Anything but Ordinary(57)

So she treated the thought of death like a piece of floating debris in her way at the lake. Like a crate of oranges knocked over in one of the aisles of the supermarket. It was a temporary obstacle she could overcome.

Bryce had learned to trust her body that way. If she did all the right things, it would take care of the rest. But she had remembered “the right things” too late. Somewhere, something had gone terribly wrong.

Bryce sat up in the pasture, her body feeling like a squeezed sponge, her skin as salty dry as the grass around her.

She headed back to the house.

Inside, her parents were still in their good clothes. Bryce heard electronic beats blaring faintly from Sydney’s room.

“You both look so nice,” Bryce said, emotion welling in her again. Her mother had put on pearls. Her father had once again forgotten to rinse a patch of shaving cream near his ear. “Why don’t you guys go out for brunch?”

“What?” her mother scoffed, glancing sideways at her husband. “No.”

“Yeah,” Bryce said, putting on a big smile. “Take me to see Carter and go. It’ll be fun. You probably haven’t been out in forever. Go to the Opryland.”

Bryce’s mother swallowed, nodding. “We haven’t. It’s true, Mike.”

“Let’s do it,” her father said quickly. His eyes were sparkling. “We might not look this presentable again for another year.”



Thirty minutes later, Bryce watched her parents pull away from the Vanderbilt Medical Center parking lot. The overcast morning had changed into a sickly, clouded afternoon, where the sun burned the clouds’ edges like toast, and even the birds were too choked with wet air to sing.

She passed through the sliding doors of the hospital, through the entryway lined by framed waterfalls, and ascended to the third floor with three quiet beeps of the elevator.

Carter wasn’t here, Bryce knew that. He usually spent Saturdays at her house. Maybe he’d stop by the neurology wing in the evening to see Sam, but most likely he was at his apartment on campus, making himself an omelet. Doing his laundry. Staring at a book.

Dr. Warren had pulled up the shades in her office, bathing the room with gray light from the window. She was bent over her desk, immersed in paperwork. Bryce knocked on the door frame.

Dr. Warren looked up, her plucked eyebrows raised in surprise. “Bryce.”

“We need to talk,” Bryce said.

“All right.” Dr. Warren got up from her desk, glancing around the dim office. “You know what? Let’s eat.”



They sat on a bench facing a manmade pool, giant pretzels and hot cheese between them. Spanish moss climbed tree trunks behind their bench, twisting around the gnarled branches before it dropped green toward the shady trickle of the water.

After Bryce had chewed her last bite of pretzel, she turned to Dr. Warren. “So this is the part when you say ‘I told you so,’ right?”

Dr. Warren crossed one panty-hosed leg over the other. “I consider it my job to never have to tell anyone that.” She sighed. “What did Carter tell you?”

“Everything.”

Dr. Warren tossed the wax paper she was holding aside. Her steeled face was trying to hold back disappointment. “So you understand there’s very little we could have done in the first place. The only ‘I told you so’ is perhaps that we could have known sooner.”

Bryce looked guiltily out to the fountain. “And now I’m going to pay.” A bitter laugh rose in her. “But not even me. My family…”

Tears stung Bryce’s eyes for the third time that day, thinking of her parents waiting for her that morning. They had finally put on their good clothes again, and they were going out for a nice meal. Together. With a sob like a blow to her gut, Bryce imagined the day of her funeral. Her dad only owned one suit. He’d wear it that day, too.

Dr. Warren leaned toward her, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t think about that.”

“I have to think about that,” Bryce said, shaking her head. “I have to.”

The doctor stayed silent, uncrossing her legs and leaning her forearms on her knees. She looked like an athlete, too, with her chopped hair and wiry frame. She squinted out at the park, trying to solve a problem that had already been solved.

“I haven’t really thought of anyone but myself,” Bryce said softly.

“I’d imagine it would be difficult not to,” Dr. Warren responded. “You know, Bryce…it’s funny, the way you resisted.”

Bryce looked at the doctor, who was smiling to herself.

“No patient has ever been so feisty about her freedom. It made me look at all my patients differently. It made me remember that even though I know how to help them, I can’t quite imagine what they’re going through.” Dr. Warren leaned back against the bench, her eyes still narrowed in focus, looking into Bryce’s. “How would you like to move forward, Bryce?”

“You mean tell them?” Bryce felt her insides burn at the thought.

“There are counselors available.…”

“Dr. Warren?” Bryce interrupted. A flock of birds scattered from a nearby tree, matching Bryce’s flurried thoughts. “I don’t think I want to tell them at all.”

The doctor looked at her sternly. “Are you sure?”