The tale of a sleeping beauty...

          Dr. Lee Anderson stopped abruptly. He could not believe his eyes.  He stared down at the floor in amazement.  His breath was held in place by the sleeping woman leaning against the bookcase—he recognized the mass of black curls and familiarized himself with her long eyelashes.  Her mouth was slightly parted but he heard no noise.

          He took in her tight Phillies tee-shirt and ripped blue jeans. The shredded material gave him glimpses of mocha brown skin which appeared smooth.   He smiled in wonderment.  She was even more beautiful asleep than awake—and so utterly young.  She looked like a teenager—still in high school.

          In her right hand, she held a half eaten candy bar; its melted chocolate stained her loose fingers.  Next to her was an open textbook—microbiology.  He recognized the upside down microbial illustrations.

          His heart leaped.

            He was speechless. In all of his wildest dreams, he had never expected this—his friend Glen O'Donnell was right-- life was definitely all about the surprise—

Once..

UNSCRUBBED               

Elizabeth Griffin

Jarrette Freedom Gore

1991- 2006

In memory of a  young man  whose life ended too abruptly

CHAPTER ONE

            The 72 hour fecal fat specimen stank...  There was no other way to describe it.  The muted, mold green stool clung to the sides of the container as tiny particulars swirled around inside. Elise Montgomery tightened the lid and removed her soiled gloves.  They were slick and caused her to shake her head in disgust.  What was the point in sending a timed specimen to the lab if the lid was not secure and the shi-- stool leaked everywhere?  Come on nurses, she thought; it is not that complicated. 

            Two years of clinical training should have taught them that much, she scolded as she dropped the used gloves into a bio-hazardous receptacle.  She removed her white disposable lab coat as well.

            The Afro-Asian bombshell moved to the nearest sink and waved her hands under the automatic soap dispenser.  Her 007 looks and athletically toned body were not completely hidden by the hospital uniform she wore.  The mocha brown skin of her upper arms gently pulled against the firm musculature of her biceps as she vigorously washed her hands.  Her movements activated the faucet and permitted the water to splash over them.

            Her life was cursed, she thought—Grimm’s fairy tale cursed.

            The near miss stool catastrophe was just another example in a long list of accumulating facts.  She did not want to think about what if... but her mind could not resist.  She envisioned putrid liquid gushing across a counter top at river speed as it splashed onto everything in its path: keyboard, mouse, telephone, specimen-rack...  She could almost smell its acrid odor which would have caused her to bit back a nauseous attack or worse.

            Yes, she had been cursed and it all started with her genes.          One egg.  One sperm.

            One tiny cell  dividing  and subdividing until a beautiful girl with voluminous black curls and tangy brown eyes was born, but the dark magic did not stop there.  This daughter of a cleaning woman and a doctor soon developed into an alarmingly attractive teenager who had to be diligently watched because beauty at any age could be snatched away and lost forever. 

            Now she was a young woman who mesmerized countless men causing them to stop and stare in the oddest of places-- under umbrellas in torrential rainstorms, on mega flat-screen monitors at sports events...

            But somewhere in that genetic code of beauty and intelligence, Elise inherited a sleeping disorder which had been complicating her life for the past three years. A type of disorder she found harder and harder to believe or even manage.     

            Elise Daiyu  Xiu  Jiang should have been her legal name, if her father had married her mother; but he had not. He instead chose to have a 20 year on-and-off affair with Tamara Montgomery who was too emotionally crippled and profoundly in love to walk away from the relationship or the doctor.      

            Hence, Elise was the illegitimate daughter of Philadelphia's top oncologist, Dr. Bolin Jiang.  She despised him for not offering her mother a platinum wedding band and the respect of marriage.   She had little time for him or any other man who tried to enter her life.

            The only thing important to Elise Montgomery was medicine. It was the one thing that could change the world-- make it a better place for all.  It was her sole focus.

            She had a 4.0 G.P.A. and was completing her fourth year at

a state funded university which she financed through scholarships and grants.  She refused to touch her father’s money; it was not welcome in her life and she did any and everything to keep it out.        She applied for as many scholarships as possible; nothing was too ridiculous, the essays ranged from the critical, analytical to the silly, playful. She wrote about the importance of genetic counseling. She believed it was crucial for a couple to know the diseases in its genetic family-tree before starting a family.  This information could lower the rate of infants being born with crippling diseases-- and promote genetic awareness.  She also wrote about being a lifelong cat activist which constituted feeding and helping any stray cat she encountered on the street.

            Tamara Montgomery was not like her daughter; she took the monthly deposits into her checking account; she took the real estate property in South Philadelphia; she took the luxurious Penn’s Landing condominium overlooking the Delaware River; she took the position as Dr. Bolin Jiang’s personal secretary after going back to school and getting a masters degree in business administration.  Tamara took everything he gave her.  It was pathetic.  Elise could not understand their relationship or how they even became a couple.  That type of thing just did not happen at Penn’s Landing Memorial Hospital.  The scrubbed did not mix with the  unscrubbed. 

            It violated the hospital's code of conduct.  No one was supposed to do that.  But not only did Tamara break all of the rules,

she went for the best.  She went for the elite-- the blue scrubs.

            Those were the surgeons-- the hospital's money makers. They were then closely followed in rank by the black scrubs, the specialty doctors-- the rulers of the medical scene. Below them were the nurses, the white scrubs--  the caregivers of the health care

institution.  Next   came   the   specialty   fields   such as respiratory,

radiology, physical therapy, laboratory... those departments wore color coordinated scrubs which identified the department.  This method of classification continued on down the line until the only group left was the unscrubbed.  Those were the invisible hospital workers-- the nonessential-- the unimportant. The medical staff that wore designated one piece jumpsuits which denoted their type of menial labor. 

            This was also the class to which her mother, Tamara Montgomery, had belonged. 

            Elise could not control her mother, but she vowed never to touch her father’s money or seek him out in anyway. It was a promise she had made years ago.  She did not need him nor anything he represented. 

            "Elise!" a chemistry technologist called from across the centralized laboratory.  "O.R.'s on the phone screaming about blood work sent on Simms?  Said they tubed it ten minutes ago-- did you get it?"

            "Let me check," she said as she shoved her hands into another pair of latex free gloves. She snatched a new lab coat from a shelf as she moved with urgency toward the automated tube system.  Several canisters lay on the carpeted floor of the delivery shoot which received specimens from the entire Penn’s Landing Memorial Hospital.  The seven-hundred bed facility was constantly renovating and expanding.  It was the pride of the Delaware Valley region and the waterfront locale continuously drew talented medical professionals from all fifty states. 

            She popped open four canisters before raising the specimen

in her hand.  Signaling to Troy, she shouted, "It's here.  Do you want me to talk to them?"

            "Yeah,  it’s   that   Lee Anderson.  You   know   the  one.  All

commands, demands and no tolerance."

            "Transfer him over," she said preparing for the worst and

remembering the importance of professionalism.

            She picked up the telephone on a half-ring, "Clinical Lab,

Elise speaking--" her voice was interrupted by a southern accent.

            "How long before I get test results?  Natasha Simms is a gunshot trauma-- we need her basic metabolic panel, complete blood count and prothrombin time."

            "I have the blood . I am processing it now."

            "Why the delay?  It was sent less than fifteen minutes ago--”

            "There is no delay," she said while her fingers rapidly typed the patient's information into the computer.  She was ordering all of the test he wanted while he yelled in her ear. "I understand the urgency."

            She dropped the tubes into the centrifuge, a counter top machine which spun the blood at a rapid speed and separated it into packed red blood cells and serum.

            "Do you really?" the skepticism could be heard in his voice, "This patient is in critical condition.  I’m sending down an arterial blood gas and I want those result immediately-- move it Elise!" he said startling her with the use of her own name.  "I expect to be called back in five minutes--" those were his last words before the telephone went dead.

            He hung up on her!  The rude man had actually slammed the telephone down without a warning.

