Surprise Delivery(4)

The truth of the matter is that for a long time now, life has just become a bland, wasteland of nothingness. All the flavor and joy has been sucked out of my world and I don’t know why. I don’t enjoy anything the way I used to – not food, not people, not parties. Nothing. Everything seems so routine. Everything I do is by rote and I have no challenges in life.

That’s also true when it comes to women. I’ve yet to find somebody who really ignites a fire inside of me. I’ve yet to meet somebody I connect with on a deep, meaningful level. All the women I’ve dated recently seem to want to be with me simply for the status of being with a doctor. That and the fact that I’m a Clyburne adds some extra appeal because I’m loaded. The women I’ve dated all seem to want something from me, whether it’s status, position, or riches – they’ve all only seemed interested in my name, not in me.

I want somebody who challenges me intellectually. Somebody who challenges me emotionally. I want somebody I can sit and talk about books with. Somebody I can laugh with. I want somebody who engages my mind as well as my heart – and other lower extremities, of course. Though, I know that engaging my mind is the quickest way to get those fires of passion burning inside of me.

It sounds ridiculous, I know. I’m a guy and we’re supposed to be programmed to accept a beautiful woman when she’s throwing herself at us. But, I’m not like most people, as I told Andrea a little bit ago. I want more. I yearn for more. I demand more. I’m not going to be with somebody just because she looks great in a short skirt and fucks like an Olympic champion. That’s just not who I am.

It’s for all those reasons and more, of course, that my life has lost the vibrancy it used to have. I wander through my days feeling a little lifeless. All the edges have been dulled and the picture is fuzzy, rather than sharp. I just don’t take pleasure in much these days.

Which is why I want to go to a place like Syria. I know it would get me labeled as an adrenaline junkie or a thrill seeker – and would not at all impress the board of Physicians Worldwide – which could potentially torpedo my candidacy, but I want to go someplace where the bombs are falling, and the bullets are flying just to feel something.

Having my life in jeopardy day in and day out, feeling the ground shake as the bombs go off and hearing the bullets rattle against the walls – maybe that will put some of the colors back into my world. Maybe it will give me some of the passion I used to feel back.

Maybe being in harm’s way all day, every day, will shake me out of the malaise I’ve fallen into – the one I fear may never be able to get out of without doing something radical.





Two





Alexis





“It was so gross and so totally freakish, I’m telling you,” she laughs. “Blood from the cut on his arm, and piss everywhere – and he was just standing on the bed singing the Star-Spangled Banner like it was perfectly normal!”

Sabrina and I howl with laughter. I’m snuggled up under a blanket on the loveseat and she’s doing the same on the larger sofa. She’s taller than I am, so it makes sense for her to have the longer couch. We’ve both got a pint of ice cream in our hands and are happily munching away, chatting about our days.

It’s been our ritual to end the day catching up, since we were in school together – minus the ice cream. That’s a special treat, only for now and then, so we don’t blow up like manatees. We usually only have a glass of wine with our conversation, but on the tough days, we break out the big guns.

What we bring home for our evening chat is usually how we gauge how our day went. Tonight, I brought home the ice cream, which tells her that my day pretty much sucked.

“So, what did you do?” I ask.

“Security didn’t want to touch him since he was covered in his own urine, so they hit him with a taser, which knocked him down onto the bed,” she laughs, seeing it all play out again in her mind. “While he was flopping around on the bed, we rushed in and sedated him. But man, what a scene.”

I love hearing her stories from the trauma unit, where she works as a nurse. On another level, though, I’m insanely jealous. It’s been my lifelong dream to be a nurse – preferably in a trauma unit. Helping people has always been my passion. My calling. While I love that Bri shares her war stories from the hospital, it also keeps that wound in me open.

Bri and I met when we were both taking classes in a nursing program. It’s one of the best programs in the state, which means that it’s also one of the most expensive. Between the meager wages, I was making at the time and financial aid, I still thought I’d be able to make it through.

But when my mom got sick, I had to abandon my dream to care for her. She hung on for more than a year – longer than the doctors had expected her to – but finally passed away. By that time, the financial aid money had dried up and I was having a hard time making ends meet. I was literally living hand to mouth, forgoing this bill to pay that bill, and found myself in a hole I couldn’t get out of.

A hole I’m still in, to be honest.

It’s just a never-ending cycle of having to scrape by just to survive. Just to scratch out something of an existence. I can pay my rent, keep food in my belly, and chip in my share of the household bills, which is something. I sometimes have a little bit left over by the time my bills are paid, but it’s not nearly enough to make up the gap between financial aid and my portion of tuition.