice. But she didn’t open her eyes.
“Stay with me, baby. I love you.”
“I love you, too,” she whispered.
And then she died.
That was the last smile I would ever see on her face. The last words I would ever hear her speak. She died there on the pavement on the side of the road littered with debris and strangers. The ambulance pulled up minutes after she died. Too late.