The Night Shift

After spending time in Edinburgh, I thought about what to do next. I wasn’t ready to go home. Something wasn’t right; I couldn’t place my finger on it, but Chris still hadn’t answered my texts from NYE. Or calls. Idk what’s going on with him, but I decided to not let it interfere with my holiday. Europe in January isn’t very crowded so I’ve decided to take advantage of it.

I spent a text to my friend Emilee who lives in Chamonix to let her know I was heading to France. She decided to meet me in Paris and also invited me back to her apartment with promises of teaching me how to ski. If I didn’t know how to ski at 29, I doubt I would ever learn, Do they even have a beginner’s slope in the Alps? These are all thing that went through my mind as I packed up from Edinburg and headed for the train station. I opted to take the train all the way from Edinburgh to Paris just to experience the engineering marvel of the Chunnel. Sure flying might be quicker, but it would be a flight to London then a separate flight to Paris. This was it’s just a train ride to Kings Cross Station and then straight into downtown Paris and hopefully  a short walk to my hotel.

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I dropped my bag off and headed into the city. The thing about Paris in January is it gets dark really early, Not as early as Edinburgh, but still, much earlier than at home. And Paris, in the lights, is beautiful.

The Eiffel Tower sparkled against the crisp January sky as I strolled down the Champs-Élysées, my heart pounding with excitement. I was finally in Paris. A place I’d wanted to visit for at least half of my life. Jeremy had promised my Ischia, and Justin had promised the Caribbean [and Canada].

Emilee wouldn’t be here until Monday leaving me three whole days to explore the city by myself.  On the first night I treated myself to a dinner of beef burgunday and pinot noir. And it was delicious.  I savored the relaxed pace of dinner–much different from the frenzied pace of hospital meals. I though a lot about Chris. What if we broke up? How would that feel? The drugs were getting out of hand. I’ve always heard physicians and cocaine go together like peanut butter and jelly. I know I don’t want to be that type of physician. I don’t know exactly what kind of physician I DO want to be though. I adore working with kids, but I also like the adrenaline rush of emergency and transport medicine. But I also love the more relaxed pace in Europe. Maybe I can get paid to travel and do medicine on the side? Is that even a thing?

After dinner I found a crepe stand and ordered a biscoff crepe and a cup of thick hot chocolate. Both were delicious. The more I walked around Paris the less I thought about Chris.

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The next day my first stop was the Louvre, where I marveled at the Mona Lisa and Venus de Milo. The museum’s grandeur and the sheer volume of masterpieces left me breathless. I’m not really into art, but I do love architecture and to me the building was just as impressive as the collections of art it contained. Afterward, I wandered through the charming streets of Montmartre, enjoying the bohemian atmosphere and the stunning views of the city from Sacré-Cœur Basilica. I indulged in delicious pastries at a cozy café, savoring the moment, and wishing I lived in an area that was walkable and had crepes and other pastries on every corner.

Next up was an adventure to the Palace of Versailles, a testament to the opulence of the French monarchy. I strolled through the Hall of Mirrors, imagining the lavish balls and royal ceremonies that once took place within its walls. I also flashed back to the French Revolution and the ‘Let them eat cake’ and “off with their heads’ part of French history.

I may be al science-y now, but my first love will always be history and foreign language. I’ve been pretty impressed with how quickly my command of French has returned. I’m certainly no native speaker but I did study French, Spanish, and German in university, and I think it has been one of my better life decisions.

Monday was another cold January day. The city was dressed in gray and its streets slick with frost. I almost decided to stay in bed and under the covers. But I could do that at home, and I’m in Paris. So exploring I go.

Paris is a big city that often feels like a small town and no more so that when I bumped into Emilee outside of a cafe whilst wandering along the Seine. I couldn’t believe that we just bumped into each other.

