Royal Pains Read online

  Nina holds her cell phone in her hand and hands it to me. “Do you want to talk to your mother?” I really didn’t, but I would anyway. I make my way out into the living room, taking the phone from her hands. My breath rolls in and out a few times before I speak.

  “Mama?” I sit down on the plush white couch, putting it to my ear. “How is baby Jakob?”

  “Joana says he’s well. A perfect little angel.”

  We exchange pleasantries before she gets right to the point.

  “Please tell me you’ve changed your mind about this silly adventure of yours,” she says. I knew it had been coming.

  “No, Mama,” I reply, leaning back. “I told you I’m staying here with Nina and Zoe and I’ve made up my mind.” My mother knew of my coming to America to be with my aunt. Much to Nina’s displeasure, I hadn’t told her quite how long or what I was going to be doing. For all she knew, I’d be back in a week.

  “But the Hasler’s,” she argues with me. “Malea wanted the wedding to be soon.” The wedding. Every conversation I have with my mother as of late has to do something with the wedding. Lukas Hasler and I have been expected to marry since we were children, though neither of us wanted anything to do with it. And now, he is perhaps the furthest thing from my mind.

  “Lukas and I barely know each other mama, we’re just friends.”

  “You have a duty to your family,” my mother reminded me. “A duty to your country.”

  “For once in my life, I’d like to do something for myself,” I reply.

  When I look at the clock, I realize it is later than I expect it to be. “Mama, I need to go,” I interrupt her and hand the phone back to Nina. She rolls her eyes as she places it back to her ear and I laugh, patting her softly on the shoulder as I walk past her.

  A few minutes after, I’ve managed to make my way down to the parking garage. I pull out Zoe’s Lexus from the private parking spot and proceed to get lost in a sea of traffic on the Manhattan roads. This is the part I had forgotten about. I would have walked had it not started to rain outside. Instead, I wait patiently for the traffic to move along, drawing closer and closer to my destination.

  The University has a beautiful campus. I’d passed it many times on my visits with my aunt and Zoe. I can’t help but admire it as I drive down the city streets. As I see the building where I need to park, I catch a glimpse of a space open in front of an old Subaru. I break hard and just as I do, I watch a huge puddle of water splash over a girl standing at a meter. For a minute I sit there mortified, unsure of how to react.

  Finally, I move the car into the space and run to her, my umbrella in tote. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” I call as I make my way around the cars and up to her. When we meet eyes as I approach, I can’t help but stare at her. Even soaking wet, she is the most interesting woman I’d ever seen. Her short blonde hair clings to the sides of her face. She wears a purple dress that brought out her hazel eyes, and for some strange reason, her feet are stuffed into a pair of old sneakers. As I hold up the umbrella to her, she gives a little laugh, and it makes my heart melt a little.

  .........................

  Penelope seems to be enjoying herself the more the evening goes on. We dance a while, and then we sit together with Oliver and Charlotte and eat appetizers. All the while, I can’t keep from catching glances at her.

  “Are you from Germany?” Oliver asks me as he takes a sip of his beverage. His big blue eyes stare right into mine. I don’t miss a beat and nod in reply. “Where about?”

  I’d rehearsed these lines over and over in my head at least a thousand times. “It’s a small town called Friedrichshafen. South Germany.” My mother had taken me there many times as a child to visit family friends. It was a beautiful costal town, lined with red roofed buildings and boats that spanned all sides. They had the best fish there I’d ever eaten in my life.

  “It’s by Lake Constance, right?” Oliver smiles.

  I think for a moment. Lake Bodensee. No, he’s using the American name. I nod. “That’s right.”

  “I apologize, I’m a little obsessed with the area. My parents took me to Switzerland and Austria when we were younger, and I think we passed through Friedrichshafen. Beautiful town.” Oliver leans back in his chair, still smiling at me. Suddenly I feel uncomfortable knowing that fact. That at any moment he could ask me a question that I may not know the answer to. That he might, in spite of my efforts to conceal myself, recognize me.

