VIII.
He was angry.
For days, his life was going down and it seemed that this succession of mistakes and bad news would never stop.
Again and again he reviewed in his mind what happened, feeling guilty, thinking about the ways in which that should not have happened, the things he should have said and done instead of what he said and did. Sometimes other scenarios also appeared in his mind, which gave him a joy of only a second, until he returned to reality, to the guilt. In those scenarios she did not turn her back, she stayed with him.
As always, being a doctor in Poplar saved him from his own mind. His patients were first and a pregnant and tuberculous woman certainly topped the list of his concerns. He would do his best to save her, but hope was too little. However, he could save others. If he counted well, he could save hundreds of people. If he managed to diagnose the sick early, they would not die and would not infect the healthy.
When he entered Nonnatus, he hoped to see her. He did not even know why, the woman would turn away from him, and with good reason. But even if it was knowing that she was there, it would ease the tension and concern he felt for all the people in Poplar.
He did not see her, and was attended by Sister Julienne. Nor did he dare to ask about her, he had no excuse for doing so, and even more so when the subject he had to deal with Sister Julienne was of an urgent nature. They agreed that a simple van would make a difference, and set the day of their meeting with the board.
The day arrived, and as always, he was late. He fell asleep, and then argued a little with Tim because he did not want to go to school, and they had no cereal to eat, the toast were burned... Day by day, morning by morning, he confirmed that he was a lousy father and that the more silly household tasks were impossible for him.
When he arrived he got out of the car and leaned on its roof, reviewing the speech he said last night over and over in his head until he fell asleep. He would list the reasons, make a description of Poplar, comment on the case of the pregnant woman. With so many bad things that were going on in his life, this had to go well. It could not be that only the bad thing happened to him, something good had to happen and he was convinced that this would be.
He heard the door close and looked toward the stairs, thinking about what he would say to Sister Julienne, that although she did not reprimand in the same way as Sister Evangelina, some words would surely have to tell him about his delay.
He didn't have a mirror, but he was sure his eyes widened when he saw her. Going down the stairs quickly, was Sister Bernadette. He could only say her name, and she practically ignored him. His voice betrayed him, coming out choppy and thin, saying he was waiting for Sister Julienne. He cursed himself, saying that was like telling her that he didn't want to see her, that he preferred to see anyone but her, when it wasn't true.
She replied coldly, a terrible coldness that hurt him. She didn't even look at him, but looked at the street, or the door of the car just opened for her. She could speak seriously, or professionally, even severely, but she always had a touch of sweetness and understanding. That morning, however, all the ice was directed at him. There was no sweetness, only anger.
He said a complete stupidity about his tie. He didn't even know why he spoke, when it was clear that she was not interested in him. Before opening the mouth it seemed to him that it was not important to talk about his shortcomings as a father and cook, although it could be funny, she was not there for jokes. So he talked about the tie and she looked at his chest with... Pity? Contempt? Disgust? It was indecipherable. In the enigma she was, in the strange puzzle he had begun to assemble, that look did not fit anywhere. He tried to remedy all his mistakes by thanking her for her support, but she ignored him again.
Before he knew it, she was already inside the car, waiting for him to decide to stop feeling a victim for everything and get on the road.
He entered the car, looked at her barely, resigned. She stared forward, unchanging, ignoring him completely. Perhaps because of that, because she was more indifferent than ever with him, she seemed even more beautiful and more unattainable because although it was invisible, there was a huge wall separating them. She was there instead of her superior, like the first time he noticed her, and he was there as a doctor. They were two colleagues, very different from each other.
He thought about saying something else, but stopped. She was angry, furious with him, and also had to replace her superior and have to make this trip with him, and be taken by him in his car. Without a doubt, if he said one more word, if there was more nonsense from his mouth, she would lose her patience and would not hesitate to shout and slap him. So he decided to start the car and let his nerves flow everywhere except his mouth.
When they arrived, they walked through the limpid and gray corridors almost with a studied distance. In fact, he saw that they were walking with the same feet and at the same pace, as if they were soldiers in a parade, with their backs straight and facing forward. He could feel her closeness although he did not dare to move his eyes a millimeter to look at her.
All the time he looked at her and observed her in those months it had become a habit, almost a vice like his cigarettes, and now he tried with all his strength not to look at her, not to anger her more, not to make this situation even more uncomfortable, although he knew that if he barely moved his fingers, he would touch and squeeze her warm hand, which was so close and so far from his.
They sat in front of those impassive men. He hated them, although he didn't know them. Their faces of rich bureaucrats told him that no plea would take effect.
He started talking, maybe too fervently, maybe crawling too much. Although his head was focused on this, he was very aware of who was at his side. He did not know if she would help him, if her voice would be taken into account since she was not the head of Nonnatus House.
He also did not know if his passionate and angry attitudes against this group of men would be well regarded by her. He could scare her more, she could hate him moreā¦
He concentrated on continuing to speak, ignoring the desire to punch the table when they told him it was normal for patients to die, which were the things of his job. How could they be so inhuman? How could they openly ignore what was happening in their city?
But she spoke, and for the first time in all that time, he could look at her, again amazed. She settled into the chair, looked at all the men, waved her hands, her voice trembling and almost desperate. She was far from the sweet and quiet nun, from what was expected to be a nun. She was angry, but she was channeling all that anger towards those guys. He felt stupidly proud for her words, for her passion, for the defense she was making of their work and their people. If she ran for prime minister, he would vote for her without hesitation.
He continued talking, feeling more relieved to see that men's faces changed a little. He heard her breathe agitated in anticipation as one of them told them they would evaluate the request. They had not won the war, but won a battle.
He knew that things had to go well that day, and seeing it confirmed only made him shoot almost running down the corridors, in his head seeing all the people that could be saved as soon as they could be diagnosed. He stopped suddenly and saw that she was following him from behind, still agitated, but with a smile brighter than the sun. She congratulated him choppy, looked him straight in the eye. Her gaze was clear, the Scottish fury disappeared to show him only the joy of a beautiful smile. He felt washed from all guilt, he felt forgiven. She lowered her eyes, suddenly very shy, and he congratulated her. They were a team, they had shown it to themselves, and together they worked very well.
She looked at him again, that look from the past that he loved and that he still couldn't understand very well, but that told him many things, except that she was angry. Then it seemed to be too much and she left, passing by, ignoring him again and following her path. He watched her go, the emotions stirring inside him again.
The confirmation filled him with joy. His day begun as a disaster and ended with a date and time for the arrival of an X-ray van. When he entered Nonnatus' dining room, Sister Monica Joan received him with a greeting that informed that they had been talking about him. Then he saw that she was there. What were they talking about? What had she told? For the first time in his life, he was deeply interested in knowing what a group of women said about him.
He could have stayed at the door, but his own feet led him to Sister Bernadette, and she raised her head to look at him with a smile, abandoning her food, and all her attention on him. It was very difficult to address all the women gathered there and not just look at her, it was very difficult not to say that thanks to her they had this good news, it was very difficult not to bow down and kiss that smile.
Her cheerful little voice saying "Wonderful!" destroyed his resistance and he looked at her, just a second, to see her face bright and happy like a girl. She was radiant, far from the indifferent woman who trampled his heart that morning.
When he left Nonnatus he took a deep breath.
It had been a good day.
And she didn't hate him.