            The 5'9" model prototype returned the receiver to its resting

place and continued to do her job at top speed.  She labeled the appropriate  tubes  with the  correct  patients’  names  and delivered

them to the various laboratories. 

            She announced, "Stat!" as she dropped the test tubes into the

chemistry rack.  "He wants Simms results to be called immediately."

            Troy Daniels, a tall blonde tech, acknowledged her with a grin, "I knew it-- I've been calling back his results all evening long-- I can barely do my job because of his constant  interruptions. I don't know why they have a computer up there in the E.R.  They never use it," he said reaching for the specimen.

            "It's easier to pick up the telephone and dial."

            "And waste my time," he said.

            "He was arrogant," she admitted.  "He must be one of the new residents.  I suppose he thinks the only way to get what he wants is by yelling," she said waving away a yawn and glancing across the room at her partner who was returning from a lunch break. 

            "We'll school him real soon," she said with a smile.

            As Troy talked, he placed the tubes on the instrument.  He knew the results would be available quickly and then he could call that annoying doctor without too much delay. 

            Elise yawned again.  This time she shook her head from side to side trying to rid herself of the tiredness which was fast approaching.  Her thick ringlets of black curls refused to stray from its ponytail. 

            "Late night clubbing?" Troy teased.  "I thought you were above that?" he asked raising an eyebrow.

            "More like late night studying," she said half truthfully.  "Anatomy, Physiology and Microbiology."

            "You're taking both classes at the same time-- during the summer?  Are you nuts?  What kind of summer break are you going to have?"

            "An  exciting  one full  of  labs,  research papers and weekly test."

            "And no social life," he said in dismay.

            "I do not have time for that right now," she acknowledged earnestly.

            What a waste, thought Troy with a shake of his head.  What

a beautiful, nutty, mixed-up waste of a woman.

            "I have to go," Elise said zooming back across the room.  She felt the weight of exhaustion suddenly encompassing her like a cumulus cloud before a sudden storm.  Her eyelids became heavy and the yawns more persistent.  She needed to hurry.  She could feel her body changing-- slowing down.  If she were not so drowsy, she would have panicked at how rapidly her body was turning against her.

            Elise's part-time shift was coming to a close just in time.  She needed to hurry. She had thirty minutes to go before she swiped out and was off the hospital's clock 

            "How was lunch?" Elise questioned her partner in a groggy voice. 

            "It was alright," said the older woman in gray scrubs.

            Elise eyed her partner for a moment before she  returned to the stool specimen.  It was her last send-out of the day.  She needed to bag it and place it in the laboratory freezer immediately.  Elise hoped that would neutralize the smell escaping from the container.  If not, the specimen courier was going to curse his way through the hospital and back to his transport vehicle which he seemed to do on a regular basis-- stool or no stool.

            "Sounds like you're still sticking to that 1,200 calorie diet."

            Paula shot her a frothy look, "Can't nobody survive on that.  I  ate one half of a tuna sandwich without mayonnaise," she made a

face.  "One   strawberry   yogurt   and   15   potato   chips--  you try

stopping  at   just fifteen-- and  a  bottle of water.   Look at me," she

said showcasing her full figure with expressive hands.  "Do I look like I can survive on that?  And guess what," she quizzed. "I had the nerve to go over on the calorie count."

            "It's only been a week," consoled Elise.  "Give your body time to adjust," she said waving away the beginnings of a yawn.

            "Why so sleepy," asked Paula changing the subject.  "You up late doing something you ain't supposed to be doing," she smiled hoping for a peek into Elise's private life.  The girl had been working there for six months and not once had Paula seen her with a man.  Not once.  The young woman was hot, Richter-scale hot.  Exotic-continental hot.  Her nationality was never discussed, but Paula thought she was Hawaiian or  Indonesian.  Whatever she was, the men throughout the hospital found a reason to stop by the lab and seek her out-- the scrubbed and the unscrubbed. 

            "I do not have time for that," said Elise casually brushing aside the other woman's words.  "I'm building a career."

            Paula smiled, "Alright, go ahead-- build that career, but don't forget to fall in love."

            "Please," she said dismissively.

            Paula assessed her momentarily before she spoke, "Honey, it really ain't that bad.  I've known some good men in my life.  And some are worth the risk of heartbreak."

            "Love is not on my agenda right now," Elise smiled as she paced her activities to the ticking clock. 

            She was running out of time.  Men were not her problem right now, she thought as she placed the specimen on the top shelf of the freezer. 

            Elise  had other  issues to deal with.  She looked at the clock

for  a  second  time as  she wiped her work station down with a 10%

bleach and water solution.  She wiped the keyboard, the mouse, the telephone-- anything she had handled during her four hours at        work.

            "Maybe it's on his agenda-- the young man who falls in love with you," she said taking her position at the front window of the centralized laboratory.

            "You should stop reading so many romance novels," said Elise.  "They are obviously interfering with the way you think-- I'm leaving.  Bye."

            And as she chided her lab partner for being a foolish romantic, Elise hung up her lab coat, washed her hands and exited the laboratory.  She used her identification card to swipe out and headed for the nearest stairwell exit.  She had to get to her apartment fast before her sleeping disorder made it impossible.  She did not want to think about not making it-- that would be a disaster. 

            She had been diagnosed with Kleine Levin Syndrome three years ago and even though it was considered a very mild case; it had altered her life completely.

            In Elise's haste, she almost knocked down a man approaching from the opposite direction as she fought off another yawn. 

            "My fault," she said evading his body and continuing at top speed.

            The man sidestepped Elise and spun around in awe.  He caught a glimpse of topaz eyes and curvaceous lips.  Her thick tangled  hair trailed behind her and brushed against his cheek. It left behind a sensuous caress which caused the young man to touch his face in savored pleasure.  Her beauty and body made him think of the   legendary    film   star   Dorothy   Dandridge.   Her  tiny   waist   

and round bottom were spectacular.    And she seemed to have  a lot

of attitude.  He could not move until she entered the staircase which

allowed the trance to be broken.

            For some inexplicable reason, he felt happy.  Undeniably, euphorically, happy .  As he approached the laboratory, the young man kept looking behind himself-- hoping against all logic that the young woman would reappear.  He hesitated in the corridor.

            "Can I help you?" asked Paula from the laboratory's open window.

            "I'm looking for Pathology.  I have these for forensic testing," he said holding up two plastic see-through containers.  "O.R. samples."

            "You're headed in the right direction.  Continue down the hall and to the left," she said her voice instantly becoming soft and very feminine. 

            Still the man did not move.  He kept looking behind himself.

            "Is something wrong?"

            "No," he said, but did not take another step.  "There was a woman--"

            "Isn't there always?" asked Paula shaking her head sadly and realizing what had just happened.  She waited for him to speak.

            "She had hair-- lots of black curls-- brown eyes-- gray scrubs--"

            "Was she beautiful?” quizzed Paula.

            "Well yes-- I mean," he was tongue tied, stumbling over his

words.

            "Her name is Elise," said Paula knowing as she spoke that she was betraying her co-worker, but everybody needed a little love in their life and after all Elise did say her judgment  was impaired by romantic novels.

            "I spoke  to a  woman  on the  telephone  earlier today about

blood work," he stated as he reflected for a moment.

            "That's her."

            "Incredible-- I had no idea," said the young man in blue scrubs and a white medical coat with the title Surgeon stitched in coarse red script across its right breast pocket. The name that followed was Lee Anderson. His Tennessee twang and gracious southern smile slowly showed off strong, white teeth and a firm jawline.  His green eyes sparkled at the near missed encounter. 

            This was his day.  He had successfully removed three bullets from a young woman and her prognosis was favorable as she waited in the recovery room for further assessment. He was officially off duty after he delivered these specimens to the Pathology Lab, filled out the necessary paperwork and sorted through the red tape associated with this particular specimen. 

