Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 21955 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 110(@200wpm)___ 88(@250wpm)___ 73(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21955 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 110(@200wpm)___ 88(@250wpm)___ 73(@300wpm)
She glanced at me, tightened her lips, and said, “I’m not sure why I have to be involved in this at all. I don’t object to the hospital using my name if you want to. But won’t people come to the ICU when they need it no matter what it’s called? I don’t see what my picture will do.”
“Julia, your brother—”
“Stepbrother,” she said, glancing at me again.
“Okay, stepbrother. He planned this project from the beginning to be centered around you, around your story of survival and healing in this hospital.”
“He can un-plan it, can’t he?” she said.
Oh no. Why was she doing this?
“Julia, the whole thing is for you,” I said. God, my voice sounded bad. Strangled.
The administrator smoothly explained, “When a donor makes such a generous gift, it’s important that the hospital publicizes it by telling a compelling story. It encourages more giving. People from all walks of life, from the simplest right up to philanthropists like your brother will be inspired to help the hospital.”
“Oh, right. I forgot for a minute that I’m inspirational.” The bitterness in her voice was a surprise. She looked out the window. The hospital was surrounded by acres of parking lots, and the cars glittered in the sun. “Fine,” she sighed. “What do I have to do?”
The administrator and the doctor jumped in to tell her all the parts of the project that needed her participation. Photo shoots, making a commercial, that kind of stuff.
I didn’t need to say anything, thank god. I still felt like I’d been pole-axed. How did it happen that she was walking again, and why didn’t anyone tell me? I couldn’t get over it. The relief. And the hope. This one little seed of hope had always been planted in my heart, and it was like someone just watered it.
And her physical presence kept knocking me on my ass. Her golden skin, the flash of her green eyes, the swell of her breasts under the loose scrubs. It took me this long to wonder why she was wearing scrubs. She had one of those plastic name tags on a ribbon around her neck, and under her name it said in big red letters, “Student Nurse.”
She was in nursing school, apparently. I was impressed. Before, she was the most squeamish person you’ve ever met. Even the red juice in a package of steak would make her queasy. I guess she got over that.
The administrator was gathering up his papers, and the doctor whipped out his phone. The meeting was over.
Julia looked my way, and her eyes met mine for a fraction of a second before her lips twisted and she looked away. “Nick,” she said, dismissing me.
She got out of her chair in one smooth motion and headed for the door.
“Julia, wait!” I called out.
She didn’t.
I left my papers and my briefcase behind and followed her into the hall. “Julia, please. I want to talk to you.”
She turned on me, her face as ferocious as a wild cat’s for a second, and then blank. A mask. “I’m afraid I don’t have time right now,” she said. “I’m due back on the surgical floor.”
“Can I take to you dinner then?”
“No, thank you,” she said. Cold as ice.
“I just need to talk to you.”
“What is it exactly you need to say?”
When she asked me flat out like that I could barely think. “Just…. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”
Her smooth blank mask said, “No apology needed. I’m fine now.”
“I see that, but I still need to tell you. We need to talk about the accident, about—”
“I have talked about the accident, Nick, and I don’t need to talk about it any more. It was years ago. You’re fine. Everything’s fine. And I have to go.” She turned and walked away, her steps going faster and faster until she hit the stairwell door almost at a run.
I followed. When I opened the door, I expected to hear her footsteps pounding down the stairs below, but she was right there. She had her back against the cement-block wall, hands to her face, shoulders shaking. As soon as she knew I was there, she took her hands down and straightened up, looking away from me so I couldn’t see her face.
She was so close to me. After years of only having memories of her face, her presence, it was almost unreal to be standing right in front of her. I could smell her, the same Julia-smell she’d always had, and the past washed over me in a wave of scent. I don’t know if it was perfume or shampoo, but it was kind of flowery with some vanilla-smell in there too. She smelled like a big bouquet of candy, and I just wanted to bury my nose in it. A lock of her honey hair was stuck to her cheek. She still wouldn’t look at me.