FRESH! Literary Magazine 2009 Short Story

 

 

“YOU MUST REMEMBER THIS……”

 

        Josie found the future Dr. Thomas Morrison fast asleep with his head on the dining room table.  There was jam on his face and a trickle of milk from an overturned mug.

        He wasn’t drunk.  He was exhausted.  Her family always boarded an intern from the hospital, which made sense because the hospital was only three blocks away.  This meant that he, or, in one case, she wouldn’t need a car.   The hospital worked these people so hard and on such long shifts. They

always seemed to be on call and could hardly ever make plans for their own recreation or enjoyment.  This would have driven Josie mad.  Her schedule at the college was pretty tight what with doing some tutoring and helping out at home, but there was always Tuesday afternoon and Sundays.  All hers, so she could get her hair cut, have a cup of coffee with Fern, or spend an hour or two in the park, lying on the grass, watching the ducks, and reading something frivolous.  But first she’d have to put Thomas to bed.

        There was a prescription form next to his hand which read, “Get yourself something to eat and get some sleep.   You aren’t due back here until Thursday!”  It was neatly printed and signed by Mrs. Wiggins, who manned the head desk.

        She pulled back on his shoulders and his head fell right into her arms.  He was really out cold and looked vulnerable and limps with those long lashes and all the stubble on his cheeks.  Without thinking, she kissed him and it felt so wonderful that she made a good job of it.  He began to stir and she pushed him gently down on the table and busied herself putting his plate and cup into the sink.

        “Josie,” he mumbled.

        “You’re completely exhausted.  Better get yourself to bed.”

        “I’m….confused and….foggy….”

        “Of course you are.  How many hours has it been?”

        “Don’t remember.  Josie …did you kiss me?”

        “What!  In your dreams!”  She grabbed paper towels and ran hot water over them – then mopped his face and hands.  “You’re sticky with jam.”

        “That feels good.”

        “Go on now.”

        He struggled to his feet and turned toward the hall.

        “Do you need help getting out of your clothes?”

        “No…..well maybe I do,” he said turning around with a weird little smirk on his face.

        She laughed at him.  “I take back my offer.  How hard can it be to get out of scrubs?  Get going now.”

        The dog, which had been under the table, followed him happily down the hall.

        This one – this Tom Morrison was getting to her.  They all had been great, but this one……..kind of got under your skin.  Fresh from his home way out in Montana, where he had been “practicing medicine” on all sorts of wild animals and pets, he brought his dedication here to learn the real thing.   The rest of the family adored him.   The dog spent every possible minute in his company.  Even Mrs. Wiggins had adopted him in her own way.

        And he was determined to go back to Montana as soon as his training was over.  Couldn’t wait to get back to the Big Sky.  What could he see in barren cold and windy desolation?  Why wouldn’t he want to be here where we had some winter, but also had spring and summer and autumn and the ocean at our doorstep?

        She made herself a sandwich and tea and looked over the list of things her mother had asked her to bring home for dinner.  She felt restless, stirred up.  It was spring and she had…..really taken advantage of Tom….and she didn’t regret it.  She’d better look in on him before she left.

        The door was half open.  The dog slept in a pool of sunlight under the window.  His scrubs were tossed over the back of a chair and his shoes and socks were tucked underneath.  There was a roll of scotch tape on the floor.  She went in, picked it up and put it on the end table.  When she turned, she saw the prescription blank upside down, taped to his undershirt.  Her heart did a tango in her chest as she read, “Kiss Me Again!”

Copyright © 2009 by Marjorie Schlitz

 

Marjorie’s short story The Ghost Princess won First prize in theFRESH! Literary Magazine 2007 short story contest.

 

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