            Dr. Lee Anderson stood  momentarily silent as he realized how close his patient had come to dying.  The violence in the city continued to grow with each passing day and its homicide rate was one of the highest in the nation.  If the rate continued to climb, his name would be on the O.R. board daily.  He would be performing more emergency surgeries-- removing more gunshot bullets-- repairing more severed arteries-- pronouncing more deaths-- signing more certificates--  and sending more bodies to the morgue.  The Medical Examiner's Office seemed to have a standing order with Penn's Landing Memorial Hospital; its van seemingly appeared to pick up the E.R. causalities on a nightly basis.

            The young surgeon had no time to be distracted. He shook the exotic beauty from his head and shifted once more into professional mode.  He still wanted to check on his patient one last time before he locked his office door and left for the weekend.

            "Thank you  for  your  help,"  said  the  young  man    as   he moved further down the hall.

            Paula could not resist the urge to say more.  She liked this unknown surgeon with his confident swagger and purposeful walk.           "She's single, very particular-- extremely selective," said Paula causing the young man to swing back around and give her his full attention.

            "I'll be sure to remember that, ma'am," he winked and exposed her to more of that southern gentility.

CHAPTER TWO

          The silver chain-linked bracelet slid away from Elise's wrist as it partially revealed her full name and her medical condition. Kleine Levin Syndrome was etched into the sterling metal as well as an emergency contact number. It was the only so called piece of jewelry she wore-- a necessary alert tag announcing to the world that she had an uncontrollable illness.  A medical syndrome which at times frightened her. 

            The medical world knew very little about sleeping beauty syndrome and specialists in that field were hard to find.  Elise had scoured medical journals and exhausted many hours of research on and off the computer.  Still she knew almost nothing. 

            Her illness could have been triggered by a severe influenza infection she had suffered three years ago.  That was what the doctors believed.  It was scribbled in her medical files.  That was the catalyst which introduced her to the grim world of sleep-- of hours and hours of uninterrupted sleep.  Those hours could turn into days, weeks and even months which often required hospitalization.

            Elise tried to stop her mounting worries.  She was going to be fine.  That had not happened in months.  This was only going to last a day or two.  By Monday she would be well rested and ready to resume her busy week of classes and work.  If only she truly believed that.

            "Mahm," she said beginning her long recorded message.  "It's happening again.  I am on my way home-- should be there in twenty minutes," the stress level in her voice was rising.  "Check on me.  I hope all of this is unnecessary.  Don't forget to feed the cat-- Zeus gets destructive when he's hungry."

            She ended the phone call and dropped the cell into her pants pocket.  Elise raced down  the narrow cobblestone streets of historic

Philadelphia paying little attention to the old fashion merchant signs swinging from street posts or the slow trot of horses pulling along tourist in open carriages.  She did not see the horsemen  dressed in the colonial finery of another era as they recounted the rich history of one of the thirteen colonies. 

            She was oblivious to the blue sky's ending promise to another beautiful day.  She raced away from the gentle lapping of the nearby river as it tried to soothe the spirit of the city. A city of segregated neighborhoods each within walking distance of the next.  Communities separated by education-- skin tone districts where the lighter the hue the better the housing and the higher the property tax.  A city where salary dictated everything-- who one loved, who one married and who one dismissed.

            As the striking 19-year-old picked up her pace to a jog, she smelled the pastries of an old fashion bakery, its brick oven producing delectable aromas.  The images of strawberry-lemonade donuts popped into her head.  They were quickly replaced by  chocolate-strawberry shortcakes.  She wanted to stop, but a decision like that might cost  too much.  So Elise jogged on, but she refused to let go of the memories.  Sweet potato pies with nutmeg and cinnamon...

            Elise accepted the fact that her life consisted of races.  It had not always been that way, but that was another lifetime ago. A time when she believed that life was perfect.  That her father would marry her mother.  That the happily ever after stories were not just for books. 

            She trusted that belief until she discovered that her mother was simply the mistress to a prominent doctor and that she, Elise, might have an illness without a cure.  That was when the old life ended and her races began.

            Her first race was to graduate high school before she missed too many days due to Kleine Levin Syndrome.  She had received her cap and gown, but never walked.  She had slept through the graduation and most of the summer.  Her mother had run back and forth from the children's hospital to work that summer. 

            It had been surreal.  A Twilight Zone horror.  She had lost twenty pounds and was fed intravenously for months.  She was shocked that she hadn't gotten bed sores.  The nurses at the St. Gabriel Children's Hospital were incredible. 

            When she was finally released, life resumed its normalcy until the second race.   It began her freshman year of college when she missed two weeks of school and only received her final grades after meeting with academia and presenting them with her medical records.

            The third and fourth race were relatively mild; Elise had missed a total of five days of school during her sophomore and junior year.

            And now began race number five, she thought as she stumbled up the steps of a narrow wooden staircase.  She took the steps two at a times while fumbling through the keys in her hand and trying earnestly to locate the one to the tiny studio apartment she shared with her cat.

            As she swung the door open, the cool central air greeted her.  The apartment was small with high ceilings and majestic windows.  Different angles of the city's skyline were captured in one panoramic view. The place was simple only the necessities were present.  A flat screen T.V.  One bookcase housing a library of information.  A desk with a closed laptop computer resting on it. One couch.  A dinette table with two high-back chairs.  And off in a corner  aligned  perfectly with one of the windows was a single  bed

which was neatly made. 

            Elise's eyes went right to the bed.  She began shedding her clothes like a cat shedding its coat in preparation for the summer.  Off came the gray scrub top.  She kicked off her sneakers and then shimmied out of the pants.  When she reached the bed, she only wore a silver gray lace bra and high-waist panties of the same material.  She did not bother to throw back the bedding, but collapsed on the light-weight comforter with very little grace. 

            As her face crashed into its material and her eyes fluttered resisting the fight to stay awake, a completely gray cat with green eyes nudged her.  It meowed and licked her face.  When she did not move, it pressed its body into hers and closed its eyes also...

            Dr. Lee Anderson stared at the chart hanging from the wall in his ninth floor office suite.  It had been placed there by one of the many secretaries who circulated from office to office as she performed her duties.  He had glanced at it in the past, but only when he needed specific information-- the name of a particular person working in a particular area of the Penn-Probe Lab.  The laboratory must have supplied the photo chart to all of the doctors.  It had been a useful tool, but today he stood before it for different reasons.  He visually scrolled the faces looking for a name.  He had thought he was above this type of behavior, but obviously he was not.  His jaw tightened as he thought about the last time a woman had distracted him during working hours.  It had not been good.  Still he continued to search.  Her face slowly drew his attention.  Elise Montgomery, Central Laboratory Representative.  The chart did not give a lot of background details, but it reaffirmed what he knew.   She   was   a        northern    princess.   The black  and white

photograph  disarmed  him.  He  felt  the  semblance of a crush.  He

smiled and questioned it at his age.  He was a man in his thirties and too mature for such a thing, but it felt like one.  His Colgate white teeth caught his bottom lip as he thought about the possibility.

            "What's got you grinning like that-- man?" a male voice drew his attention away from the panel of faces. 

            "Just thinking--"

            A man in blue scrubs minus a white medical coat drew near and peered at the sea of faces, "When I smile like that, it usually has something to do with sex-- or the possibility of sex."

            "Of course, that is the kind of man you are," said Lee Anderson moving away from the wall.

            "Not so fast," said Glen draping his arm around the other man's neck and pulling him back to the chart.  "Point her out and I'll tell you if I know her-- if she's worth the chase."

            "This is not that type of game," he said trying to move away from the chart. "I need to get back to the recovery room."

            "This will not take long or do you want me to pick her out without your assistance?"

            Lee Anderson did not speak and he kept his eyes averted. 

            "Fair enough," said the other surgeon roaming the chart until he said, "Damn!  Who the hell is that?"

            "Obviously you do not know her," said Lee.  He knew the search would not take long. 

            "No wonder I've never seen her before," he continued.  "She's lab. We are not exactly in the same league."

