Beginning with Forever (6 page)

“Your mother sounds like an
amazing woman. I’d love to meet her one day.” Seeing this personal side of Richard made me like him so much more.

“She is.
You remind me a lot of her. I’m sure she’d love you at first sight,” he paid me one last sweet compliment.

I
can’t believe it’s already early September. Six months has swiftly flown by, but I can’t say it’s been an easy breeze either. I’ve had my share of headaches and sleepless nights. I knew the academic demands would be challenging, but when long hours of hospital rotations are added to this maddening equation, the pressure is multiplied by a thousand at least. Every so often I sometimes secretly wish I would’ve gone the conventional medical school route. Having some breaks in between semesters instead of studying or working at the hospital all year long would be nice. It’s frustrating at times, but manageable for now. I just pray that I’ll be able to endure the remaining years ahead.

On my
non-hospital rotation weekends, I spoil myself with visits to the local botanical gardens or walks along the fine, white, sandy beaches. It doesn’t sound too exciting for most people my age, but it’s my ordinary way of coping with stress. I found a secluded spot just a few miles away from the dorm while walking the length of a beach one day. Vacationers and locals avoid this area altogether because of the surrounding sharp corals. This doesn’t bother me because I come here for the shady palm trees and my personal view of the ocean.

After such a
crazy week of exams and extended late hours at the hospital, I’m more than ready to call it a weekend. I spent most of yesterday studying and catching up with my mom and friends via internet and phone calls. Sunday is my day of rest. I pack a picnic lunch, my iPod and a cozy beach blanket before heading out solo. I feel somewhat guilty about not sharing this exclusive spot with Amelia or Richard, but I figure they can find their own personal spaces somewhere else on this island.

I lay my blanket
neatly over the powdery, white sand to forge a comfy beach bed under two shady palm trees. I shuffle through my iPod playlist for Relaxation Music
.
Enya’s angelic voice is undeniably soothing. I lazily lower my fatigued body back and seal my eyelids shut. Ah…this is the life. My arms and legs stretch out freely, enjoying the cool-humid breeze. I convince myself to take a quick catnap first, and then continue studying after I’m replenished with new energy.

I
rest eagerly like I’ve been deprived for weeks, maybe months, enjoying every precious minute of it. It doesn’t take me long to doze into REM state. My body enjoys the peaceful sleep coma, until the sensation of wet fingers gripping my right ankle alarms me. Where’s the moan coming from? Am I dreaming? My exhaustion paired with the heat has completely overtaken my depleted mind. I’m so tired that I can’t even differentiate between reality and dream. I force my heavy lids to open, squinting and blinking against the glaring sunlight until I could focus my burning, watery eyes. “Oh my god! Oh my god!” I scream hysterically out loud. There’s an unconscious man lying face down with his right hand attached to my ankle. I can’t see his face or chest to determine if he’s still breathing or not.
I’m hoping and praying that he’s not…dead.
I quickly pull my quivering right leg away from him and hug both my legs tightly against my chest. My shaking body is rocking back and forth. My mind runs for its wits, but my body remains fixed and dumfounded. I know I should be calm, but I just can’t help it. I’ve only had six months of patient care, and I’ve never had to resuscitate a real person, only CPR Annie, the dummy.

Calm
down Lily
, I coach myself. I then take a deep breath, exhale and immediately crawl to his side to assess his condition. Flipping him over onto his back, I then remove his lifejacket to release his body from its confines. His perfectly carved face is covered with sand, so I gently stroke it off his cheeks and forehead. I can’t believe I’m mentally noting how attractive his features are at a time like this. What a weirdo. I shake my head several times to brush off this craziness. I lift my blanket off the ground, shake the sand loose and prop his head up with it. I exert all my might to roll his heavy body into a recovery position and then obtain his pulse rate and vital signs.
Thank god, he’s alive,
I celebrate silently.

