#ethanramsey

But now, as he steps out and surveys the morning sky which is the colour of fire at its seams, he reconsiders that. Maybe a few handful people are live a life where they only think about it when there is nothing left to change. That privilege is not afforded to all.

Especially not him.

He steps out on the earth, cracked and dusty, breathes in the dry air, and thinks about the next fourteen hours he will spend working. That’s one way of keeping his head empty.

He shades his eyes and looks up. A few doctors are returning to camp after working the night. Other than that, the camp is quiet. His other colleague – Dr. Lloyd – who is the only person he is on nodding terms with – already left earlier this morning to the village they are currently working at. No, he doesn’t talk much to the doctors, he finds that exhausting. He does what his time demands of him, goes back to the camp, stands under cold water for twenty minutes and then, spends all his time by himself.

And just like everything else, this is a choice.

Shaking his head, he starts toward the camp border where one Femi – short for Olufemi – waits for him. He drives Ethan and the other doctors to and from the village every day.

It’s time to go now.

Later, he’ll come back and write mindless letters and notes to the few people he knows and throw them into the fire, but now, it’s time to shut off his mind and use his brain.

2nd hour

Using Dr. Ramsey’s brain is much more complicated than it seems though.

For the most part, he can keep everything in check. But when Romy, an eight-year-old boy comes to visit him every day, that’s when stuff starts slipping out of control. Today, the boy has brought him a cookie – and he does bring Ethan something to eat every other day, ranging from something as simple as an apple to a complicated dish his mom made. They’ve bonded over the days after his recovery.

Sometimes though, Ethan wishes Romy didn’t come see him regularly. It reminds him of Alishka with her young patients.

‘Hello doctor,’ Romy says in a tiny voice. ‘Would you like a cookie?’

Smiling ruefully, Ethan accepts the cookie.

4th hour

So far, the day has been pretty dull. The patients are less than usual – which is a good thing, but in times between seeing patients, he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

Taking off his mask, he steps outside, leaving the dull chatter of doctors behind. Charcoal smoke rises up into the southern sky. The sight brings nothing new. Probably just another fire somewhere in the village.

It is crazy how thinking can change in different places. If he was in the States, a fire wouldn’t be a normal occurrence. And now, he isn’t remotely bothered.

‘Alright Ethan?’ James William says loudly behind him. He is a very talkative guy. Almost every day is his big moment, but is just spared because no one is interested, no matter how much they smile and show they are. James William is a cocky person. Wildly hated.

But, Ethan is not interested to give him an ounce of his energy to continue this conversation. ‘Fine, James,’ he answers tersely.

The hushed murmur behind them rises a level.

Ethan ignores, crosses his arms and stares out at the village, at the children who run around without a care in the world, at their parents, who work day and night to give them a good life. He looks at all the smiles and giggles and pain and tears. He sees everything, but says nothing.

A few more voices intercept his thoughts.

At first, he thinks nothing of it. But then, realises that maybe everything is not as fine as it seems.

A piercing scream from behind him proves his point.

5th hour

The patient is not stable. The vitals are declining so fast that she thinks it might be impossible to save him.

but she knows. She has seen all this before. The weak pulse, the plunging numbers of his B.P., the bruise – the situation is nauseatingly familiar.

Haemothorax.

She knows what she has to do, and she doesn’t let her hands shake this time.

Even though the world is in a frenzy around her (scared people, or more likely one person who she reckons is the man’s wife let out the most blood curdling scream as he collapsed to the ground), she keeps her calm. Thee doctors around her don’t crowd her. They let her do everything – and if she is being honest, it is a little scary.

Especially when her memories keep clouding every damn thing.

‘I need a chest tube,’ she says to the nurse standing closest to her. ‘And a scalpel.’

The nurse rushes away with a nod. There is no time. She has to act fast.

‘We are out of chest tubes,’ comes a loud voice, although Alishka cannot say who is speaking.