            Dr. Lee Anderson did not need to question his colleague's meaning or even challenge it.  He knew that was a line he should not cross.  It was an  unwritten  rule. To ignore it could  be a career hazard, but still the thought tempted him.

            "Are  you   considering   her?" he  asked  becoming  serious. 

"Not for long term, I hope."

            "I do not do long term." said Lee Anderson truthfully.  "Being a surgeon comes first and last.  There can be nothing in the middle."

            "Not even an exotic looking vixen like her," he asked pointing to the woman on the wall.

            "Especially not her," he said realizing in one hour's time she had already occupied too much of his thought.  He needed to shake his mind free of Elise Montgomery and fast. It was women like her who brought strong men to their knees and he never did like kneeling before anyone except God.

            Dr. Glen O'Donnell tightened his arm about the other man's neck and gradually changed it into a bear hug, "I am still going to keep my eye on you.  I hear southern men have a weakness for whiskey, gambling and beautiful women."

            "I heard the same thing about Irish men only I heard it's because they cannot hold their ale."

            "Is that so?" he laughed.  "Am I being challenged?"

            "No, simply restating what I've heard."

            "Go check those patients of yours," he ordered releasing Lee Anderson.  "Then meet me at Ryan's Place when you have finished your shift."

            "You really want to do this?"  Lee asked openly.

            "Yes, and I'm bringing the women--"

            Lee paused for a moment, "Who?"   Intrigue weaved its way throughout his word.  "Bianca Moore the anesthesiologist?  And, Paige Feelings from pharmacy?"

            "You do have high standards," the other  man congratulated. 

            "Am I right?"

            "I can't say.   Life  is  all about the surprise, my friend.  Just

show up--," Glen began walking in the opposite direction but continued to speak, "And if you are still able to walk once I am finished drinking you under the table, we can catch the shuttle to the casinos where I am going to take all of that money you made today," he bragged.  "And that's because I have the green streak of the Irish."

            "You're going to need it. Because, you also have the heart of a fool and  I am going to crush it," said Lee with twinkling green eyes.

CHAPTER THREE

            Elise woke up on the hard wooden floor of her studio apartment.  The moonlight was streaming through the windows without effort.  No curtains hung from them which would have prevented the promise of mystery each night held from shining through.  She slowly rose from the floor and into a sitting position; she looked around.  Where were the clothes she'd remembered removing?  She saw no tell-tale sign of them.  She looked down at herself.  She was no longer wearing the gray lingerie she'd remembered putting on.

            What time was it? 

            What day was it?

            Elise pulled herself up from the floor.  She felt refreshed, invigorated and so alive.  She blinked the sleep from her eyes and scrambled to the nearest light switch.  Was it A.M?  Or P.M? 

            If she ran to the calendar, it would tell her nothing.  If she looked at  the clock on the kitchen wall, she still would not know which day it was.  She tried to still the panic stirring inside of her.  She picked up the television remote and activated it.  She knew from past experience to click onto the weather channel.  It always gave the time, the day, and the climate forecast. 

            As she listened, Elise hastily walked into the dinette area of her studio.  It consisted of a small refrigerator and a tiny sink area.  She threw open the refrigerator door trying to remember if she had stocked it before she crashed.  And hoped the food inside was still edible. 

            She smiled when she saw the plastic containers of all sizes.  She grabbed the biggest one and popped the lid; she waved the open container under her nose and trusted her eyes.  It was lasagna-- her favorite. 

            Her mother had gotten the message.  She mouthed a quiet thanks and reached for the nearest fork she could find which was in the dish rack.  Without warming it, she forked out a mouthful of the cold pasta and tomato sauce.  She chewed it up fast and swallowed.  Fighting the urge to fork out more, Elise slid it into the microwave oven and moved away before she snatched the food out of it. 

            She was hungry and thirsty.  Pouring cold water into a glass, she gulped the whole thing down and then went back for the lasagna.  While she stuffed her mouth with the warm food, she searched the cabinets for something sweet.  Her topaz eyes lit up.  Oreo Cookies.  She made room in her mouth for them.  Her cheeks shrinking as she swallowed only to expand again when additional food entered her mouth.

            Her only distraction was the television set.

            It was 4 o'clock.

            She read the date and realized that it was Monday morning.  She quickly did the math and smiled with relief.  This episode had not lasted as long as she had feared.  She had slept for thirty-six hours. 1.5 days.  She switched the television to the news channel.  The world had passed her by and she was now trying to catch up.

            Elise flopped down onto the couch as she licked her fingers.  She felt something soft weave between her legs and looked down, "Hey Zeus!" she gave a tearful squeal, "We made it!  I'm up and wide awake.  And I don't think I've missed an awful lot."

            The cat meowed and waited to be picked up.

            "Did you miss me?" she asked rubbing her face into the cat’s neck. 

            "Meow."

            "It looks like mahm took care of the both of us," she said jumping  up and  scanning the room for her phone.  She would need

to charge it after all of this time, but as she spotted it her face gave way to another smile for Tamara Montgomery had taken care of that as well.  She reached for the smart phone and felt a bit of guilt at how critical she had been of her mother's relationship with her father.  She knew her mother was a good woman, but she hated the fact that she had let one man direct and control her life. 

            Tamara Montgomery was a uniquely beautiful woman with velvet brown skin and soulful eyes.  Her mouth was full almost too full for her face, but those lush lips were a trait she gave her daughter. The slim woman with a long regal neck and high cheek bones continued the genetic ancestry of a tribal people several continents away.  Tamara's erect posture and African curves refused to be hidden by clothes and caused one man in particular to take note.

            "Mahm?" Elise spoke with disappointment when she realized her mother's voice mail had picked up.  "I’m awake.  I feel great-- just extremely hungry.  Thanks for everything.  See you soon."

            Elise's mind was alert and ready to resume her life.  Her anatomy class started at 9 o'clock and she needed to read the chapter on Hematology.  The study of blood was fascinating to her.  She sat on the floor with the anatomy book open and began reading aloud.  Zeus, her cat, was use to this practice of studying and drew near at the sound of her voice.  As she turned a page, he would swat it with his paw.  This was a game he enjoyed immensely.

            Elise pulled the cat to her and began stroking his underbelly.  This always disarmed him and allowed her to study.  The cat lay in her arms like a baby.  Its eyes fluttering and finally closing.  He was not asleep just lost in the gentle strokes.

            Once she finished  reading  the  complicated  medical text, it

took her several more hours to complete the question and answer segment at the end of the chapter and then an additional hour was spent reading the lab material for her  microbiology class. 

            As she snatched a huge breakfast bowl from the cabinet and filled it with colorful crunchy cereal and a lot of milk, Elise saw the different shapes of bacteria  she had just studied floating around inside the bowl... Cocci. Spirilla. Bacilli. Strepto...  She hesitated before scooping up the cereal and bringing it to her lips.  She shook the images from her mind and ate.

            Elise quickly washed the dish and sprinted for the shower. It was going to be a tee-shirt and blue jeans kind of day she thought, as she tried to shake some of the dampness from her hair.  The long black ringlets left wet stains on her snug red and white Phillies tee-shirt as she pulled it over her head-- the baseball team was playing it up this year.  25 wins.  1 lost.  This could be their year, she thought as she buttoned up ripped jean and stooped to lace up her red Nike sneakers.  She hoped the hospital would give out more free tickets.  The medical institution was a heavy believer in supporting its professional sports teams and keeping its employees well entertained.

            She changed Zeus' water and gave him a fresh bowl of dry food before she exited the apartment.

            This was not what Elise had expected.  The entire anatomy class stood around the body and pretended to not smell the decaying flesh.  This was not in her syllabus.  Nowhere in her e-mailed course description did it mention viewing and examining a dead    person--   a   cadaver.     Elise   searched   the  faces  of   her  classmates-- they too were stunned.  

            The  students  were  dressed  in lab coats, masks and gloves. 

For today, the morgue at Ossie Sweet University Hospital was going to be their laboratory and the study of this dead body their lab assignment.  The twenty students watched and waited.