  “Quite the world traveler,” Charlotte says, kissing him softly on the cheek.

  After most of the party had ended Penelope and I stand under the awning of the building watching the rain. I rummage for my umbrella and pull it open, offering to share it with her. She leans in close to me, wrapping her arm around mine, and the two of us make our way out onto the sidewalk. The feeling of her body so close sends a shiver through me I was not expecting. I find myself enjoying the intimate proximity.

  “Does it rain a lot where you’re from?”

  I sigh, remembering the summer nights. The smell of the wet grass. The sound of the water hitting the rooftops. The gentle mists on the hills and up in the mountains. It was enough to make me homesick. When I tell her about it, she smiles, as if she’s reliving the memory with me.

  “It sounds amazing,” she says.

  “It really is,” I reply. Just as I go to speak again, a sharp gust of wind blows, and the umbrella goes flying. I panic, kicking off my shoes and chasing it down the street. It flies faster than I can catch it, and eventually, I give up, turning back. As I approach, Penelope is laughing softly at me. We meet eyes for a moment and stare at one another, both of us smiling.

  “I think we were destined to be in the rain,” she says as she hands me my shoes. We make the rest of the trek back to our cars and then stand outside, lost in conversation.

  “Who is the band?” I ask her. When she looks up at me, I nod to her shirt. The design is beautiful - Celtic looking. The name, however, unfamiliar.

  “You’ve never heard them?” Penelope asks me, surprised. “I thought you were this cultured lady after knowing who Whitney Houston was.” When I smile, she laughs. “Come on. I have them on my phone.”

  While the rain continues outside, the two of us sit in her Subaru, listening to folky American songs over her car speakers. They are actually surprisingly good. By the time we get through, another hour has passed.

  “I probably should be getting home,” Penelope notes, and I look to her nodding. I stare at her, looking into her hazel eyes. For a moment it feels as if she is drawing closer to me, but then I see her turn away quickly, her face growing red.

  “Thanks for sharing your music, Penelope.” I smile as I lean out of the car. “See you Monday?”

  “My name is Penny,” she reminds me as I exit. I laugh at the fact that she’s hung up over it enough to correct me and wave when she takes off down the street.

  “I like Penelope,” I say to no one in particular.

  .........................

  There is a nervous energy in the room on Monday morning for Dr. Avery’s Cell Biology class. It was the first of the day. I’d arrived early, looking for Penelope, who was nowhere to be seen. I sit down next to an empty desk in the front as the lecture begins. I start to worry when she still hasn’t arrived.

  “Welcome, welcome.” He says as we all quiet down in our seats. “I’m sure this is an exciting day for you all. Your first class as medical students. I promise that this won’t be an easy course, but it will be an interesting one. Let’s get started, shall we?”

  As he begins, I notice Penelope sneaking into the room from the back. She finds the seat next to me and rushes to pull out her laptop and textbook from her bag. She does her best to avoid my glances. Even in her frazzled state, she looks as adorable as the first evening I’d met her. Her short blonde hair is tucked behind her ears, her glasses sliding off the edge of her nose, and she is adorned in another band shirt that I didn’t recognize.

  “Can anyon
e name structures of the endomembrane system?” Dr. Avery asks the class.

  Penelope’s hand shoots into the air, followed by a few others, including Oliver. Dr. Avery looks up at her, and she rattles off the names. “The nuclear envelope, plasma membrane, endoplasmic reticulum, Golgi apparatus, lysosomes, and vacuoles.”

  Dr. Avery looks pleased with her. “And the functions?”

  “It synthesizes and transports proteins, metabolizes and transports lipids, and detoxifies poisons.”

  I hear Oliver murmuring behind us. “And here I thought I was going to be the class star,” he jokes with Penelope, and she blushes, returning to her notes.

  The two of them take turns trying to outwit each other when Dr. Avery asks questions. By the end of the lecture, Charlotte and I are practically in tears laughing at their competitive streak. After class is dismissed, my face is buried in my textbook and my notes, completely lost. The room has nearly emptied when I feel a pair of eyes looking down at me.