Think quick think quick…

‘Then get me a narrow six feet long tube and a baggage handling tape and some gloves NOW!’

And suddenly, there are too many people in action around her. In the rush, she has no idea who hands her what, but she has everything she needs. She vaguely remembers thanking them before cleaning the tube with alcohol, draining a bottle, tapping the tube in.

Taking a deep breath, she grips the scalpel tightly.

She is not a surgeon. She is pretty sure there are plenty of surgeons around.

She is almost about to ask when someone lays a hand on her shoulder.

‘Now is not the time doctor. Do it.’

So, she does. She makes the incision.

Heavy breathes leave her as all of them wait in anticipation. And when she is successful in draining the cavity and the patient breathes again, a loud cheer bursts through the medical camp. Although her legs feel wobbly, she stands near the gurney and watches until he is rushed off into an ambulance. This is not a hospital after all. It’s just a medical camp. For a moment, no one even realises that she is not from here, that she is an outsider.

But then, when her gaze lands on a familiar face, everything else crumbles to the ground.

Finally. She succeeds.

Her fifth hour of being here, of looking for him, and she succeeds.

Succeeds in finding those cerulean eyes she missed so much.

6th hour

Ethan isn’t sure he understands what is happening. He doesn’t realise he is still in a medical camp in Africa the moment he sees the rich emerald eyes, belonging to the person who is not supposed to be here. He doesn’t know what he expects. He just watches the silhouette of a person leaning down to check on one of his patients, someone who is just granted another chance at life, and that’s it. His mind, his sight, everything is blurred. The silhouette looks all too familiar. Perhaps he is losing his mind.

Maybe Amazon wasn’t a good idea after all.

She is not supposed to be here, he keeps repeating to himself. Not supposed to be here.

But when the gurney is gone and she looks up to him, to his face, to his eyes, he knows he is not dreaming. She is here.

He rubs his face, his mind thrown into conflict, and walks out of the room.

And he knows she will follow him outside. God damn it.

Taking long strides, he crosses the little patch of cracked earth that surrounds the camp before taking out full on sprinting the moment his feet touch the worn asphalt. He has to get back to the car. Back to Femi. She couldn’t possibly know where the doctors are staying. Or perhaps this display of evading her presence would atleast prove heartbreaking enough for her to leave, wouldn’t it?

He doesn’t know. All he cares about is putting as much distance as he can between them. But he is sure it still won’t be enough.

8th hour

One thing he knows. There is only so much time you can spend hiding out somewhere. He has to go back to the medical camp sometime. He can stay hidden forever.

He contemplates waiting another hour, but what use is that?

And oh god, how embarrassing is it going to be? He left so ... abruptly, without a word to anyone – someone would think he had had an episode of mania.

Maybe that is justified too, but it is not what happened. Anyway, that could be the least of his concerns.

He cracks his fingers, keeps walking in the small confined space where he is living temporarily and thinks about the best way to handle this. Of course, he could stay here and call in sick, but he won’t do that. He didn’t come here to be a coward. He came here to save lives.

He just has to go back and keep doing that. Continue working and live in ignorance.

So that is what he does.

And although returning isn’t particularly pleasing when Alishka is still there, when she is still checking patients and helping them, when she still hasn’t left out of the humiliation he has caused her, he stays this time, watches her work, talk to little sick kids like he did at the hospital. In a faraway corner of his heart, reserved only for himself, he feels proud of her.

But he doesn’t show it. He can’t show it. He can’t show anything except for contempt – and it isn’t even the real thing.

They continue their stupid game. She doesn’t glance at him even once. No one will know she is here for him.

11th hour

James is talking to her.

And it is infuriating, the way she nods and smiles and listens.

They are working together on this one patient, it seems to him. For between talking, they do find time for diagnosis.

There is no way in hell he is going to get through the day as easily as he thought he would. He is going to need a full bottle of scotch once he gets back.