            Dr. Stevens spoke, drawing their attention away from the unzipped body bag lying atop a silver gurney.

            "This is patient Zachary Brandon.  He has been in this morgue for six months. His family refuses to claim his body therefore he is scheduled to be cremated by the medical examiner's office at the next massive cremation."

            "The next what?" a student asked in shock.

            "Cremation," the doctor repeated. "Zachary B. died in the Emergency Room while being treated for cardiac arrest.  His medical record tells us his story-- he was diagnosed with hypertension, but refused to eat a diet low in sodium.  He took his medication infrequently and drank too much."

            "Why did the family abandoned him?  That's inhuman.  He's an old man."

            "It's not uncommon.  Burials cost money.  Some people don't plan for a funeral until it happens."

            "So you just leave him here?" asked someone else.

            "That's crazy," uttered a girl her eyes still glued to the open bag. She could see the face of a black man with gray skin and an overgrown beard.  His eyes were dull and hazy. Their former color was gone and his fingernails were long.

            "I don't understand why we are here?" asked Elise.

            As Dr. Stevens began to talk, he looked into the face of each of his students and spoke concisely, "I do not know what kind of man Zachary B. was-- if he was a husband or a father, if he paid his taxes on time or served in the military. He could have been a loyal  friend    or   a corrupted    individual.  I    have   no  way of knowing

that without searching through his medical records, but what I do know is that his body ceased to function six months ago which after today ends his contribution to this society."

            "After today?"

            "Yes.  The patient, Zachary Brandon, has one more purpose.  He is going to teach us about life and death."

            "But you said you know nothing about the man--"

            "True," he said looking at the student who challenged him. "But here lies our fate-- death. It's going to happen to us all.  It is not glamorous.  It is not glorious.  It is simply our exit from a life I hope was well lived.  You are entering the medical field-- some to become doctors, nurses, and therapist.  Whatever your field of study do it to the best of your ability and leave this world better than you found it."

            "What is he going to teach us?" a student asked skeptically.

            "That one day you will suffer a similar fate. Our bodies have limitations.  Respect them.  The A&P textbook you have is a manual for the human body.  Study it.  Learn how it functions and live a proactive life-- meaning eat a healthy diet, exercise and always listen to your body."

            One student leaned closer to the body encased in a black bag, "What is that?" he asked staring at the man dressed only in a hospital gown and pointed to his leg.  He was looking at a white spongy mass.

            "Mold," said Dr. Stevens. "His body has been decomposing for months in this refrigerated morgue.  

            The students stared in amazement.

            "See the fluid surrounding the body?" he asked.  “This is another sign of decomposition.  Now let's begin our examination of

Zachary Brandon," he said moving closer to the body...

            Several hours later, Elise still could not shake the images from her head. A&P had been grueling. She knew she was mortal.  Her disease reminded her of that fact every time she closed her eyes.  Today's lesson simply reinforced it.  What kind of life was she going to live?  Would she stay awake long enough to contribute significantly to this world?  Or would she sleep her life away?  Her professor made his point, but he also was successful in frightening her.  What if this illness killed her?  Or she harmed someone while suffering through an episode?  Hadn't she awakened on the floor in her apartment?  How had she gotten there?

            Elise leaned against the door-frame as those questioned swirled around inside of her head.  She thought back to her first episode-- back to when she was sixteen-years-old and desperately wanted to go to that house party.  She thought back to a point in her life when she realized just how evil people could be.  She had almost lost her virginity that night-- if not for her best friends Marietta Stevens and Amalia Nuñez

            The beautiful Afro-Asian young woman halted the new graphic images that were rapidly replacing the earlier ones. She blotted out the faces of the boys involved in her ordeal.  It was the past.  Hadn't she moved on-- started over?

            Elise tried to smile at the woman who was arranging a serving tray; on it were blue and white bowels made of porcelain and a teapot. It rested on a massive desk void of any item which would give a clue as to who used it.  There were no photographs, no personal mementos—nothing.

            "Why are you doing that?" asked Elise.  “You are administration—not his wife?  Let someone else do that."

            “I like doing this,” smiled Tamara.  “It pleases your father—Dr. Jiang.  This  day  has  been  incredible. His  meeting with Genik

Pharmaceuticals should be ending now,” she glanced at her wrist-watch. "It is an important one for him and the hospital. They have been talking for hours."

            "Then let the hospital pour his tea and service his dinner," she said referring to the late hour.  It was evening time and her mother should be preparing to leave work instead of catering her father's meal.  Elise watched as Tamara arranged containers of gourmet Chinese take-out food.  The smells were seeping from under their lids.  She heard her stomach growl; it was loud.

            "Would you like some, Daiyu Xiu?  There is plenty," her mother asked glancing up from her task.  "Eat with us.  You have not seen him in months.  He would be very pleased," said Tamara using her daughter's middle name.  It was a name chosen by her father which meant beautiful black jade. 

            Elise frowned at hearing the name.  She resisted the temptation to correct her mother.  Her parents were the only ones who used her middle name.  She hated being called by that name; it connected Elise to her father.  It reminded her of his rejection.  He did not legally want them to be a part of his family.  He did not treat them with respect or dignity, but she could not say that to her mother.  It would hurt her deeply.

            "I don't have time.  I'm headed for the library-- lots of homework."

            "How are you feeling?"

            "Good," she said dismissing a yawn. "Thanks for looking out for me.  I saw all of the food-- I can't wait to go home tonight. 

You did not have to cook so much."

            "I don’t get the chance often.  You are a big girl now," she smiled.  "So I could not resist.

            "Always the nurturer-- first me and now Dr. Bolin Jiang,"

she said indicating the meal on the desk. 

            "I love you both," said the pretty African-American woman dressed in a cream colored pantsuit and green blouse. As she leaned over the desk a jade cross encased in gold hung from her neck and drew attention to her cleavage.  A modest amount of brown skin was revealed.  She was tall and slim.  Her hair was pulled away from her face and hung in a glossy ponytail down the middle of her back.  Jade studded earrings punctured her earlobes and gave a hint to the eastern influence in her life.

            Elise smiled and blew her mother a kiss.  She never doubted the love of her mother.  It was constant.

            Tamara winked as she acknowledged the show of affection, "He is a good man, Daiyu Xiu.  My heart could not have chosen anyone better.  Each day, what I feel for him grows."

            Elise opened her mouth to speak and then changed her mind.  She did not want to challenge her mother's feelings-- at least not at this particular moment.  She hadn't experienced that type of emotion and right now it seemed so real-- so tangible.  It expressed itself in her mother's eyes-- in the soft quality of her voice.

            "It's rare when two people can love each other with the same level  of intensity—usually  one  person  cares much more about the relationship than the other."
            "He is a lucky man," said Elise.  "Because your love is pure and unconditional-- twenty years is a long time to idolize a person."

            "It has been a long time-- and yes I am still in awe of the man," she blushed emotionally as she remembered the first time they had made love.  It was unexpected and so glorious. 

            "I've interrupted things here," said Elise.  She noted her mother's faraway look and the shy smile touching the corners of her

mouth.  It was definitely time to go.  She did not want to witness the

intimacy between her parents, “I'll stop by your condo for dinner one day this week."

            "Are you sure you won't stay?"

            "No mahm.  The library is waiting for me, but I won't forget our dinner plans-- I'll call first."

            "I understand," she said reluctantly.  "Don't stay out too late.  Are you meeting with a study group?"

            "No, this is independent.  I'll meet with some classmates later this week before the test in Micro."

            "You are a lot like Bolin.  Dedicated and intelligent."

            "I'd rather be more like you.  Beautiful, kind and classy," she said blowing her mother another kiss before she exited her father's office.

