Between Two Worlds

Chapter 1

(Now)

I have never been so flummoxed before in my entire life. And I’m not the smoothest person you’ll ever meet. I’m not smooth, period. I get anxious, I stumble over my words when I’m nervous, and I ramble about embarrassing things. Everyone knows this about me. People are not surprised when I talk too much or when I stumble over the same word eleven times. Okay, so maybe eleven is an exaggeration, but the point I’m trying to make is that I quite often come across as baffled. Flabbergasted. Whatever extreme word you want to use for it, that’s me. But today, in this moment, it has never been so extreme. I can’t find my voice. I can’t find my breath for half a second, and I’m worried that I’m going to come across as incompetent. I can’t even remember what I was saying. I look down at the tablet that’s resting across my arm, at the patient’s chart that’s backlit on its screen. Right. Now I remember. Flummoxed.

Oh. Jack, I finally say, my mouth getting dryer by the second. It’s you. Seriously? It’s you? Of course it’s him. He looks exactly the same. I mean, of course he looks a little older, but that’s it. His brown skin is still glowing like it always has, and the only thing that’s different is his hair. It’s shorter, almost shaved to his scalp, but not quite. Which is funny, because my hair is longer. Ugh, that’s not funny.

Hi, he says. But he doesn’t say it like a greeting. He says it like he’s just as flabbergasted as I am and he doesn’t know what else to say.

It’s uh… It’s been a long time. Obviously. We both know that it’s been a long time.

Yeah, he agrees with a shaky laugh. He grabs the back of his neck quickly as he looks to the side for a second. He always used to do that when he was unsure of himself.

I saw your name on the chart, but I didn’t make the connection that it would be you. I don’t actually the say the sentence cleanly like that; I stumble over words and say ‘uh’ probably forty times, but I thought I’d spare you the awkwardness.

Yeah. I knew I was seeing a Dr. Robitaille, and I know you were in medical school when we- his eyes bulge a little bit as if he’s caught himself saying something embarrassing, and he tries to backtrack. I mean when you… uh, I mean you were in medical school the last time… he looks away and lets out a breath as if he’s admitted defeat. His hand goes to the back of his neck again. When he drops his hand back to his side he finally says quietly, I didn’t make the connection either.

Well to be fair, there are a lot of Robitailles around here.

Yeah.

I need to say something else. I can’t just start examining him after having not seen him for so long. Maybe I can get a different doctor to do his exam. Yes, that’s a good idea.

So how’s it going? I ask, instead of looking into the different doctor idea I had. Are you still with Anna?

Uh. No. We broke up a few months ago.

Oh no, I’m sorry, I say. That’s hard.

Yeah, he sighs. It had been over for a while before we broke up, but… yeah, still hard.

We stare at each other and I start to fidget with my stylus. He looks away and then back to me, and I smile but actually I want to die.

So you’re a physician for The Mars Group, that’s pretty cool, Jack says.

Oh. Yeah. But I mean, I’m staying here, so it’s not as cool as it could be.

Right.

And then everything gets even more awkward because as I start to say that we should get on with the physical, Jack asks me if I’m seeing anyone. Our sentences overlap and I could probably get away with pretending that I didn’t know what he said, but I know what he said.

What? I ask, deciding to pretend I don’t know what he said.

Sorry, that was so inappropriate, he says. So he doesn’t even want to pretend with me, okay. He totally could have just pretended he said something else, to go along with my pretending that I didn’t hear what he said, but I guess he’s owning it. Yes, let’s get on with the physical.

So he’s not pretending that he said anything else, but it seems he’s now taken back the invitation for my response.

Um. Yeah. The physical, I say.

I start by checking his eyes; shining a little light in them and checking the reaction of his pupils, and then I check his peripherals. We’re both staring at each other, and while I’m actually focusing and paying attention to what his eyes are doing, it still just feels like we’re staring. Like we’re looking longingly into each other’s eyes. We’re not. I’m not. But somehow it still feels like that. So I say the thing that I sort of wish isn’t true in this moment. But it’s the thing that’s needed to cut this awkwardness from the room, I know it.

I am. I say quickly. Maybe too quickly. Does he know what I’m talking about? Uh. Seeing someone, I add. I am seeing someone.

Jack blinks a couple times and looks a little hurt, but only for a second. He nods and swallows, clears his throat. Right. Of course you are.

Why of course I am?

Oh, I don’t know. Just. I didn’t mean it like, ‘oh, of course, that’s just my luck,’ I meant it like, ‘of course you are because you’re great.’

I smirk a little and nod, but say nothing. He doesn’t know that I’m great. We haven’t seen each other in over eight years.