15th hour

Finally, it seems, they caught a break. The long, tedious and especially painful fourteen-hour shift is over, and he is free to go back. But he doesn’t. He lingers around the patient beds until he makes sure Alishka is ready to leave, then waits outside, wondering what has gotten into him.

And when she steps outside, his voice is terse enough to startle her.

‘What are you doing here?’ he asks bluntly. She tugs at her purse, the way she does when she is usually nervous, but holds his gaze, refusing to back down, as if this isn’t wrong. Maybe she thinks she isn’t wrong, but she is. She is, this time, and he won’t accept this – whatever this is – from her.

When she says nothing, he goes on. ‘Aren’t you going to say anything?’

‘Will it matter what I say? We have you here, who has already decided everything, no matter what I say or do. I know you have already declared me wrong in your mind.’

He sighs. ‘How did you know I was here?’

‘Naveen told me you were leaving for the WHO. Besides, WHO is like a very big organisation, is it not?’

‘What do you mean by that?’

‘Its easy to google? The programs they organise or the camps or donations or whatever.’

Of course. She googled and found out where he was.

‘You can’t possibly say that. There are a thousand WHO camps. How did you know this is exactly where I was? Naveen told you, didn’t he?’

‘Like I said, he only told me that you were leaving for the WHO. I found out the rest.’

‘Yeah, how?’ he insists.

‘You know, WHO is not the only party popular in this situation.’

Oh, how he hates the internet. Of course, it ruins his only chance of setting things right with her.

For a moment, he says nothing. His brain scrambles to come up with another challenge, another curt question, another sarcastic remark, but nothing happens. She just stares at him, and he at her, before she raises her eyebrows. ‘Right, I didn’t come here to have you staring at me like that. I am going back to my stay.’

Before she can get successful at that though, he takes hold of her wrist, warm under his touch, and pulls her back to face him. He expects her to yell at him, maybe even hit him. Probably that would do the trick. That would bring him back to his senses.

But she doesn’t. She doesn’t yell at him, doesn’t hit him – just looks straight at him.

‘What is it exactly that you came here for?’ he demands, diving into the depths of her gaze, challenge for a challenge.

She doesn’t even blink.

‘I came here for answers.’

16th hour

They walk back to the place where she is staying. It’s a bed and breakfast, not very far from where he works in the village. The prospect of being in the same room with her is driving him mad. He keeps his fists closed in in his pockets. Doesn’t want even a sliver of his façade to slip.

It is a dingy little building – or rather a cottage with multiple rooms, made of stucco and wood. A small, flimsy looking compound wall surrounds it. High leaves cover the wall, and they rustle as they walk down the narrow cobblestone pathway to the rear entrance.

Once they are inside the room though, it is a little different. Not big, no. Just different. She sets down her purse on a chair by the door and takes of her jacket. Then pulls of her t-shirt, and he just watches her rich chestnut hair tumble down past her shoulders. Under the t-shirt, she is wearing a tank top. He hopes she doesn’t take that off.

‘So,’ she turns to look at him, brushing off stray strands of hair sticking to her face. ‘How did it feel having to run away and come back?’

‘That is your question?’

‘Yes. Well, among many others, because you know, the way you felt then is exactly the way you would feel when you would return to Boston, without me coming here of course.’

‘How are you so sure?’

She just shrugs. ‘I just am. Because I know you.’

‘And what if I didn’t feel that way?’

‘But you would, there is no fighting that.’

There is no use fighting her.

‘So? How did you feel?’

‘I am not answering that.’

‘I know,’ she says, flopping down on the bed.

What he knows, though, is that he doesn’t want to spend the rest of his time being passive aggressive with her. He would enjoy it some other time – going on and on and on, bantering with her, coaxing the exact same reactions from her which he expects and knows are coming, and winning without winning. But now … he is just not in the right state of mind. That is his excuse.

Her emerald eyes land on him again, and he can feel her gaze burning through every fibre of his being.

‘Aren’t you gonna take a seat?’

