The ward lights flickered, a sharp crack echoed, and then darkness pressed in. At last the gloom began to lift and a voice called out:
Mrs. Mabel Ernest, the rescuer, somethings blown up over there.
A searing pain drove a hand to my throat. I forced my eyes open, barely managing to see a rectangular pendant, its surface engraved with zodiac signs, and a woman in a white coat staring at me.
To the operating theatre! shouted someone right beside me.
My parents came home from work. Mother bolted into the kitchen, then peeked into the study where my son was doing his homework. David, stepping into the room, immediately sensed something was off with Tommy.
Tommy, whats wrong? Dad ruffled his hair.
Nothing, the fourthgrader muttered.
Come on, tell me!
International Womens Day is coming up. Our teacher held us after class and said we have to make presents for the girls.
So whats the problem? Dad smiled.
The class is split evenly between boys and girls, and shes assigned us partners. Ive been paired with the unattractive one, Mabel Ernest.
Everyone wants a gift for the day, even the unattractive ones, Dad said, treating me like an adult. How did she pick the pairs? Alphabetically? By zodiac?
By compatibility. Mabel is a Virgo, and a Taurus suits a Virgo best. Im a Taurus, so
Thats a good thing then. Maybe youll even fall for her.
Me? With Mabel Ernest?
Dad burst out laughing. Mother rushed in:
Whats happening in here?
Linda, go to the kitchen, Dads tone went firm. Were having a serious talk.
When Mom left, Tommy asked in a downcast voice:
Dad, what am I supposed to do now?
Make a present.
What kind?
Ill craft something for your chosen girl at work tomorrow.
How can you make a present? You work in a factory.
I do. Im in the galvanising department, coating metal. We produce all kinds of metal finishes.
I dont get it.
Youll see tomorrow.
The next day Dad brought a goldlooking rectangular pendant on a chain. One side bore the engraved symbols of Taurus and Virgo; the other was delicately inscribed:
For my classmate Mabel on International Womens Day! Arthur.
The pendant looked splendid, especially when Mom slipped it into a clear plastic bag.
On March the 8th the teacher refused to give a lesson. First the pupils handed her their gifts, and she thanked them at length. Then she announced that the boys should give presents to the girls.
All the boys rushed to their chosen ones. Tommy approached Mabel Ernest and, reciting Dads words, said:
Mabel, happy International Womens Day! Perhaps one day fate will match a Taurus with a Virgo.
Having spoken the rehearsed line, Tommy returned to his seat, not noticing that his heart had already leapt for the girl he had deemed unattractive.
Soon Mabels family moved to another district and she transferred to a different school in Year5.
I opened my eyes to the sterile white ceiling of the hospital ward. I tried to wiggle my arms and legs; only my left arm moved.
Where am I? I croaked, unaware of who might hear.
A nurse on a wheeled stool clattered over, looked me over and asked:
Woke up? Youre in the emergency surgery unit.
Are my arms and legs all intact? I asked softly.
Looks like it, she said cheerfully. Youre just wrapped in bandages from head to toe.
A doctor approached and asked gently:
How do you feel?
Whats happening to me? I replied.
Nothing lifethreatening. Your limbs will work again. Youve got a few small stitches, the doctor said, tapping his phone. Your mother wanted me to call you when you woke.
Son, a tearful voice said.
Mum, Im fine, I tried to sound upbeat. They said only tiny stitches, Ill be discharged soon.
They wont let you stay the night, love. Ill be there shortly.
Dont worry, Mum! I placed my phone beside me, forced a smile at the nurse. Thanks!
Youll be out in about three weeks, the nurse replied, smiling. Thats for sure.
A fellow patient at the next bed asked:
What happened to you? when the nurse left.
Im a rescuer. At the plant the cylindrical tanks started exploding, I recalled. We were called in, got into the huge hall, three of us were injured. We rushed in, the tanks were ruptured, fire everywhere. I was the last out. Right as I reached the door another tank blew up I cant remember after that.
You deserved it, the nurse said. Mr. Glover, a colleague, is here.
A friend burst in, hurrying to my bedside:
Hey, Tommy! How are you?
Arms and legs are fine! I answered optimistically, though I could only wave with my left hand.
Come off it!
What happened after the blast?
We were getting out when it exploded. We turned back, pulled you out you were covered in blood, the doctors were already there.
Thanks!
Tommy, what are you talking about? my friend laughed. They want to nominate us for medals.
Ill be discharged soon.
Im off. You have a ward round now, the nurse said it wouldnt be long.
A man in his forties entered the ward:
Hows it going, hero? he said, standing by my bed.
Fine.
If youre talking, youll live. Let me check you out!
Are you teasing me? I asked. No, Mrs. Mabel Ernest. Shell be back the day after tomorrow.
