McKinney."
He could have sworn breath touched his neck. But when he turned, Dan Crell stood much too far away for the breath of that voice to have caused the tingling along Ford's skin. The single moment telescoped: Ford saw himself sitting there with the useless pencil, saw Dan hold a sheaf of disorganized papers like a shield between their bodies, noted the delicacy of the skin alongthe tops ofDan's hands. Eachdetailclear.
Dan said, "I came down to tell you about the mess with the beds a couple of times, but you were so busy I thought I ought not to disturb you. But myboss talked to Dr. Milliken."
"I know,"Ford said.
"Is everythingtakencare of, then?"
"Yes, I think so."
Dan watched himintently, then averted his gaze. "I guess that takes care ofthe problem."Smiling, but not raisinghis eyes.
He was afraid, and Ford knew it. He was hungry too, and Ford felt the hunger. Ford said, "Thanks for your help."To draw those eyes up again.
"The cleaning crews were actually already there cleaning the beds. Everything was happening the way it was supposed to happen, it's just that nobody knew about it. So I told the nurses the beds were actually being cleaned and then I called Ms. Rollins."
"Thanks."
The moment ended when an arriving nurse asked for orders on one of Ford's patients. Dan withdrew. Later Ford wondered why he had found no opportunity to shake the young man's hand why he had found no opportunity to shake the young man's hand at least. At home, later, he savored the look in Dan's eyes and the open admiration with which Dan approached him, the warmth of Dan's remembered voice, and the gentleness of his presence.
A few days later, after twelve hours of a twenty-four-hour shift, he went to the hospital cafeteria for breakfast. Seated with Curt Robbins, RussellCohen, AllisonRoe, and a couple ofother residents, he rubbed his night's growth of beard and listened to the discussion of a juvenile who had just been admitted to the ninth floor with acute diabetic ketoacidosis. Robbins described the fruity smellthat accompanies the onset ofthis state, and Ford settled back for another ritualmealofdiagnosis and discussion.
But across the cafeteria, framed by louvered windows and yellow blinds, Dan Crell carried a breakfast tray to a seat by the window wall.
Something in his demeanor alerted Ford to the likelihood that Dan had already seen him. Dan set his tray lightly onto the table and arranged himself behind it, unlidding hot coffee and releasing steam from the Styrofoam cup. When Dan finally looked up, he saw Ford watching himand immediately returned his attention to his tray.
Ford found himself staring at Allison Roe's emerald and diamond ring. He lost all contact with Curt's explanation of disease process and felt his breath come short. He told himself this was not the time, meals at Grady being as much a part of teaching as grand rounds, but when he glanced at Dan again, he felt a tightening in his chest. He pictured himself sitting here through the whole meal, watching that odd face across the room, then turning his back on Dan and leaving. Consciously he believed this could not make anydifference, while to walk across the room to speak to the young man now would be to declare himselfpublicly, infront ofhis peers.
In that light he tried to focus on Curt—or was it Russell now? —discussing critical lab values and the immediate need to replenish body fluids, electrolytes. But the thought of Dan across the room made it impossible for him to concentrate. Russell tapped him on the shoulder and grinned. "You look like you've seena ghost."
"I'm tired, that's all." Ford shoved his chair back from the table.
When he stood, Dan watched him. Ford took a deep breath. "I'llbe back ina few minutes,"he said to Curt.
He studied all the changes in Dan's face as he crossed the room—frozen unbelief, recognition, the whiteness of terror. At the table he loomed over Dan's traywatchingDan's cerealspoon suspended in midair. "Good morning," he said.
He could have sworn breath touched his neck. But when he turned, Dan Crell stood much too far away for the breath of that voice to have caused the tingling along Ford's skin. The single moment telescoped: Ford saw himself sitting there with the useless pencil, saw Dan hold a sheaf of disorganized papers like a shield between their bodies, noted the delicacy of the skin alongthe tops ofDan's hands. Eachdetailclear.
Dan said, "I came down to tell you about the mess with the beds a couple of times, but you were so busy I thought I ought not to disturb you. But myboss talked to Dr. Milliken."
"I know,"Ford said.
"Is everythingtakencare of, then?"
"Yes, I think so."
Dan watched himintently, then averted his gaze. "I guess that takes care ofthe problem."Smiling, but not raisinghis eyes.
He was afraid, and Ford knew it. He was hungry too, and Ford felt the hunger. Ford said, "Thanks for your help."To draw those eyes up again.
"The cleaning crews were actually already there cleaning the beds. Everything was happening the way it was supposed to happen, it's just that nobody knew about it. So I told the nurses the beds were actually being cleaned and then I called Ms. Rollins."
"Thanks."
The moment ended when an arriving nurse asked for orders on one of Ford's patients. Dan withdrew. Later Ford wondered why he had found no opportunity to shake the young man's hand why he had found no opportunity to shake the young man's hand at least. At home, later, he savored the look in Dan's eyes and the open admiration with which Dan approached him, the warmth of Dan's remembered voice, and the gentleness of his presence.
A few days later, after twelve hours of a twenty-four-hour shift, he went to the hospital cafeteria for breakfast. Seated with Curt Robbins, RussellCohen, AllisonRoe, and a couple ofother residents, he rubbed his night's growth of beard and listened to the discussion of a juvenile who had just been admitted to the ninth floor with acute diabetic ketoacidosis. Robbins described the fruity smellthat accompanies the onset ofthis state, and Ford settled back for another ritualmealofdiagnosis and discussion.
But across the cafeteria, framed by louvered windows and yellow blinds, Dan Crell carried a breakfast tray to a seat by the window wall.
Something in his demeanor alerted Ford to the likelihood that Dan had already seen him. Dan set his tray lightly onto the table and arranged himself behind it, unlidding hot coffee and releasing steam from the Styrofoam cup. When Dan finally looked up, he saw Ford watching himand immediately returned his attention to his tray.
Ford found himself staring at Allison Roe's emerald and diamond ring. He lost all contact with Curt's explanation of disease process and felt his breath come short. He told himself this was not the time, meals at Grady being as much a part of teaching as grand rounds, but when he glanced at Dan again, he felt a tightening in his chest. He pictured himself sitting here through the whole meal, watching that odd face across the room, then turning his back on Dan and leaving. Consciously he believed this could not make anydifference, while to walk across the room to speak to the young man now would be to declare himselfpublicly, infront ofhis peers.
In that light he tried to focus on Curt—or was it Russell now? —discussing critical lab values and the immediate need to replenish body fluids, electrolytes. But the thought of Dan across the room made it impossible for him to concentrate. Russell tapped him on the shoulder and grinned. "You look like you've seena ghost."
"I'm tired, that's all." Ford shoved his chair back from the table.
When he stood, Dan watched him. Ford took a deep breath. "I'llbe back ina few minutes,"he said to Curt.
He studied all the changes in Dan's face as he crossed the room—frozen unbelief, recognition, the whiteness of terror. At the table he loomed over Dan's traywatchingDan's cerealspoon suspended in midair. "Good morning," he said.
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