A sudden flash… A loud bang… Darkness… Darkness…
At last the darkness began to lift. A voice spoke out:
“Emily, this is the rescuer. Something has exploded there.”
Through the pain he felt a hand rest on his neck. He struggled to open his eyes. A rectangular pendant with zodiac signs carved into it hung before him… the eyes of a woman in a white coat…
“To the operating theatre!” a voice called right beside him.
Mum and Dad came home from work. Mum headed straight for the kitchen after a quick look into the room where her son sat over his homework. Dad stepped inside and saw at once that the boy was in low spirits.
“Tommy, what is it?” Dad ruffled his hair.
“Nothing,” the fourth-grader muttered.
“Come on, out with it.”
“Valentine’s Day is nearly here. The teacher kept us late and told us boys to get presents ready for the girls.”
“So what’s the trouble?” Dad smiled.
“There are just as many boys as girls, and she paired everyone up,” Tommy sighed heavily. “I got the plain one, Emily Evans.”
“Every girl wants a present on Valentine’s Day, plain or not,” Dad spoke to him like a grown-up. “How did she choose the pairs? Alphabet order?”
“No, by star signs.”
“How does that work?” Dad smiled again despite himself.
“By how well they match. Emily is Virgo, and Taurus suits Virgo best. I happen to be Taurus.”
“Well, that’s lucky if you suit each other! Grow up and you might even fall for her.”
Dad could not help laughing. Mum hurried in at once.
“What’s all this?”
“Anne, back to the kitchen,” Dad’s face turned firm. “Tommy and I are having a serious talk.”
When Mum had gone, Tommy asked sadly,
“Dad, what do I do now?”
“Make a present.”
“What kind?”
“Tomorrow at work I’ll make one for your chosen girl.”
“Dad, what present could you make? You work at the factory.”
“Yes, but in the plating shop. We do every sort of metal coating there.”
“I don’t follow, Dad.”
“You’ll see tomorrow.”
***
Next day Dad brought home a rectangular pendant on a chain that looked golden. On one side two signs were engraved, Taurus and Virgo, and on the other, in small neat letters:
“To my classmate Emily for Valentine’s Day! Thomas.”
How fine the pendant looked! Once Mum slipped it into a clear plastic bag it seemed even more splendid.
***
Valentine’s Day eve arrived. The teacher had no lessons planned. First the children gave her their gift and she thanked them at length. Then she told the boys to hand out their presents to the girls.
What a rush began! Every boy hurried to his chosen girl. Tommy walked over to Emily Evans and said exactly what Dad had taught him:
“Emily, happy Valentine’s Day! Perhaps one day fate will bring Taurus and Virgo together.”
He turned back to his desk and never noticed how the heart of this girl he thought plain had begun to race.
Before long Emily’s parents moved to another neighbourhood and from fifth grade onward she went to a different school.
***
Thomas opened his eyes. White hospital ceiling. He tried to move his arms and legs. Only the left arm stirred.
“Where am I?” he asked the empty room.
Footsteps sounded and a man on crutches came to the bed, studied him and asked,
“Woken up? You’re in the emergency surgery ward.”
“Are my arms and legs still whole?” Thomas asked quietly.
“Everything seems to be there,” the man said cheerfully. “You’re just wrapped in bandages from head to foot.”
“Good, so long as nothing is missing.”
A nurse appeared and asked kindly,
“How do you feel?”
“What happened to me?” Thomas answered with a question.
“Your life is safe. Arms and legs will work again. Only plenty of scars will stay,” she passed him a switched-on phone. “Your mum asked me to ring her the moment you woke.”
“Son,” Mum’s voice came through tears.
“Mum, I’m all right,” he tried to sound bright. “They said only small scars will be left. I’ll be out soon.”
“They wouldn’t let me stay the night. I’m coming right now, son.”
“Mum, don’t fret so much.”
He set the phone down and managed a smile for the nurse.
“Thanks.”
“They won’t send you home yet,” she smiled back. “Three weeks at least, that’s certain.”
“What happened?” the neighbour asked once the nurse had gone.
“I’m a rescuer. Oxygen cylinders started exploding at the factory,” Thomas began to remember. “They called us out. We got there before the firefighters. The place is huge. Three people were hurt inside. We ran in, cylinders lying everywhere, a bit of fire here and there. We started carrying the injured out… I was the last to leave… Just as I reached the door another cylinder went off… After that I remember nothing.”
