Page 25 of In What World
“I’d definitely want to look at his X-rays if you have them,” I say to Dallas instead of Marlowe, who is rolling her eyes into the back of her skull and up to the front again in some sort ofExorcist-style Ferris wheel of frustration. I touch the top of Billy’s hand. “Do you know if they did any X-rays or an MRI on your foot?”
“Um, not really,” he says.
“It’s a yes or no question,” I tell him.
“They just moved it around a little bit.”
Mobility. That’s right. I need to test the ankle’s mobility.
“Can you wiggle your toes?” I ask, and he does. “Very good. How about left to right, like a windshield wiper?”
He winces.
“Hmm,” I say, unable to conceal my concern.
Billy shrugs in that disaffected-teenage-boy way, even though tears have started to flood his eyes.
“You love acting, don’t you?” I ask.
Dr. Martin always forged a bridge of personal connection. It’s what I liked best about playing her. She felt for each of her patients like she knew them personally. Her job was more than work for her. It reminded her of her humanity.
“Kind of,” Billy tells me.
“It lets you disappear into another life.”
“I guess?”
“You can slip into the world of being seen for your talent, not for your circumstances. You can be anyone, and it’s not embarrassing to care, because you’re not yourself in that moment.”
“It’s cool that everyone claps for me,” he replies. “I got a standing ovation once.”
“Yes! That attention makes you feel alive,” I say. “Like you have a purpose in this world. You bring people something that matters to them.Joy. You know it’s not everything, but sometimes, a little validation helps you remember you’re on the right track. It hasn’t all been for nothing.”
Marlowe puts a hand on my shoulder, squeezing tight enough to hurt. “Excuse us for one sec. I need to have a chat with my old friend.”
“Friend?” Dallas questions.
“Old?” I ask. She starts tugging so hard on my arm that I have no choice but to stand up. “I’ll be right back!” I tell Dallas and Billy. “Keep icing!”
“You can’t just pretend to be a doctor,” Marlowe seethes in my ear as we exit the dressing room.
“I’m not doing anything other than looking at his ankle and making an educated guess,” I tell her. “I really do think he could have a ligament tear. The swelling is concerning. I’m surprised they didn’t do more at urgent care. I hope his family knows not all doctors work that way. Some of us really care.”
Marlowe balls her hands into fists as she shouts, “You’re not a doctor!”
“Debatable,” I say.
“This issolike you. You skate through life without bothering to actually learn things. You’re going to give a medical assessment to a minor based on secondhand knowledge from a medical drama.” She drops her voice so low I have to lean in to hear her. “The bigger issue is that Dallas reappeared out of thin air, and he thinks you’re a doctor who lives in Utah.”
“Why Utah, do you think? Is it my hair? Be honest.”
She says nothing.
“I guess they do have beautiful mountains there,” I decide, embracing my assignment as a doctor who lives in Utah. “And we have two real doctors who oversaw our scripts onHeartbeats. I know some things. A lot, actually.”
Marlowe bangs her head against her hands in frustration. “This is what I’m saying. You think hearing about someone who has actual experience in something is enough to give you the experience, too.”
“And you think you deserve to be rewarded for the time you’ve invested in something, when you know what? The world doesn’t work that way! Not everything happens to the person who does the most research or whatever.”
