"Ahh!!"
I literally lay down on the floor of the operating theatre. It was covered in blood but I didn't care; I was exhausted.
"Here, Dr Senju. Drink this."
A kind nurse put a straw to my mouth. I had to do everything in my power not to push it away; even if I felt too tired to drink, I knew I needed sugar. Once the taste of raspberry and sugar hit my throat, though, I couldn't stop drinking.
"You're gold, thank you", I told the nurse.
He blushed at my compliment.
I had operated for twelve hours straight. Non-trauma surgeons could take breaks to eat, as long as an anaesthetic nurse stayed in the theatre with the sleeping patient. But not a trauma surgeon, at least not in a case as difficult as this. Also, it was night, meaning I'd had to operate alone, without an assisting surgeon. Once I finished the last stitch, my legs had given way.
The staff actually let me sleep on the floor. I honestly think it was more due to not daring to go against me, seeing I was one of the best trauma surgeons in New York, but one part of me hoped it was also due to kindness; of wanting to take care of me. God knew I had lacked people who wanted to take care of me.
Up until now...
I sat up, woken up by my thoughts of M. I went to get some actual sleep in the little night shift room. When I woke up again, it was late morning, and I went to have some weekend breakfast in the staff room.
"Haven't you gone off your shift, Dr Senju?" a kind nurse asked.
"Yes, at eight", I said with a smile, spreading cream cheese and then carrot marmalade on a raisin scone. "But I wouldn't miss this for anything in the world."
"Don't you have anyone to come home to?"
Ouch. I knew the nurse meant well, especially judging by the kind smile on her face, surrounded by grey curls that made her look like she came from a fairy tale. She could be the fairy god mother, I concluded. But these comments hurt. And the older I got, the more common they became.
"Only my cat. But she honestly prefers being home alone."
"Handsome man like you!" the insensitive son of a bitch of a fairy god mother said. To my disdain, she took her bowl of fruit yoghurt and muesli and followed me to sit down next to me. "You should have girls lined up after you!"
I tried to smile, but it felt more like a grimace. I felt a cold sweat starting to break out on my face, and my hands were already trembling. Why? Why did people feel justified to speak to me like this? Was it because they knew I was approachable and kind? I was known for it in the clinic. I couldn't help but curse my mild personality that made my colleagues think they could ask me anything.
"I..." I looked down on my raisin scone. It wasn't all that appetising to me anymore. "I need to go."
I left. I needed to write to M.
It had started as a protest against my colleagues desire to put me up with someone. Everyone had a sister or a cousin or a friend, a female they deemed was suitable for me.
So I downloaded a dating app just so I could say no, actually, I do not desire to meet your daughter for a blind date, thank you, because I'm already dating.
Well, I hadn't technically planned on dating. I was just going to download the app and swipe a little just because I knew I couldn't lie, and swiping would be the minimum I needed in order to be able to say I dated.
I had sat down on my couch, creating a picture-less profile, a cup of hot chocolate next to me and my ragdoll rescue curled up on my stomach. I had decided to only swipe on men, because women... Well, women. I had mindlessly swiped for a bit...
And there he had been.
He had been the most anonymous profile I had seen, providing only a picture of his hand. But that hand alone had captured my attention. More than my attention, actually; it had captured my entire soul.
The photo was in black and white, and the hand was quite slender with long nail beds and visible veins curving on the palmar side like flowerbeds. He had adorned his fingers with rings, and he wore a braided leather bracelet. His nails, I was happy to see, were painted. Probably not black, but some dark colour. Red?
I'm M. I'm 24. I need you to be soft with me.
I didn't notice I had sat up on my couch before Schrödinger, my female cat named after the mail scientist, jumped off in distain. I was frowning at the screen, a feeling of this is it that I did not understand encapsulating my soul.
Before I realised it was probably a very bad idea seeing my profile was empty and I had only written 30. Trauma surgeon. in my profile, I had written to him.
Me: Hi, M. I'm H.
Schrödinger screamed at me as soon as I got home.
"What do you want? You have infinite access to food."
She walked to me and lay flat on the floor, showing me she wanted me to pet her, which was a rare display of affection. Usually, she just went about her business when I got home as if nothing had changed, whatever it was she was doing, usually snoozing.
I smiled and rubbed her belly. Did she feel I was upset?
