Best Friend to Doctor Right
Autore
Ann McIntosh
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19
CHAPTER ONE
ALTHOUGH UNEXPECTED, THE sound of the buzzer heralding a visitor hardly registered.
Dr. Mina Haraldson lifted her head briefly off the couch cushion to stare blankly at the television, where a show she didn’t recall putting on flickered in the gloom of her living room. Thick mental fog blanketed her more securely than the heavy quilt she was huddled beneath, giving her respite from the world. There was a vague recognition of something unusual having happened, but she had no idea of what it was until the buzzer went off again.
No need to answer, or even see who it was. She hadn’t ordered food or anything else. Her parents, having been convinced their immediate presence was no longer necessary, had gone off to Florida for their usual winter break. Her brother was at home in BC. She knew that because she’d been forced to put on a happy tone the night before, for their weekly Friday night telephone conversation.
If she’d failed to convince Braden of her well-being, he’d have said something.
Somehow she must have done a good job. He’d rung off without trying to interrogate her, taking her word that all was well.
Perhaps now that her medical career was over she should take up acting. After all, a one-handed actor was far more feasible than a one-handed surgeon. She’d put that on her “future prospects” list, if she ever got up enough energy to start one.
Tears clouded her vision, and she closed her eyes. Leaning her head back against the cushions and pulling the quilt back up under her chin, she drowned anew in her reality.
Her uselessness.
When the buzzer went a third time, her jaw clenched.
“Go away!”
The shouted words drowned out the TV and echoed in the apartment, but the person down in the lobby couldn’t hear them, and the buzzer rang again.
Then her phone beeped, as well.
“Oh, for...”
Untangling her arm from the quilt, she fumbled around on the ground for her phone. Unlocking the screen, she squinted at the message, her heart turning over as she read it.
Answer the door, girl. Calypso Kiah is here and ready to party!
“Kiah?”
Shock dispelled the rage as swiftly as it had risen and was then overwhelmed by a rush of delight so intense Mina’s head swam.
What was he doing here, now? He’d said he was going to Calgary for his cousin’s wedding, then coming to Toronto to visit, but that wasn’t until the twenty-fifth. Or was it the twenty-first?
Good grief, what date was it today anyway? What day?
She couldn’t remember. Funny how, when you had nothing to do or to concentrate on, the days ran one into the other.
Obviously, she’d totally lost track of time.
Mina tried to sit up, was caught in the folds of the quilt and, in her eagerness to rise, put both hands down on the cushion beneath her and heaved.
Pain shot like jagged shards of glass up her arm from the nerve endings in her stump, making her fall, cursing, back onto the couch, dropping the phone as she went.
It was over a year since the accident, but she still forgot. Still tried to use her hand.
Still, somewhere deep inside, apparently hadn’t accepted her left hand was gone.
And each reminder made her heart stop for an instant, denial washing through her, as strong as it had been the day she woke up in the hospital and learned about the amputation.
She couldn’t find the phone, was still gasping from the pain, cradling her left arm against her chest with her right hand.
But it was Kiah, and she couldn’t let him leave.
He was her oldest and very best friend in the world.
She hadn’t seen him in person for five years.
Frantically kicking her feet, she freed herself from the quilt. Her cell phone was set up to unlock the downstairs door, but she’d never mastered the art of using it efficiently with one hand. So she tumbled off the couch and ran to the panel beside the front door to hit the intercom button.
“Kiah. Kiah, are you still there?”
There was a pause and, for a sickening moment, she thought he’d gone. Then his voice, deep and melodic, its island rhythm hardly distorted by the intercom, came through.
“Of course I’m still here, girl. You can’t get rid of me so easy.”
Knees weak, she leaned against the wall, a smile breaking over her face, silly tears once more filling her eyes.
“Thank goodness. Come on up.”
As she buzzed him in, she was suddenly aware of the state of her apartment. The unwashed cups, an old pizza box and wadded-up tissues littering the coffee table. The crumpled quilt, half on, half off the couch.
It was a mess, and she wasn’t in any better shape, now that she thought about it.
When last had she even bathed, much less washed her hair? She’d been wearing the same shapeless sweatpants and sweatshirt for at least two days. For a brief instant shame racked her, but it wasn’t strong enough to do more than mute her overwhelming joy and excitement.
After all, it was Kiah.
Pulling open her front door, she stepped halfway out into the corridor, her heart pounding as she stared down the hallway toward the elevators. Finding herself jigging from one foot to the other like an overexuberant child brought a bubble of laughter, but it stuck in her throat, burning, instead of breaking free. Emotions too numerous to recognize swamped her, rushing through her system in first hot and then cold waves.
When the ping of the elevator sounded from around the corner, Mina’s world seemed to stop for an instant, and then resume in agonizing slow motion. It felt like a year before a shadow fell on the carpet; another eon passed before Kiah stepped around the corner and came toward her.
