THE STARS ARE BEAUTIFUL - WATTYS AWARD NEW ADULT WINNER 2019

Callum | Chapter 9

I STARED DOWN at a wailing newborn as Tatum stood beside me. "I wish I could say something different, but you need to up his dosage of morphine. He's in too much pain. His tremors are getting worse." Two skinny legs trembled involuntarily, laced with opiates from his birth mother. A string of silent curses wrapped around my inner thoughts as I watched the baby wail in agony and confusion. I left the room before the morphine was administered.

The only bright spot in my day stood outside of the neonatal-care doors. But, unfortunately, her brightness was faded around the edges: dressed in blue hospital socks too big for her feet and an ugly green gown draped around her shoulders, tied tightly just to keep it on her small frame. Everly's smile dimmed as she admired my face, our eyes connected.

"Hi," she said softly, as if unsure if she was the cause of my irritation.

"Everly Anne," I said in return.

"Is it all right that I'm here?"

"It's always all right."

"You look unhappy."

"Understatement."

She touched my arm. "Will you tell me?"

"You know, I can tolerate a lot. I've seen babies born disfigured. I've witnessed people die. But one thing I can't..." I scrubbed my hands over my face. "It's one thing when a mother does everything she should during pregnancy and something simply goes horribly wrong, but when someone purposely harms their child and then I watch those babies suffer because of that... it tests my empathy and sanity in a way I can't describe without probably scaring you."

Everly watched my face. "A baby was hurt by their mom? How?"

"Drugs," I replied. "Born addicted to oxycodone."

"Will the baby live?"

"I don't know. He's not detoxing because I can't wean him because he's in too much pain. I actually had to raise his morphine tonight because he's in agony, but I should be weaning him by this point."

"What will happen to him? I mean... is his mom around?"

"That's the part that angers me the most. Usually, the parents provide me with some type of motivation... Even though that sounds screwed up... But I mean I feel like I'm working on the same team, you know? But in these cases, I feel like I'm taking what they've ruined and then handing this kid back to them so they can ruin it all over again. Maybe that's harsh or not very positive, but that's how it feels. I don't want to cheer for these cases, do you know what I mean?"

"I think your job is to make someone better. So do that—and then you've accomplished something regardless of what happens in the future. That's not your burden to bear."

"What if one of these babies grows up to become someone who wishes they hadn't lived? What if they become an addict themselves and end up ruining someone's life? What if they do it to their own kid someday?"

Everly stared at me. "Do you think every healthy baby grows up to be a solid human being just because they started out on a good path? You can't wonder about this stuff, Callum. You fix. You heal. That's all."

I felt pulled away from Everly, as if something had slid between us. "I expected you to say something different."

"Like what? Take him home and raise him?" She nearly laughed.

"You just sound dismissive, like it doesn't matter what happens to him. I didn't expect you to be... I don't know... callous? You're always so sweet and soft."

"I know what's gonna happen to him," she said. "It's not the baby I'm concerned about, because he's got a good doctor looking after him, standing outside the Yellow Heart Wing, pondering his future. The doctor, on the other hand... I'm a little worried about him. He's doing something unexpected. He's being human."

And just like that, I was pulled back to familiar ground.

Her smile mirrored mine at the exact same moment. We were caught up like that. For the smallest millisecond, we were far away.

"Everly Anne Brighton," a nurse called from midway down the hall. And the bright spot began to fade. "We're ready."

"You have the wrong patient," I said. "Her name isn't Everly."

Nurses generally don't like doctors. Residents? Even less.

She met us at the top of the hall and flipped Everly's plastic bracelet around to read her name. "Well, unless she swapped ID bracelets, she is indeed the patient I'm looking for." I held out my hand for Everly's arm. Of course, she played along.

"Says her name is Princess Tiger Lily." I looked at Everly head to toe. "Seems legit to me."

The nurse gave me my own inspection and then wrote my name down on her chart, purposefully spelling out each letter with an exaggerated slowness.

Everly looked at me once and was serious. Second time, with a smirk. The third was charm and then fits of laughter. "You are in so much trouble now." And mocking. She mocked the nurse with finesse. "A med student messing up... Who would ever suspect such a thing! I'm sure Dr. Brighton will be—" Everly bent over in hysterics. "I'm sure he will just love to hear a nurse griping about a med student getting on their nerves."

The nurse huffed, shoved her chart under her arm, and then pointed toward the end of the hall. "I'm going to be in your room waiting. You have thirty seconds to meet me there, or I will report this to Dr. Brighton."

I was still up on Cloud Nine when Everly faced me, the two of us alone. "Save me," she said, all playfulness muted.

"From what?"

"Myself."

The familiar cord returned to my chest. And although I had no idea why or how it got there, it was powerful enough to listen when she needed a place within me to confide. It was strong enough to push away all the what-if's attached to my doing something that wasn't particularly smart or good for me. And despite not being able to see it, examine it, or hold it in my hands, I knew it was just as tangible and lively as the girl who stared up me.