‘Aye, they do. It’s a shame you missed Finn Kennedy’s talk on the surgical considerations of gunshot wounds this morning. The man might be a devil to work for but he knows his stuff.’
‘Have you operated with him?’ Hayley hadn’t told anyone what had happened in the OR with Finn because everyone was allowed a bad day, but it still niggled at her and she wanted another person’s opinion.
‘Aye, last week. He makes it all look so easy while the rest of us struggle just to finish the job.’
So that was it, then. She’d caught Finn Kennedy on a bad day.
Lachlan continued. ‘I stayed on afterwards and caught Tom Jordan’s lecture for the final-year medical students about extra temporal epilepsy.’
Tom. Her heart jumped, filling the empty space around it and she had to force herself to sound casual. ‘Anything interesting?’
‘Aye. Fascinating.’ His Scottish accent always sounded stronger when he was excited about something. ‘His patient kept spinning and experiencing memory gaps and Tom had a hunch. So, using electrodes for a month, he charted the electrical impulses and from there he removed a three-centimetre-diameter piece of brain from the seventeen-year-old. Turns out it was at the bottom of a mal-formation called a sulcus dysplasia and the boy’s stopped spinning. Amazing stuff.’
‘He gives a good lecture, that’s for sure.’ Worried that her voice would give her away, she switched topics. ‘But listen, can you email me any notes from Kennedy’s lecture, which is more our area?’
He laughed. ‘Sure, although I hear you’ve taken to brain surgery. I’d better be careful or you’ll be making me look second-class.’
‘I was lucky, Lach. Believe me, you don’t need the stress.’
‘Aye, you’re right. Enjoy your break.’
Thanks, Lach—’ But he’d hung up before she could finish. She slipped her phone into her pocket and rubbed her chest, unused to it feeling this way. The fuller sensation hadn’t vanished when her heart had finally resumed its normal rhythm. It was an odd feeling and left her unsettled.
Seeing Tom will help. He might still be in the lecture theatre.
That’s stalking.
No, it’s not! I have to walk past it to go home.
Opening the door and looking in isn’t part of your way home. What happened to getting a grip?
She conceded that point to her conscience. Her time with Tom had been wonderful, but it probably wasn’t going to happen again and this jumpy-heart stuff was just fatigue.
As she gathered her jacket, bag and MP3 player out of her locker, acid burned her gut and she realised she hadn’t eaten anything more than almonds and chocolate in hours. The thought of a breakfast of bacon, eggs, tomato, sausages and golden buttered toast had her salivating. She checked her watch. Twelve twenty p.m. There was only one place she knew that served breakfast until midafternoon and that was Café Luna, which was a long drive from The Harbour but only a short ferry ride away.
You need to sleep and then study.
Her stomach groaned so loudly that the nurse at a locker further down the room turned around and laughed.
‘You better get something to eat fast or you’ll need peppermint water for wind pain.’
Hayley joined in the laughter. ‘I think you might be right.’ She couldn’t sleep or study on an empty stomach and if she listened to some lectures on her MP3 player during the journey there and back, that would justify the travel time. Decision made, she slammed her locker shut, shoved white earbuds into her ears and started walking.
Tom had asked Jared to drop him off at a café he’d once visited frequently but hadn’t visited since the accident. He’d told Jared that he’d catch a taxi home because he didn’t want him to miss out on any classes. Jared, to his credit, hadn’t questioned him about why he wanted to come to this out-of-the-way place, given it was a bit of a drive, which was fortunate because Tom wasn’t certain he had an answer that made much sense. All he knew was that he’d woken up that morning and had instantly thought about the little beach café. Lately, when he’d been teaching the medical students, he’d experienced odd moments of total focus—the sort of intensity he’d known when he’d been operating. It surprised him because he wasn’t at all certain he wanted to teach long-term, but then again he had few other options within medicine and when he thought about working outside medicine, nothing sprang to mind.
Focus in today’s lecture, however, had been seriously lacking because the idea of the café had kept interrupting him. By the time he’d answered the final question, it was like the memory of the café had taken hold of him and was demanding to be visited.
Before the accident, he’d often ridden his bike here on a Sunday morning and then he’d sit and read the papers and watch the world go by while gorging himself on the best breakfast in Sydney. Those happy memories had filled him with a zip of anticipation so by the time he’d taken his seat at his favourite outdoor table, he was almost excited. It wasn’t an emotion he experienced much any more because the one thing that had excited him beyond anything in his life had been surgery and now that was denied him.
Thirty minutes after taking his seat, it wasn’t going well. The coffee was still as aromatic and full of the caffeine kick he remembered, and the eggs on the crisply toasted English muffins were deliciously runny and the hollandaise sauce decadently creamy, but he couldn’t read the paper and the sounds and smells of the busy café dominated, preventing him from getting any sense of the beach despite it only being three steps away.
The cacophony disoriented him and he hated that. He cursed himself for getting into this position. He should have asked Jared to stay. No. What he should have done was not given in to a stupid memory and come to the café. He knew better than giving in to memories because he couldn’t relive anything any more. Nothing was ever the same now he’d lost his sight and right now was a perfect example of why he never acted on impulse. When he did, it left him stranded in unfamiliar environments and dependent on others.
‘Ah, sir?’ The waitress sounded uncertain.
Tom looked towards her, not because he could see her but because he knew sighted people needed him to look at them or else they thought he wasn’t listening. In fact, he’d heard her footsteps well before she’d spoken, although he hadn’t been certain they belonged to the waitress due to so much passing foot traffic. ‘Yes?’
‘Can I get you anything else? We’ve got some lovely cakes today.’
‘I’ll have another coffee. Are you busy today?’
‘You arrived at the peak of the rush, but it’ll be quiet again soon. I’ll be right back with your espresso.’
He leaned back in the chair and breathed in, trying again to smell the sea, and this time, instead of the dominating smell of onions, bacon, coriander and chocolate, he caught a whiff of salt. He heard the excited shout of a child, but any responding voices were drowned out by an almighty crash of crockery. He sighed. Ironically, he’d never noticed any noise in the café when his entire perspective of the world had been absorbed through the visual.
His