Bundled up to the hilt, as was only to be expected for someone who’d come from a tropical island into the Canadian winter, he was unzipping his parka as he walked. Through the haze of delight misting her eyes, Mina took note of the changes in him since the last time they’d been together. He looked older. New lines at the corners of his eyes, some gray salting the hair at his temples. But his smile as beautiful as ever: white teeth gleaming against his dark skin, the little dimple on his left cheek winking.
Just seeing him made something deep inside her shift, loosen, unravel. Where before she’d been lost in a fog, suddenly everything was in sharp, clear focus. Illuminated brighter than she’d expected. Dazzlingly so.
“Oh, Kiah!” she cried, as he got close enough to envelop her in a huge bear hug. “I’ve missed you so much!”
And, to her surprise and consternation, she burst into tears.
Kiah picked Mina up and carried her into the apartment, glad she had her face buried in his shoulder so she couldn’t see the shock on his face, in his eyes.
This wasn’t his Mina. More like a shadow of his friend.
The old Mina was always neatly put together, no matter the occasion. Even at the beach, or wearing jeans and a T-shirt, she gave off an air of tidy confidence. Not now, though. Wearing shapeless clothes, with stringy hair and a face sallower than it should be, even allowing for winter pallor, she’d been almost unrecognizable when he came around the corner. And when he hugged her, he realized she’d lost so much weight it felt as though she’d snap in two should his arms tighten too much.
Then there was the fact she was sobbing pitifully. In the more than twenty years since they’d met, he could count on one hand the number of times he’d seen her cry, and even on those occasions, it was nothing like this. She hated to cry, and always exerted Herculean effort to curtail the tears, indulging for a brief moment before getting herself back under control. Right now, she seemingly had lost every ounce of control she possessed, and it was kind of freaking him out.
Yet, growing up surrounded by women, Kiah knew what not to say to a sobbing female. So he sat down on the sofa and, pulling Mina’s frail form close, repeated over and over, “I got you, sweet girl. Kiah’s got you.”
His heart ached to see her this way, but he was fiercely glad he was the one there with her, supporting and comforting, just as she’d been there for him all through the years, since the very beginning. Grade seven, to be exact. Mrs. Nowac’s class.
He’d still been traumatized by and grieving over the loss of his father, terrified of this new school, the new life he’d found himself living. From the first moment he’d set foot in Moraine Academy, he’d known he didn’t belong, and was sure he never would. The only way he and his little sister Karlene got into the prestigious private school was because his mother’s employer, Mrs. Burton, had pulled strings and gotten them scholarships. And the only reason she’d done it was because it was the closest school to her mansion, and she wanted her housekeeper available in the mornings, not driving her kids to school.
They’d had to walk the four miles to school, since there were no buses going there. All the other kids got dropped off or, if they were old enough, drove themselves. As he and Karlene trudged onto the school property, he’d seen the scornful looks the other kids gave them, checking out their cheap, bargain-basement clothes and no-name shoes.
Karlene had noticed, too.
“I hate it here already,” she’d said, loud enough to prove she didn’t care who heard. Kiah hadn’t replied. Normally he’d have tried to give it a positive spin, but just then he was overwhelmingly sad, really low on optimism, and couldn’t in good faith disagree. He, too, was wishing he were back in their old school in Scarborough, surrounded by the friends they’d made the year before.
He’d walked Karlene to her class then made his way to the room he was assigned to, getting there just as the bell rang. Knowing the other kids would have seats picked out already, he waited by the door until the rest of the students had settled into their chairs, then looked up and found the last empty seat in the room.
On his way there he kept his head down, not making eye contact with anyone, yet aware of how everyone in the room was staring at him. The other kids’ whispers surrounded him like the buzz of bees. Even all these years later he still remembered it, clear as day.
“We have a new student,” Mrs. Nowac said, once he was seated. “Hezekiah Langdon. Please make him welcome.”
“Hezekiah?” The derision in the boy’s voice was accompanied by a kick to the back of Kiah’s chair. “What kind of stupid name is that?”
The wave of laughter rippling through the class hardly mattered. Kiah already knew he had no business there. All he could do was wish things could go back to how they’d been—before his father died, and his mother had totally lost control. He’d thought coming to Canada would be exciting but it had all gone to hell. His father had been the one who held everything together and gave his children the love and support they needed, while keeping his wife’s anger and bitterness in check.
Now that he was gone, the world was a bleak, frightening place.
If Kiah had had a magic wand, he’d have waved it and been back on St. Eustace. Probably running on the beach, or playing cricket with his friends.
“It’s Biblical. Hezekiah was a king of Judea. You should know that, Justin. Isn’t your grandpa a pastor?”
Kiah had been half-aware of the girl in front of him turning in her chair but thought she’d just been staring and giggling like all the others. When he heard her defending his name, he’d looked up and, for the first time, his gaze met Mina’s.
She was so cute his heart stumbled over itself. Her hair swung around her fine-boned oval face like a curtain of amber, and her wide-set chocolate brown eyes, tilted slightly at the corners, twinkled. Later on, he learned she’d gotten her eye coloring and shape from her Korean mother, while the lighter hair had come from a trip to the beauty salon. Not that her hair was as dark as her mom’s. Mr. Haraldson, her father, was almost white-blond, and in Kiah’s estimation Mina was a perfect combination of her Korean and Scandinavian heritages.