The appointment gets less and less awkward as it goes, and eventually it mostly feels like he’s a regular patient and I’m his regular doctor. But by the time we’re finished, I feel weird again. I stumble over my words before I can even really get them out of my mouth, and Jack keeps fidgeting with the popsocket on his phone, so he’s probably just as uncomfortable as I am. I think he catches me noticing, so he stops and clears his throat.

I’m uploading your results right now, I finally manage to say to him. They’ll attach to your application automatically. I tap on my tablet and link his information to his profile.

Oh that’s cool. So I don’t have to do anything?

I shake my head. Nope.

Cool. Um. Were they good?

Were what good?

My results?

Oh. Yes, of course.

Okay. That’s good.

I nod at him, feeling like I’m supposed to say something else, but usually I just tell the patient good luck and leave. Maybe I’ll do that now.

Good Luck. I cringe as I grab for the door handle because I wish I was able to say something else. Even ‘it was nice seeing you again,’ would have been okay, but I can’t just turn around now and add something else. But then he says my name, making me stop.

Yes? I ask.

"Um, just out of curiosity… When you applied to be a Mars Group physician, was it because you thought you were going to be placed on Mars?

I let out a breath before I answer him. Yeah. It was.

Chapter 2

(Then)

I was much too drunk. I should have been at home studying, but my roommates dragged me out. It took a lot of convincing and begging, but they finally managed to break me down and make me feel like I needed it. Which I guess I did, I just didn’t need it this much. I didn’t need to be this drunk. I was very drunk. I think I said that already. I couldn’t find my roommates, the ones who said I needed to get out. The ones who brought me here. Where were they? I needed to puke. I stumbled through the crowd and the strobing lights to the washroom. I wasn’t even sure I was going to make it in time, but damn I needed to try. I swung the door open with so much force that I pushed it into someone who was trying to get out.

I’m sorry! I shouted. I need to puke!

I pushed past them and into the nearest stall before they could even answer me. I kneeled in front of the toilet and pulled my hair out of the way as best I could, but it was short, so chunks of it fell out from under my fingertips. And then it all just started to come out. Puke, not my hair. I was puking, my hair wasn’t falling out.

My stomach heaved and I gagged and choked as that night’s dinner and drinks made their way back up. It smelled so bad that I had to plug my nose, otherwise I was never going to be able to stop. When I finally got it all out, I took a deep breath and let myself sit fully on the floor, leaning against the stall wall behind me. My hair was stuck to my sweaty and probably paler than normal face, I was shaking, and I could feel even more sweat dripping down my chest. Gross.

Are you okay? someone asked, startling me.

I turned my head to see a guy with dark skin standing a few feet away, his hands in his jacket pockets and a worried look on his face. His hair was styled into twists, and his fingers moved through them as he scratched his head.

I guess so, I slurred. Why are you in the women’s washroom?

You’re actually in the men’s washroom, he said.

What? No way. The door said ladies on it.

It actually doesn’t say anything on it, it just has a silhouette of a person wearing pants on it.

That’s very outdated, I said, still looking up at him from on the floor.

Quite.

I’m very drunk, I added.

I can see that.

I didn’t mean to puke in your washroom.

It’s not my washroom.

But you were in here and then I puked.

I was actually trying to leave, and you slammed the door into me.

Oh that was you!? I’m sorry.

It’s okay, he said. It was an emergency.

It really was.

Anyway, are you okay? Do you need me to call you a cab?

No, my friends are here somewhere.

Can I help you find them? he asked.

Maybe. Maybe I need help walking. I’m much too drunk. I didn’t mean to get this drunk.

It happens to the best of us.

Are you drunk?

He laughed a little. I am, yes, but not as drunk as you.

I’m much cooler when I’m not a sloppy, barfing mess.

Noted. He chuckled and started to walk over to me.

Actually no, that’s a lie. I’m super uncool.

Oh? He grabbed onto my hand and tried to pull me to my feet but I couldn’t do it. He leaned down and grabbed me under both my armpits and got me to stand that way. Once I was on my feet, he put his hands on my shoulders, keeping me steady.

Yeah, I sighed. Normally when I see cute guys, I can’t function. But I’m talking to you like a normal person. I think.

You just think I’m cute because you’re drunk.

I swear I didn’t mean to get this drunk, I said again.

Why do you keep saying that? I don’t care that you’re wasted. I don’t even know you.

Why are you trying to help me, then?

Because I don’t care that you’re drunk means that I also can’t care about you as a human and that I don’t want to make sure you’re okay?