  “Class is over,” Penelope says quietly, pushing her backpack onto her shoulder.

  I look up and smile at her for a moment. “I’m just trying to make sense of everything.” She studies me for a long moment and then finally sits down. I hear her rustling in the seat next to me before I look at her. Our eyes only meet for a moment before she turns away.

  “Let me see your notes,” she asks, looking over at my laptop. I pass it to her, brushing my hand over my textbook before I set it in my lap. I watch her curiously as she reads through what I’ve written. Occasionally, she gives me a glance, and when we meet eyes, my heart flutters a bit in my chest.

  “You’re very thorough,” she says, continuing to study my notes. When she looks to me, I smile at her, and her face turns bright red. She looks quickly away. Eventually, she manages to speak again. “What were you stuck on, exactly?”

  “Mostly just what he was talking about at the end,” I explain, leaning over to point to the portion of the notes I was referring to. I can feel her body press softly into mine as I did, but she doesn’t move away. “The part about lysosomes.” Penelope smiles and reaches over for my textbook. She spends a few minutes reiterating what I had missed in the lecture and when I finally understand, she looks pleased.

  “Thanks for helping me,” I say, and the two of us meet eyes again. As soon as we do, a wave of sneezes comes on.

  “Wow,” Penelope notes when I turn back towards her. “Are you sure you aren’t allergic to me or something?”

  We meet eyes, and I smile softly. “I really hope not.”

  There it is once more. That strange air between us. Our gaze doesn’t waiver. A wave of butterflies fills my stomach as I look at her. Again it seems as if she is leaning into me and I feel as if I want her to. My heart races in my chest as I watch her draw near.

  Suddenly she panics and pulls away, stumbling to her feet.

  “I have to go,” she says, reaching down to grab her backpack. I watch her as she rushes from the room, not looking back.

  “Bye, Penelope,” I breathe.

  Chapter 3

  Penelope

  I can’t stop thinking about Astrid all morning long. Her adorable smile would come to me while I was studying in the library. I’d start humming Whitney Houston while I was walking through campus. I’d find myself wondering what it would be like for her to wrap her hands around my arm again. To feel her soft skin touching me.

  By the time I get to the Anatomy lab, all I want to do is be as far away from her as humanly possible. To be able to focus. But, according to the words of the great Mick Jagger. You can’t always get what you want.

  “Penelope Waters,” Dr. Ross calls out across the room, and I raise my hand slowly. He looks at me and smiles. When I see him look down his list of names I feel a lump in the pit of my stomach. “You’ll be working with, let’s see here.”

  Please no, please no, please no.

  “Astrid Reynolds.”

  It is the longest walk in the history of man for me to get from my seat to the front of the room where Astrid sat. She gives me a warm smile when I sit down, and it makes my heart flutter in my chest. I try hard not to look at her, in fear my thoughts are spread perfectly across my face.

  The two of us work together, walking from table to table to identify different bones and their structures. To my dismay, Astrid seems to get tripped up a lot.

  “So what are the carpal bones?” I ask her as we stand at the table. She looks down at her notes and then back up to me. I watch her eyes roll over them one at a time, pondering her answer before she speaks.

  “Scaphoid,” she looks at me, and I nod. “Lunate, Triquetrum, Pisiform---“

  I watch her trail off for a moment and meet her glance. “Trapezium,” I reply. She scratches the back of her head before she writes down her answers in her lab book.

  “Trapezium, Trapezoid, Hamate.”

  “Capitate,” I remind her, and she looks up to smile at me. Once again I can feel the burning sensation on my face, and I look away.

  As we work, I can’t help but find myself constantly distracted by Astrid. When she leans over the next table, studying the femur bone, I watch her shoulder length blonde hair fall down along the sides of her face. She purses her lips in a charming fashion when she is thinking. There is a faint smell of her perfume lingering in the air when I draw close to point out a specific structure she is missing on her notes. Everything about her is so bewildering I can barely think.

