Next time…
“I’ll tell you next time,” he said.
Oh, the promise of a ‘next time’, a continuation of a conversation, the implication that he wants to have a conversation with me.
Probably should not read too much into it though, cos’ if I read him correctly, he’s this open with everyone. I mean, he even told M, whom previously he had limited contact with, that he was staying alone in Singapore. He has 888 friends on FB, last I checked.
But I like talking about him. Well, I’ve always liked talking about my crushes, but it seems like this is the first time my verbose, lengthy and extremely detailed stories are met with coos of admiration and positive endorsements by my friends.
He’s just really friendly and really nice, really decent and good-hearted. There’s such an aura of wholesomeness coming from him that I almost feel like I’ll corrupt him. Cos’ I’m not really the goody-two-shoes that people generally think I am.
Who knows. Maybe he isn’t either. And even if he is, just because he seems so nice, doesn’t mean he’ll be a good boyfriend or a good husband. But he’s a good guy. I think about my previous crushes and well, he’s different. I think about the doctors I’ve worked with in this clinic so far, and he’s different, too. Or maybe it just seems that way, cos’ our fragmented, brief conversations are not enough for me to get to know him that well.
Sometimes he seems kind of spaced out and distracted, but when he’s present he’s present.
I’d like to think that when he saw me today, he couldn’t help but want to share with me his horrible experience at another clinic. His patient was sitting right there, this old little ah ma with white hair. I’d wanted to wait until she left his room, but she must have been staring at me cos’ he turned suddenly (I was standing behind him, having come from the back of the room).
I actually wanted to leave already cos’ I was feeling bad for interrupting his consult. I always give priority to a consultation, and even when my staff are talking to patients cos’ I think they should get priority over me, unless it’s something really urgent. It’s not a rule per se but it’s a courtesy I extend as much as possible.
That’s why I was waiting - and anyway I get more time with him if the patient is gone and he hasn’t called the next one yet mah.
I think he actually wanted to tell me more…cos’ he went “Then hor - ” but my staff came in and put more patient files on his table, and he stopped and said, “Nevermind, I’ll tell you next time.”
Who says nice guys always finish last? Nice guys like him are a minty breath of fresh air where I work. He kind of touches something in my heart, the way he’s so earnest. I even feel a bit maternal, I admit. I think I would cook and clean for a guy as good as that. But cos’ it can’t be all one-sided. I just feel that he deserves to be happy.
I hope he is and will be happy. I hope he never changes wherever he goes, whomever he meets, whatever happens to him. Too many people change; become jaded. Including myself. It’s kind of a defense mechanism, I suppose. It takes a strong heart and strong character to choose to be kind and patient when you’re under ‘attack’ and under a lot of stress. Being kind and polite and patient is a choice, even for the most well-meaning, good-hearted people. Sometimes it’s just too much and you snap, despite all your well intentions.
I think that even if he were to pass out of my life uneventfully, I’ll remember this unusually chatty doctor who was born in Macau and different from the rest. Of course I hope he won’t, but well…sometimes we don’t get what we want, and it’s actually for the best.
