Soft love

NYE at the hospital

I was on my way home from the last shift of the year. It was 21:15 on 31 December and I decided to take a stroll through the park. The lights and snow decorated the park with a unique winter glow. Most of my coworkers had been rushing to go home and celebrate with their family and friends. But since Josh had died, almost five and a half years ago, I hadn't celebrated. We used to make dinner together, always something else, since we loved to explore different tastes. Then we would play a board game or watch a movie and at midnight, we would open our cards. We wrote them a few days before. On one side, we would write about what we loved about ourselves and our relationship this year, the highs and the lows. And on the other side, we would describe our plans, goals and dreams for the next year. We would open a bottle of champagne, reminisce about nice dates and funny memories, and talk about what we wanted to do that summer. It was a lovely tradition. I still write him a card every year. And then I reread all his old ones. Most of the time I can't keep the tears at bay, and I end up watching a movie with a bottle of champagne as company. But this year would be different, I told myself, I had written him a card, but I didn't feel like rereading any of his. I knew them all by heart anyway. I was just going to take a nice late-night walk in the park and enjoy the snow.

Just as I turned the last corner, I saw a man rushing over the path. When he got to the benches, he slipped on the ice on the ground. With a resonating smack, he came down to the ground, falling on his back. Worried, I rushed to him. "Are you all right sir?" After he released an impressive amount of profanities, he looked at me, "On top of this, people are gonna start calling me sir?" I looked at him again. Ok, maybe he was not as old as I first guessed. He had a light stubble and was wearing a shirt and a plaid blazer. His glasses had fallen of his face and I gave them back to him. "Please sir, I'm a doctor, you shouldn't move and wait for an ambulance. You could have some spinal injuries or broken bones? Maybe a concussion even!" He rolled his eyes. "I feel perfectly fine, now please excuse me, I need to go." He tried to stand up but when he tried to push himself up from the ground with his hands, his wrists let go from the weight. He'd probably tried to brace for the impact, getting the whole shock in his wrist joint. This might mean his back is most likely fine, but better safe than sorry. His wrist should be checked out regardless.

He looked up at me with defeated eyes, "could you maybe just help me up?" I tried to give him my most determined face and said: "only if you promise to go to the ER." He immediately nodded. "Yes, yes of course" I squinted my eyes. "Tonight." This wasn't my first rodeo. Annoyed, he agreed. "You're insufferable! I'll go, I'll go, but I first have to post a letter at the post office. It's really urgent!", he exclaimed. He looked like he might go crazy if he didn't get this letter posted so I relented. "All right then, I'll just drive you around, you can't walk to the post office and then to the hospital. Stay here or I will find you", I tried to give him my most intimidating glare. But well, he wouldn't go very far anyway.

I parked as close as I could and walked to the bench where I left him. He was sitting on the bench. Well, probably no spinal chord injury then. I reached for his good hand and tried to pull him up. I noticed he was pulling weight off his left leg so I pulled his arm over my shoulder so I could take some of the weight. At first he huffed but when we got to the car, he said: "Thank you. I know I have been an ass but I appreciate you taking care of me. And that on New Year's Eve, I hope I'm not disturbing any plans?" I smiled. "No worries, I had no plans. What's your name?" I started driving to the post office, trying to distract him with small talk. "Oliver, yours?" Hm, Oliver suited him, the guy with the piercing green eyes and loose waves in his hair. "Marie", I said. When I parked at the post office, he grabbed the handle of the door, trying to get out. I put on the kid's lock. He looked at furrowed brows, "Marie! I have to post the letter, let me out!" I sighed. "Oliver, give me the letter. I'll post it, you shouldn't walk all the way." "It's like 30 meters, at most! I can walk that much. Don't lock me up like a kid!" "Then stop acting like a kid!" I argued. Does this man have no common sense at all? His eyes turned dark then and he stretched his arm towards me.