It came down in one swift motion and left us all speechless. She had drawn patients at different points on the wall with the background of a park, the older ones in wheel chairs and another with a cane resting on a park bench, teenagers listening to music, parents holding their children, all of them coming from the far distance. At the corner of it all, from top to bottom, was the Hippocratic Oath, which explained why she had needed my textbook. My mother, myself, and the rest of us could not help but read again:
“I swear to fulfill, to the best of my ability and judgment, this covenant: I will apply, for the benefit of the sick, all measures which are required, avoiding those twin traps of overtreatment and therapeutic nihilism. I will remember that there is art to medicine as well as science, and that warmth, sympathy, and understanding may outweigh the surgeon's knife or the chemist's drug. I will not be ashamed to say "I know not," nor will I fail to call in my colleagues when the skills of another are needed for a patient's recovery. I will respect the privacy of my patients, for their problems are not disclosed to me that the world may know. Most especially must I tread with care in matters of life and death. If it is given me to save a life, all thanks. But it may also be within my power to take a life; this awesome responsibility must be faced with great humbleness and awareness of my own frailty. Above all, I must not play at God. I will remember that I do not treat a fever chart, a cancerous growth, but a sick human being, whose illness may affect the person's family and economic stability. My responsibility includes these related problems, if I am to care adequately for the sick. I will prevent disease whenever I can, for prevention is preferable to cure. I will remember that I remain a member of society, with special obligations to all my fellow human beings, those sound of mind and body as well as the infirm. If I do not violate this oath, may I enjoy life and art, respected while I live and remembered with affection thereafter. May I always act so as to preserve the finest traditions of my calling and may I long experience the joy of healing those who seek my help.”
“Thank you all for allowing me into your hospital, and thank you to the students and the NYU art department for your help; I couldn’t have done it without you,” she said to them as we all clapped.
My mother walked over, wrapping her arms around her. People called to her for photos and press work. The more her attention was divided, the more jealous I became, because they all had the chance to congratulate her and shake her hand before me. She was amazing and talented and beautiful, and I just wanted to hold her and tell her that.
“You aren’t thinking about walking through the crowd and kissing her, right?” Ian came over to me, pulling off his K-POP scrub cap.
“And if I was?” He looked back toward me like he was impressed, even leaning back.
“Welcome back, Dr. Davenport. I wasn’t expecting you to return from the dark side for another few days. I guess all you needed was a GP boost.”
“A GP boost?”
“Don’t pretend like you don’t know whose initials those are. Now, if you will excuse me, I’m going to go take a selfie in front of the mural.” He smiled, walking past me.
“You're an idiot.”
“You love me anyway!” He put up a peace sign as he walked.
Shaking my head at him, I stayed in my spot. I would wait until the crowd was gone and the excitement went down, and then I would go to her. For the moment, I was more than happy to just watch her shine.
Guinevere
I felt like I had been smiling and getting blinded by flashes forever, but watching a few patients take photos in front of the mural made up for it all. I sat down, staring up at it, practically amazed with it myself. Not really the painting, but with the oath on it. I felt like whoever read it would really believe in the love affair between art and science. Both were in each other, really.
“Is this seat taken?”
Looking toward him, I shrugged. “My boyfriend might beat you up.”
He snickered. “Your boyfriend does deserve to have his ass handed to him for pushing you away, and for yelling at you in the rain. It’s only romantic if the kiss comes afterward, right?”
He was trying to joke, but I could tell he didn’t find it funny.
“I’m sorry, I was just upset about—”
“I know,” I finished for him. “At first I was confused and upset, then I heard, and the first thing I wanted to know was if you were okay…well, that’s a lie. I wanted to know if Toby was okay, though I knew he wouldn’t be. But I was worried about you, too.”
He laughed, taking my hand, holding it in his and kissing the back of it. “I’ll be fine. Toby, he’s in pain. Will be for the rest of his life. I just need to remember there will be more Mollys, and to try harder to help them in the future.”
“In the future, will you tell me more?” I asked softly. “I know I can’t understand everything, but I would hate if you felt the need to give me a censored version of what your day is really like. You’ve never talked about your work in detail to me before.”
“I’ll try, but the reason I don't say much is because when I’m with you, I like that I forget about everything else.”
“Then do you have time to run away with me?” It sounded so cheesy saying it like that. From the look on his face, I could see he agreed.