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“Er…no?” Carly scoffed, “Because you’re not?”
I shook my head. “Carls, I love your loyalty, babe, but I’m only one step away from couch surfing. And he’s a fucking doctor.”
“Don’t you dare put yourself down against that family, Ez. Don’t you fucking dare.”
Her voice rose. Dave materialised from literally nowhere as far as I could tell, to give me a warning look. We had a reasonable détente, me and Dave, but something in that expression told me I was pushing it.
“Whatever,” I said wearily. “Come on, the second half is about to start. Don’t get yourself worked up. It’s not good foryou. I said I’d sort it.” I gesticulated to her belly. “We’ll talk about this after the baby comes, which it will,when it’s ready.”
CHAPTER 25
ISAAC
Ezra and Jonty moved out. Suddenly, the worst part of my day wasn’t heading onto the wards knowing I had a gruelling ten hours ahead of me but coming home to an empty flat. No cooking smells, no Sackboy saving the Kingdom of Crablantis, no updates on Mrs Unwin’s latest subversive opinions. And no welcome kiss accompanied by a quick fondle of my arse in the kitchen until I was frustratingly hard, with the whole night ahead of us. No cold feet tucked behind the bend of my knees, no bony elbow accidentally poking me in the kidneys at four a.m.
Nagging at Ezra wouldn’t work. He wouldn’t ever live here with me, in leafy Chiswick. And especially not in this flat with all our family’s history attached to it. Trying to persuade him otherwise with wheedling conversations was a waste of time. Like a proud oak, he’d only dig his roots in deeper.
My mum probably used to stay here with my dad, whilst he was still married to Ezra’s mum. No wonder Ezra had refused to linger longer than he needed. As I sat on the sofa, surrounded by the depressingly similar CVs of the Fitz-Henry Medal applicants, I absorbed my clean and tidy living room. I hadn’t even boughtany of the furniture—it was all here when my dad handed over the keys. Nothing in here said Isaac Fitz-Henry, and as sure as hell nothing said Ezra and Jonty.
“The strip lights in this place are literally a physical assault.”
Alaric rested his head on dogeared ancient copies ofReader’s DigestandWoman’s Ownsmothering the break room coffee table. “They’re literally trying to melt my face off.”
Ten minutes from now, the night staff would hand over, and we’d launch into Groundhog Day. Today’s ED forecast was stressy with a chance of a major banana skin fuck up. So no different from every other in this overstretched, underfunded healthcare system. Alaric, in his inimitable fashion, had chosen to prepare for it by getting absolutely wankered the night before.
“Big night?” I asked.
“Yeah.” He groaned. “Went to a gig down in Kentish. Way too much fun at the cocktail bar next door, and then I got my brains fucked out by the lead singer. He was scrawny as anything, but I swear his dick was bigger than my arm. It had better not be too busy in here today—I can scarcely walk. And I might puke.”
More unfiltered than I truly needed before breakfast, but that was Alaric for you.
“Water?” I supplied.
“Fuck yes.”
“That bad, eh?” No one drank the tepid fluid out of hospital taps unless convinced they were dying. After gulping it down, he gingerly ran his tongue over his teeth and groaned again. “My mouth feels like it’s been fertilised with camel shit, except the only thing growing in there is regret. Don’t let me ever go out on a school night again.”
Old me had lived through him vicariously. Like a spectator on the shore, I’d watched him surf through life. And hated hima tiny bit, even though Alaric was one of the few people I called friend. New me, who had recently received a text comprising four lines of hearts interspersed with aubergine emojis from his brother-boyfriend, merely tutted. “Fat lot of good you are. I was going to ask you to go through some revision cards with me at lunchtime.”
“Ask Luke,” he mumbled, eyes closed. “It’s your last day, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Luke confirmed from his usual corner. He almost smiled; I could nearly smell the waves of relief. “I’ll do it with you, mate, if we get a moment.”
“Cheers. Big celebration planned?”
That got a laugh from him. “The usual, you know. Survival.”
“Well, stay in touch. If you’re still in London for a while and fancy going out for a drink, give me a call, yeah?”
“Ugh.” Alaric moaned. “Me too. But not tonight.”
“Thanks.” Another look crossed Luke’s face, more solemn. “Can’t remember the last time I went to the pub with friends. People stop asking after a while, don’t they?”
“Yeah.” I wondered about passing Luke’s contact details on to Gerald. I didn’t know Luke’s sexuality—I don’t think he did either, which wasn’t helping his issues. Perhaps Gerald’s unique brand of flirtation would help him get to the bottom of it. At any rate, they could talk therapists.
Heading into the exam on Friday morning, I was 60%Sabiston’s Textbook of Surgery, 30% diet Coke, and around 8% no fucks to give. Analysis of the other 2% of my DNA would show it belonged to my brother-boyfriend, from earlier in the kitchen as we killed time waiting for the toast to pop up.
Heading out of the exam, my mother texted. Do you have time for a coffee today? I’m going away on Friday, might be nice to catch up.