“You took quite a knock.”
“Thomas Thompson,” the nurse called. “A workmate is here to see you.”
“Hi, Tommy! How are you?”
“Arms and legs still whole!” the patient answered cheerfully. “Only I can shake hands with the left one for now.”
“Never mind that.”
“What went on afterwards?”
“We were on our way out when it blew. We turned straight back and dragged you clear… you were covered in blood… the doctors were already there…”
“Thanks.”
“Tommy, what are you on about?!” A grin spread across his friend’s face. “Word is they want to give us medals.”
“I’ll be out by then.”
“Right, I’m off. The nurse said rounds are due and not to linger.”
His friend had barely left when the doctor, a man of about forty, came in.
“How are we, hero?” He stopped by the bed.
“Fine.”
“If you’re talking, you’ll live. Let me have a look at you.”
“Did you stitch me up?” Thomas asked.
“No, Emily Evans. She’ll be here the day after tomorrow.”
***
Two days later Thomas was trying to stand. The pain in his legs was still sharp and his right arm was badly gashed. He counted at least ten wounds across his body. Two sat on his face where the blast had thrown him against a gate; luckily he had thrust his right hand out in time. He studied himself in the mirror. His face was still puffy.
Today’s rounds would be taken by the doctor who had spent five hours sewing him in the theatre. Thomas felt a little nervous.
Then she entered. Young, slim, wearing glasses that did not spoil her looks at all, and the white coat suited her well. At twenty-seven Thomas had already been married, but after six months they had parted; their characters had not matched, or so the papers said, though really his ex-wife had disliked a rescuer’s pay.
“Hello,” the doctor said and came to his bedside.
“Hello. Did you sew me up?”
“I did,” she smiled. “Is anything wrong?”
“Let me examine you.”
She bent over him… A pendant with zodiac signs swung from her neck.
“Emily Evans!!!” he cried.
She looked closely at his swollen face.
“Sorry,” she said, still not recognising him.
“I’m Taurus,” and he pointed to the pendant.
“Tommy Thompson?” Her lips trembled. “You still remember me?”
“Of course, Emily,” he said, and seeing tears in her eyes he laid his hand on hers.
“Sorry!” She pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed her eyes. “I never imagined we would meet again like this.”
Emily did not return to his ward that day. Yet Thomas now knew her rota was the same as his own: day shift, night shift, then two days off.
He hated looking helpless before her. All the next day he practised walking round the ward, leaning on the beds, and twice he reached the corridor by holding the wall.
Evening came. The day-shift doctor left. A new team arrived; you could tell by the voices in the corridor. Rounds would begin soon…
Suddenly shouts and quick footsteps sounded outside. That meant another injured person had been brought in.
It was already ten o’clock. The nurse came, switched off the light, but sleep would not come. Long after midnight footsteps passed in the corridor, then stopped. In the quiet Thomas felt rather than heard someone crying. He got up and stepped carefully into the corridor.
At the duty desk sat his old classmate, head on her arms, weeping. He walked over and rested his good hand on her shoulder.
“What is it, Emily?”
She rose and buried her face against him.
“I operated on a woman hit by a car,” she said, voice breaking. “I did everything possible and impossible… She is in intensive care now but she will not survive. She has two children… her husband is with her.”
“Calm down, Emily.”
“Three years a surgeon and I still cannot get used to people dying.”
“Calm down. These are the jobs we chose. In five years I have seen just as many deaths, yet we have saved plenty of lives too,” Thomas sighed. “It is why my wife left. She said I came home not myself and the money was poor. But I always bring home forty pounds; we could manage.”
“The same for me,” she looked at him. “Men stare at me as if I am mad. I have never married and still live at home with my parents like a child.”
“Come now, we are only twenty-seven; life lies ahead.”
“No, Tommy, we are already twenty-seven.”
“Emily Evans, her pulse is fading,” a nurse called from the doorway.
“Sorry!” Emily ran for intensive care.
He could not sleep that night. In the morning the nurse gave him his usual injection.
“Is the woman from last night’s operation still alive?” he asked, surprising even himself.
“Alive, but very poorly.”
***
Three weeks passed. The wounds on Thomas’s body had closed. He saw Emily whenever she was on duty and found himself drawn to her more each time. Yet the emergency surgery ward was no place for private talk.
