Page 22 of Between Then and Now
I chuckle. “Fine, scaredy-cat,” I say as he glowers at me.
“Alexa smiled at me, did you see that?” he says, a boyish grin spreading across his face. I never noticed before, but Ryan has a dimple in his right cheek, making his grin look cute.
“Okay, what’s next? Trading secret notes in lockers?” I tease, raising an eyebrow.
Ryan chuckles, looking slightly embarrassed. “If that’s the next level, who am I to refuse?”
I laugh, shaking my head. “You’re hopeless, Miller. But for the record, I did see that. She genuinely looks like she likes having you around.”
“Exactly,” he says, a hint of determination in his voice. “So, I’m taking your advice to heart. Smiling is step one.” He flashes his teeth in the most awkward smile ever.
I look at him with a cringed expression. “You know that scene inBeauty and the Beastwhere the Beast smiles for the first time and he makes the others so uncomfortable?” He nods, then frowns and narrows his eyes at me. “Yeah, you look like that. Except the beast had dog-like features that made him cute… you just look like the guy from The Shining.”
“Ha-ha-ha,” he says. “So, I’m either a misunderstood monster or a serial killer?”
“Well, yeah, with you being a vampire and all,” I say and he shakes his head again.
As we walk, we come across a small, secluded garden behind the inn. It’s a serene spot with a wooden bench and a view of the ocean. I pull out my camera again and begin taking pictures, capturing the tranquil beauty of the place.
Suddenly, we hear rustling in the bushes. Ryan and I exchange curious glances and move cautiously toward the sound. I stay behind him, just in case it’s a dangerous animal or something. He extends his arm to shield me, and we walk even closer to the sound. To our surprise, we find a small, scruffy dog tangled in some underbrush. Its fur is a mix of brown and white, matted and dirty, with little twigs sticking out here and there. The puppy’s wide, pleading eyes, the color of dark chocolate, look up at us. I immediately swat Ryan’s protective arm away.
“Poor thing,” I say softly, kneeling down to free the dog. “It must be lost.”
Ryan helps me untangle the dog and it immediately wags its tail, grateful for the rescue. I pick it up and the puppy licks my cheek, leaving a trail of wet kisses. I laugh as I play with the little guy.
“Let’s take it back to the inn, maybe someone owns it? It’s so teeny tiny, I can’t leave him—” I lift the dog to confirm, “—yes, him, here.”
Ryan sighs. “Or maybe it’s a beach local and it prefers to be left alone,” he says, and I hold the dog to his face and make an exaggerated pout. Ryan scratches his head but says, “Alright, let’s take it back. Maybe someone at the inn knows who it belongs to.”
We walk back to the inn with the dog trotting happily beside us. When we get back, we ask around, but no one seems to know anything about it. Dr. Fernandez suggests we keep it for the night and ask around the village in the morning.
Back in our room, Ryan makes a makeshift bed for the dog with some old towels. He says he can’t be bothered but I see him refill the water bowl (really just the water dipper) every now and then. The puppy curls up contentedly and soon falls asleep. It isn’t long before Ryan and I are both snoring in our own beds, too.
The first day goes by in a blur. Ryan is stationed at the inn with Alexa, and I’m surprised that he seems completely confident around her. I don’t know what awkwardness he’s talking about. They are administering vaccinations and addressing the villagers’ concerns. I film everything I can, capturing the essence of the mission and the dedication of the team.
One particular instance stands out: a mother frantically brings her infant son to the station, panicking about his persistent fever and cough. The worry etched on her face is palpable, and it’s clear she has been carrying the weight of her fear for days. I approach her gently, asking if I can film her interaction. She graciously agrees, her eyes filled with both hope and desperation.
Ryan immediately takes charge, his demeanor calm and reassuring. He checks the baby's vitals with practiced efficiency, murmuring soothing words to the mother all the while. Alexa assists, her hands steady and her focus unwavering. After a thorough examination, Ryan confirms that while the baby’s condition is not serious, it does require immediate treatment.
“It’s a respiratory infection,” Ryan explains to the mother, his voice gentle but firm. “We’ll start him on antibiotics and monitor his progress closely. He’s going to be okay.”
The relief that washes over the mother’s face is a powerful moment, one that I make sure to capture on camera. She thanks Ryan profusely, her gratitude overflowing as she holds her baby close. The scene is a poignant reminder of why we are here and the impact we are making, and I want to quietly sit in a corner and cry from all these beautiful interactions.
Watching Ryan in his element really inspires me to do better in mine. It is as if he is a different person. Even when he’s with Alexa, I see no sign of nervousness once he’s checking on the patients. His confidence and compassion shine through, and I can’t believe this is the same boy who was too shy to ask for Halloween candy all those years ago. His eyes scan around and catch mine. He offers a subtle smile, and I give him a thumbs-up as he returns to his tasks.
Once the day is over and we are back in our rooms, earlier than yesterday, I say, “You were great today, Miller.” When he smiles, I add, “And I don’t get what you’re talking about with Alexa; you seemed perfectly in control around her today.”
“Thanks,” he replies, a hint of self-deprecation in his tone. He settles on the edge of my bed, watching as I edit footage on my laptop. Puppy—the one we rescued last night and who is still unclaimed—jumps on my bed beside Ryan. He pats its head as he says, “But I tried, you know. I tried talking to her, and the weird thing is, when I talk to her about work, I’m fine. I’d ask her to hand me this or help me with that. And it always turns out okay, professional, even. But once I try to steer the conversation towards something personal, I stutter and just fall silent.”
I glance over at him, offering a sympathetic smile. “It’s nerves, probably. You just need to find a way to relax around her.”
“Easier said than done,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. “I told her to look at the horizon and how the sun is reflecting on the ocean. And then when she did, I just left. I left, Bon. Turned my back and walked away.” I can’t suppress my laugh. “It’s not funny. There’s no hope for me.”
I close my laptop and set it beside me. “Okay, how about we start our lessons? Come on,” I say as I stand in front of him and drag his wrists so he’s upright too.
“Lessons? I’m not a teenager,” he replies.
I can’t help but tease him a bit. “Then stop acting like one! Maybe you should try talking to her like you talk to me. You know, like a sarcastic sixteen-year-old.”