As I had only had one raisin scone, I had done some grocery shopping before I got home to be able to eat a proper breakfast, and made myself some banana pancakes with chocolate chips, fruits and maple syrup. I took it with me to the small living room for a late brunch, and took my phone out.
Me: Hi, M.
M: Hi, H.
Me: I'm so happy you're up.
M: It's noon, lovely. What happened?
Me: Up operating the entire night. Alone. Car accident, burst spleen.
M: Was it the accident that was on the news?
I jerked. Sometimes, it struck me that we lived on the same planet, M and I. And not only that, but also in the same city. What if we had stumbled upon one another in the grocery store? In Central Park? It made me feel incredibly lucky, lucky and excited.
Me: I haven't had any contact with the outside world for 24 h except for taking the tube home. But yes, most likely. If there had been another accident of the same magnitude tonight, I would have heard about it.
M: Wow
I knew he was in awe in the same way I was, which said a lot about how obsessed we were with one another.
Me: Wow, indeed
M: Now tell me what's wrong
I smiled. M always complimented me for understanding when something was wrong without him having to say much. What he didn't understand was that he had the exact same quality.
Me: Do you ever... Get bothersome questions at work about being single?
M: I work very much alone, so no
Me: Also, I guess you're quite a bit younger than me. At 30, people take it as their right to make insensitive comments, I guess
M: What did they say?
Me: Asking me if I have someone to get home to. Setting me up with a daughter or sister or other
M: Jesus Christ
Me: What's really bothering me is they only ever mention females. Do I really look that straight?
M: I couldn't tell, could I?
I smiled a little at his joke.
M: But, H. I feel this is something that's bothering you a bit more than usual, if you don't mind me saying. May I ask you why I get this feeling?
I but my lip. Oh, I wanted to tell him. So, so much. I took my long, brown hair in my hands and tied it on top of my head with a band I had around my wrist; I was starting to cold sweat again.
Me: I really want to. But face to face.
Me: M?
M: Yes?
Me: I got the dating app so I could use it as an excuse. Tell the fuckers I'm already dating just because I would be mindlessly swiping fifteen seconds a month. But now I met you...
Tears welled up in my eyes then, and I dried them off with the back of my hand, surprised. When I realised I was still wearing my shirt from work, I blew my nose is it as a fuck you to the people there.
Me: I don't tell them I'm dating. What you and me have feel more important than that.
M: H...
Me: I know I shouldn't care what they think. But it hurts. So much.
M: I'm here to listen whenever you want to tell me, no matter when it is <3
Me: I appreciate you so much <3
When I went to get some more quality sleep in my tiny bedroom with the enormous bed with the enormous duvet just for me, naked, I was filled to the brim with gratefulness...
And a pain I was too ashamed to share with M.
I had already made up my mind when he accepted my condition.
Honestly, I had felt bad for making it a condition in the first place. I had wanted to encourage him, but I now felt it had been rather manipulative.
I wouldn't demand he told me who or what he was for me to show half myself on video. I would do it just because it was him. If he then decided he trusted me enough to give me more information about himself, I would be over the moon.
But apparently, he had already made up his mind.
M: Actually, H...
Me: M...
M: I have been thinking. And I want to tell you what I am.
Me: !!!
M: I don't want to reveal exactly who I am. Not yet. But... Even if you have taken your condition back, I still want to accept it. Actually, even if you have changed your mind and do not want to show yourself to me anymore, I will still tell you. Because I want to. And I trust you.
Me: I promise to make everything in my might to make you feel you made the right decision.
I hit my lip. This is it.
Me: How about I make that video call to you? And you tell me with your real voice?
M: Video call me.
"Shit."
I stood up. Schrödinger fell off my lap and ran away unhappily. I ran to my bathroom and took my brush, running its teeth through my chestnut mane as I ran to my bedroom. I tore off my T-shirt and jeans and put on a white shirt with grey striped and black trousers. I collected my hair in a low bun and then put on some cologne on my collarbone before remembering we were going to video call and he wouldn't be able to actually smell my collarbones. I sat down on the couch again, took a deep breath and closed my eyes.
"Shit. It's happening."
I took my phone.
Me: I'm ready for you.
M: I'm nervous
Me: Me, too.
M: Call me.
I did.