“That’s enough now, class.” Mrs. Nowac had shushed them, causing Mina to turn back around and face front. Then the teacher started talking about the first lesson of the day.
“Smart-ass. I’ll deal with you later, Mina Haraldson.” Justin obviously didn’t like being upstaged, and whispered the threat just loud enough for Mina to hear.
“Just try it,” she replied, without turning around.
And despite his mother’s firm injunction to keep his head down and not make any trouble, on pain of a thorough thrashing, Kiah turned and gave Justin a scowl.
“Yeah, Justin.” He made no effort to temper the swing and tempo of his accent the way he’d learned to do since moving to Canada, and the name rolled out like a dirty word. “Just try it.”
When Mina glanced back at him and grinned, he’d suddenly felt better, as though life just might be worth living after all.
She hadn’t had to befriend him. She was from a well-respected family and popular in school, not a misfit like he was, yet she’d gone out of her way to make him feel welcome and, after a little while, her friends had accepted him, too.
His mother hadn’t been pleased about their friendship. Not that there was anything that made his mother happy.
“You have no business making time with that girl,” she’d said, shaking her finger in his face. “You an’ she no have nothing in common, and if she father find out ’bout you, he not goin’ be happy.”
“We’re just friends,” he’d protested, knowing how truly upset his mother was, from the way her English deteriorated into St. Eustace patois.
“Make sure you keep it that way,” she’d said, turning back to the stove and rescuing the ripe plantains frying in the pan before they burned. “We don’t need no trouble ’round here.”
He knew what she meant, of course. The Haraldsons were rich, like Mrs. Burton, and he was a little black boy from nowhere—son of one of their neighbors’ hired help. Kiah had believed his mother when she said Mr. Haraldson would be angry if he found out but, to his surprise, it had been the complete opposite.
Without Mina and her family, who’d treated him as though he were one of their own, he’d have been lost, and who knew where he’d have ended up? They’d been there for him during all the worst moments in his life, in a way his mother never had.
Witnessing his father’s fatal heart attack, barely a month before meeting Mina, had devastated him, left him floundering, unmoored. Mina’s friendship had helped him get through it, just as it had helped him deal with his mother’s increasingly violent rage. And when his sister had died, she was the first person he’d called.
She was the best friend he’d ever had, and now she needed him to repay all the care she’d given him.
As Mina’s sobs abated, Kiah leaned forward, holding her with one arm, and snagged the box of tissues off the coffee table. Clearly, this wasn’t the first crying jag she’d had, if the used tissues strewn around were any indication. Pulling out a couple, he thrust them into her hand, noticing for the first time how she’d crossed her left arm over her body and tucked her stump out of sight.
His heart broke all over again.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, mopping at her face.
“For what?”
“For crying all over you, of course,” she replied, burying her face back into his neck. “For being such a soggy mess.”
He chuckled, as she no doubt meant him to, with the reference to one of the classifications they’d come up with for different types of people they’d met. “Soggy mess” was reserved for the whiny, weepy, complaining type. Not her at all.
And in his estimation, not what she should be apologizing to him for. She should be sorry for not telling him how deeply she’d sunk into depression, and for not asking for help. He was trying to formulate the right thing to say, but before he could figure it out, she sighed, and from the way she suddenly relaxed, he realized she was falling asleep. Then Mina conked right out, so abruptly he wondered how much rest she’d been getting.
Sliding down slightly in the couch, he made himself comfortable, cradling her across his lap. Eventually he’d transfer her to her bed, but not yet. If this was what she needed, he had no problem staying exactly where he was.
Reaching down, he gently took her left arm in his hand and lifted it. Mina didn’t stir as her sleeve dropped down, revealing the site of her transradial amputation. He was surprised that she wasn’t wearing a compression garment—a shrinker—since he’d read about the efficacy of its use for controlling edema, and how important it was for pre-prosthetic fitting.
There were so many questions he wanted to ask about how she was managing with the loss of her hand. Some of them he’d tried to ask her before, on the phone, and she’d brushed him off, wanting only to talk about her then-ongoing divorce from Warren the Worm. Just thinking about her ex-husband had his temper simmering, but Kiah pushed his antipathy aside. Now wasn’t the time to indulge.
Just as it wasn’t a good time for the dampness making him blink, as he looked at where Mina’s small but eminently capable hand used to be. The last thing she’d want, or probably needed, was his sympathy.
She’d always been driven, in control, and fearless. Whatever needed to be done, she’d been there with a plan. Seeing her like this, drifting and seemingly broken, was almost too much to bear.
Lifting her arm a little higher, he pressed a gentle kiss just above the surgical site and then laid it back across her stomach, making sure not to jostle it. He pulled the sleeve back across to cover the stump.
“I got you, sweet girl,” he whispered, before also kissing the top of her head. “Kiah’s got you.”
