Becoming Who We Are Ch. 07

"Seeing as how your hands are full, what did you want? I'll get it for you."

"Peanut butter cups," he replied, nodding toward the candy aisle.

"Good choice. I'm a fan of those myself."

She plucked two packages from the shelf, then sauntered to the coolers and chose a soda. She had paid for it all before Luke realized it.

"Hey! What are you doing?"

"You can't get to your pockets. You can pay me back outside."

"Oh. All right."

Shelly held the door for him and he carried the sighing dog outside.

"Let's start walking and then you can put him down," Shelly suggested. "Maybe the momentum will inspire him or something."

She turned in the direction of the college and stepped briskly away. About halfway down the block, she told Luke to set the dog down. He did. Shelby made a dash for it, nearly pulling Shelly off her feet.

"Perverse mutt," she said, yanking the leash to check Shelby's eager pace. "First you won't get up. Now you want to run. Make up your stupid little mind."

Shelby whined and strained against the leash.

"Oh, all right," she said. "We'll go to the college and I'll let you run."

Shelby's tail wagged wildly, heartily endorsing this proposal.

"Well, unless you're headed to the college too, I guess it's time to say goodbye," Shelly said to Luke.

"Actually I was headed that way too."

Her eyes gleamed at him.

"Were you now?"

"Really. But I could go another way, if you'd rather..."

She cut him off.

"No, that's all right. You don't exactly look like a crazed rapist or anything."

That remark set him back on his heels. She noticed his reaction and apologized.

"That's okay," he said faintly. "I just wasn't expecting it."

They set off for the campus.

"So, where did you move here from?"

"New York City."

"Wow! I've always wanted to go there. Why would your family leave a great place like New York and come here?"

"My dad got shot last spring and my parents decided it was time to go."

Her eyes widened.

"Shot? Geez, that's terrible! Is he okay?"

"Yeah. The doctor said he's completely recovered. He's a pretty tough guy."

They feel silent as they walked, watching Shelby sniff and snuffle his way along the sidewalk. The dead leaves contained any number of fascinating scents, sending Shelby into canine ecstasy.

"Do you go to White Rose?" Luke asked.

"Not anymore," Shelly said with a grimace. "My mom pulled me out of it and sent me to Sacred Heart."

"How come?"

Shelly grinned.

"Sex, drugs and rock and roll!"

"Huh?"

"My mom didn't like my friends, so she decided I belonged 'in a more structured environment,'" she said, mimicking an adult's pompous tones. "She figured the nuns would keep me out of trouble and away from 'bad influences.' That's how I got exiled."

"Oh."

She looked at him sidelong.

"Surprised? Intrigued?"

"Kind of," he admitted. "I've never done anything to get into trouble, except be bad at math."

"That gets you in trouble?"

"Like you wouldn't believe! My parents think I ought to be a mathematical genius, but I'm not."

"Please don't take this the wrong way, but I thought Asians were supposed to be good at math."

He sighed.

"I know. That's what everyone thinks. But I'm not, and a lot of others aren't either."

"Sorry if I offended you," Shelly said. "I didn't mean to. I've just never actually talked to an Asian before."

"Well I'm not some specimen for you to examine," Luke said, suddenly annoyed. "And I'm Chinese, not a generic land mass."

"I said I was sorry." She sounded injured.

"That's okay. I've noticed there aren't too many of us around here. It's kind of weird, after New York."

"I guess it would be. Do you think you'll like it here?"

"Don't know. I get tired of being by myself all the time."

Luke immediately regretted those words. He didn't want her to think he was some sort of loser or anything.

"Well, I like being by myself," Shelly declared.

"Do you spend much time alone?" Luke asked, surprised.

"Sure. Why do you think I talk to Shelby so much? I'm not supposed to see my old friends, and it's not easy to make new ones when you transfer to a new school a month after the school year has started. People already have their little cliques. You'd think there'd be room for one more, but no."

"That's too bad," Luke said, warming towards her. "I'm a senior, and it hasn't been easy for me, either. Everyone seems to know everyone else from kindergarten. It's like they have enough friends, and they don't want any more."

"Exactly! That's exactly right. Boy, I'm glad to hear you say that. It makes me feel like I'm not the only one."

They walked in mutually appreciative silence for a block or so, sharing the feeling of unexpectedly having found a kindred spirit.

Shelly switched the leash to her left hand and dug into her purse.

"You want your peanut butter cups?" she asked, extending them toward him.

