I saw her walking toward me from the building, recognizing her instantly, though she was still far away. She stripped off her shield and mask as she walked, a look of relief spreading across her face. I kept my cotton mask on. I didn't want to put her at any more risk than she was in every day, and besides, I knew I wouldn't be speaking anyway.
I stood up when she got close, leaving three fingertips on the bench for stability. "Cole, it's so good to see you! You look wonderful! How are you?" she signed in American Sign Language, the language she had made me learn to develop my language skills again. We sat down and I found myself staring at her. I couldn't help it. I'd gone so long just experiencing her eyes, that the sudden revelation of her entire face shook me. If I wasn't already on the bench, I would have needed to sit down.
I swallowed and stared at her stupidly until I remembered how to speak. "Good, yeah. I'm great," I said, giving myself a mental shake. "You have a mouth..." I signed, before I could stop myself.
Her eyebrows quirked until they raised in realization. "Yes, I do have a mouth. It's hungry," she signed, "I haven't eaten since breakfast," she said, clutching her stomach as if dying of hunger. Frowning, I pointed toward the cafeteria, silently offering to take our appointment there. She shook her head, "Oh, no, it's so much nicer out here. Tell me how you've been. We didn't have a follow-up until November. Are you sure you're alright?" she asked, her eyes taking in everything.
"Yeah, no, I'm great. The seizures are manageable. I've gotten good at learning the signs of when things are getting to be too much. I'm walking pretty well, talking, putting on my clothes in the right order, identifying smells, and I can keep a beat to just about anything, so if not for the pandemic, we could go dancing right now," I signed, spreading my arms wide to display my awesomeness.
"That is so good to hear," she signed, laughing at my clowning around. My heart was going like a racehorse, and I took a deep breath trying to bring myself down from the place I'd learned to recognize as the seizure zone. I saw her watching me do it. Her eyes were beautiful, but they also didn't miss a thing. "So, what can I do for you, Cole?" she signed, nodding in knowing approval as she saw me managing my brain and body's new needs.
I took a deep breath and my hands froze in the air in front of me. I couldn't think of how to begin, how breach that barrier between us that would either begin the rest of my life or end in disaster. Then, the audio notification on my watch sounded, "In fifteen minutes, meet with the amazing woman who saved your life and thank her. Then fire her, and ask if she will go out with you in six months when she won't lose her license for it." My eyes bulged and I began desperately trying to find the button or switch that would take the notifications off audio. "Tell her you are more than financially secure," it continued as I growled and began pulling at the clasp while trying to muffle the words coming out of my watch that I could not bring myself to say to her. I finally got the damn thing off my wrist and threw it in the bushes nearby, where unfortunately the notifications still came out as loud as ever, "Tell her your children together would be absolutely adorable and possibly magical."
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," I said, wincing with my eyes closed. "It's my sister. She came here to help me get things back together and now that she's back home again, she sets up my watch and schedule with an app. She sends me these notifications that are... fuck. She claims she's not doing it, but--" I said, forgetting to sign anymore.
When I opened my eyes, Dr. Lee wasn't at the end of the bench anymore. She poking through the bushes until she found my watch, which was providing helpful information gathered from my ex-girlfriends on my cunnilingus skills when Dr. Lee mercifully silenced it by pressing a button on the side. She walked back to the bench, took my arm in her warm hands, and put the damn thing back on me. Then, without releasing my hand and wrist, she just looked at me. I wasn't breathing. I was just sitting there trying to figure out what it was that I was seeing in her face.
"I have a sister, too. Priya. I'll be seeing her in 6 months when I go with my family to India," she said, her eyes traveling over my arm, to my face, and then back to where she still held my hand in hers. "My father says they may have found a good match for me... which is rare in my culture... with my age and profession..." she said, her eyes willing me to understand.
"You mean an arranged marriage? You're just going to marry someone they choose for you? That doesn't seem like you..." I said quietly, trying to control my voice. She was still holding my hand, still looking at herself holding my hand.
