Page 29 of Her Only Hero

After all this time, Aram could still read me and sense how I felt. At one time, I had found these qualities more attractive and desirable than Aram’s looks or status. But today, they were of no consequence because he had decided to leave me. I straightened my posture.

“I’m actually fine, Aram.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. Now, shall we don our PPE? John Doe in the drawer over there isn’t getting any fresher.”

Aram chuckled. “No, definitely not. All right, let’s do it.”

Let’s do it. I snapped my mouth shut. Did he deliberately choose those words to make my mind wander? No, he wouldn’t have. Or would he?

We pilfered the supply shelf along the wall, and each put on a long-sleeved waterproof gown, mask, face shield, and gloves.

“Would you know where the body diagram charts are?”

I rummaged through the wall file holder and found a set of sheets. “Right here.”

“Perfect. Now let’s get Mr. Doe.” He wheeled a transport trolley to the cooler drawers. “Which number is he in, June?”

“Compartment five.” I sounded more casual than I felt.

Aram swung open the door.

I gravitated closer. Coolness swirled around my ankles as I peered into the dark, lifeless recess.

Aram butted up the trolley to the open compartment and then yanked out the stuffed black bag. He wheeled the gurney over to the autopsy table. I plunged forward to help guide the body bag onto the examination table. Aram hit the foot pedal of the recorder. “Test, test.”

“Ready to begin, June?”

I nodded.

Under my mask, trapped breath heated my face, and my heart pounded faster and harder for more oxygen. I swallowed to keep the gastric juices down. I became faint and panicked as my symptoms intensified.

Aram grabbed the zipper tab.

“Wait,” I said and swayed.

“June!” Aram rushed over and put an arm around my waist.

We retreated from the table. “Hey, how about we get you some fresh morgue air,” Aram said and removed my face shield.

His voice soothed and lessened my distress.

I pulled off my mask. Air cooled my damp face, and breathing became a hundred times easier.

“That’s better,” I said.

“Got a bit woozy?”

“Yeah. This is embarrassing.”

“You’re not the first to get queasy. You should see all the first-year residents that go down.”

He guided me to a chair and squatted beside me. “How about you go for a bite to eat? I can handle things here.”

I couldn’t disagree. “That’d be for the best. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t give it another thought.”

---