Page 3 of Trick of Light

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Nick said, his eyes glowing in the moonlight.

All night, Bethany tossed and turned in bed, trying to make sense of Nick’s sudden interest in her. At three thirty in the morning, she got up, turned on her light, and assessed herself in the mirror, trying to see herself as Nick had seen her today. Like always, there were subtle bags under her eyes and knots in her hair along her neckline. Like always, she looked like Bethany Sutton—future doctor without much hope for romance.

She didn't care about herself as long as she could save people’s lives and eliminate their pain. After what she’d seen Joel go through, not marrying or having children of her own didn’t feel like a sacrifice.

Once, her friend back in college had asked her if she thought she could bring her brother back. “You’re putting yourself through so much pain,” she’d said, drunk on vodka one horrible night.

Come to think of it, maybe she hadn’t been such a good friend after all.

Bethany got up officially around five thirty, went for a four-mile run, showered, and got ready for today’s surgery. A fact about the patient was that just like her little brother, he had leukemia. And it was up to Nick’s father to perform life-saving surgery that would ultimately charter the boy’s body back to healthy territory.

Nobody else in medical school knew anything about her, and nobody knew what a big deal this surgery was. Bethany felt anxious about it, like a rock in the pit of her stomach. She walked to the hospital and arrived nearly an hour early to grab a cup of coffee and a low-carb yogurt, which she ate very slowly as she studied her notes from last night. One of the papers had a milkshake stain in the corner.

“Did you sleep at all?” Nick’s voice floated over her head.

Bethany raised her chin to find his handsome face hovering overhead. His chestnut eyes glowed.

“Who needs sleep?” Bethany tried to joke, then stifled a yawn.

Nick chuckled and placed a bag of croissants between them. “Have one.”

Bethany gaped at the bag. She knew the bakery they’d come from and how buttery and flaky they were.

“Come on,” Nick urged her. “We have a four-hour surgery ahead of us.”

In the hallway, Bethany could hear the other med students streaming in and saying hello to one another. Jeff’s, Win’s, and Austin’s voices were among them. Why was Nick here in the corner with her? Why was he sitting across from her, telling her about an incident with his neighbor’s dog that had nearly resulted in him losing the bag of croissants? Why was she laughing about it?

In order to watch the surgery, the medical students gathered in a room behind one-way glass. So that everyone could see, the room was built like an arena. Nick and Bethany grabbed seats midway up the room, which put them exactly in the center of the window. Dr. Bob Waterhouse stood on the other side of the glass in his immaculate surgical gear, a mask, and gloves. His glasses glinted in the medicinal light from the overhead lamps. Stretched out next to him was the patient, who was wearing a hospital gown and hooked up to tubes and beeping medical equipment meant to monitor his well-being.

Something cold and hard dropped into Bethany’s stomach. Her heart stopped beating.

“You okay?” Nick breathed, noticing something wrong.

But how could Bethany explain herself? The boy wasn’t much older than Joel had been when he’d been diagnosed with leukemia. Because he wore protection over his hair and was rail thin, just as Joel had been, he looked precisely as he had during the weeks immediately prior to his death. Seeing him like this, so startlingly close to Joel in looks and illness, nearly brought Bethany to her knees.

This was a very new situation for Bethany. Doctors and professors at Mercer often told her she had nerves of steel. But here, watching over the surgery of a young boy who very well might end up with the same fate as her little brother, she was on the verge of madness.

“I have to go,” Bethany muttered. Tears were about to spill from her eyes.

Bethany erupted from her seat just before Nick’s father sliced into the young boy. She saw red as she raced through the door and sped down the hallway. Her tennis shoes squeaked on the linoleum. Nurses eyed her, annoyed. She was just another female doctor who couldn’t handle herself. She couldn’t hack it.

The next several hours passed slowly. Bethany couldn’t explain herself to Nick’s father, but she couldn’t leave the hospital either. If she did, she couldn’t take the test she’d studied for, which she knew she could ace, with or without seeing the surgery firsthand.

Self-hatred stewed in her stomach. She couldn’t believe how tremendously she’d failed. She imagined explaining herself to Dr. Bob Waterhouse, telling him she hadn’t run out of the room because she was a “weak woman.” But he would surely see it that way. There was no coming back from this.

Perhaps, with a single act, she’d destroyed her future in the medical field. Maybe it was all over.

This was why she’d wanted to go to therapy. But therapy had failed her.

After the surgery, Bethany remained in the corner of the hospital café, nursing a cup of coffee. Her stomach ached from too much caffeine. She tried to get up and join the others because she had to take the test. But each time she told her legs to stand, exhaustion fell over her like a blanket, and she remained very still.

Suddenly, a figure stood over her. It took every ounce of will for her to raise her eyes to find Nick’s. His swam with confusion. Suddenly, his hands were over hers on the table.

Later, Bethany would ask herself, why now? Why did she reveal such emotionality and fear now? Was it because Nick had shown her an ounce of empathy? Was it because she reached the end of her rope?

“Bethany,” Nick whispered, “are you all right?”

Bethany broke apart after that. She shivered and wept as the world crumbled around her. Nick sat and wrapped his strong arms around her as she shivered, dampening the shoulder of his medical whites. Only once could she bring herself to say, “My brother. My poor brother.” Nick didn’t ask for clarification. It was as though he already knew they would have plenty of time to talk about this. They would find a way through.

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