"Does it really seem so crazy?" she asked, "Our hearts don't always lead us to the right decisions... and expectations are different in my culture. Here, you start the marriage hot and then your heart breaks as you watch as things cool until they fall apart. With arranged marriages, you start warm and committed to the idea of building a life together... and then you build heat as you come to know each other. That's how it's supposed to work, anyway. The parents look at options, then meet each other and do background checks on the people they're serious about, then if everyone thinks it's a good idea, they have the two meet. If the two agree, they marry. I won't pretend that I will be doing it without some regrets, but yes... I probably will marry in 6 months," she said to our clasped hands.
"But... even if you don't know the guy? Not really? You'd just trust your parents to--"
"Trust them? Cole, every choice I have ever seen my parents make was about what was best for me and my family. Do you think they would take the decision lightly? They know me better than anyone ever has. They have known me my whole life. There are under 100 female neurosurgeons in India -- that's only 2.5% of all of them, but my parents supported me in becoming one. They knew it could mean I might never marry or have children because it's so damn busy, but they still supported me. They did it because they knew it was right for me. Yes, I trust them with this decision. I trust them more than I trust myself with it," she said looking up at me, the fierce pride in her eyes telling me all that I needed to know.
"They were right to do it... to support you being a neurosurgeon," I said, accepting my fate. "I got the medical records from my stay. Two doctors tried to call me as DOA. They didn't think there was a point in trying to save me. You disagreed," I said.
"Well, don't tell anyone else this, but I kind of kidnapped you, actually. They were off discussing organ donation when I re-wrote the orders and took you to surgery. Got me reprimanded for not playing well with others... again," she said, chagrined.
"They had probably seen hundreds of motorcycle accident victims die with the same injuries..." I said, nodding in understanding.
"Yeah... but they hadn't seen you play that Sounders game, so they probably didn't realize how little of your brain you were accustomed to using," she said, her eyes lighting up wickedly. I rolled my eyes and groaned at the jab. God, she never failed to give me crap about that damn game. I loved her for that. I loved her for a lot of things.
We sat there in silence until I felt her squeeze my hand. When I looked up, the wickedness was gone and her eyes were brimming with tears that I couldn't wipe away for her. "I'm... I'm really going to miss you, Cole," she said, her voice thick with emotion.
"Good," I said, making her laugh as the tears fell out of her eyes and rolled down her cheeks and into the deep crevice left by her tight N95 mask. "Well, even if you won't be dancing with me in 6 months, I'm still going to need you to help me get another doctor. Someone in San Francisco... I'm moving, see," I said, getting up from the bench, resolved. She still held my hand in hers, not like she was supporting an invalid, but like her hands felt so at home with mine that she had forgotten they were there.
Her face went blank, stunned, so I shrugged apologetically. "Oh... I didn't know," she said, wiping the tears off her cheek with her shoulder. "I'm actually from the Bay Area, originally. I'll have my office send you a few names. So... this is goodbye then?" she said.
I nodded, putting my other hand where hers were holding mine, meaning to shake hands, but instead we just stood there like that. "It's goodbye, and thank you Leela... thank you for my life. Hamaare punah milane tak..." I recited Hindi phrase I'd memorized, hoping that Google Translate wasn't horribly wrong about the phrase "until we meet again...."
"Goodbye Cole," she murmured.
I nodded, squeezed her hands, released them, and walked away without looking back. I didn't trust myself to. I walked with my wavering gait out to the hospital's parking lot and flagged my waiting Uber. Before getting in, I looked back at the building, my gaze lingering on the 8th floor. "Goodbye," I whispered, more to that time of my life than to anyone in particular.
As I climbed into the car, my watch sounded a notification. I frowned because I knew I didn't have any more events until the moving truck came for my stuff tomorrow morning. On the screen was the text message: "You should have kissed her, Cowboy..."
I looked back at the building as the car pulled away, growing smaller in the distance. I looked back at the message again and cleared it. Must've been a wrong number.