I don’t know.

He laughed. Can you walk?

I think so.

Okay. Let’s go find your friends.

Okay.

He linked his arm through mine and together we walked back into the bar with music so loud I swear I could feel it in my brain. The lights were making me feel sick again, but I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to puke. As long as we left soon enough.

Oh my god, Aspen! Where have you been!? Are you okay? My roommates, Brianna and Carly came running as soon as they saw us.

I think she needs someone to take her home, the guy said to them.

What happened?

She just ran into the guy’s washroom to puke and I wanted to make sure she was okay.

That’s literally the sweetest, Carly said. Thank you so much.

Of course.

Brianna linked her arm through my free one, and then the guy smiled at me and stepped away.

I hope your hangover isn’t too bad, he said. And then he waved and got lost in the crowd.

Who was that? Carly asked as she linked my arm with hers on my other side.

Some guy, I said. I don’t know.

Well he was amazing.

Chapter 3

(Now)

I walk through the bright hallway towards my office so I can breathe before my next patient. My shoes squeak on the shiny floor and it makes me feel like there’s a crowd of people following me and laughing at me. I finally make it to my office and shut the door behind me. I say finally as if my office is a far walk away, but really it took me like 30 seconds to get here. When’s my next appointment? I open the Mars Group Med app on my tablet and check my schedule. I have another patient in ten minutes. So I have ten minutes to process what just happened.

But I actually don’t, because Shannon barges into my office without even knocking. I had been leaning against the door, and her shoving her way in makes me squeal and stumble into the middle of the room.

Sorry, she says. Her previously blue pixie cut is now dyed hot pink and it looks awesome against her pale skin.

Don’t you knock? I ask.

Sorry. I was just excited.

About your pink hair?

What? She touches her fingertips to her lightly styled hair and then shakes her head. No, I got the Infinity Pool tickets!

Oh no way! Where are we sitting?

She bites her bottom lip and I’m afraid that all she could get were seats way in the nosebleeds where you have to watch the entire concert from the big screens in order to see anything, but then she starts to grin.

Where? I ask again.

Instead of answering me, she grabs onto my elbows and starts to do a little tap dance thing with her feet. I bounce around with her, hoping she’s not messing with me.

Shannon! I half shout.

The floor.

What! You got us floor tickets!?

I did!

How!?

I’m a genius, that’s how!

Oh my god. I was freaking out earlier about something else and now I’m freaking out about finally seeing my favourite band and you got us floor seats? Really? So we could like, stand right in front of the stage if we wanted to?

Their sweat will probably fly off their hair and hit us in the face!

No!

Yes!

I have to go! I shout in the same excited tone we’ve been using.

Where?

I have a patient!

Oh! Then yes! Go!

My tablet beeps just as I open the door, letting me know that my patient is waiting in exam room 4.

It smells like pizza and garlic bread as soon as I step into my apartment after work. I’m excited at first that David made us a treat, or ordered in for us since it’s Friday, but when I step into the living room I see that he’s already started without me. The pizza box is open on the coffee table with three or four slices already gone from it. David’s slouched back on the couch with a plate in his lap, just half a piece of garlic bread left on it.

Oh, I say.

Oh? He straightens up a bit and looks at me.

You ordered pizza without me?

It isn’t without you, there’s still more than half of it left.

But like, you didn’t want to wait until I got home until you ordered it?

He shrugs and takes a big bite of his garlic bread. You were late.

My last patient went a little longer than normal, sorry. I texted you.

He shrugs again. I had already ordered it by then.

I sigh and pass him to get a plate in the kitchen.

Really? he says. You’re mad at me? I ordered pizza for us and you’re mad at me because you were late and I didn’t want to eat mine cold?

I didn’t even know you were ordering pizza! I throw my arms up in frustration. He always does this.

It’s not a big deal, Aspen. God. He finishes his garlic bread and turns off whatever he was watching to go back to the Netflix home screen. Grab your plate and come pick a movie with me.

I let out a breath and get a plate from the drying rack beside the sink. The pizza isn’t quite cold yet, which annoys me even more. He could have kept the box closed and waited another ten minutes for me. I lean back on the couch and tell him to pick a movie.

Nah, I’m not falling for that, he says with a hint of playfulness in his voice. You can pick what we watch. I’ll enjoy anything you choose.

I roll my eyes and we end up going with a new romcom that was in theatres not too long ago. We both laugh throughout the movie, and I even cry at one part. David notices and gently brushes the tear away from the corner of my eye with his thumb. I turn to look at him and he smiles at me.

It’s just a movie, he says.