During one morning round the male doctor said,
“Today I am sending you home,” he smiled, “from the hospital, that is. Go straight to your local clinic; they will decide how long you stay on sick leave.”
“I can pack.”
“Yes, yes. No need to rush. They will write your discharge now.”
When the doctor left, Thomas shaved. In the mirror he noted with satisfaction that the two remaining scars did not spoil his face; if anything they gave it character. The rest of the scars could be ignored.
He gathered his things and stepped into the corridor. A patient was coming the other way, steadying herself against the wall.
“She pulled through after all!” a glad thought crossed his mind.
The nurse appeared and handed him the papers.
“Goodbye, Thomas. Try not to come back.”
***
He owned a small flat but went to his parents instead. Mum had waited and worried so much she had even taken leave.
“Son!” She threw her arms round him.
“It’s all right, Mum. As you see, I’m alive and well.”
“Come and eat. I’ve made your favourites. You’ve grown so thin.”
“Oh, how I’ve missed proper home meals!”
“Until you are better and married you will stay here. Your old room is still waiting,” she called after him as if he were a boy. “Go and wash your hands.”
***
Before evening Thomas visited the barber. He called at his flat for some clothes. Mum set about tidying them at once.
Dad came home from work. The three of them sat together as they used to and talked far into the night.
Thomas went to bed in the room where he had spent his childhood and youth, yet sleep was slow to come.
“Tomorrow the clinic, then work, and in the evening…”
With that thought of the coming evening he finally drifted off, long after midnight.
***
Next morning he went to the clinic and spent the hours before lunch moving from room to room. In the afternoon he reached the factory just as his shift began.
“Where are you going?” Dad asked.
“Dad, do you remember years ago when I was in fourth grade? You made me a pendant to give a classmate.”
“The plain Emily Evans? I remember.”
“You also said, ‘Grow up and you might fall in love with her.’”
“I remember that too.”
“Dad, Emily is a surgeon now. She performed my operation. And she still wears that pendant round her neck.”
“Well I never!”
“Dad, your words came true. I am going to her.”
***
Twenty-seven years is not so much for the start of life with someone you love.A sudden flash… A loud bang… Darkness… Darkness…
At last the darkness began to lift. A voice spoke out:
“Emily, this is the rescuer. Something has exploded there.”
Through the pain he felt a hand rest on his neck. He struggled to open his eyes. A rectangular pendant with zodiac signs carved into it hung before him… the eyes of a woman in a white coat…
“To the operating theatre!” a voice called right beside him.
Mum and Dad came home from work. Mum headed straight for the kitchen after a quick look into the room where her son sat over his homework. Dad stepped inside and saw at once that the boy was in low spirits.
“Tommy, what is it?” Dad ruffled his hair.
“Nothing,” the fourth-grader muttered.
“Come on, out with it.”
“Valentine’s Day is nearly here. The teacher kept us late and told us boys to get presents ready for the girls.”
“So what’s the trouble?” Dad smiled.
“There are just as many boys as girls, and she paired everyone up,” Tommy sighed heavily. “I got the plain one, Emily Evans.”
“Every girl wants a present on Valentine’s Day, plain or not,” Dad spoke to him like a grown-up. “How did she choose the pairs? Alphabet order?”
“No, by star signs.”
“How does that work?” Dad smiled again despite himself.
“By how well they match. Emily is Virgo, and Taurus suits Virgo best. I happen to be Taurus.”
“Well, that’s lucky if you suit each other! Grow up and you might even fall for her.”
Dad could not help laughing. Mum hurried in at once.
“What’s all this?”
“Anne, back to the kitchen,” Dad’s face turned firm. “Tommy and I are having a serious talk.”
When Mum had gone, Tommy asked sadly,
“Dad, what do I do now?”
“Make a present.”
“What kind?”
“Tomorrow at work I’ll make one for your chosen girl.”
“Dad, what present could you make? You work at the factory.”
“Yes, but in the plating shop. We do every sort of metal coating there.”
“I don’t follow, Dad.”
“You’ll see tomorrow.”
***
Next day Dad brought home a rectangular pendant on a chain that looked golden. On one side two signs were engraved, Taurus and Virgo, and on the other, in small neat letters:
“To my classmate Emily for Valentine’s Day! Thomas.”