CHAPTER FOUR

            It had been a long day for Dr. Lee Anderson-- literally.   It started at 02:17.  The moment the first patient from the Percolator Night-Club stumbled into the emergency room after being dragged from a taxi cab. His two-hundred and fifty pounds supported on both sides by two men-- each one struggling with his portion of the victim's weight. A makeshift tourniquet wrapped around the large man's shoulder slowed the dripping trail of blood splattering the pavement of Penn's Landing Memorial Hospital

            The man in the center had been stabbed.  His head hung to one side and his eyes were closed.  This was how he greeted the trauma team of doctors, nurses and technicians who surrounded him as he passed through the sliding glass doors-- each clinical specialist performing a separate task, but working toward the same purpose-- to access his injuries and provide him with immediate treatment.

            The second patient walked into the E. R. at 02:25. She was a young attractive blonde.  Her clothes were flashy.  She appeared dazed and she was in shock-- her brown eyes unseeing as she drifted into the waiting room and took a seat.  Her presence horrified the others in the lounge.  Their eyes were glued to her hand which held the bloody handle of a large knife-- the blade partially intact.   She quickly received the attention of the hospital security as well.  They approached her with caution.

            Patients three, four, and five were delivered to the hospital by ambulance.  The red and white rescue vehicles maneuvered through the Monday morning traffic; their sirens cried out warnings to anyone who might get in their way.

            They were also coming from the Percolator Night-Club.

            Dr.  Lee  Anderson   had   been   waiting  for the first victim,

Wayne Murphy, to be wheeled into the operating room.  The X-rays he and Dr. Glen O'Donnell viewed showed a jagged foreign objected lodged between the left collarbone and shoulder blade.  A triangular bone prevented the object from slicing through more muscle and severing tendons.  As the two surgeons studied the digital images, they realized the obstruction was a weapon-- a blade of some kind.

            Both surgeons worked for hours on the patient.  They pumped unit after unit of  type O- blood into his system.  He had lost too much of his own and preliminary blood typing was not an option. He needed blood immediately. 

            The surgeons worked skillfully, methodically.  They suctioned off pooling blood as they extracted a sharp metal object.  They removed splintered pieces of bone; they labored meticulously to reconnect layers of muscle and tissue as they reconstructed the injured area. 

            The two men were a part of the medical elite.  They were the superstars of modern medicine-- repairing the impossible-- restoring the old.  Dr. Lee Anderson and Dr. Glen O'Donnell were blessed, but they did not work alone.  The entire O.R. team contributed surgical expertise and years of clinical knowledge. 

            When both men left the operating room, they headed for the family and friends waiting area.  A gracious smile was on their faces as adrenaline ebbed from their veins.  Success always tasted good and they wanted to share it with the family members of Wayne Murphy.  This was the best part of their job-- helping other people to heal. 

            It was only hours after that family meeting that Dr. Lee Anderson and Dr. Glen O'Donnell found out the complete story.  The  Percolator   Night-Club   had  turned   off its music as usual.  It

issued its closing declaration and waited for all of its partiers to leave the hip-hop dance club.  It was all routine-- until a pretty blonde woman appeared in front of a tall black man on the sidewalk at the entrance of the club.  She pulled out a weapon and stabbed him in the neck. As she shoved the metal deeper into his body, she accused him of having an affair.

            The sister of the victim saw the whole incident while retrieving her parked car from a nearby garage.

            Then more chaos erupted as the sister drove the car onto the sidewalk in an attempt to hit the other woman.. She missed her target.  The blonde woman escaped injuries, but not the other people on the pavement.  Three pedestrians were struck before the car slammed into a brick wall...

            It had been a long day Dr. Lee Anderson acknowledged as he ascended the steps two at a time, yet he'd still found the energy to drop off a surgical pathology specimen. This was his third delivery in one week.  The task was not necessary. The hospital had other staff to perform the job.  So, why had he chosen to deliver them?

            The young man questioned his motives.  Why was he constantly making his way to the lab area-- especially the central lab?  Was he using the samples as an excuse-- a way of catching a glimpse of the young woman in gray scrubs? Was he insane? Had he forgotten the scrub rule?  

            The young surgeon dismissed the thought.  His trips to the laboratory were simply his way of exploring the beautiful, historic building of marble staircases and enormous chandeliers-- nothing more. He appreciated how the old buildings connected to the newer ones as they gradually told the hospital's story through the building's design  and  architecture.  He liked  walking the corridors

which introduced the world to many medical pioneers.  The entire hospital was a photo gallery of history.

            No, he was not thinking about Elise Montgomery-- yet her topaz eyes and dangling black curls vividly came to his mind.  He remembered her lips-- so full and tempting.  What would happen to a man if she smiled at him?  He imagined the reaction-- and felt a slight level of anticipation wash over him.  He had an urge to find out.  What would it take to make a woman like her smile?  Was she simple or complex?  If she was simple, then he had a problem, because he hadn't done simple in a long time.  All the women he had pursued lately were complex-- multidimensional and exhaustively complex.  Their lives were a maze of professional and personal drama.

            He felt the woman in the gray scrubs was different.  She appeared young-- very young and unsophisticated.  The two qualities appealed to him.  It made him think of his youth-- a time when flirtation was foreplay and the high from a simple kiss could last a week.  A time when everything had been his first...When love was new and nothing could compare to it.

            He thought again about the scrub rule.  It was a boundary which separated them.  Did he want to tackle that issue? Was she even worth it?

            He thought once more about what type of smile she had.  Could it seduce him into forgetting all of the politics?  Would it lure him away from logic?  What would it do to him?

            The doctor continued climbing the stairs with his white medical coat slung over one shoulder and held in place by the hook of his index finger.  Its pockets were heavy from the folded papers containing the medical notations on several of his patients.  His beeper  was  clipped to the waist of his draw string scrubs.  The pale

blue announcing to all his position in the hospital. His leather satchel did little to impede his progress.

            His feet moved aggressively in the navy blue medical clogs, he wore.  He needed to make one more stop, before he left the hospital for the night.  He was in a hurry to catch the last rays of sunshine-- perhaps take a walk along the pier and enjoy the free jazz concerts scheduled for the month. There was nothing like the sound of a saxophone at the end of a day; he smiled knowingly.

            The trauma specialist reached the closed door within minutes of leaving the stairwell.  He seldom used elevators opting instead to use the less traveled and often empty stairways.  It cut his travel time and kept him in shape which at the age of thirty-three was not an issue. He swiped his identification card and entered the room.

            As he stepped inside, the automated lights engulfed him.  The library was still.  The desks were empty.  The computer screens were blank.  The tall, lean doctor spotted what he was looking for immediately. It was a stack of reference books that he had convinced a female librarian to release to him.  This had taken a promise to return them within 48-hours and one hand delivered lunch tray from the cafeteria.  His southern smile and gracious attitude had solidified their agreement.

            Dr.  Lee Anderson collected the books with a note scribbled on top.  It made his smile.  The librarian was sweet and a little bold.  He let the note remain where it was.  She had a clever way with words.

            He turned to leave his surroundings of books and journals, but the quiet library caused him to pause.  It was the first still moment he had experienced all day.  He listened, but heard nothing.  He smiled.  Yes, this was tranquil. He walked to  a nearby table and

pulled out a chair. He sat down with an exhausted thump.  He discarded his coat and satchel as he pulled one of the books from the pile; the other two remained in place.

            His personal beeper had not sounded in forty minutes.

            It was definitely time to pause.

            He opened the reference book and skimmed the table of contents.  Flipping to the chapter of interest, he began reading—his rate increasing as the information stimulated a desire within him to learn more.

            He was an O.R. surgeon for a reason. He thrived under pressure.  He used his brilliance to help patients the same way an artist crafted his work—and most of the time he did it in a semi-controlled environment.  The operating room was unpredictable-- anything could happen there.

            The medical school he attended had prepared him academically.  It had over-saturated his brain with every physiological aspect of the human body.  It had taught him how to break things down to their smallest unit and to understand how everything functioned along the way—everything had a connection to something else. 

