Maria

***

Evening became night, Both of us knew that I had to get some sleep to be ready for rounds the next day. We held each other and kissed once more. Maria walked me the door. Once more, she read my thoughts.

"It was very special for me too, Pat. But it has to end here. On Monday, you're still Pat the student, and I'm still Maria the scrub nurse. Just cherish the wonderful memory—I know I will."

***

The next ten days with Bedlock, his patients and Maria flew past. He never let up, testing my limits every chance he got, making sure that I knew the patients and the concepts cold. Each day he put a new instrument in my hand, and he seemed mostly pleased with what I was learning. Not that there weren't high standards and low moments—my first attempt at suturing his picture-perfect incision resulted in him bellowing.

"Call the dean and have him send me a girl-child—at least she'll know how to use a needle and thread!"

But I laughed and promised to do better. Maria gave me a needle-holder, some out-dated sutures and told me to go back to the dorm, and practice making halved tomatoes whole. Bedlock gave me another chance the next day, grudgingly approving the results. (I gave the needle holder to back to Maria, along with two pounds of fresh peaches and a thank-you note.)

My last evening on service, I passed the beeper and the patients off to my successor. Free at last! I scrawled a note to Bedlock, thanking him for riding me so hard and went by his office to slip it under the door. His lights were on and the door was ajar.

"About time you showed up," he grumbled. "Learn anything this month?"

"A lot more than I expected. I just came by to say..."

He cut me off.

"Yeah, thanks, I know. Now shut up and listen because I am going to say this once and only once."

He shut the door and pulled a bottle of bourbon and two glasses from his desk. He poured, we drank... and I sputtered when the fire hit my throat. Bourbon, it seemed, also required some practice.

"Son, I don't know much about anything else, but I do know students and I do know surgery. And you're the best damn student I've seen in years. You can go anywhere you want for your residency...except staying here, because I won't permit it. You'd be wasting my time and your talent. So where's it gonna be?"

I decided to push back a little, naming the most competitive program in the country.

He chuckled. "Thought that's what you'd say. I got off the phone with the chairman there an hour ago, and he's expecting your application. Told him that you were going to be a better surgeon than the two of us old warhorses put together. Now get out of here and get cracking on that application so I can finish up."

***

Ten months later, I was headed east to Baltimore. Bedlock's recommendation to Hopkins had worked his magic. He hadn't shown up for graduation, of course—according to local lore he never did, claiming it was a waste of his valuable time. But Maria materialized with a shoebox labeled "GOOD LUCK"-- in two-inch high letters of course-- and tied in a red bow. She whispered an instruction not to open it until my first day of internship, gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and melted back into the crowd before I could introduce her to my folks and girlfriend.

***

A few days later, I was driving east through the Ohio night. Both the gas gauge and my stomach signaled the need for fuel. I pulled into a plaza and filled the tank. My curiosity finally got the better of me and I took the shoebox into the diner. Fortified with a waffle and link sausage, I pulled the bow and opened the lid.

Inside, nestled in a square of cloth cut from her robe—neatly stitched around the edge so that it would not fray--was a bag of dried peaches, her practice board and a note:

Pat...

You have so much to give. Learn. Teach. And always—always— take the time to dance.

I cherish the memory of a truly wonderful afternoon. Don't ever be good when you can be great.

Love always.

M

I held the cloth to my face for a long moment, then took a last pull of coffee and paid the bill.

Dawn broke as I turned onto the interstate, the Good Luck box in the passenger seat beside me, heading into the rising sun.