‘Why should I?’

She shrugs again. ‘You don’t have to, if you plan on standing all the time.’

He knows she is very good acting, and that she is doing that now. She acts as if she isn’t bothered, as if she doesn’t care, but he knows she does. Her eyes say everything she doesn’t. Maybe this whole process has numbed her, because it sure as hell has numbed him, but she is too good at hiding herself.

Even better than him.

She cocks her eyebrow at him, another invitation to wait, to talk and listen. He doesn’t debate. Silently sits beside her.

17th hour

The evening melts away as he answers all her questions, and she answers his. There are too many, its hard to keep track of all of them.

When did you decide?

Who else knows?

Why here?

Why bother to come down here when you could’ve asked me everything when I was back?

Did anyone else know?

Don’t you trust me?

Why didn’t you tell me?

She answers with surprising ease. He though, tries.

Tries to calmly answers all of them, because he doesn’t want to fight it. She came here for him. At least she feels entitled to know, like she has a right over him. He hasn’t felt that amount of affection from anyone from a long time. He should be grateful.

‘Why did you leave at all?’ she asks finally. The question he has been dreading since the beginning of her interrogation.

‘Because I thought we needed a reset,’ he says, without emotion, without looking at her. ‘I am going to be your boss on the diagnostics team. We needed a fresh start. We needed to forget everything that happened.’

For a minute, he wonders if his blatant honesty is too much. Tears sparkle in her eyes in the dark of the room, where moonlight plays shadows.

‘So, it meant nothing, did it?’

‘No, no,’ he rushes to answer. ‘Alishka, that meant a lot to me, but we couldn’t just…’

‘Go on like that?’

His heart aches at the crack in her voice. But he opts for honesty over comfort again.

‘No, we couldn’t.’

The glisten in her eyes spreads to her cheeks. He really wishes his desire to kiss her tears away fucks off somewhere in the night, but it doesn’t. His fingers curl into a tight fist.

Thankfully though, he doesn’t have to do much. She stands up, crosses the room, opens the door for him and waits.

‘I see no point in stalling you, given that you don’t want to be here in the first place. Go on then, leave again.’

And that is exactly what he should do. A doctor with green eyes and brown hair shouldn’t be strong enough to crumble his resolves in an instant. He surely must be stronger than that.

‘Alishka…’

‘I am not kidding. I get it, I get why you don’t want to be around me anymore, so, leave.’

‘It’s not like that.’

‘It’s not like that? It’s exactly like that!’

‘No, its fucking not!’ he yells, letting go of the little shred of cover he was hiding under. ‘You think I despise you, that I don’t want to be around you, but that is not it. I try to distance myself because I can’t be around you, Alishka, I can’t. You will make an exceptional doctor and I don’t want to ruin your chances of being so. I don’t want to regret what we had in the future. I don’t want you to regret it. I don’t want what we had to become a basis of anguish and pain because you won’tget your full potential, and I am sorry. I am truly sorry.’

He searches for the warmth he knows is there in her eyes. He searches and searches and searches.

‘Right,’ she breathes. ‘Are you ready to leave yet?’

No. He won’t ever be.

19th hour

But he has to leave.

She holds the door open for him. She is close, so close, yet seems like a million miles away.

He feels like he should let go. Sometimes, it’s better that way.

Her grip on the door is tight. Her eyes are tainted with tears because of him. He is making her cry.

He passes her, but she doesn’t look at him. He doesn’t want to break her into anymore pieces. He doesn’t want to say anymore things he can’t take back. He steps out of the room. Turns around to look at her. She blocks his entrance into the room now, standing behind the door, looking at her feet.

‘Right,’ he says. ‘See you then.’

‘Yep. See you at Boston, one and a half month later.’

He looks up at her again, trying to see if she is looking, and she is. The depth of her gaze is fixated on her. He tugs his heart free, but can’t, feeling drunk on that stare.

