Page 7 of The Fall

After dinner, I watched my mom tie her hair up in her famous no-nonsense bun before clearing the table to start the dishes. Standing behind her, my dad plucked her perfectly tucked hair so it fell down around her shoulders. She looked back at him with annoyance until he swept her hair away from her neck and kissed it while he wrapped his arms around her, taking a dish from her hands and washing it for her. She smiled and leaned into him as he did the dishes with his arms around her. I heard him whisper to her, “I love you, baby.”

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” I heard Rose whisper next to me, just as mesmerized by my parents as I was.

“I can’t even be sarcastic about them, Rose. How in the hell do you get it that good?”

“I don’t know, Dallas, but I want it too,” she whispered in a daze, watching them closely and with envy, the way she had her whole life. I knew that feeling because I had done the same.

I hugged my family goodbye with a promise to call my mom more often. I got in my car with a heavy heart—a familiar pain I’d grown used to. Long ago, there’d been a time that I was sure I’d found the same love my parents shared. A time when I was so naïve that I believed that fairytale had a place in every person’s life. A time when I would’ve welcomed a baby with open arms and coveted being a mom. It took years to finally convince myself that although what my parents had was genuine, they were the ones who were naïve to think it could happen to everyone. I didn’t have the heart to tell my baby sister it was a myth. I would just have to be there for her when she found out for herself.

Dallas

Now

Help. Help.

The whirring continued around me as I opened my mouth, unable to get the words out. My screams were soundless, my pleas for help lost on the torrent of wind. The clouds circled me with the promise that trouble was coming. I watched the silent lightning strike the ground once…twice…. And then strikes littered the sky as the wind whipped around me, warning me they were coming.

I watched in sheer terror as the cloud directly in front of me began to stretch and sink slowly toward the ground.

I awoke paralyzed with fear instead of relieved at a good night’s sleep. Calming myself with deep breaths, I brought my heartbeat down enough to throw my drenched covers off me.

Damn dream, always fear. I knew where this one stemmed from.

I had damn near ruined my career because of casual sex and would make it a point to get seen today so that it would never happen again. The constant nagging of my bladder let me know it wasn’t going away. I stared at my reflection. I had to start taking better care of myself. My light green eyes had deep purple half-moons underneath them. My skin was pale from lack of sun, and in mid-June in Texas, that was a bad sign. I was working longer hours than I should, and though it spoke volumes to my colleagues, I was clearly pushing too hard. I took a scalding shower and made it a point to put on some makeup and a formfitting dress under my lab coat. I brushed my long brown hair and resigned to get a cut soon. I favored my mom and had her prominent sleek nose, large eyes, and full lips. Pleased with the effort I’d put into my appearance, I grabbed the keys to my small condo and headed out.

Today was my day to give all possible prognoses, and I had studied all the charts of the new patients. It was vital that I delivered my findings as a confident doctor who had graduated first in her class. Not the overworked, over-sexed mess that I was becoming.

Aside from the constant need to use the bathroom, I muddled through most of the rooms with success. My answers seemed to please the majority of the residents, as well as the impossible governing doctor. I finished with Mr. Carson, which I thought was cruel and unusual punishment. He was in this teaching hospital to receive the best, most cutting edge and affordable care for his condition—still, I had a horrible time repeating his worsening condition.

“Lance Carson, forty-six years young, stage four inoperable brain tumor.”

“Treatment, Dr. Whitaker?”

I quickly looked to Dr. Pierce, ridding myself of the burden of studying Mr. Carson’s reaction.

“Meds to keep him comfortable,” I said in a low, defeated voice. I had no desire to drag this case out.

“Lost cause, Dr. Whitaker?” This time I had no choice but to look at Mr. Carson, who was clearly unaffected by the whole conversation. I, however, was furious about his question being in poor taste and glared at Dr. Pierce, challenging him.

“No such thing, sir,” I snapped, clearly having lost my mind. Gauging his reaction, I realized that, yep, this was going to be bad.

“Excuse me?” I saw the entire fleet of med students stiffen at his incredulous tone and imaginatively bent over and kissed my ass goodbye. Well, if I was going to go all Captain Destructo today, I might as well go all in. I lifted my chin for a standoff.

“There is no such thing as a lost cause, in my opinion, sir. Death is the only definite. Everything else we can fight,” I said confidently.

“Are you hoping for a medical miracle, Dr. Whitaker?” I looked to the source of the person speaking and saw it was a smiling Lance Carson. “Come on, Dr. Whitaker, let’s hear your opinion,” Lance requested, leading me deeper into the hole I was quickly digging myself into.

Shut the hell up, Dallas!

I saw a mini-me in the corner of my mind, holding the shovel and waving, and I flipped the apparition off. I watched every white coat in the room lean a little further in to hear the end of my short career.

I hesitated with my answer, now altogether avoiding Pierce’s murderous stare.

“Okay…It’s the art of practicing medicine, Mr. Carson. There are plenty of facts and a ton of theories. We have to keep practicing to make theory a fact in all sciences.”

“Answer me without a bunch of philosophical bullshit, Dr. Whitaker,” Lance said, his stare heavy on me.

I heard a med student chuckle and glared in his direction for a split second before continuing.

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