5

Burke did not want to move an inch after breakfast, even though it was almost time for his therapy appointment. Ever since Cristina left the apartment 3 months ago, he was falling more deeply into a bottomless pit of helplessness each day, especially in the wee hours of the morning.

It was ironic how Cristina left the key in the new coffee mug she bought for him the night before he drove her away. Come to think of it, Cristina probably did care about him. He knew many people did. Why he was avoiding them was a mystery even to himself. He did not mind talking to strangers about his feelings, but whenever he was with people who meant something to him, he felt completely cut off. Intimidated.

"Good morning, Sir." The bus driver grinned.

"Hi, Frankie." It surprised Burke how he looked forward to that simple greeting from the driver each day. It was the first human contact Burke had every morning. The smile brought solace to Burke, as it almost felt like the only thing that remained constant in his world.

Frankie liked the courteous young man. He had no idea who he was, except that every inch of his appearance screamed one thing: he was sad and lonely. Frankie wished he could help, but all he could offer was a "Have a good day, Sir."

"You too." Burke adjusted the collar of his shirt as he made his way to the rehabilitation ward.

"Hi, Dr. Burke."

"Dr. Burke's here!"

"Good morning, Doctor."

"Hello, Doc!"

Never in his life had Burke been greeted by that many cheerful faces. The first time he walked into this ward, the only sentiment he felt dread, but the long-term patients were filled with so much warmth that it soon melted his resolve. Who would have thought that these kids, mostly fighters of bone cancer or birth defects, would have so much joy in them to share?

The sight of the wheelchairs and clutches did not pain him. What actually pierced through his heart were the hopeful eyes of the caregivers at the waiting lounge and the ceaselessly upbeat attitude of the staff. Having spent over a third of his life at hospitals, it was until recently that Burke saw the other side of the medical world. As a world-class surgeon, he removed tumors and mended hearts, but after the cutting and suturing, who were there to provide continued support to bring those individuals back to face the challenges in life? Not only was there life outside of surgery for physicians, there was also life after surgery for patients. There was so much more on the road to recovery than the surgical gallery could capture. And sometimes, people never recovered.

"Dr. Burke, did you bring Marissa candies today?" Steering her wheelchair at full speed, the little girl with frenzied hair stopped in front of Burke.

"How would I forget?" Burke was waving a bag of colorful beads in the air.

Limping across the hallway with a cane, a boy with one leg shone a disapproving look at the doctor. "Marissa, you're gonna lose all your teeth eating so many candies."

"Brian, I'm sure she'll brush her teeth." Burke patted the little girl's head.

"Of course!" Marissa made a face at Brian. "Brian's mean. If only he'd be just like you!" The little girl grinned. "I like you, Dr. Burke, you know."

"Just because he gave you candies?" Brian shook his head again.

"Shut up, Brian." Marissa rolled her eyes. "One day Marissa will be your wife, Dr. Burke. You're the most handsome man on earth."

Burke smiled awkwardly.

"That's why I say you're a pig head." Brian's hand sprang to his forehead in disgust. "For a man as handsome as Dr. Burke, there surely is some very fine woman in his life already. Right, Dr. Burke?"

Not giving Burke a chance to answer, the girl exclaimed, "Really? You do? Where's your girlfriend?" Marissa was a little disappointed but curious. "Is she as pretty as Marissa? Does she have curly hair too?"

Lost in thought, Burke was searching for words as images of Cristina rose to the surface.

"Can't you tell from the spark in Dr. Burke's eyes? I bet she must be a super model! That's why I say, stop dreaming, Marissa!"

Marissa stared at the handsome doctor, then back at nasty Brian, looking like she was about to cry. "I hate you, Brian." With that, she wheeled away without saying goodbye.

"Girls are trouble." Brian shook his head in a typical 12-year-old boy's manner and limped after his friend, leaving Burke alone in the hallway.

"Preston? Time for your appointment." The occupational therapist signaled him in. "How are you feeling today?"

"Not too bad, Hazel. Should I begin with the pegboard routine before moving on to practice suturing on pig skin?" Burke was hoping the mundane exercise would calm his nerves.

"Actually, I want to talk to you about your progress."

"Yes?" Burke looked up.

"I talked to Terry this morning. He said you're doing very well in Physio. Here at OT, I can also tell that your hand is steady and your grips are firm."

"So?" Burke was not sure what his occupational therapist was getting at.

"In short, the rehab team's ready to send you back to the OR." Hazel stretched out her hand. "Congratulations, Preston."

"Thank you." Burke took it with his right hand, his contrived smile barely enough to cover his anxiety.

Walking out of Hazel's office, Burke seriously doubted that he had recovered; he had not told anyone his hands still quiver occasionally.

"How's she like?" Brian's presence startled Burke. The boy was waiting at the end of the hallway. His little friend had deserted him and he held a grudge against the doctor.

"Excuse me?"

"Your girlfriend."

Burke felt his heart constricted. "She is very special."

"Why didn't she come with you?" Brian continued wryly, "My grandma always comes with me. She says that's what people who love you and care about you would do."

Burke didn't realize his hand was trembling again, nor did he feel the burn of the young boy's penetrating gaze.

"Is that why you're here?" Brian pointed to the surgeon's hand.

"Yes."

"Are you getting better?"

"I am."

"Good, because I don't want to see you here again," Brian sneered. "You know, some day I will be a doctor too, a better doctor than you are. Marissa will like me then." Jealousy was written all over the boy's face.

Who was there to blame for the unintentional cruelty springing from the boy's mouth? Someone should have educated the young fellow that being older and taller did not imply one had a stronger heart. Burke managed a faint smile and left. His mind was completely blank.