  By the time the lab ends, I am aching inside. My entire body is begging to escape her in fear I’d do something crazy if I didn’t. As I am packing up, after all of the other students have left, I watch Astrid wander around the room, still studying her notes. She looks frustrated.

  “Are you okay?” I ask her as I lift my backpack onto my shoulder. She bit her lip as she turned to me and my heart skipped a little beat.

  “I’m going to stay here and go over everything one more time.” Astrid gave me her beautiful smile. “Just to be sure I have it all down.” I could tell by the tone of her voice she was concerned about it.

  “Do you need my help?” What are you doing, Penny? Good God. Get far away. Far, far away. I had my own grades and sanity to worry about. Yet I couldn’t help but feel slightly concerned for her that she was struggling so much and it was just the first week of the semester.

  “I’ll be alright,” she says, her eyes not moving from mine.

  I study her for a minute and then nod. “Okay. Well, see you tomorrow.”

  “See you tomorrow, Penelope.”

  When I go to correct her, I stop myself. As I turn to walk out of the room, I realize I’m starting to like it when she calls me that. I’m doomed.

  .........................

  I am pretty certain that most medical student’s favorite day of the beginning of their education is the day they have clinic. Except I don't feel very privileged this morning. After oversleeping, losing my keys, and falling flat on my face outside of the clinic, I know it is going to be a bad day. It isn't until I get inside that I realize I have gotten dirt on my brand new white blouse. I do my best to try and clear it off, but it is a futile effort. Instead, I clip my name tag over the stain and hurry to meet the clinic instructor.

  “You’re late,” Dr. Lawson says as I make my way into the offices in the back. Guilty as charged. Late was my middle name. I apologize and join her at the desk where she is looking over the schedule for the day.

  “Alright Penelope, tell me about our first patient,” she says. I’d went over the chart a hundred times before today. There wasn’t a thing about her that I didn’t know. I took a deep breath and rattled off all the pertinent information. Dr. Lawson looked impressed. It looked as if I’d recovered from my tardiness.

  That was until she spoke. “While a firm knowledge of the patient is good, it’s not necessary to go over the whole patient's chart. We don’t have time for that. A nice concise summary is all we need.” When she writes notes on her clipboard, I can
feel my heart racing in my chest. It is all I can do to not try to peek my head over to see what it said. Instead, I force myself to remain calm.

  “Do you feel comfortable obtaining a case history from the patient?” Dr. Lawson asks me, and I nod. I felt ready for anything at this point, and I was eager to learn. “Good,” she says, looking pleased.

  When I’m asked to retrieve our patient, I can feel the nerves wash over me. The sensation is intense. I introduce myself and walk her back to the exam room. Every part of me is shaking. It is becoming difficult to breathe. By the time I reach my seat, I am getting double vision.

  Dr. Lawson looks at me concerned for a moment, but after I take a few breaths, I feel a lot calmer. The patient and I exchange pleasantries before I look down at my notes. As soon as I open my mouth to talk, fear washes over me again. I find myself stumbling over my words, barely able to think. Finally, I make such a fool of myself, Dr. Lawson jumps in, and I spend the rest of the day observing.

  When I meet with her after the last patient of the morning, I am feeling absolutely mortified. We sit down together at the desk, and her concerned eyes study me over.

  “So, how do you think that went?” Dr. Lawson asks me, crossing her arms over her chest.

  I want so badly to laugh. I can feel it right on the verge of escaping, but I hold back. “Not great,” I reply, sulking. “I don’t know what happened to me.”

  “Students have trouble getting acclimated with clinic sometimes,” Dr. Lawson explains to me. I watch as she takes a few more notes on her clipboard as she talks and it only makes my anxiety ten times worse. Please stop writing, please stop writing, I beg her furiously. “I wouldn’t be too concerned since this is your first day. I’d like you to make sure you are better prepared for next time. It’s only going to get more challenging from here, and I wouldn’t want you to fall behind.”

  Those words killed me. She is worried that I might fall behind. Me. Penelope Waters. Valedictorian of my graduating class in high school. Suma cum laude in undergrad. The girl who everyone begged to help them study. Me. Falling behind.