Et Cetera

The days after Ricks' blowup held more than the usual tension in the air. The man himself was quiet and seemed withdrawn while the rest of us gave him a wide berth, all but Daisy. She went out of her way to stand too close to him, brush against him in passing; that sort of thing. There was no doubt that we all noticed both of their behaviors. Millie especially, who seemed to radiate a cold feeling towards both Ricks and Daisy. Strange.

The ongoing coursework was a good review for me, but as we got deeper into Pediatrics and Geriatrics those areas were bookends, usually, of human life. For instance, in the young the liver has regenerative capabilities. If lobes of the liver are lost due to injury or disease, given time the liver can mostly grow back and return to normal function. Studies showed that liver function deteriorates with age. Since the regenerative capacity of the liver correlates with liver function, this finding out to be taken into account when assessing surgical risk in patients considered for major liver resection. I knew the latter from my time in general surgical training.

During trauma rotation we had several cases of accident injury, both as emergent cases, and as follow up, who had lost parts of livers but regained full function. In older patients though, the outcome was less certain. A lifetime of alcohol abuse or smoking was found to correlate to decreased liver capacities. Or even disease such as hepatitis. So, the comparison of young and old was striking. Late one evening I was in my room, reading another case study of liver resections in old people, when there came a tap at my door. I turned to see Millie standing in the opening with a despairing expression.

"Yes?" I asked.

She shook her head. "Martin, I've seen that you are on the Internet. My laptop can't access it. Can you help? I must have bolluxed the settings."

I followed her to her room which was at the end of the corridor. She pointed to the offending machine where it lay on the sofa. "Was working earlier, but it froze. I restarted it…" She shrugged as she closed the door behind me.

Sitting down on the sofa, I took the machine into my lap. It had power and the access cable was firmly in the socket. I unplugged that cable then reinserted it anyway. A tap on the Return key and the cursor moved. Running my finger over the trackpad the little screen arrow followed my prompts. "Hm…" I muttered. I closed the Internet browser, waited a few seconds and then reopened it.

The Search window was empty, but when I tried to type characters into it the field remained blank. Odd. "Let's start over," I told her. "A complete shutdown then reboot."

Millie knelt down next to me, legs folded under her, to watch.

I closed all the open programs (there were many - email, file folders, a clock and weather utility – rather an untidy assortment), then scrolled down to the power icon and commanded the machine to switch off.

Millie now had her face inches from mine, as she peered at the computer screen, and I was quite aware of her female form and the heady scent of jasmine. "Uhm, just give it a minute to completely shut off," I muttered.

"Oh-kayyy," she said slowly. "Why wait?"

I turned my head as she squirmed closer, pressing against my right arm. I saw, and heard, her lick her lips. "The… circuits… require a complete…" I told her.

Next, she lightly rested her hand on my elbow.

I swallowed. "Reset. Some things – like capacitors – retain a… an electric charge… and that must bleed off."

Her hand then moved up to my shoulder. "You know a lot," she replied.

The computer lay dead on my lap; screen black. I pressed the power switch and the cooling fan started while the screen flashed into the starting routine. Words scrawled past while the software brought the thing to life, while the air in the room seemed to grow hot.

Millie rested her chin on her hand, her warm breath on my neck and ear. "So… Martin…" she murmured softly.

I exploded at her. "What are you doing?" came out as I twitched my right arm and shoulder out her reach.

She reacted by dropping her hand and scooting away a few inches. "I was just…"

The laptop sprang to life with a binging sound which made Millie jump. The wallpaper appeared, a skyline of Hong Kong, I believe, and then icons popped up around the screen.

"Sorry, sorry, Martin," she added. She turned away, smoothing her short skirt, straightening her wrinkled top. "I was just… well…"

I clicked the browser key, the software window opened, and I typed in a search for the local weather. Search results sprang to life. I moved the cursor to the Birmingham item and selected that.

Local temperatures will remain moderate with a high of 18C overnight and a low of 11C at 6 AM, with a 20% chance of rain overnight. I read. "Seems to be working now," I told her quickly, shoving the computer to her. "Here."

Millie was looking away from me, but she took the machine. "Thank you," she replied stiffly.

I stood up, shot my cuffs, straightened my coat and moved to leave.

"What is your story," Millie muttered. "Are you not interested?"

"What are you are asking?" I said as I moved away a step.

She looked up. "Getting over a bad relationship? Messy breakup?"

If she meant surgery then the answers were yes and yes. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "None of your business, but… no. Yes."

She sighed. "It's just we're all…" she shrugged. "A little lost, you know? Me, you, Frank, Daisy; all of us." She set the computer aside and came towards me. "I was only…" she hugged herself. "The other night – Ricks."

"Ah," I said but didn't know where she was heading.

"The man's a bully," she said, matter of factly.

I nodded; grunted assent.

"And he's an ass," she chuckled.

I nodded once more.

Then she looked at me with what I think was a hopeless look. "I… only wanted to say… thanks."

"Right," I replied but hoped she wouldn't say more, as I turned towards the door.

"Martin?" she responded to my back.

"Yes?"

"I apologize for… my… approach. I only wanted to… tell you - thank you. But if you…"

I looked over my shoulder at her. She looked disappointed. "Fine," I told her, then I opened the door and left her standing there.