How fine the pendant looked! Once Mum slipped it into a clear plastic bag it seemed even more splendid.
***
Valentine’s Day eve arrived. The teacher had no lessons planned. First the children gave her their gift and she thanked them at length. Then she told the boys to hand out their presents to the girls.
What a rush began! Every boy hurried to his chosen girl. Tommy walked over to Emily Evans and said exactly what Dad had taught him:
“Emily, happy Valentine’s Day! Perhaps one day fate will bring Taurus and Virgo together.”
He turned back to his desk and never noticed how the heart of this girl he thought plain had begun to race.
Before long Emily’s parents moved to another neighbourhood and from fifth grade onward she went to a different school.
***
Thomas opened his eyes. White hospital ceiling. He tried to move his arms and legs. Only the left arm stirred.
“Where am I?” he asked the empty room.
Footsteps sounded and a man on crutches came to the bed, studied him and asked,
“Woken up? You’re in the emergency surgery ward.”
“Are my arms and legs still whole?” Thomas asked quietly.
“Everything seems to be there,” the man said cheerfully. “You’re just wrapped in bandages from head to foot.”
“Good, so long as nothing is missing.”
A nurse appeared and asked kindly,
“How do you feel?”
“What happened to me?” Thomas answered with a question.
“Your life is safe. Arms and legs will work again. Only plenty of scars will stay,” she passed him a switched-on phone. “Your mum asked me to ring her the moment you woke.”
“Son,” Mum’s voice came through tears.
“Mum, I’m all right,” he tried to sound bright. “They said only small scars will be left. I’ll be out soon.”
“They wouldn’t let me stay the night. I’m coming right now, son.”
“Mum, don’t fret so much.”
He set the phone down and managed a smile for the nurse.
“Thanks.”
“They won’t send you home yet,” she smiled back. “Three weeks at least, that’s certain.”
“What happened?” the neighbour asked once the nurse had gone.
“I’m a rescuer. Oxygen cylinders started exploding at the factory,” Thomas began to remember. “They called us out. We got there before the firefighters. The place is huge. Three people were hurt inside. We ran in, cylinders lying everywhere, a bit of fire here and there. We started carrying the injured out… I was the last to leave… Just as I reached the door another cylinder went off… After that I remember nothing.”
“You took quite a knock.”
“Thomas Thompson,” the nurse called. “A workmate is here to see you.”
“Hi, Tommy! How are you?”
“Arms and legs still whole!” the patient answered cheerfully. “Only I can shake hands with the left one for now.”
“Never mind that.”
“What went on afterwards?”
“We were on our way out when it blew. We turned straight back and dragged you clear… you were covered in blood… the doctors were already there…”
“Thanks.”
“Tommy, what are you on about?!” A grin spread across his friend’s face. “Word is they want to give us medals.”
“I’ll be out by then.”
“Right, I’m off. The nurse said rounds are due and not to linger.”
His friend had barely left when the doctor, a man of about forty, came in.
“How are we, hero?” He stopped by the bed.
“Fine.”
“If you’re talking, you’ll live. Let me have a look at you.”
“Did you stitch me up?” Thomas asked.
“No, Emily Evans. She’ll be here the day after tomorrow.”
***
Two days later Thomas was trying to stand. The pain in his legs was still sharp and his right arm was badly gashed. He counted at least ten wounds across his body. Two sat on his face where the blast had thrown him against a gate; luckily he had thrust his right hand out in time. He studied himself in the mirror. His face was still puffy.
Today’s rounds would be taken by the doctor who had spent five hours sewing him in the theatre. Thomas felt a little nervous.
Then she entered. Young, slim, wearing glasses that did not spoil her looks at all, and the white coat suited her well. At twenty-seven Thomas had already been married, but after six months they had parted; their characters had not matched, or so the papers said, though really his ex-wife had disliked a rescuer’s pay.
“Hello,” the doctor said and came to his bedside.
“Hello. Did you sew me up?”
“I did,” she smiled. “Is anything wrong?”
“Let me examine you.”
She bent over him… A pendant with zodiac signs swung from her neck.
“Emily Evans!!!” he cried.
She looked closely at his swollen face.
“Sorry,” she said, still not recognising him.
“I’m Taurus,” and he pointed to the pendant.
“Tommy Thompson?” Her lips trembled. “You still remember me?”
