Merry Christmas, Doctor Carter

The Return

It was seven-thirty-two in the morning. The toothpaste still lingered on John Carter's teeth. He'd been up all night, working the ER. A cup of coffee wouldn't be out of the question. So, he found himself in a local coffee shop. The smell of roasted beans permeated the entire room, leaving him both ill and wanting. Regardless of how nauseous it made him, he desperately needed the pick-me-up.

John ordered his drink and waited, sitting by a window and watching the goings on around him. The occasional chill he felt told him the place wasn't properly insulated. It was near the slums of Chicago — he expected it.

Out of nowhere, amidst the murmuring of other customers, John heard a voice from behind say, "You've lost weight."

Stunned, John froze and almost stopped breathing. It couldn't be, he thought. Could it? As his initial, heart-stopping astonishment began to fade into a sensation of alarm, even fury, turned his head to the side, and saw the man grinning friendly at him. A few seconds more, he stared at him dead-on. He couldn't fathom it, despite the evidence standing there in front of him. Yet there he was, and his moon-round face and chocolate complexion, giving John a cherubic, meek smile.

"Hey, John."

Suddenly, John remembered that they weren't on their own. He could feel everyone else staring and judging, even though it was clear that was far from the truth. Nevertheless, John bolted out the door, leaving his coffee behind, which Dennis plucked up.

Without a second thought, Dennis hurried after him, coffees in hand, trying not to spill them. "John! Look, I know this is screwed up, and I don't deserve–"

"You're right on both accounts."

"John, listen to me!"

He whirled around, a definite scowl on his face. "Can you do me a favour?"

"What?"

"Leave me alone."

Those three words, his look of unmitigated resentment left Dennis speechless, and just as he was going attempt to say something, John cut him off.

"I can't handle this right now. Can you just go?" John asked, anger and hatred mingling with his words.

Once again, he was overcome by what he said. Dennis had seen him irritated before, but this was something else entirely, a side he'd never seen. He found himself shivering. It wasn't just that he felt ashamed; it felt wrong. He shouldn't have come.

"Ye-yeah, sure," Dennis stammered. "Of course, but... can't you hear me out?"

As he departed one last time, he said, "You know where I'll be."

Dennis watched him walk away. So many things he wanted to say, but none of it seemed worthy. "Yeah. I think I do know," he thought out loud.