Words Left Unsaid

“Boss, we got a shipment of gowns!” The orderly approached me holding a box. 

“Gowns? That can’t be right. Let me see.” 

The young man handed me the box clearly labeled, but I knew the contents were not the rare surgical gowns as we hadn’t even attempted to order them in a while. Our small supply was washed and rewashed to the point of becoming tattered. The usable ones the patients wore, the others ripped into strips for bandages.

Must be the personal order from my transport guy, I realized. What a dumbass. Why would he label them gowns when that could create a stir? 

“Thanks, young man. Back to work, please,” I instructed the orderly.

Taking the box into the back supply closet, I placed it on a shelf for examination later. I couldn’t hide it too long for fear the contents needed refrigeration. I would have to wait for a quiet time.

My shipment arrived with no time to spare and for that I was grateful. Although forgotten or unknown by most, it was Valentine’s Day. Those who did remember the obsolete holiday were sure to ignore it or celebrate it in the utmost of secrecy. 

Determined to remain optimistic, I turned my thoughts to the special night I had planned for Celia. After a lifetime of friendship, I was finally going to make my feelings known to her. I had no choice, as I couldn’t go on seeing her day after day as my feelings grew deeper. Life was short and can change in a heartbeat. After years of deliberation, I felt secure in my decision.

Was it possible that she had feelings for me as well? We had dated a bit back in college but that was put on hold when assigned to work at the same hospital. The rules of conduct were strict and the punishment stricter. Not wanting to jeopardize our futures we had agreed to put any personal feelings aside. It would be worth it, we agreed, as our careers skyrocketed, eventually heading up the most successful OB/GYN team of surgeons in the country.

That was before.

***

I’ll never forget that horrific day when my keycard wouldn’t open the door to my wing. “What the fuck?” I swiped again and again to no avail. 

Turning to the nurse’s station, I attempted to approach the staff when they scattered past me, eyes looking anywhere but back at mine. What in the hell was going on?

“We’ve been defunded,” Celia’s voice came from behind. “Follow me.”

Defunded? I was dumbstruck as I followed Celia down into the parking garage. She got in her car as I got into mine and I followed her blindly. We drove along to where? The boondocks, as far as I could tell. Anywhere, USA.

Hours later her sleek black car drove onto a farm. A massive door to the barn opened automatically similar to a garage door opening when you pull up the driveway. This was no garage, I noted, as I followed Celia in, the barn doors closing behind us. 

“What you are about to see stays between us. Understood?” She looked me in the eye looking dead serious. 

“Of course.”

Clearing off some hay she opened a trap door and down we went through the dark dusty staircase. On the landing we stopped. Celia put her bags down, took off her coat and slipped on a white jacket that had been hanging on a hook, handing me one as well. I put mine on silently, heart pounding. Whatever Celia was going to show me was huge.

***

“I want to be someone,” Celia had said, sipping her coffee. We were on an actual date back when we were college freshmen.

“You are someone.” I didn’t want to let on my true feelings, what an amazing ‘someone’ she actually was.

“No. I mean someone. Someone who makes an impact. Changes the world.” Her words could have sounded corny, cliché, but Celia wasn’t that type. She had really meant it. Maybe it was destiny. We didn’t know it at the time. 

Are some people exceptional? I’ve always wondered about that. What makes an Olympic athlete? An inventor? What separates them from the average? Will? Determination? Something more? Celia had that something more.

***

We went down yet another set of stairs to a world I couldn’t believe.

Bright lights, white walls, metal carts filled with shiny instruments. And people. A waiting room of people, mostly women and children, appearing distraught and haggard.

“What in the world?” I looked at Celia, an older version of that girl drinking coffee, an exceptional woman who still made my heart flutter.

***

“Dr. Joe, are you okay?” The orderly interrupted my trip down memory lane. How long was I standing there lost in thought? Once again, alarmed at the speed of my life passing me by, I felt reassured that tonight was the night to confess my feelings to Celia. If not now, then when? It was 2044 for crying out loud, I wasn’t getting any younger and life wasn’t getting any less cruel.

My thoughts drifted back to that package delivered earlier, the chocolates and wine for my Valentine’s Day surprise. The holiday had been discontinued, considered too frivolous for the dictator, but there were those hopeless romantics who celebrated anyway. The select few taught the younger generation to secretly embrace it with plans to bring it back once the dictator was gone.

I prayed for a quick end to the tyranny, at the same time feeling the walls close in on what we had built over the years in hiding. Celia was a wanted woman, defying the rules of the land, refusing to turn her back on those in need. I knew her vulnerability, the target on her back for leading this cause, but we couldn’t let that distract us. Our focus had to remain on the patients and providing them the health care that they desperately needed.

I snuck a look at the box marked gowns, ripped open a corner and saw the finest chocolate. What a treat this will be! I smiled knowing I held in my hands contraband, feeling quite rebellious. Not drugs, not weapons, but a banned box of chocolate. Buried even deeper was a bottle of wine the likes of which I hadn’t seen in ages. The dictator had ransacked collections, his men going house to house with the intent of destroying and pillaging. This special delivery had taken months to orchestrate relying on my intricate network.

Gowns. Why would someone put that label on a delivery to a farm? I shuddered, suddenly terrified. Who would do that? If it got into the wrong hands or was seen by the wrong set of eyes it could be the end. Everything that Celia and I had built was in jeopardy. I thought of the women who journeyed across the country in silence, our teams strategically placed to guide them through the checkpoints. Now both patients and staff were potentially threatened by that one word on the label.

I said a little prayer for our safety, for the women, for the children, for our country. Please let this end soon. My calling had always been to save lives but even I couldn’t help the occasional dark thought of assassination in my angriest hours. I pictured looking him in the eye finally feeling vindication after all the years of abuse and torture he had inflicted. I fought that urge when it reared its ugly head. Celia was my guiding light; I couldn’t let her down.

***

We sat in the candlelit room at the end of the corridor, a room no one knew existed except Celia and me. The table was covered with the best fabric I was able to find in the storage room, the red wine and chocolate displayed on the small round table emulating a café. 

Her eyes sparkled with happiness, perhaps a reflection of the candles but hopefully something more. She once again had the youthful expression on her now aging face. The years had not been kind to her. To me, however, she will always remain the beautiful girl sipping coffee when we were young.

It was time. I took her hand. “Celia. I want to let you know how I truly feel. It’s been an honor knowing you. But more than that. You are my one true lo …”

My words silenced by the door flying open, a gun pointed at my romantic setting.

“Noooo,” I screamed, throwing myself in front of Celia but not quickly enough as she fell to the floor, a puddle of blood spreading out from beneath her.

Gowns. That one word a tip-off to someone that we were there. All of my carefully made plans turned into a nightmare. Celia’s entire life mission to save people dissolved in the blink of an eye. It was all my fault.

I saw red, the color of Celia’s blood spilling out on the shiny floor, and the color of my rage. In one move I grabbed the gun and escaped after one fatal shot to the heart. I was on my way to do what should have been done years ago. The tyranny would end tonight.