At this point, I can
only visually assess that he’s suffering from sunburn and some minor scrapes on his hands and elbows, possibly from the sharp corals. I’ll check for bodily injuries as soon as his suit is removed. I quickly make a call to my assigned hospital for an ambulance while maintaining a vigil over his weakened body. My hands are still shaky, and my heart hasn’t stopped hammering since I first encounter this stranger. I need to pull myself together because this unfortunate man needs my professional care, and this is what I’m training to do.

After
about fifteen minutes, the paramedics arrive with their emergency kit. They lay his unconscious body on the stretcher and quickly start an IV. They transport him into the ambulance and insist that I ride in the back with them to the hospital. I’ve never ridden in one before, so this will be an interesting experience for me. It’s jerky, which I expected, due to the horrible road conditions as well as fighting with the incoming traffic. Several times I almost fall forward because of hasty stops they have to make for reckless drivers and crazy pedestrians. How will I ever get this continuous, loud, blaring siren out of my head? I’m sure I’ll have this ringing in my ears for days to come.

His sun-chapped
lips beg for my attention as I stare at him. I pour my water bottle over the corner of a sheet and dab his dry mouth with it, peeling his lips apart. He responds to it by lightly licking the moistened path with his tongue. I hear him mumble something softly under his breath, but it’s incoherent. Is he trying to tell me something? Regardless of the condition of his blistering lips, it doesn’t diminish how perfectly shaped they are. Why can’t I help myself from finding this man so attractive, even in this condition?

We
inspect all his pockets thoroughly for any form of identification. There’s nothing but the initials C.B. on his platinum cufflinks that potentially identify him. His costly designer suit is perfectly tailored to conform to his lean body. He must’ve lost his jacket somewhere in the water. His dampened, ocean-scented, white shirt is no longer white. It has streaks of green seaweed and light brown stains on both sleeves. His gray vest is missing a button at the bottom and his gray tie is completely loose. I also notice an expensive gold watch on his left wrist. One of the paramedics made a repulsive comment about his Rolex watch costing over $75,000. Wow, I can’t imagine anyone crazy or stupid enough to spend that kind of money on a small watch. He has no wedding band on his ring finger. I’m not sure why I’m even noting his eligibility status.

Right away,
I fabricate a Lillian-profile for him to distract myself from admiring his handsome features. This is a man who enjoys an affluent lifestyle, completely self-centered and arrogant, and everything is catered to him. He’s not married; therefore, he has commitment issues. His current predicament probably sabotaged his plans of meeting one of his many swimsuit-model girlfriends. He has a different flavor for every occasion or need. I’m willing to put money on the fact that he never lacks the company of a beautiful woman. I have a character flaw of judging people based on their materialistic appearances. It’s a terrible trait I’ve inherited from my mother, and needless to say, I’m not proud of it.

We finally arrive
at the hospital, and he’s quickly transferred to the emergency area. Since his identity is unknown, the hospital has maintained the highest level of confidentiality for him. I stand at the foot of his bed as two eager female nurses remove his dampened clothes; first the vest and dark gray tie, then his dingy dress shirt, and finally his pants and boxers. I catch myself staring inappropriately at his lean, muscular, naked body as I nervously bite on my lower lip. This is so unprofessional of me, and I’m appalled at myself. I see some minor bruising on both his arms and some scrapes on his knees. He’s endowed in both length and girth, I shamefully note. What the heck is the matter with me? I’m thankful when they cover his distracting ripped body with a unisex hospital gown.

Right away, I
gather my crumbled dignity and then exit the room to search for Dr. Stanford, the lead physician. I’m requesting to be involved with this man’s care since I’m already familiar with his case. Dr. Stanford happily concedes without any hesitation. I think he has a lot of respect for me even though I’m only a first year medical resident. I’ve worked extra, long hours to prove my worth to him, and I think it’s paying off.

