Tink and Ram 11

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Estimated time to read:

3–5 minutes

The morn­ing sun was burn­ing off the light fog that had crept in overnight, although the morn­ing was still mild­ly crisp.  Ram had been the first to arrive for his and Tink’s morn­ing meet­ing and she was unusu­al­ly late.

Finally, she appeared in the dis­tance, walk­ing gin­ger­ly toward Ram and “their” bench.  She was wear­ing dark blue scrubs with a light, white cardi­gan sweater.  Her shoes were flu­o­res­cent mul­ti-col­ored things that imme­di­ate­ly caught Ram’s eye.

“You’re a bit late today, Tink,” he said, greet­ing her, all the while look­ing at the shoes.  “I’d almost giv­en up on you.”

“Yeah.  Sorry, Ram.  I pulled a dou­ble shift and just got off,” she said, tak­ing her seat beside him.

“I guess I kin­da fig­ured out some­thing like that,” he said.  “I nev­er would have fig­ured you dress­ing in your work duds just for a meeting.

“Are those shoes stan­dard issue?” he asked, half joking.

“Well, we don’t get what you would call “stan­dard issue.” We all have to buy our own work duds so we have a lit­tle lee­way on what we can wear.  A lot of us self-express – you might say – in our choice of shoes.  Even scrubs can be per­son­al­ized to some extent.  There are some avail­able with flow­ers and such on them.  We just do what­ev­er we can to try to bring a lit­tle plea­sure to the patients.”

“Are those shoes comfortable?”

“Oh, yeah.  Very.  They’re made espe­cial­ly for med­ical per­son­nel since we’re on our feet all day.  They come from a com­pa­ny that spe­cial­izes in shoes for nurs­es, doctors.”

“I expect you get a lot of com­ments on them,” he noted.

“Yep, just like yours,” she kidded.

They sat qui­et­ly for a bit.

“Maybe I ought to get me a pair of shoes like that,” inject­ed Ram, “just to get some comments.”

“I’m sure you would,” she replied, smil­ing.  “However, I’m not sure they make them large enough for you.”

“My foot’s not that big,” he retort­ed, “size eleven.”

“Well, I guess you’d nev­er need snow­shoes, would you?”  She jabbed him light­ly with her elbow.

“Smartass,” he mumbled.

Again, the silence enveloped them.

“Ram, there’s some­thing I need to tell you.  I’ve been putting it off because I real­ly didn’t know exact­ly how to say it but it’s time.”

“You’ve fall­en mad­ly, pas­sion­ate­ly in love with me, haven’t you? I knew it would hap­pen.  It was inevitable.  They all do.  I can’t help it, it’s a curse.  A curse!”

She was open­ly smil­ing now.  “It’s true, Ram.  I have fall­en in love with you.  As I would my father . . . or grandfather.”

He faked a cringe. “Cut me to the quick,” he mocked.

“You’re def­i­nite­ly a love­able ol’ coot.  And that makes it even hard­er to tell you.  Ram, I’m afraid I won’t be able to meet with you again.

“I’ve been offered a job at Cleveland Clinic.  It’s a great offer and a great place to work.  Cleveland Clinic has a world­wide rep­u­ta­tion as a first-class health facil­i­ty and I would be able to expand my career there with a lot of dif­fer­ent kinds of cases.

“I’m also going to be able to con­tin­ue my edu­ca­tion at their expense and even­tu­al­ly become a PA.

“I love it here and I love our meet­ings.  This is just some­thing too good to be passed up.”

“When will you be leaving?”

“Three days but I’ve got a lot of pack­ing to do and final trans­porta­tion arrangements.”

“Well look, Tink.  You’ve got your whole life ahead of you and there’s no good rea­son for you to be tied down here when you have an oppor­tu­ni­ty like this.

“What we’ve had has been great.  You helped me a lot when Walt died.  You make his loss eas­i­er to bear and our con­ver­sa­tions have been some­thing I’ll always cher­ish.  I love you like a daugh­ter . . . or grand­daugh­ter,” he chuckled.

“Once you get set­tled, send me your address.  Maybe we can stay in touch by let­ter . . . or email . . . or text, although I pre­fer the first.”

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“Of course I will.  And believe it or not I pre­fer let­ters myself.”

“I’ll miss you, Tink,” he said, with sadness.

“I’ll miss you, too, Ram.”

Again the silence between them.

The light morn­ing fog had com­plete­ly dis­si­pat­ed.  Another fog set­tled over Ram.

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