I USED TO HATE HOSPITALS.
It was more than ironic for me to have dated a doctor for two years.
Hospitals smelled like antiseptic and reeked of misery. No one I loved came out alive once we entered a hospital. It was the death march. Both my grandparents, my dad, my great Uncle Larry, and my cousin Blythe had passed away. Everyone except Ethan.
"Do you want to swing by the hospital and grab lunch with me tomorrow?" Ethan had asked me after three-and-a-half-dates (our second one had been cut short by an emergency call). Bellevue Hospital was a couple stops down from my workplace riding on the 6 train. "There's this killer Italian place. Best meatballs in the city."
Ethan had walked me home after Thai food and a stroll down central park. I hadn't been dating in what seemed like forever. Ever since the Evan fiasco, I had sunk myself into work and binge watching sappy rom-coms every weekend. Ethan didn't give me butterflies at first, and he seemed to straight-laced for my tastes but he had managed to worm a spot into my heart. I didn't want to mess it up by being terrified of visiting him at work.
"Two dates in a row?" I had asked him facetiously. "This is getting serious."
He looked dismayed. "Sorry, I didn't mean to make you feel rushed or anything..."
I always did this. I made jokes when I was trying to avoid being uncomfortable or saying how I felt. I skirted issues with silly comments.
"No," I quickly said. "It's not that. I like you a lot, but..."
His frown deepened.
I felt even worse. "No buts. I mean. Ugh, I'm bad at this, Ethan."
"Bad at what?" he asked, confused.
"Dating!" I finally exclaimed out of frustration with myself. "I've been single for maybe three years now. I haven't dated since college, and that was a complete disaster. This is weird for me."
There had been a big part of me that expected Ethan to run for the hills. He was this well-adjusted, put-together doctor. I had just started my career as a literary agent, my self-esteem was a joke, and my family was still betting against me. What did I have to be proud of?
"You know what," I sighed. "Forget it. I must seem so, so messy."
"Messy?" he scoffed gently. "Well, your apartment does look like it's been ransacked, and you put your blouse on inside-out."
I remembered being incredibly embarrassed. "I thought the wash faded the colors..."
He laughed. It was a genuine, warm laugh. "I don't expect you to be perfect, Julie. I'm not the calm and collected doctor everyone thinks I am. I'm a perfectionist. I forget to vote. I hate pickles on my burgers. I..."
I stopped him. "Listen, Ethan. Those are cute problems."
"Want to let me finish?" he asked playfully.
"If you say something like 'I only work our four days a week instead of five' then I don't know what to say to you," I had told him right off the bat.
"I'm insecure," he said quietly. "I always feel like a phony. You saying you like me is the only thing that makes me think you like me. My parents—birth parents—abandoned me when I was a baby. I've worked so hard to make it as a doctor because I love what I do, but there's part of me that thinks if I'm a great son—someone to be proud of—then they'll finally want me."
I felt ashamed for assuming Ethan's life was all raindrops and kittens. When I looked at Ethan, I saw someone who was nothing like me. I thought he couldn't understand the weight of trying to be someone worthy.
"Is this too heavy for a third date?" he asked sheepishly.
I threw my arms around his neck. "I think it's just the right amount."
"So, will you get lunch with me tomorrow?" he whispered as I drew closer.
Our eyes met. "I'm not a big fan of hospitals."
"We can meet at the restaurant then," he said before our lips touched.
That had been our first kiss. Ethan was unexpectedly more like me than I had thought. It was his vulnerability that had soften me the most. Sure, there were a lot of great things about Ethan Mayhew. He was smart, sweet, and good looking. He was someone I felt like could understand me.
I took a deep breath. "I think for you I can make an exception."
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The taxi halted in front of the emergency department of Bellevue Hospital. Evan reached into his pockets to hand the driver a crisp hundred dollar bill for what had been a thirty dollar cab ride—tip included.
"Keep the change," he said as he opened the door of the car.
I had forgotten that about Evan. He wasn't a showboat about his money, but he wasn't afraid of spending it either. I had been on the frugal side, eating ramen noodles, doing odd side jobs for cash, and sometimes I had excused myself from college social outings to save a few sucks on the side.
"Do you want to come? I know you're not the biggest fan of hospitals." Evan asked me. I wondered if he remembered how I had almost thrown up while visiting him after he sprained his ankle in a game of basketball.
I hesitated only because I knew bumping into Ethan was a possibility. In all likelihood, Ethan could have been in surgery or making rounds in another part of the hospital. A part of me dreaded having to see him.
"No, it's fine," I said as I climbed out of the taxi.
"I know Bellevue well," I explained as we entered through the revolving doors. I was immediately met with the familiar smell of cleaning products. A cold gust of air conditioned wind passed by us the second we stepped foot into the waiting room.