"Oh, yeah." Luke took the candy and fumbled in his coat pocket for change and found three quarters, which he held out to her. "Here's what I owe you."

She dismissed this offering with a wave of her hand and a shake of her head.

"Don't worry about it."

"No, really. Take it. I wouldn't feel right if you didn't."

She shook her head again.

"You can buy next time. For now, I'd like to treat you."

This pretty girl wanted to treat him, and had actually suggested there might be a next time? Luke could hardly believe his luck. This sort of thing never happened to him.

She continued digging through her purse, finally fishing out a pack of cigarettes. She awkwardly tapped the end of the box against her hand holding the leash until a cigarette broke from the pack.

"Smoke?" she asked, proffering it to him.

"No, thanks," he said, startled at this new side of her personality. "I don't smoke."

"Good for you," she said. "Very healthy. Smoking makes you smell bad, kills your wind and gives you cancer. Never start."

She lit the cigarette and took a deep drag.

"Nothing like it in the world," she said, smiling. "Oh, don't look so shocked. If we're going to be friends, you've got to accept me as I am."

"I didn't say a word," Luke protested. "Besides, I kind of think you're trying to shock me, to see how far you can go."

"You're probably right," she admitted. "Come to think of it, I probably do that with everyone."

"How come?"

"Why not? I get a kick out of shocking people. Don't you?"

He snorted.

"I don't think I've ever shocked anybody."

"Maybe it's time you started."

Her eyes gleamed at him, then turned back to the sidewalk and the snuffling dog.

"Maybe," Luke said, not meaning it.

"So what classes are you in?" Shelly asked, judging it time to change the subject.

Their conversation remained academic for the rest of the walk, with several areas of mutual interest surfacing. Later, Luke would look back on their first afternoon together as one of the happiest of his life.

**

"How am I doing?" Melina gasped, wiping the perspiration from her forehead.

"Great. Just great," Mark said. "Keep it up."

"How am I supposed to keep anything up when all I want to do is fall down?"

He grinned at her.

"In the immortal words of the Nike corporation, just do it."

"Hmmph. Easy for you to say. You're not the one making an idiot of yourself."

"Oh, come on, Mel. Snap out of it. You're doing really well. You'd make my teacher proud."

"Who cares about your stupid teacher? Can't we take a break?"

"Oh, all right. I can see your attitude needs adjusting anyway."

The two plopped down on her living room floor. For the past forty-five minutes, he had led her through a tough program of punches and kicks that had demonstrated all too thoroughly which muscles bicycling did not develop. She reached for a glass of water, her hand shaking.

"Geez, Mel, I didn't realize you were that tired. I'm sorry."

"I suppose I forgive you," she said grudgingly. "I wish you'd remember that not everyone has the build and endurance of a superhero."

"I don't know," he said. "You remind me a lot of Wonder Woman."

"Yeah, right. Like she ever breaks a sweat."

Their eyes met and she laughed, her sense of proportion restored.

"So how am I doing. Really?"

"Really," and he emphasized the word, "you're doing very well. Learning the proper postures takes a while, especially if you have no tai chi or martial arts background. I'm really," and he stressed the word again, "impressed. You may not think of yourself as much of an athlete, but you've got all the basic qualities: coordination, determination, flexibility, and strength -- even if you are quivering like a bowl of jelly in an earthquake."

"Thanks for noticing."

"I'm just teasing. When I started, my muscles shook too. It's just a sign that they're getting a workout that they're not used to. In a week or two, that'll stop and in another month or so, you'll be such an amazon I won't be able to keep up with you."

She giggled at that notion. He seized the chance to give her a quick kiss.

"Opportunist. Taking advantage of a poor, weak girl."

"Taking advantage? Poor, weak girl? Where do I start a rebuttal to that?"

They heard footsteps in the halls and moved apart. Mrs. Taylor poked her head into the room.

"How's it going, you two?"

"Fine," they chorused.

"About finished with your practice?"

They looked at each other and Melina nodded firmly.

"Yeah, I think we've done enough for one day," Mark said.

Mrs. Taylor looked at her daughter.

"Will you still have time to quiz me, dear?"

"Quiz you? Oh, yeah," Melina said. "In a few minutes."

"Quiz you on what?" Mark asked.

"You know I'm an emergency medical technician?"

"Uh huh."