            The classes overwhelmed him at times. There were pathological disorders to study—diseases unimaginable.   There were neuroscience classes that fascinated him-- the possibility of reversing the effect of a spinal cord injury was near—growing new nerve cells were not longer a thing of science fiction. 

            The school had begun the process of getting his body accustomed to too little sleep and too much caffeine.  The energy drinks were his new best friends. 

            The four year institution had also  disciplined  his  sex drive.

Physical pleasure was a luxury not a necessity.  This code of conduct followed him into his surgical residency.

            Dr. Lee Anderson became so engrossed in his reading that he did not notice the hours passing.  Surgery was all that he knew.  It gave him purpose; it made him feel complete.

            As he adjusted his weight in the chair, he heard a faint musical tune. It drifted closer and closer toward him. His head slowly lifted from the book.  He had no other external reaction; his expression was neutral, and his body was immobile.  However, inside things were different.  His pulse rate increased as his ears followed the sound across the room and to a corner in the library.  The interruption was unexpected.

            It was a persistent tune which repeated itself before disappearing into silence.

            He stood up to investigate.  It sounded like a cell phone alarm.  Had someone forgotten it-- or dropped it by accident?

            As he moved across the room, the musical notes began again.  This time they directed him to a more exact location—the back wall of the library. 

            He stopped abruptly. He could not believe his eyes.  He stared down at the floor in amazement.  His breath held in place by the sleeping woman leaning against the bookcase—he recognized the mass of black curls and familiarized himself with her long eyelashes.  Her mouth was slightly parted but he heard no noise. 

            He took in her tight Phillies tee-shirt and ripped blue jeans. The shredded material gave him glimpses of mocha brown skin which appeared smooth.   He smiled in wonderment.  She was even more beautiful asleep than awake—and so utterly young.  She looked like a teenager—still in high school.  

            In her right hand, she held a half eaten candy bar; its melted chocolate stained her loose fingers.  Next to her was an open textbook—microbiology.  He recognized the upside down microbial

illustrations.

            His heart leaped.

            He was speechless. In all of his wildest dreams, he had never expected this—his friend Glen O'Donnell was right-- life was definitely all about the surprise—

            The cell phone next to her still body erupted into sounds and vibrations.  It caught his attention…

            Elise Montgomery began to wake.  The sound of her alarm penetrated her subconscious.  Her eyes blinked away the sleep as she looked up and into the clear green eyes of a man—a stranger.  He stood motionless and staring. 

            She screamed.

            Who was he? How long had he been standing there?

            Her thoughts were not clear.  She identified the blue scrubs and the hospital name tag.  They eased her fears a little.  She recognized her surroundings and leaned back against the shelf, but her eyes did not leave the man.

            “I did not mean to startle you.”  He apologized. "I assumed the place was empty.  The lights were out—no one was around. Then I heard your alarm.”

            “I must have dozed,” she said softly explaining the situation more to herself than the man standing in front of her.

            He continued to watch her. How had she found a way to disobey all of the posted warning signs?

            No cell phone use permitted.  No loud talking. No food or drink allowed. 

            “Do you always eat in libraries?” he asked nodding toward her sticky fingers and the dissolving candy bar.

            “Huh?  Oh not usually—I was hungry.  It has been a long

day.”

            He shook his head in agreement and continued to stare as she began to lick her fingers. 

            She stopped suddenly and looked up at him when she realized what she was doing.  Her fingers left chocolate smudges on her lips. 

            She wondered what he thought of her.  She wasn't a slob.  Her actions had been automatic-- and she did have a weakness for sweet things.

            “Don’t let me interrupt.  Please continue,” he said mesmerized by her actions.  His body was responding to what he saw. 

            Hell, forget about what her smile could do to a man.  Those thoughts were quickly eradicated-- replaced by new and more vivid ones.

            Elise resisted his invitation and instead searched her duffel bag for a scrap piece of paper.  She found one and used it as a napkin.

            The doctor made a mental note to buy Phillies tickets and lots of chocolate candy.

            Elise glanced up.

            Why was he still standing there as though he expected something more to happen? She picked up her cell and noted the time.  It was late.  When had she fallen asleep? She hadn't planned it. She had only set her alarm in order to keep track of the time. 

            The young woman reached for the textbook.  She collected her belongings.

            As she attempted to rise, the doctor extended his hand.

            Elise took it reluctantly; the contact startled her.  His hand was extremely soft.  What type of man had hands that soft?  She glanced away from his firm grip and into his green eyes.

            "What is your specialty?" she asked assuming it would be cardiac or plastics. 

            "I would say a grilled salmon steak, fresh corn on the cob and a mandarin salad, but that's not what you are referring to is it?" he asked in a southern tone.

            "No." she laughed giving him a curious look.  "What kind of surgeon are you?"

            "It's trauma, but I do not talk about work when I am off," he said releasing her hand.  "The name is Lee--Lee Anderson."

            "Elise."

            "From the lab," he stated.  "I've talked to you before."

            She slowly nodded, recognizing his name.

            "I can also make an incredible chocolate smoothie," he said with a wink.  "But I should let you be the judge." 

            Was he flirting?  Teasing her with his words?   She averted her eyes as her heart quickened.   She frowned as she felt a warm sensation sweep across the nape of her neck. 

            "I have even been complimented on my Cajun style seafood linguine-- I'm not bragging but--" his words were stopped by a loud rumbling noise.

            Elise looked down at her stomach.  It made another sound.  She was mortified as she looked into his eyes.

            "Sorry--," she said wanting to flee.

            His eyes twinkled, "Have dinner with me."

            "Huh?"

            "Here, in the cafeteria.  It's still open and you  are  obviously

starving."

            "I can't.  I have class tomorrow."

            "And I have surgery-- but we've both been working hard and

we do need to eat-- come on," he enticed.  I saw the menu online.  It looked good-- Tarragon chicken, Mediterranean tuna, gnocchi with roasted chicken, Vietnamese pork, sushi-- and the desserts--" he made a delightful face.

            "Stop it!  Don't name another thing," she laughed as her stomach reacted to the menu.  She tried to rub the hunger pains away.

            She usually avoided men-- especially doctors.  They had a bad reputation.  They were known womanizers.  So eating dinner with this man went against her no dating rule--  

            Lee noticed her wavering and continued; "Microbiology was one of my best classes in undergraduate school--"he nodded toward her heavy duffel bag.  I'm a great study partner."

            "What makes you think I need help?"

            "I made no assumption.  I was just offering."

            She paused to look at him, "What can't you do?  You are a surgeon who cooks-- and now you are offering to help me with my micro--"

            He shrugged his shoulders, "I get it from my dad-- he's a doctor down in Tennessee."

            "And he cooks?"

            "No, in my house the women cook--"

            Elise opened her mouth to protest,"

            "Wait-- that's not a derogatory statement.  The women cook and we love them for it-- but the grill is our domain-- it's what we do."

            She still looked at him skeptically.

            "If I set foot in my mother's kitchen, she'd get offended--

and quickly run me out-- honestly.  She takes pride in preparing the meals."

            "So does my mother," said Elise thinking about earlier that evening.  "Why would you want to help me study?"

            "Truthfully speaking?" he asked.

            "Yes."

            "Because you are incredible to look at--"

            Elise's expression instantly changed.  She did not want to hear more. She shook her head and turned to walk away.  She knew it would eventually lead to this-- the chase, the pursuit.  Dating was out of the question.  She could not afford to put herself in a vulnerable position-- especially with her sleeping disorder.  She remembered what happened the last time she trusted the opposite sex?  No, this was not a good idea.

            "Is the truth offensive?" he asked. "Do you want me to lie?" he questioned as he matched his footsteps to hers-- leading them both across the big library.

            "No-- but after a while it gets old.  All of my life, I've been praised for my looks--"

            "Let me finish-- " he said.  "I am a single man who works long hours-- I am an attending surgeon. Sometimes I forget that I am human-- people expect so much of me, but right now-- talking with you--I feel human."               

            She gave him a look, "You are a surgeon—you have everything—you don’t need to feel human.”