Evan went first. "Hi, I'm Evan Morgan. I'm looking for my sister Caroline Morgan. She was admitted here."
The on-call nurse, Nurse Linda Boone, scowled at him. "Honey, do you see the sign-in sheet? Put down your name, the patient's name, and wait your turn."
I approached the desk. "Hey, Linda! He's with me."
Linda's expression immediately brightened. "Julie! Where have you been this past month? I haven't seen you in ages. I'll call Dr. Mayhew right now."
Evan looked confused.
"You don't need to tell him I'm here," I told her nervously.
That was a can of worms I didn't need opened.
"Oh," she said with a nod. "Surprise visit, huh?"
She took a minute to search the hospital registry for Evan's sister. "Room 1037B." She handed us both visitors passes. "You know where that is, don't you?"
It was Ethan's section.
I smiled at her. "Thank you, Linda. Tell Annie I said hi. I can't believe she's graduating soon, and top of her class too! You must be so proud of her."
Linda waved as we walked away.
"How do you know her?" Evan whispered once we were out of her view.
"Long story," I murmured as we passed by two nurses.
I was distracted. Where was Ethan?
Evan stopped walking.
"Are you okay?" I asked, my voice tinged with concern.
I felt sorry for Evan. Here he was, not knowing the fate of his sister, and I was consumed by my silly worries of bumping into an ex-boyfriend.
"What if...something's wrong?" he asked with a shakiness.
Suddenly, I was back to twelve years old waiting to hear about how my dad's surgery had gone. Chemotherapy wasn't working. Medications weren't working. Our prayers felt unanswered by God. I was 12 years old, unable to cope with the idea that my dad was running out of time, and all I could think about was what I would do for him to make a miraculous recovery.
"Before we get worked up over nothing, let's find out what the doctor has to say," I told him. I didn't want to lie and say that I knew everything would be alright. Only God knew that. I just knew that nothing was for certain yet, and as frustrating as that was, it wasn't a diagnosis for death either. "Sometimes bad things will happen to us and the people we love, but those situations are where we can grow the most. When we choose to stand firm and preserve through the hard times, it makes us stronger people."
Evan ran his fingers through his disheveled hair. "I forgot about what a big optimist you are Jules. Thank you. I needed that."
We eventually reached the room. "Should I stay outside? I don't want your sister to misunderstand our relationship."
Evan shook his head. "Jules, you are a good friend who came to comfort me. I'll explain the situation to her if she's even awake. I don't want to be alone right now, if that's okay with you."
He offered his hand.
Evan was right. I was here to comfort him—platonically.
If there was a misunderstanding, then it could be explained to Caroline.
I took his hand.
"Your vitals are fine. We just want to monitor your overnight because of you special condition, but other than that you and your baby should be more than okay, Caroline," the doctor's voice rang in my ears.
My stomach dropped.
Caroline, I assumed, squealed when she saw Evan enter. "Big bro!"
"Ethan," I wheezed.
This was really bad.
"Julie?" Ethan looked confused.
Then, without missing a beat, he saw mine and Evan's clasped hands. I immediately let go, and Evan—while just as confused as Ethan—continued to walk over to join his sister's bedside.
"How do you know everyone here?" Evan asked half-exasperated.
"You must be Caroline's brother." Ethan sounded only a little upset.
Evan offered his hand. "Evan."
Ethan stared at me once he registered the name.
I stared back wordlessly.
Was it too cliché of me to tell Ethan "it's not what it looks like"?
If Caroline misunderstood me as Evan's girlfriend that was one thing. If Ethan misunderstood me as going back to Evan, my ex-boyfriend, then that was one big bomb of disastrous proportions.
Finally, I said what I had been thinking all along: "I can't say I didn't expect this."
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I think this chapter kind of hit me personally because my grandfather died, really unexpectedly this week. I've been mourning his death, and I think what Julie said reflects how I feel: even though it's sad to go through painful experiences, we can let them make us stronger. I feel like my priorities in life have been rearranged, and I really want to take a lot of things more seriously like my faith!
I'm a Christian, and I believe things don't just happen for a reason but for a purpose. I hope if any of you are hurting, struggling, or mourning much like myself that you know there is a God who loves you so fully more than you can imagine. I think the reason we all love romance and love stories is because it gives us a feeling nothing else can compare to, but it's also what I believe is the closest thing to experiencing how passionate God is towards us (not in a romantic way but the same idea of intensity and even more so). God knows us, understands us, loves us unconditionally, and he has given everything including his son Jesus Christ so we can be reconciled with him. To me, that is the greatest love story. :) Even if you don't share the same beliefs as me, I hope you can appreciate the sentiments!
Thanks for reading. Please remember to vote, comment, and read on!