"Well, the ambulance company I work for does kind of a medical knowledge quiz every month. It's a trivia contest format, except all the questions are about emergency care. Winner gets a very nominal prize -- the real fun's in the competition. Anyway, this month's topic is shock and bleeding, and the controlling thereof, and I asked Melina if she'd quiz me out of my textbook."

"That sounds interesting," Mark said. "I never heard of a business running quizzes and stuff like that."

"Most don't," Mrs. Taylor admitted. "In fact, this is the only medical care company I've ever heard of that did it. But I guess it's really in the owners' best interest to make sure everyone's knowledge level is where it should be. And of course, that benefits the patients too."

Mark glanced at Melina, and then at her mother.

"Would you mind if I listened in? It really does sound interesting."

"Not at all," Mrs. Taylor said. "Let's meet in the kitchen when you're ready."

She smiled at him and left. Mark liked her. He wished his own mother would act more like her.

"Do you really want to listen to that?" Melina asked in a tone of disbelief.

"Sure. I think it sounds fascinating."

"Well, let's see if you still think that half an hour from now."

She rose to her feet, then pulled him up when he stretched a hand toward her.

"Lazy bum. First you wear me out with a cruel, cruel workout, and then you make me help you up? Something's wrong with this picture."

He put his arms, savoring the feel of her body next to his.

"Wrong," he said, and kissed her. "Something's totally right with this picture."

"Well, maybe," she said cheerfully. "I'm going to go put on a non-reeking T-shirt. Meet you in the kitchen."

When she returned, he noted appreciatively that she had tied her hair back in a fresh ponytail, splashed some water on her face and changed into a periwinkle blue T-shirt that did great things for her skin and body. In her own way, Melina knew as much about what suited her coloring and figure as his mom did about her own. He liked that.

After collecting a sleeve of crackers and two glasses of juice, the trio sat at the dining room table. Mrs. Taylor pushed the textbook to her daughter.

"The questions are at that piece of paper, dear."

"All right."

Melina flipped open the book, scanned the page, and settled down to business.

"What are the components of blood?"

"Plasma, red blood cells, white blood cells, and platelets," Mrs. Taylor said promptly.

"Name the five functions of blood."

"Nutrition, transportation of gas, excretion, protection and temperature regulation."

"What's the difference between the blood carried by arteries and by veins?"

"Arteries carry oxygenated blood; veins carry deoxygenated blood."

"What happens at the capillary level?"

"The exchange of oxygen and carbon dioxide."

"Wow," Mark said to Mrs. Taylor. "You really know this stuff, don't you?"

She gave him a modest look, then spoiled it by grinning.

"I have seen this material once or twice. Plus, I'm studying to become a paramedic. But a review of even basic material is never bad."

Melina continued her quizzing. Her mother had a quick, correct answer for each question, increasing Mark's admiration of her. She must do her job very well, he decided.

"What are the steps to stopping bleeding?"

"First you get a dressing, sterile if possible. You place it over the wound and apply direct pressure to the wound. Then you elevate the wound, if possible, above the patient's heart's level, like over his head. If the bleeding does not slow down, you apply pressure to the nearest pressure point -- either the brachial, temporal or femoral pulse," she replied, pointing at each one in turn. "Ninety-nine percent of bleeding stops with these steps."

"If the bleeding doesn't stop, what do you do?" Mark asked. "Use a tourniquet?"

"Generally, no," Mrs. Taylor said. "A tourniquet is always a last resort because it stops all blood from coming to the limb. That can have severe consequences."

"Oh," Mark said, crestfallen. "They do that all the time on television, though."

"They do a lot of things on television that I would not advise anyone to do, ever," Mrs. Taylor said dryly. "Anyway, before an EMT reaches the tourniquet stage, she would try MAST pressure, a blood pressure cuff or an air splint."

"What's MAST?"

"Hey, who's asking the questions here?" Melina protested.

"Sorry," Mark said. "I'm just really interested."

"That's okay with me," Mrs. Taylor said kindly. "No one in my family ever shows this level of interest in what I do. It's rather refreshing. Anyway, MAST stands for Medical Anti-Shock Trousers. MAST trousers -- yeah, I know, it's redundant -- are basically an inflatable suit you can use to push blood from a person's extremities back to his core. We use them a lot with traffic wreck victims who have lost a lot of blood and need all their remaining blood redirected to their vital organs."

"Isn't it kind of, well, gross to work on someone who's bleeding like that?"

