"I saw the late news last night, and again this morning," Ray said on the phone. "They said that a County doctor had been killed in that ambulance explosion but didn't have any names."
Neela sat up and took a deep calming breath before answering. "It was Pratt."
There was a long silence, after which Ray said: "I'm sorry."
"Yeah," Neela said. "We did everything we could but… his injuries were too severe. Abby was hurt as well, but she's going to be fine."
Neela recounted the events of the last twenty-four hours: everything she knew of Pratt's accident, a summary of the mass casualty, and a short mention of Dubenko's departure. She left out what had happened with Brenner. It took some time even though she was trying to be brief. Ray listened quietly, occasionally providing a reassuring verbal nod.
"For a moment I was afraid it might have been you in that ambulance," Ray said when he finally got a word in. "Just a crazy thought. What business would a surgeon have had in there?"
Neela didn't say anything for a moment. It felt good to hear that he still cared, after a long time of little contact between the two. A whole year with just two letters and an occasional short email. A get-well card with a bandaged Snoopy on the front, sent by Ray soon after Neela had been trampled.
"How've you been, Ray?" Neela asked. "I haven't heard from you in a while."
It felt selfish to change the subject away from Pratt's death but Neela didn't wish to dwell on it either. She wanted to hear about Ray, what was going on in his life, and to talk to someone she was comfortable confiding in.
"I'm doing fine," Ray said. "I'm working again."
"Really, what with?"
"I've been taking shifts at the PMR clinic. Made it my new residency, in fact."
In his emails, he had mentioned about how finding work in emergency medicine had been tough. Hospitals were proving quite liability-conscious with applicants who had disabilities, and Ray had been considering other fields.
"That sounds great," Neela said. "You enjoying physiatrics?"
"I'm uniquely qualified," Ray said. "It's clichéd , I know, but people really accept treatment better when you can relate with them. It's helped me to put things in proper perspective as well."
"Tell me."
"Last week I treated a high school kid who crushed her C5 vertebra falling off a cheerleading pyramid. Permanent quadraplegia. I've had it easy. Hell, I did a five-mile run yesterday."
Just imagining it made Neela smile. Ray Barnett, running. There was an achievement, especially considering that his earlier exercise regime consisted of partying three nights a week and doing push-ups in his bed.
"Sounds like your life is going a lot better than mine at the moment," Neela said. She didn't mean it as a veiled plea for sympathy, but that's how Ray responded.
"I'm truly sorry for everything that's happened over there," he said. "I wish I knew a way to help you."
"Yeah, well, things can only go up, right?" Neela said.
"Sounds like the Neela I know," Ray said, and Neela sensed from his tone that this wasn't a whole-hearted encouragement.
"What's that?" she asked.
"Ahh, forget it. Let's leave for another day."
"With the current pace, the next time I hear your voice might be two years from now," Neela said. "What did you mean by 'the Neela you know'?"
"I just meant that you tend to wait and see a bit too much," Ray replied. "Sometimes you should push things along more."
"You think I don't?"
"Do you want the honest or polite answer?"
It unnerved Neela that Ray even offered her the option.
"When I want you to start treating me like a piece of porcelain, I'll say so."
"Okay, then," Ray said, and Neela could detect reluctance in his long exhale. "Your worst problem is that you rarely act, just respond. You don't make choices until circumstances force you to."
"I don't think that's really fair-"
"I'm calling it as I see it. You may want to disagree, but consider what I'm trying to say. When have you ever made a decision without something or someone pushing you?"
She knew Ray had a point. It was a pattern she'd fallen into a long time ago. She'd even become a doctor because of a reckless childhood proclamation that her parents had latched onto and pressured her to follow through on. Only much later had she come to realise the talent and inclination she had for the job.
"You're saying that I am too eager to conform?"
"What I'm saying is that you're not so much motivated by what you want, but by what you think others expect of you."
"You know, you're absolutely right," Neela said. "It just seems that whenever I try to change my life, I end up hurting those I care about. Or find myself behind the till at the Jumbo-Mart."
The last statement had been an attempt at levity, but there was too much pain behind it for it to really come out as funny.
"Neela, don't..." Ray said.
"I just see it repeated over and over again. I find myself saved from bad choices by people wiser than me. By Abby, by my parents, by Lucien, even by you."
"Listen, Neela, take this from someone who's had his share of bad breaks. You can't let shit keep you down. You need to decide what you want out of your life and figure out how to get there."
"I don't seem to be very good at that," Neela said, again sounding more sullen than she'd intended.
"So, you've made mistakes, big deal," Ray said. "And then you've had things happen you had no control over. But if you keep at it, in the end, you'll either learn to make better choices or get lucky."
"You know, that reminds me of something you told me once."
"And what is that?"
"You said: 'Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans'."
She heard Ray chuckling on the other end of the line before he replied. "That's not really my own registered trademark folksy wisdom. I stole it from John Lennon."
"But doesn't it mean that whatever your choices, life has a way of getting to you?"
"I think it just means you can't usually predict the end result of you actions. It shouldn't be a prescription for apathy."
Despite the gulf of time and distance that had grown between them, Ray still knew Neela well enough to tell her what she needed to hear instead of what she wanted to hear, to both hurt and comfort her with the same words. She missed him.
"You know, Ray, I have a few unspent holidays. I'd probably be able to fit them sometime in October."
"And you're telling me this because…?"
Neela bit her lip. Ray wasn't making this easy.
"I thought I might come and visit. I mean, if it's okay by you."
There was a long silence before Ray answered. "The convention circuit begins around that time. I'm not sure if I'll be here."
"Should I take that as a 'no'?" Neela asked. "You're still forbidding me from coming?"
"When did I forbid you from coming to see me?" Ray asked.
"The last time we saw face to face. Right after your accident. Right before mine."
Neela felt a tinge of guilt throwing the accusation at him. Ray had been at a low point at the time and said a lot of things he'd later admitted regretting in his letters to her. It still bothered Neela that he couldn't remember his own words.
"I didn't mean it like that," Ray finally said. "I didn't mean to stop you from coming."
"Then what did you mean?" Neela asked. "I need you to explain to me what you meant by that 'don't'."
"I didn't want you to visit me out of obligation or guilt," Ray explained. "I know you'd have run over here in a heartbeat simply because you felt it was something you ought to do."
"I care about you, you know that. You should know me well enough. Isn't that a good enough reason?"
"Not for me."
There was an unexpectedly heavy dose of bitterness in those three words.
"Look, Ray, I'm not coming to Baton Rouge if you don't want me to."
"The question isn't what I want, Neela," Ray said, his voice now making it clear he was upset. "If you choose to come over, you must be the one to want it."
The word 'want' kept on echoing in her ears. Ray was emphasizing it like some sort of mantra. Want. Not just any kind of want. Desire.
Neela took a deep breath through the nose and exhaled through the mouth. One of the Lucien's yoga techniques. What she was about to say she had to deliver calmly, without sounding bitter or resentful.
"When we last met," she began, "I was left with the impression that any chance of us getting together was gone. I realise you didn't mean a lot of the things you said in that hospital room, but that was one of the things you seemed quite settled on."
"I know."
"And now, if I'm hearing you right, you're telling me that's all different?"
"Look, what I was trying to tell you that day was that loving you simply hurts too much," Ray said. "Waiting for you to make up your mind, holding the door open while you think things over… that hasn't changed with you, has it?"
-
Tremendously sorry for the slow update, especially considering the story was basically complete when I posted chapter 3. I just wasn't happy with the original version of this phone conversation, and had to rewrite it. More soon. -NV