"Dr. Pierce?" the nurse at the desk called to him before he got too far down the hall. She held out the telephone receiver. "Phone call for you."
He backtracked to the nurses' station and took the phone from her. "Thanks." And then: "Dr. Pierce here."
"Hi, Hawkeye."
For the second day in a row, his heart did a little twirl at the sound of the all-too-familiar raspy voice. "Hi, Carlye."
A brief pause on the other end. He heard her draw a breath before she said, "Listen. I feel terrible about yesterday… about how things went. It was awkward and abrupt, and it was all my fault. I'm sorry, Hawkeye. I was hoping I could see you again tonight. Please, let me take you out to dinner—or for a drink. I'll feel terrible if we leave things like this…"
In truth, Hawkeye felt the same way. Yesterday's debacle was weighing uncomfortably on his mind too. But dinner sounded too much like a date, so he made a counteroffer. "Actually, I'll be done at the hospital at 1 o'clock today. Why don't we meet up for lunch? How's that sound?"
Carlye seemed both relieved and grateful, and Hawkeye gave her directions to one of his favorite restaurants in North Beach, saying he'd meet her there. When he hung up the phone, he felt lighter. Good idea, he thought. See her again, part on better terms… it would do them both a world of good.
Lunch turned out to be a whole hell of a lot more fun than he would have imagined. The awkwardness was gone, and they fell effortlessly back into their comfortable repartee, the product of so many years of shared history. They sat there in the restaurant for hours, laughing and reminiscing, keeping the discussion light and peppered with in-jokes. Hawkeye marveled at how much fun it was, given the bizarre circumstances around their reunion.
"What was that cat's name?" he was asking her now, thinking back to the tiny flat they'd shared in Boston and the stray tabby they'd taken in.
She put her cup of coffee down and frowned in concentration. "Wait a minute… it'll come to me." Another couple of seconds, and then she said, "Hippocrates, wasn't it? You named him. You were kind of obsessed with all things medical."
He laughed. "Hippocrates, yeah. That's it. You know, I'm not much of a cat person, but he was all right, that guy. He had a tendency, though, to jump on the bed just when things were getting… shall we say… passionate. I can't say I appreciated that personality quirk."
She grinned at the memory. "Didn't care for his tuna breath, either," she added. "Aw, Hawkeye, we had ourselves a nice life back then. Sure, we were kind of scraping by, but we had each other. And Boston… well, Boston was pretty wonderful. A romantic town. It still is."
Hawkeye had no reply to that. He thought she was drifting too close to flirtation than what they'd been doing, and he didn't want to encourage anything in that direction.
But if he were being honest, he would have to admit that the memories of their time together were beautiful. His mind showed him vivid pictures of the two of them walking hand-in-hand through the snow, of painting the flat that horrible hunter-green color, of sharing cooking duties in their postage-stamp of a kitchen, always bumping into each other. Looking back on it, it seemed like the perfect life for a couple of twentysomethings in love.
He gave a small shake of his head, as if to drive the thoughts away. He picked up the check and said, "Shall we go?"
Carlye only nodded and stood.