I know. I smile and hit him in the shoulder, but his thumb is still at the edge of my eye, the rest of his hand wrapping around the side of my head. He kisses me then, and the way he does it so gently makes me feel like he really loves me. Like maybe he didn’t mean to hurt me earlier with the pizza and I was overacting. He pulls my ponytail out of its hair tie so he can run his hands through my hair. My hands find the hem of his shirt, lifting it over his head. He starts to kiss me a little harder, and the way his hands move across my body makes me feel wanted. I pull myself into his lap and straddle him on the couch, and then lift my arms over my head as he takes my shirt off.

I pour myself a bowl of Shreddies in the morning, and David sits at the kitchen table with a cup of black coffee.

Oh! I say. I forgot to tell you!

He looks up from his mug and gives me a half smile. What?

Shannon got us tickets to see Infinity Pool!

All three of us?

No, you said you didn’t want to go. I take a bite of my cereal and some milk drips down my chin. I wipe it away with my pyjama sleeve.

I never said that.

Um. When I told you about it, you snorted and said it sounds expensive.

Yeah, but I never said I didn’t want to go.

I stare at him for a second, completely gobsmacked. You… I- I’m so confused.

Just because I said something sounds expensive means I don’t want to do it? he asks.

You… I can’t think of what I want to say. Surely the concert’s sold out at this point, and even if it wasn’t, there’s no way we’d be able to get him a ticket on the floor with us. I feel bad for leaving him out, but I honestly thought he didn’t want to go. You sounded very aggressively uninterested, I finally say.

Aggressively uninterested?

What was I supposed to think? I was excited to tell you about the concert for my favourite band, and you made me feel bad for wanting to go because I would spend a lot of money on it. I asked you if you wanted to go, David.

Sounds like you didn’t listen to my answer.

Don’t do this to me. When you said it sounded expensive, I said ‘so you don’t want to go with me, then?’ and you shrugged.

That doesn’t mean no.

Why didn’t you tell me you wanted to, then?

I had to think about it.

This isn’t my fault, David. I’m going to the concert with Shannon because you made it sound like you didn’t want to go.

Whatever. I’m not even hungry anymore. I get up and dump my cereal milk into the sink and put the soggy Shreddies in the compost.

I start to walk away, but before I make it past the kitchen table, David says, The bag’s going to leak.

I sigh and go back to the counter and grab the compost bag from under the sink. I stomp to the door and don’t even put my shoes on to head down to the waste room. It’s where we put all our garbage, recycling, and compost. It’s almost as cold as a freezer in this room so the piling compost from the entire building doesn’t stink or attract flies, which is genius. I toss my small bag of compost into a bin and then head back to the elevators.

Chapter 4

(Then)

I was still hungover. It was Monday morning and I still felt like barfing as I walked across campus. At least it was nice and crisp out, so the cool air felt good on my head. I took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying my best to bury any feelings of nausea. I will not be sick today, I told myself. I will not be sick today.

Hey, someone said from beside me.

I jumped a little and looked over to see the same guy from Saturday night, the guy from the washroom. At least I thought it was him. I was very drunk when we met.

Ah, you don’t remember me, do you? he asked.

Um, bathroom guy?

So you do remember. He smiled and straightened up a little.

Yeah. Uh, I’m sorry you had to meet me at such a low point.

He waved me off. It’s fine. You were just drunk.

Yeah, and puking. And I looked awful and my hair was all stuck to my face and stuff.

Who says you don’t still look awful?

I almost choked, completely at a loss on how to respond.

Kidding, he said, putting his hands up in front of him. I’m kidding. You didn’t look that bad. And your hair looks great today.

Oh. I immediately felt myself blushing. My auburn hair was short, and the choppy layers curled around my ears. Thanks.

Of course. How was the hangover?

Still going, I said. I laughed a little because I was suddenly nervous even though I knew I didn’t have a reason to be.

Oh man, that sucks. He hooked his thumbs around his backpack straps and slowed his pace to match mine when he saw that I was lagging behind him a little. What are you studying?

Biology. Uh, for pre-med.

Wow, that’s amazing. So you must be super smart, then.

No.

He smirked and sort of laughed. I felt like he didn’t know what to say and I made him uncomfortable with my awkwardness.

I’m Jack, by the way, he finally said.

Aspen.

Are you going to make it through the day, Aspen? You’re not dissecting things today or anything, are you?

No.

I’m sorry, I’m bothering you, he said, grabbing at the back of his neck.

No you’re not, I said.

Are you sure? Because I can leave. Actually… he stopped and looked around for a second, at the vine covered building in front of us, and at the path that continued