            “But I am,” he reminded her. "And I am enjoying this."

            "Emotions complicate things-- they get in the way--you are what people expect-- what I want to become."

            "A surgeon?" his voice faltered.

            "Yes, a neonatal surgeon." It surprised her how quickly she revealed this fact. It was not often that she shared her dreams. They

were so fragile; she wanted to keep them protected.

            "Then let me help you. Have dinner with me-- talk to me-- show me what you are studying. I really am a great study partner.  I'll even share some of my techniques."

            "And then what?"

            "Nothing."

            "Nothing more?" she challenged.

            "A little conversation-- a laugh here and there-- that's it."

            Elise hesitated.  She searched his clear green eyes. 

            "I have no reason to lie."

            She hesitated again. 

            "Can I order everything on the menu?" she asked.

            "Everything?"

            Had he heard her correctly?

            "I eat a lot.  I have a high metabolism."

            She did not need to explain her medical condition.  He did not need to know that since the beginning of her disease she consumed large amounts of food.  It was as though her body was constantly preparing for a long sleep.  No, that was T.M.I. --too much information.

            "You can order whatever you like."

            "Including desserts?"

            "As many as you want."

            "And a take home bag-- if I can't eat it all?"

            He nodded, this time not trusting his mouth with words.  This woman fascinated him.  She caused his blood to rush and his thoughts to soar.  She could have anything she wanted as far as he was concerned.

            "Alright-- " she  said   leading   the    way   to  his   belongings.

CHAPTER FIVE

            Was this trauma surgeon really carrying her textbooks?  Was he actually peering down at her with laughter in his eyes as he balanced a cafeteria tray for two?  Elise looked down at the white medical coat draped around her shoulders.  She was amazed at how quickly it had gotten there.  She had only mentioned being cold when he stepped into action.  The hospital was always cold.  She had not expected him to react.

            Elise read his title stitched across the top.  It reminded her of the lettered sweaters the high school athletes wore.  It made her think of the girls who would wear them proudly-- displaying to all their eternal commitment, but this was not high school, Elise rationalized and he was not the shy boy next door.   

            This was Penn's Landing Memorial Hospital and he was Dr. Lee Anderson. He was a man who belonged to the blue class.  He was a man of power-- a genius with the scalpel-- a part of the surgical alumni.

            And yet, here he was-- guiding her to a table next to a huge window, its view showing off the late night life of the pier.  Here, he was directing her to take a seat across from him.

            She felt unsure-- intimidated.  What was she doing? This went against all of the rules.  She should not be here?  She was a lab representative.  A gray scrub.  What could they possibly have in common?  She hadn't even graduated college.

            Elise's eyes must have revealed too much.

            "I want you here," said Lee Anderson, with a smile.  "Remember?  A little conversation.  A laugh here and there," he teased. 

            "But we are so different-- and people keep staring." she whispered.

            These were not the usual stares she received.  This attention

came from both men and women.  It was a mixture of jealousy, envy, outrage and more.  They were being watched by the scrubbed and the unscrubbed.   

            "Ignore them-- "

            "But what they are doing is obvious--"

            "The only thing apparent to me right now is how cold our food will get if we don't start eating."

            She glanced at the tray before them.  It was true.  The checkout line had been long and ringing up her order had delayed things further.

            He bowed his head and paused for a moment before offering Elise a plate; she took it graciously.

            "Remember this isn't it," he said looking up as a man in a black and white jumpsuit approached their table.  He was carrying two trays.  "You ordered at least three main entrees--."

            ."I know," she giggled picking up the plastic fork and maneuvering chicken onto it.  She lit up as she watched the man set the trays down beside them.

            "Do you live near the hospital?" Lee Anderson asked. 

            Elise stopped chewing and looked at him cautiously.

            "Where do you live?" she countered his question with one of her own.

            He gave a conceding laugh and answered, "Down by the docks-- I have a boat."

            "A what?"

            "A boat," he repeated.

            "You live on it?"

            "Yes.  It's pretty incredible and very convenient—it’s right below the hospital."

            Elise was speechless.

            "You actually live in the water?"

            "Somewhat-- it's a beautiful boat.  It has everything-- spacious bathrooms with showers—a modern kitchen with an awesome stove. It has a built in grill.  Three bedrooms and a nice size living area."

            "You are too much Dr. Ander--"

            "Lee," he interrupted.

            "Lee-- you are so surprising."

            “It's moored down there," he pointed out of the window toward several water-crafts in the far distance.

            Elise squinted her eyes, but only saw lights.

            "On my days off, I take her out pass the Delaware River.  I can fish and relax.  It is so serene.  No intrusive sounds-- no police or ambulance sirens-- no city noise-- just peace."

            "I believe you."

            "Do you like the water?"

            "I have never been on a boat, but I love the shore-- I go to Atlantic City with my friends a lot."

            He nodded his head.

            Elise Montgomery was impressed with Dr. Lee Anderson.  He did know his microbiology.  It was apparent the moment he opened the textbook.  He barely glanced at the chapter on Viruses before he began to lecture about their scientific classification.  They were neither living nor dead.  They behaved more like a parasite using the cell of an organism to create their genetic material.  Elise listened, scribbling down notes when it was relevant.  He seemed to strategically question her throughout his discussion reinforcing key information.  His green eyes were watching her face and waiting for the  appropriate  answer.   When   she  gave  the correct response, he

would smile and give her a wink. 

            When she did not, he provided her with more details and coaxed the answers from her.

            "Thank you," said Elise in a humbled voice as she put her textbook away.  "You have been very generous with your time and the meal was delicious," she said mentally counting the take home bags.

            "You are welcome Elise." he said rising to his feet.

            She stood also and said with a laugh, "How am I going to get all of that home?"

            "You should have thought of that earlier," chided Lee as he lifted her duffel bag and his leather satchel from a nearby chair.  He also helped her collect the folded paper bags containing leftovers.

            "I was having too much fun to think logically--" her mouth snapped close.  She had not meant to admit so much.

            "It has been nice."

            She nodded.

            They used the cafeteria exit to leave the hospital.  They stepped into the cool river air.  The lamp post above their heads covered them in a soft white light.  The pier was not empty.  Couples were everywhere.  They were talking, holding hands and kissing.  Elise and Lee Anderson walked pass a few and pretended not to notice. 

            Lee handed over her duffel bag as soon as a taxi halted by the side of the pier.

            Elise looked up at him in surprise, "Is he waiting for me?”

            “Of course.”

            “When did you call?"

            “While we were ordering our food. I have a taxi application on my phone-- it comes in handy."

            "Yes it does, but I didn't bring any mone--"

            "Everything is taken care of Elise.  When you are with me that should never be a concern of yours."       

            "I do not know what to say," she admitted.

            "Say that you will see me again-- I would like to hear about the micro test."

            "That's not necessary-- really."

            "I say it is," he said opening the taxi door and allowing her to enter.  He handed her the paper bags one at a time.  They surrounded her like paper soldiers guarding precious cargo, "My pager number is 0004."

            "Alright Lee," she conceded.

            "Good night my northern princess," he whispered. 

            Elise smiled up at him, “Good night.” 

            She leaned against the backseat of the car and closed her eyes. This could not be real.  Tonight had been too perfect.  She had met a handsome stranger—with startling green eyes and a wonderful smile.  A man who offered to change her life—to help her become a surgeon with no strings attached.  Could that be true?  Could something like that really happen to a person like her?  She was the girl with the Kleine Levin Syndrome, a disorder which forced her to sleep for countless hours while the world around her continued on. 

            She wondered.

            Could tonight be the prelude to a fairy tale?

            He had called her his northern princess.  Why?  What did he mean?  Elise's mind filled with images of crystal castles-- of rogue knights-- of a beautiful princess...

            "Where'd you want tah go?" asked the taxi driver

            She thought.

            Where did she want to go?  Any place seemed possible.  

            "Fourth and Delancy," she said as she allowed a smile to spread across her face.