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“Thank you for saying that. I really appreciate it.” I reply with genuine, heartfelt sincerity. “So, Arya, tell me a little more about you. Because right now… I know next to nothing.”
“Oh goodness. Is this like the job interview we never had? Should I prep my STAR answers and display my high levels of competence?”
“I think you already showed your high level of competence in surgery today. Hmmm, how about we ditch the Situation, Task, Action, and Result answers and you just tell me about you, the real you. How did you end up here?”
“Well, I am Arya. I was actually born here in the city and I grew up just a few blocks away, but I moved away in my early teens. I wasn’t sure about coming back, but I did. I took a job at a private clinic but I absolutely hated it. I was actually about to move again, back into a public hospital out of the city when I saw the advert for this position. I figured if I was meant to stay, this would be the reason to.”
“Where did you move to out of the city?” I ask because I can see the way her body tenses when she talks about it. It seems like it was a move she was not all that fond of and the dilemma to come back and stay or go again has weighed heavily on her mind.
“I moved to the countryside, to live with my grandparents. They have both passed away now, but if it weren’t for them … well, let’s just say they were my greatest supporters. They never had a doubt I could get here, even when I wasn’t so sure. They never got the cardiothoracic appeal though. A doctor yes, even a surgeon but I think the heart … they were religious you see, and felt like the heart was one of those things that should be left to God. Anyway, they lived to see me graduate, then my Grandma got cancer, it was fast and I am thankful in some ways for that. Chemo … it’s a real bitch and she was already in her 80s. She just accepted it, said it was her time and lived out her last few weeks as happy as she could be. My Granddad … he tried to hold on for me but he couldn’t. It is funny, I am not religious at all and I have seen the inside of a heart enough times to know that it doesn’t beat for love. But only a few months after she had gone, he had a heart attack and died. Instant, just a perfect cardiac failure. He wouldn’t have even known what was happening. And even now I can hear my Grandma saying to me, see Arya, your science knows more than me … but it doesn’t know more than God. Are you religious?”
My eyes widen, “Ouff … well isn’t that the question. I mean I am a woman of science. It doesn’t leave much room for God. But you know the older I get and the more I know, the less I know about things. Does that make any sense? What is it Einstein said …?”
“ …The more I study science, the more I believe in God” Arya finished with me and we both laughed.
“Yes, so I mean it worked for Einstein but I am not so sure really. I guess I would say agnostic if I were to be pushed. I believe that nothing is known or can be known of the existence or nature of God so I prefer to just get on with my life either way.”
“I think that I can totally agree with that sentiment.” Arya smiles and raises her glance in a mock cheer to clink with mine. The glasses touch and I look up at her over the rim.
She really is beautiful. She barely has any makeup on, I have to really scan her face to see the soft sweep of mascara and gentle smudge of pink across her eyelids. Her silvery blue irises look otherworldly in the dimmed bar light. They are sparkling silvery swirls that are enchanting to watch as they offer all of her up whilst revealing nothing at all. “You really do have the most extraordinary eyes. Beautiful,” I murmur as I raise my glass to my lips, taking a long deep drink until it is drained, I barely taste it. My mind has wandered far off in another direction that I never imagined was possible for someone like me.
Who is this woman? And why does she affect me so much?
I feel feelings rise in me that I have never felt before. There is a swirling of longing deep inside me that makes me question all that I think I know about myself.
“I should get going,” I say with a hint of purposefulness. If I stay, I will have another wine, and with no food … I will lose the only reservation I have about not opening up to her. Arya pauses, her lips pout and words linger on them … but whatever thought she has she leaves unsaid.
“Me too. I have work in the morning and my boss … she is a real ball breaker.”
We share a smile as we both rise. She reaches to pay but I bat her hand away and instead leave the money and a generous tip for the waitress. I watch as Arya’s hands rise and she slowly wraps her scarf back around her neck. The soft silk glides and then tightens around her soft creamy skin. I feel jealous, I want to touch her too, I want to wrap and unwrap her like a present on Christmas day.
I don’t know if she can see that longing in my face. The desires that I have are becoming more and more defined and distinguished in my mind, but she doesn’t respond. She just offers me a soft goodbye before she departs.
4
I find the rhythm of being back to normality within only a few days. My body resyncs to the right sleeping pattern. My brain switches from holiday mode to work mode. Days turn into shifts, rosters, day staff, night staff, on-call staff, board meetings, schedules, funding, reports.
I thought that maybe finding the routine again would make me miss Matt but if anything, the opposite is true. It is making me realize just how much we had grown apart, the fact that I can slip so easily back into my old life and not feel the ache. I actually don’t miss him or even worse perhaps, I barely notice his absence.
There are some changes though. I find myself starting to care a little more about my appearance. The usual roll out of bed, coffee, throw an outfit together, and fight my way down the high street … those days are fading away.
Instead, I start to lay out little outfits the night before. I actually pay attention to see if my bag and shoes match. Make-up takes ten minutes instead of five and is applied with a little… effort.
The reason is obvious. Arya.
The first working lunch we took together by accident. A happy coincidence of timing in the cafeteria. Arya is one of those women who is always meticulously prepared. She comes with pre-made sandwiches that are not hurriedly buttered and thrown together with slabs of cheese. Oh no, these are precisely made, and layered to perfection so that wet tomatoes won’t touch dry bread. Her butter is spread as though she has used a surgical knife and when she takes a bite the mayo oozes but not enough to drip.
I marveled at her sandwich-making commitment. She pitied my canteen macaroni.
And so, the chance of us lunching together evolved into a certainty – emergencies permitting. Those 45 minutes quickly became a highlight of my day and our friendship blossomed effortlessly. She has a way of making me feel like I am the funniest person she has ever met. She laughs at every joke, smiles at every story I tell, nods, and encourages, but never rushes me to finish. Her responses aren’t pre-thought-out. I never get the impression that she is waiting for me to end so she can start talking. Instead, she will pause after I speak and digest what I have said, weigh up her thoughts and opinions before offering me her response.
It is why she made me want to think about who I am as a person. The time she invests in listening to me, makes me want to offer her a more thought out version of myself, rather than any old self that I have dragged in on any given day. I want to have educated opinions, rather than them being something I’ve seen on Facebook. I find myself starting to read widely, to research and ask questions about science, the world around me, politics, art, history and so much more.
She is baffled that I have never really traveled. She is shocked that I never go to museums or shows or eat out at the weekends. I, in turn, can’t believe she has the time and isn’t completely exhausted. We dance around the tough questions. She holds back asking me about Matt, my divorce, why I didn’t have children. I pause over asking why she lived with her grandparents and I hold back the many questions I have about her sexuality.
She seems to freeze when talking about her childhood, especially her biological parents, and I want her to share about that when she is ready. The reason I don’t ask my questions about her sexuality is not because I feel she would shy away from talking to me about it. She is open about her past sexual partners and holds no reservation in using feminine pronouns no matter whose company we are in. She doesn’t refer to her ex as a “partner” but as her, she, Sarah. No, the reservation about the topic of her sexuality doesn’t come from my concern for Arya, it comes from my increasingly confused thoughts about my own sexuality.
Whilst there is no doubt that I love my blossoming friendship with Arya, there is definitely more there. I think about her in ways I never have about anyone ever before.