"Not really. I have always found it harder to watch someone else work on a bleeder than to do it myself. When you're in the middle of it, you don't have time to think of being scared or grossed out or whatever phrase you kids would use. You have a job to do and you do it, and that's all there is to it."

"But doesn't it get kind of, like, slippery?"

"Oh, sure. That's why you want a dressing over the wound. That gives you a little purchase; it helps you hang on. Ideally, you want a sterile dressing, but if you ever had an accident in the kitchen, say, and you had no medical supplies, you would use a clean towel. I mean, think about it. When you cut your hand, what do you do? It's almost instinctive to wrap something around it, apply pressure to it and hold it up."

"Can we get back to the book?" Melina said, sounding aggrieved. "I do have other things to do today."

"Sorry," Mark and Mrs. Taylor said together. Mark turned to the girl.

"I know this is all old stuff for you, but it isn't for me." He paused, then said shyly, "I've been thinking a lot lately about maybe going to medical school after college, so this is kind of a big deal for me."

Melina had the grace to look ashamed. "Sorry."

"Let's move on," Mrs. Taylor suggested.

Thirty minutes later, Melina declared herself out of questions.

"Not one wrong answer," she said to her mother. "Very good."

"Thanks, teach," her mother said flippantly, rising from her chair. "Anyone for more juice?"

"No, thanks," Mark said. "I'm supposed to be home in about three minutes, if that clock's right, so I need to run."

"I'll let Melina see you to the door," Mrs. Taylor said. "Come back anytime, dear. And if you want to know more about emergency medicine, we might be able to arrange for you to spend a shift observing on the ambulance or in the emergency room. I'd need to check with my supervisor, but I think it's possible. As long as you're eighteen. Are you?"

"I will be in two weeks, and that'd be great," Mark replied with a smile. "Thanks. Sorry to run, but my mom's very particular about people being prompt."

"Run along, then," and Mrs. Taylor made a shooing gesture to accompany her words.

Mark and Melina kissed briefly at the door.

"I'll call you tonight," he said as he opened the door.

"Great. Bye!"

"Bye."

Smiling, she watched him jog down the street, turning away only when she could no longer see him. She walked slowly up the stairs.

"That's a thoroughly nice boy you have," her mother said. "I like him a lot."

"So do I," Melina admitted.

"I kind of got that feeling. So what are you up to for the rest of the afternoon?"

"Homework. What else?"

"Don't sound so tragic, sweetie. The day will come when you look back on high school homework as a cake walk."

Melina shuddered.

"You mean it gets worse?"

**

Mrs. Tang heard the front door slam and frowned. She wished those kids would learn the art of doing things quietly. Her own mother had never put up with slamming doors and Mrs. Tang did not see why she had to, either.

When she heard the smack of sneakers on stairs, she called, "Who's there?"

"It's me, Mom."

Mark's face peered into the doorway.

"Hello, Mark," she said. "Have a nice time?"

"Yeah," he said. "Melina's a good student. And you should meet her mother! She's an emergency medical technician and studying to be a paramedic. Man, is she smart. Melina was quizzing her on bleeding and shock and she knew just about everything there is to know."

Mrs. Tang smiled at her son's enthusiasm.

"That's nice. I don't know much about medics, but they sure saved your father's life last spring. I know I've never looked at an ambulance the same way since."

"Me either," Mark said. He sat down in the office's other chair. "Got a minute?"

"I suppose. What do you need?"

"I just want to get your opinion on something."

"Oh. Okay." She felt subtly flattered. She had never gone to her parents for their opinions. That Mark would ask for hers seemed proof she was a better parent than either of hers had been.

"Well, I've been doing some thinking lately, and, well, I'm wondering what you think if I told you I wanted to maybe become a doctor instead of a businessman."

Lucy stared at him, then gave him the brightest smile he had seen on her in years.

"I think that would be wonderful! I've always hoped you'd choose finance, but medicine's fine, too. 'My son, the doctor.' That sounds great."

"Don't go off into raptures yet, Mom. I still may change my mind. But I really like biology and math this year and hearing Mrs. Taylor talk about what she does made me realize I might like medicine, too."

Silently, Mrs. Tang blessed Mrs. Taylor, forgetting her animosity toward Melina. A doctor! The prestige! She could hardly wait to watch him graduate from, from, Harvard? Yes, that sounded good.

"Anyway, I know money's a little tight now, so..."

She cut him off.

"Don't worry about money. We have plenty."

Both heard the front door slam.

"Who is it?" Mark called.