The blast was deafening. A cloud of blackness swallowed the ward, then, slowly, the shadows began to pull back. A strained voice cut through the silence:
Verity Erford, this is the rescue teamsomething has blown up over there.
Pain hammered his neck as a hand gripped his throat. He forced his eyelids open, each blink a struggle. Before his eyes a rectangular pendant glimmered, its surface etched with the symbols of the zodiac. A woman in a white coat stared down at him.
To the operating theatre! a voice shouted from the doorway.
His parents arrived home from work. His mother rushed into the kitchen, peering toward the study where her son was doing homework. His father, David, stepped into the bedroom and immediately sensed his sons gloom.
Tom, whats wrong? David ruffled the boys hair.
Nothing, the fourthgrader muttered.
Come on, speak up.
Its almost International Womens Day. Our teacher kept us after school and said we have to make gifts for the girls.
Wheres the problem? David smiled.
We have the same number of boys and girls, and she paired us up, Tom sighed. Ive been paired with Verity Erford.
Everyone wants a present on the 8th of March, even the ones who arent pretty, his father said, trying to sound as if he were giving adult advice. How did she decide the pairings? By alphabet? By zodiac sign?
No, by compatibility, Tom answered, his breath catching. Veritys a Virgo, and a Taurus is supposed to be a perfect match for a Virgo. Im a Taurus.
Thats a good sign, son, David chuckled. Maybe youll even fall in love with her someday.
I? With Verity Erford?
His father burst into laughter. Just then their mother, Linda, slipped into the room.
Whats happening in here?
Lena, could you come to the kitchen? Davids tone hardened. Tom and I need to have a serious talk.
When Linda left, Tom asked in a low voice, Dad, what am I supposed to do now?
Make a gift.
What kind?
Youll see tomorrow at work. Ill make something for your chosen one.
Dad, what can you possibly make? You work at the steelplating plant.
Yes, I do. Im in the galvanising department. We coat all sorts of metal there.
Dad, I dont get it.
Youll understand tomorrow.
***
The next morning David presented a goldcoloured pendant on a thin chain. One side bore the twin symbols of Taurus and Virgo; the other side bore a delicate inscription in flowing script:
To my classmate Verity, on International Womens Day. From Andrew.
The pendant shone with a brilliance that made Davids heart thrum. When Linda slipped it into a clear plastic bag, it seemed to sparkle even more.
***
The 8th of March arrived. The teacher, Ms. Harper, refused to give a lesson. First the pupils presented her with a bunch of flowers and a handwritten thankyou. Then she announced that the boys should now hand their presents to the girls.
Chaos erupted. Every boy sprinted toward his assigned special girl. Tom approached Verity Erford, his throat tight, and recited the line his father had taught him:
Verity, happy International Womens Day! Perhaps someday fate will link a Taurus and a Virgo.
He turned back to his seat, oblivious to the pounding of his own heart, which he believed had shattered when he looked at the girl he had deemed unattractive.
Months later Veritys family moved to another borough, and she transferred to a different secondary school.
***
Andrew opened his eyes to the sterile white ceiling of a hospital ward. He tried to flex his arms and legs; only his left arm obeyed.
Where am I? he croaked, his voice hoarse.
A clack of wheels announced a nurses approach. She leaned over his bed, eyes sharp.
Are you awake? Youre in the emergency surgery unit.
Are my arms and legs all intact? Andrew asked, his whisper barely audible.
The major parts are there, the nurse replied, a smile breaking through the fatigue. Youre just wrapped in bandages from head to toe.
Its good that everythings whole, he muttered.
A doctor entered, his face kind despite the exhaustion.
How are you feeling?
Whats happening to me? Andrew blurted.
Nothings threatening your life. Your limbs will work again. There are a few small burns that will fade, the doctor said, tapping his phone. Your mother wanted me to call you as soon as you woke up.
Through tears, his mothers voice came over the line.
My darling, are you alright?
Yes, Mum, Im fine, he forced a smile. They said only minor burns. Ill be out of here soon.
Im not allowed to stay the night, she whispered, voice quivering. Ill be there as soon as I can.
Dont worry, Mum, he replied, placing his phone beside him, trying to grin at the nurse. Thank you.
The nurse smiled back. Youll be out in a few weeks. Three weeks, give or take.
A fellow patient, bruised but conscious, asked, What happened to you?
Im a rescuer, Andrew said, the memory surfacing. At the plant in Sheffield, a series of gas cylinders exploded. We were the first fireteam on site. The building was massive, three people were trapped inside. The cylinders were everywhere, fire licking the walls. We got the victims out I was the last to leave. As I reached the door another cylinder burst I cant remember the rest.
Its your lot, the nurse replied. Andrew Goncharov, a colleagues call.
Just then a familiar voice shouted, Tom! Hows it going?
Limbwise, all good! Andrew answered, waving his left hand. I can only greet with this one.
Come on, man, what happened next?
We were pulling the victims out when the explosion hit. They dragged me out I was drenched in blood, the doctors were already there.
Thanks, mate! Tom grinned. You know, they might put us up for medals.
Ill be discharged soon, Andrew replied.
Alright, Im off. Theres a ward round now.
A doctor, midforties, entered the room.
Hows the hero doing? he asked, patting the side of the bed.
Fine.