He is not thinking straight. He should leave, right now, but its as if his feet are stuck to their place.

‘Can I kiss you once?’ she whispers.

No. He should say no. This is not right, this is not why he came here.

And yet, he doesn’t answer. Just presses his lips against hers.

She deepens the kiss, her hands tugging him closer to her.

This is wrong, a distant voice in his head says. Wrong, wrong, wrong. It defies the entire reason of him being at Amazon.

But for once, he let’s go, and tries to be irresponsible. She knows everything – there is not a single fact he has left out. If she wants to, she can back away from this.

He already knows that is not going to happen though, when he steps back in again, when she moves backward, still kissing him, when she tangles her fingers in his hair and he does the same. There is no escaping his wild desire that runs fires in him.

He can let go this once. He’ll save the regret for later.

20th hour

The last shreds of dignity fall into a long bottomless crevice as they get rid of their clothes. For the millionth time, he wishes he could stop this, but doesn’t care as his hands roam her soft skin.

They are losing everything in this slow and torturous process. Might as well snap it all at once.

There is nothing to brace them from their inevitable fall

21st hour

As she lays against him, bare, beautiful, breathing slowly, he feels like she is already slipping away.

And he doesn’t know what to do to keep her to himself. He keeps rubbing small circles onto her arm, but that is not enough. She keeps looking out of the small window. Says nothing.

He shifts to look at her.

She still doesn’t.

‘When do you leave?’ he prompts

‘Tomorrow morning at eight,’ she says, sighing deeply.

She has wrecked him. The thought of going without seeing her for the next one and a half month torments him. The feeling is unfamiliar, unwelcome, and uncalled for, not when he still recalls every minute of the last few hours spent with her.

She rolls over as he eases his arm away from her shoulders.

He turns away too, not knowing what more to say or do. Perhaps he’ll have his answer later.

25th hour

The impending heartbreak of the morning still haunts him, so he wants to spend the night savouring her, watching her, taking her in. She stays on her side of the bed, firmly, full of resolve, refusing to turn to him. Moonlight is spread softly over her serene features, and he relishes the feeling of just being there with her.

And this is all very hard.

She is hard to replace. The feeling of being with her can’t be taken by anything else. Her occupying his mind is not so simple to escape from. She has a grip on him like no other, and he knows he is never gonna love the same way again.

His gaze runs over her for the millionth time. He memorises everything he can – the way her dark hair are splayed across the pillow, the curve of her neck, the slope of her shoulders, her.

The regret doesn’t come yet. He waits for it to hit him in the face like a cold, hard slap, but maybe he doesn’t regret this at all.

Before he can understand what that means, sleep clouds his mind.

Tomorrow, nothing will have changed. He will still be here, and she will be at Boston, and they will both pretend as if this nothing happened.

28th hour

He wakes at dawn, just as the first morning light creeps into the room, and reaches for Alishka, only to realise she isn’t there. Propping himself up on his elbows, he rubs the sleep from his eyes and looks around, a little annoyed. He wanted to drop her off at the airport before she left. He hopes she hasn’t left and is just taking a shower for good measure.

But when he looks around the room, he knows his hopes are of no use. All of her stuff is missing – the jacket she discarded so carelessly, or the t-shirt she had tossed away. Her holdall, her phone, her purse – everything is gone.

He leaves the bed and throws on the jeans and shirt he had been wearing last night, looking, desperately, for any sight of her. He finds it on the bedside table, a small note of torn ruled paper, marked Ethan.

He unfolds it. Few words wait for him there.

Thank you for last night.

I left without saying goodbye because I thought that would be best for both you and me. No, I didn’t want to hear any of your propositions. I am a hard one to please, and you probably know that by now.

I guess you are right. We probably need this shit.

Hope you have a good day at work. I got you a late check out, so you don’t need to rush.

Alishka

Thank you so much for reading

I know this is super super random but honestly I have missed writing this way.

Sending lots of love and good vibes