Anything but Ordinary(5)

Dr. Felding waved a hand. “Just a copy.”

“Excuse me,” a young man’s voice said from the doorway.

Bryce’s eyes were drawn to a pair of worn New Balance sneakers. The shoes were attached to a pair of khakis, followed by an untucked button-down shirt. They belonged to a handsome, dark-haired young man. The doctor’s coat he wore seemed out of place.

He said sternly, “Are you authorized to be in here?”

“Hi. Liam Felding, Cornell University.” Dr. Felding stood up and took the young man’s hand. “I’m just asking Bryce a few questions.”

“That’s nice,” the guy said dismissively, crossing his arms. “But visiting hours are over. She needs to eat lunch.”

“The receptionist said until three o’clock,” Dr. Felding protested.

“Blood relations only during lunch,” he replied. Bryce thought she could see a hint of a smile on his face, but she wasn’t sure.

“But—” Dr. Felding began.

“Are you her uncle?”

“No, but—”

“Her distant cousin?”

“No.” Dr. Felding stood awkwardly.

“Kindly leave until she finishes lunch.”

“How long will lunch last?”

The young man shrugged. “Could be forever, who knows?” This time, he glanced at Bryce, his eyes glinting.

Dr. Felding stared. The guy in the doctor’s coat stared back. Finally, Dr. Felding closed his notepad and left.

“Thanks,” Bryce said, as soon as he was out of earshot.

“I’m Carter.” He crossed over to her; she took his outstretched hand. His eyes were a familiar blue-gray. Bryce felt the room drop away around her. They could have been shaking hands anywhere. In a park, in an elevator. Had they met before?

“Bryce,” she said, and they let go.

“Bryce Graham, I am aware.” He smiled. Then he said slowly, “I have to say, it’s a trip to see you up and about.” He turned to retrieve a tray from a cart outside the door.

“I never know how to respond when people say things like that,” Bryce said to his back.

“It’s just nice to hear your voice, I guess, after watching you for so long.” He attached a tray of chicken nuggets and mashed potatoes and peas to the chair’s arms. “That sounded creepy,” he finished, crossing his arms decidedly, as if stating a medical fact.

“It did, yeah.” Bryce nodded and matched his tone. She had to laugh.

“I’m sorry. I’m a med student at Vanderbilt.” He gestured behind him, as if the school was there. “I’ve been volunteering here since I was an undergrad—I see a lot of patients come and go. And sleep.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway. I’m happy for you.”

“Thank you,” Bryce said.

Carter gestured to the tray. “Jane said, and I quote, ‘Tell her if she doesn’t clean her plate in fifteen minutes I will tan her hide.’ So I would get on that.”

He took a paper checklist out of his back pocket and put a mark next to her name, flipping the pen back behind his ear when he was done. Bryce took a bite and struggled to think of something to say. “So what year are you in med school?”

“Just my second year.” He came back toward her. He tapped the folded paper on the back of her chair. “Can you keep a secret?”

Bryce nodded.

“I’m not actually supposed to be wearing a white coat.”

Bryce pointed at him, her mouth full of food. “I knew it!”

He shrugged, and smiled. “Yeah, you don’t get a coat here until you do a residency. But I saw you were on your own, and…well, I thought the doctor might not listen to me in my current ensemble,” he glanced down at his khakis and untucked shirt, “as professional as it is. And then the supply closet was open.…”

Bryce found herself grinning. “Now that I’m keeping your secret you have to do something for me,” she said, sticking rows of peas on her fork.

“What’s that?”

She gave him a tentative look. “You wouldn’t happen to have your laptop with you, would you?”

As time had passed and Bryce had begun adjusting to the big things, she started wondering about the little ones—what had happened to her Facebook when she went under? She had five years’ worth of ESPN and SpringBoard posts to catch up on. She’d thought about asking Sydney to sneak in her phone, but the rare times Syd visited she was usually fighting with their parents, anyway.

“I do have my laptop.” Carter looked at her, deliberating. “But they restrict anyone with high risk of brain overstimulation from computers. All the flashing and visual stimuli can give you a killer headache.”

“Damn,” Bryce muttered. She was getting antsy to do something besides stare out the window, counting tiles and imagining magical bugs.

“Wait there,” Carter said suddenly. He turned on his heel and disappeared from the room.

“I’ll try not to go anywhere,” Bryce called sarcastically.

He returned minutes later, plopping what had to be a foot-high stack of magazines on the bed.

“Courtesy of the waiting room recycling bin,” he said with a flourish.

Most of them were from the past few years. Dates she’d slept through slipped past her on the top corners, underneath them names and photos she didn’t recognize. The glossy, blocky font seemed to invite her personally to discover THE BEST MOVIES OF THE YEAR, WHY NOW IS THE HOTTEST TIME FOR FASHION, and the CUTEST CELEBRITY BABIES. It was almost like Gabby were right there gossiping with her, catching her up on what she’d missed.