If youre talking, youll live. Let me give you a lookover.
Did you stitch me up? Andrew asked. No, Verity shell be back in two days.
***
Two days later Andrew tried to sit up. Pain still hammered his legs, his right arm was a raw, broken thing, and a dozen bruises dotted his body. Two of those on his face were from the blast that had sent a cylinder barreling into him, but hed managed to thrust his right hand forward just in time. He stared at his reflection; his face was still swollen.
That evening the doctor who had operated on him the day beforewho had spent five straight hours stitching him upcame for his rounds.
She was young, wiry, glasses perched on a delicate nose, a white coat that fit her perfectly. Though she was twentyseven, she was already divorced; the split had been amicable, the paperwork stating incompatible personalities, though the truth was that her exs salary as a rescuer just didnt sit well with her.
Good afternoon, she said, moving to his bedside. Did I operate on you?
Yes, Andrew replied, a flicker of hope sparking. Everything went well, thank you.
Let me have a look, she murmured, leaning over him.
The pendant with the zodiac signs caught the light, dangling from his neck.
Verity Erford! he exclaimed, a laugh bubbling up.
She stared at his swollen face, bewildered.
Excuse me? she said, not recognizing him.
Im a Taurus, he said, pointing at the pendant.
Tom Goncharov? her lips trembled. You remember me?
Of course, Verity, he said, dropping a small gold locket onto her hand as tears welled in her eyes.
Im sorry, she whispered, pulling a handkerchief from her pocket and wiping her cheeks. I never imagined wed meet like this.
She didnt return to his ward after that. Yet Andrew realised their schedules now mirrored each other: day shifts, night shifts, two days off. He didnt want to appear weak in front of her. The next day he shuffled around the ward, leaning on the beds, clutching the wall for support, then slipped into the corridor.
Night fell. The dayshift doctor left, and the nightshift crew arrived, their voices echoing down the hallway. A sudden clatter of rushed footsteps shattered the quietanother casualty being wheeled in. Ten oclock rolled around; a nurse dimmed the lights in the ward. Yet sleep eluded Andrew. Past midnight, the corridor was silent except for the soft sobs of someone unknown. He rose, heart thudding, and stepped into the hallway.
At the nightwatch desk, his former classmate, now a nurse, hunched over her hands, crying. He placed a steady hand on her shoulder.
Verity?
She flung herself against him, desperate.
I operated on a woman; she fell under a car, she choked out through tears. I did everything I could. Shes in intensive care now, but she wont survive. She has two children. Her husband is here with her.
Calm down, Verity, Andrew urged.
For twentyseven years Ive been a surgeon and I still cant get used to people dying, she confessed. My wife left me because Im never home and the pay is small. Im still living with my parents, like a child.
Give it a rest, Andrew said, his own voice hoarse. Were both twentyseven; we have our whole lives ahead.
Verity her pulse is dropping, shouted a nurse, panic rising.
Sorry! Verity sprang toward the intensive care unit.
Sleep never came that night. In the morning the nurse who had tended him brought his medication.
Is the woman we operated on today still alive? he asked, surprised at his own curiosity.
Shes alive, but her condition is critical, the nurse replied.
***
Three weeks later Andrews wounds were finally knitting together. He and Verity met during her shifts, and an invisible thread pulled them closer. Yet the emergency surgery department was no place for personal confessions.
During a routine morning round, the senior surgeon announced, Youre all being discharged today, he smiled. Youll go straight to the community clinic, and theyll decide how long you stay in the hospital after that.
Thats great news! a nurse shouted. Dont rush, take your time.
When the doctor left, Andrew shaved, examined his reflection, and noted that the two remaining scars added a rugged charm rather than disfigurement. He dressed, slipped into the corridor, and thought, Shes still out there somewhere.
A nurse handed him his discharge papers.
Good luck, Andrew! Dont be a stranger.
He returned to his modest onebed flat, but his mother insisted he stay with the family. Shed taken a week off work to look after him.
Son! she cried, wrapping him in a hug. Youre alive!
Im fine, Mum. Im back.
Come, Ive made you a proper meal. Look at you, so skinny.
Ah, Ive missed home cooking!
Youll live here till you get bigger and maybe get married. Your rooms still empty, she said, as if speaking to a child. Now go wash your hands!
That evening he stopped by the barbershop, collected a few clothes, and his mother ironed everything as if for a special occasion. Later that night his father arrived from the plant. The three of them gathered around the kitchen table, talking until the small house was quiet.
Andrew lay down in his childhood bedroom, the walls still echoing with memories. He stared at the ceiling and thought, Tomorrow I have to go to the clinic, then work, then He drifted off with those thoughts lingering far past midnight.
***
The next morning he walked into the community clinic, wandering the corridors before his shift began. After lunch he returned to the plant for his night shifthis schedule was back on track.
That evening, as he packed his bag, his father asked, Where are you off to?
Dad, remember when I was in Year4? You made me that pendant for a classmate?
Yes, for that notsopretty Verity Erford, David laughed.
You said, Youll maybe fall in love with her. I still remember that.
My dear boy, Veritys a surgeon now. She performed my operation.
She still wears that pendant, Andrew said, a grin spreading.
Looks like your words finally came true.
Im going to see her.
Twentyseven yearsjust enough time to start a life with the person youve loved since childhood.