“Of course, Emily,” he said, and seeing tears in her eyes he laid his hand on hers.
“Sorry!” She pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed her eyes. “I never imagined we would meet again like this.”
Emily did not return to his ward that day. Yet Thomas now knew her rota was the same as his own: day shift, night shift, then two days off.
He hated looking helpless before her. All the next day he practised walking round the ward, leaning on the beds, and twice he reached the corridor by holding the wall.
Evening came. The day-shift doctor left. A new team arrived; you could tell by the voices in the corridor. Rounds would begin soon…
Suddenly shouts and quick footsteps sounded outside. That meant another injured person had been brought in.
It was already ten o’clock. The nurse came, switched off the light, but sleep would not come. Long after midnight footsteps passed in the corridor, then stopped. In the quiet Thomas felt rather than heard someone crying. He got up and stepped carefully into the corridor.
At the duty desk sat his old classmate, head on her arms, weeping. He walked over and rested his good hand on her shoulder.
“What is it, Emily?”
She rose and buried her face against him.
“I operated on a woman hit by a car,” she said, voice breaking. “I did everything possible and impossible… She is in intensive care now but she will not survive. She has two children… her husband is with her.”
“Calm down, Emily.”
“Three years a surgeon and I still cannot get used to people dying.”
“Calm down. These are the jobs we chose. In five years I have seen just as many deaths, yet we have saved plenty of lives too,” Thomas sighed. “It is why my wife left. She said I came home not myself and the money was poor. But I always bring home forty pounds; we could manage.”
“The same for me,” she looked at him. “Men stare at me as if I am mad. I have never married and still live at home with my parents like a child.”
“Come now, we are only twenty-seven; life lies ahead.”
“No, Tommy, we are already twenty-seven.”
“Emily Evans, her pulse is fading,” a nurse called from the doorway.
“Sorry!” Emily ran for intensive care.
He could not sleep that night. In the morning the nurse gave him his usual injection.
“Is the woman from last night’s operation still alive?” he asked, surprising even himself.
“Alive, but very poorly.”
***
Three weeks passed. The wounds on Thomas’s body had closed. He saw Emily whenever she was on duty and found himself drawn to her more each time. Yet the emergency surgery ward was no place for private talk.
During one morning round the male doctor said,
“Today I am sending you home,” he smiled, “from the hospital, that is. Go straight to your local clinic; they will decide how long you stay on sick leave.”
“I can pack.”
“Yes, yes. No need to rush. They will write your discharge now.”
When the doctor left, Thomas shaved. In the mirror he noted with satisfaction that the two remaining scars did not spoil his face; if anything they gave it character. The rest of the scars could be ignored.
He gathered his things and stepped into the corridor. A patient was coming the other way, steadying herself against the wall.
“She pulled through after all!” a glad thought crossed his mind.
The nurse appeared and handed him the papers.
“Goodbye, Thomas. Try not to come back.”
***
He owned a small flat but went to his parents instead. Mum had waited and worried so much she had even taken leave.
“Son!” She threw her arms round him.
“It’s all right, Mum. As you see, I’m alive and well.”
“Come and eat. I’ve made your favourites. You’ve grown so thin.”
“Oh, how I’ve missed proper home meals!”
“Until you are better and married you will stay here. Your old room is still waiting,” she called after him as if he were a boy. “Go and wash your hands.”
***
Before evening Thomas visited the barber. He called at his flat for some clothes. Mum set about tidying them at once.
Dad came home from work. The three of them sat together as they used to and talked far into the night.
Thomas went to bed in the room where he had spent his childhood and youth, yet sleep was slow to come.
“Tomorrow the clinic, then work, and in the evening…”
With that thought of the coming evening he finally drifted off, long after midnight.
***
Next morning he went to the clinic and spent the hours before lunch moving from room to room. In the afternoon he reached the factory just as his shift began.
“Where are you going?” Dad asked.
“Dad, do you remember years ago when I was in fourth grade? You made me a pendant to give a classmate.”
“The plain Emily Evans? I remember.”
“You also said, ‘Grow up and you might fall in love with her.’”
“I remember that too.”
“Dad, Emily is a surgeon now. She performed my operation. And she still wears that pendant round her neck.”
“Well I never!”
“Dad, your words came true. I am going to her.”
***
Twenty-seven years is not so much for the start of life with someone you love.
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