I walk over to
mystery man’s bed to examine him closely. He’s very handsome indeed even when he’s sleeping.
Stop it.
I place my two fingers on his radial artery to obtain his pulse rate, 55. I assume he works out from his healthy rate and his muscle tone. There I go again, losing my train of thought. I quickly release my grasp of his wrist and step away from his bed. I better let the nurse complete his physical because I’m nowhere in the correct frame of mind. For reasons I can’t understand, this man is slowly breaking down my invincible barrier that I’ve worked years to build and reinforce. How is this even possible?

After
my ER assessment, mystery man is transferred to a private room. Dr. Stanford agrees with my decision to order a comprehensive workup for him. He’s responding well with continuous IV fluids. I decide to keep a safe distance from him, only observing his condition from his medical chart. I would hate for Dr. Stanford to witness my unprofessional gawking of our patient. I’ve worked way too hard to let some stupid crazy crush hurt my impeccable record.

It’s starting to get dark outside
. I better get back to the dorm and prepare for my three lecture classes, starting early tomorrow morning. I leave my instructions for mystery man’s care with the attending nurse and slowly make my way out of his room. For some strange, dumb reason, I’m stalling to leave. Why do I still want to stick around here? It can’t be because of mystery man, can it? I refuse to accept that as a reason.
Argh
! I’m frustrated with myself. I grab my things and force myself towards the exit.

The
bus is running early tonight. Sam, the driver, greets me with his usual friendly smile as I step onto the bus. I’m distracted and only return his gesture with a nod, instead of my routine ‘Hey Sam. How was your day?’

“Your mind
is jumbled up tonight, Miss Lillian,” he interrupts my daydreaming.

“I had an interesting day, Sam
,” I respond to his concern.

“I can see it on your puzzled face
,” he replies with a smile.

I
take my normal seat in the front of the bus and ride all the way back to the dorm in silence, thinking about what my first encounter with mystery man will be like when he’s awake.

A
s I lay face down over a decadent silky pillow, he leisurely walked his two fingers up the back of my ticklish legs. I’m wearing nothing, but a black lacy thong. The sensual taps of his fingertips lured dormant cravings deep within my body. His fingers suddenly stopped at my upper inner thighs, purposely coaxing more intense desires for him. It’s effective. I wanted and shamelessly begged for more. He proceeded with wispy feathery kisses along the middle of my lower back. My body squirmed pleasurably underneath him. He slowly parted my thighs and slid the thin lace material to one side for full access to my velvet lips. With every slow touch of his fingertips along my sensitive skin, moisture gathered, and I desperately yearned for him to take me. He placed his two fingers over my moistened sweet spot and began a soothing circular massage. The rhythmic motion sent me almost completely over the edge. He had an approving expression on his face, watching me fall apart under his control. It was apparent to him that my body craved more. He gently rolled me onto my back with the same pillow propping my pelvis up. He continued his delicious taunting with his skillful tongue as he placed his head between my unsteady bent knees. He also caressed and kneaded my breasts with his free hand. The arousing motion and pressure of his burning tongue and two fingers circling inside me provoked an explosive orgasm. I moaned and panted pleasurably.

I hear my loud voice moaning
over and over again, but now, it sounds more like buzzing. Oh crap, it’s just my damn alarm. I pat my hand on the nightstand to kill that annoying buzz. It stops finally, and I fall back in bed with my eyes wide open, feeling dirty and disgusted with myself. I’ve never had a vivid, wet dream like that before. Oh man, this mysterious stranger is affecting me in the worst way. I force myself out of bed to brush my teeth and get dressed when I see that my first class starts in less than twenty minutes.

I make it there right before the doors
shut me out. I sit down for a few minutes and realize that I’m already struggling to stay focused in my first class as snippets of my dirty dream torment my troubled mind. Viral infections don’t seem all too interesting to me right now. I can’t stop seeing his handsome face and hands all over my body.
Argh
! I can already tell this is going to be a dreadfully long day for me. How can I think about pathology at a time like this? I’m angry with myself for not being able to concentrate and for allowing this man, who I know absolutely nothing about, dramatically influence me this way. Why am I being so stupid right now?