Two days later I tried to get up. My leg pain was still sharp; my right arm was bruised, and there were a dozen marks over my body. Two on my face from the explosion, a good thing I managed to thrust my right hand forward before the blast. My reflection showed a still swollen face.
The doctor who had stitched me up for five hours straight the previous day was due for his round. I was a little nervous.
She entered, a young, sturdy woman in glasses, her white coat fitting her perfectly. I was twentyseven and already married, though wed split up six months agodifferent temperaments, and my exwife hated my rescueworker salary.
Good morning! she said, moving to my bed.
Good morning! Was it you who stitched me?
Yes, she smiled. Something wrong?
No, everythings fine! Thank you very much!
Let me examine you.
She leaned over; the pendant with zodiac signs dangled from my neck.
Mabel Ernest! I exclaimed.
She stared at my swollen face.
Im sorry! she said, not recognising me.
Im a Taurus, I pointed at the pendant.
Tommy Glover? her lips trembled. You still remember me?
Of course, Mabel, I said, placing a small flower on her hand as tears welled in her eyes.
Sorry! she pulled a handkerchief and dabbed her eyes. Never thought wed meet like this.
Mabel never visited my ward again after that, but I realised we both kept a similar schedule: day, night, and two days off. I didnt want to appear helpless in front of her. The next day I shuffled around the ward, leaning on beds, gripping the wall for support, and even made it to the corridor.
Evening came, the dayshift doctor left and a new shift took over, their conversation hinting at the change. Suddenly, shouts and hurried footsteps filled the corridoranother casualty being brought in.
It was ten oclock. A nurse switched off the lights in the ward, but I couldnt sleep. Past midnight I heard footsteps in the hallway, then a soft sob. I rose quietly and stepped out.
At the duty desk a former classmate, now a nurse, leaned her head on her hands and wept. I placed a steady hand on her shoulder:
You okay, Mabel?
She buried her face in my shoulder:
I operated on a woman; she fell under a car. I did everything I could. Shes now in intensive care, but she wont survive. She has two children her husband is in the ward with her.
Take it easy, Mabel.
Ive been a surgeon for three years and I still cant get used to people dying.
Take it easy, take it easy! Thats our line of work. In five years Ive seen as many deaths, but weve also saved many lives, I sighed heavily. My wife left because I was never home and my pay was low. Im forty, but you can still live.
Same here, she said, meeting my eyes. People look at me as if Im cracked. Im still single, living with my parents.
Come on, were only twentyseven, weve got our whole lives ahead.
No, Tommy, were already twentyseven.
Mrs. Mabel Ernest, her pulse is dropping, shouted a frantic nurse.
Im sorry! Mabel rushed back to intensive care.
I lay awake that night. In the morning a nurse came to give me my regular nighttime medication.
Is the woman who had surgery last night alive? I asked, surprised at my own curiosity.
Shes alive, but in critical condition.
Three weeks passed and my wounds began to heal. I saw Mabel during her shifts, and each meeting pulled me closer to her, though the emergency surgery ward wasnt the place for personal confessions.
During one of the morning rounds the doctor announced:
Im discharging you today, he said with a grin. Youll go straight to the community clinic, and theyll decide how long you stay in the hospital.
Can I pack my things? I asked.
Absolutely, no rush. Theyll have your discharge ready soon.
When the doctor left, I shaved, looked in the mirror and noted that the two remaining stitches didnt mar my face at all; if anything, they added a rugged charm. The others I could ignore.
I headed out into the corridor, a nurse pushing a trolley past me.
Shes finally getting out! a thought of joy flickered.
A nurse handed me my discharge papers:
Goodbye, Arthur! Dont come back!
I had a oneroom flat, but I drove to my parents house because Mum had been waiting and worrying. She even took a few days off work.
Son! she exclaimed, pulling me into a hug.
See? Im alive and well.
Come in, Ive made you a meal. Youve gotten so thin.
Ive missed home cooking!
Youll stay here until youre back on your feet and married. Your room is still empty, she said, almost childlike. Now wash your hands!
That evening I stopped at the barbershop, then returned to my flat, grabbed some clothes, and Mum immediately helped me get them sorted.
Later my father arrived from work. We all sat together, as we used to, and talked until the early hours.
I fell asleep in the bedroom where Id grown up, but not before thinking:
Tomorrow I need to go to the clinic, then back to work, and in the evening
The thought of the next night carried me off.
The following morning I went to the clinic, spent the morning wandering the corridors, and after lunch returned to my shift at the plant.
That evening I started packing.
Where are you going? Dad asked.
Dad, remember back when I was in fourth grade? You made me a pendant for a classmate?
For the unattractive Mabel Ernest? I remember.
You even said, Maybe youll fall for her. Ive never forgotten that.
Mabels a surgeon now. She operated on me, and she still wears that pendant.
Thats right!
Dad, your words came true. Im going to see her.
Twentyseven isnt a long time to start a life with the woman you love.