“Emilee!!!! Salut! I can’t believe I just bumped into you”

“ELizaMareeeeee! It’s been so long” I always loved how she pronounced the Marie in French–Mareeeee

” I was looking for a place that serves proper hot chocolate. You know the thick, rich decadently delicious kind.”

“I know just the place.”

Emilee grabbed my mittened hand and  pulled me in the direction of the promised decadent hot chocolate our scarves trailing behind as the wind picked up.

Over steaming cups of thick, rich chocolate, we caught up and exchanged stories—of  life since we met in Buenos Aires seven years go. I talked about medicine. And Chris. And Emilee talked about living in the Alps. And Laurent.

I took off my mittens and Emilee looked at the sapphire ring on my 4th finger. “Are you and this Chris serious? Like marriage serious?”

“I don’t know. I used to think we were, but things have been really strange lately. I tried to talk to him about it and he blew up and me–well I just mentally said ‘fuck you’ and here I am. In Paris. Alone.”

Emilee nodded, sympathetic. “Sorry to hear that. Relationships can be so complicated. I’ve been with someone for a while, but we’ve hit a bit of a rough patch lately too.”

“Oh? What’s going on?” I asked her, somewhat eager to hear someone else’s train wreck instead of just my own.

Emilee hesitated a bit before responding, her fingers tracing the rim of her mug. “It’s just… I found out Laurent has been seeing someone else. A man. It was a bit of a shock, to be honest. I didn’t expect that from him.”

My expression softened. “I can only imagine. That must have been hard.”

“It was,” Emilee agreed. “But I’m trying to figure out what to do next. Part of me is angry, but part of me also kind of understands. People surprise you sometimes. And maybe… maybe he’s been figuring things out too.”

“I get that,” I said quietly. “Chris never really told that he wanted to end things. He just disappeared. We’d had problems, sure, but I never saw it coming. Even now, the text I sent him on NYE still says ‘delivered’ not ‘read’.”

Emilee sighed, staring out the window at the gray sky. “It’s strange, isn’t it? How people can love you, but in the end, maybe they’re not meant to be with you the way you thought.”

“I don’t know,” I mused. “I think it’s more about the way we love ourselves. Maybe that’s what we are all still trying to figure out.”

We sat in silence for a few moments, each lost in our own thoughts, Paris humming around us.

Emilee smiled softly, her eyes reflecting the cool, distant light of Paris in winter. “I think it’s possible that you can be in love with multiple people at the same time. I think it’s more important to be honest about it though. To be clear, even when it’s hard. People can surprise you, but they can also disappoint you. And sometimes, that’s the hardest thing to deal with.”

“It’s the not knowing that gets to me. That’s the hardest part. But I guess, maybe… maybe you have to be honest with yourself too. About what you really want. And I’m not sure what I want. I love Chris, but it’s also comfortable to a degree.”

Emilee reached across the table, her hand brushing against mine. It was a simple, fleeting touch, but it sent a shiver through me. Emilee’s hand was warm against mine, grounding me in a way that felt both unexpected and comforting.

“You deserve more than that,” Emilee said, her voice low and steady. “We both do.”

She looked into my eyes, and for a moment, the noise of the world around them faded away. There something there, something soft and understanding, a connection that felt both unfamiliar and strangely comforting.

“I don’t even know what I want anymore,” I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper. “I mean, I thought I knew with Chris, but now… now I’m just lost.”

“You’ll figure it out,” Emilee said gently. “You’ve got time. And so do I. Sometimes we just need to let go and let ourselves be free.”

I  nodded, but something had shifted.  The air between us felt thick now, charged in a way I didn’t know how to process. As the afternoon faded into evening, we left the café and walked along the Seine, the city’s lights beginning to twinkle in the distance, casting a golden glow over the river. The streets were darker, quieter, and the air was colder. The sound of our footsteps echoing against the stone walls was the only sound I heard. We talked about art, and travel, and the men who had disappointed us.

By the time we reached the Pont Neuf, the cold air no longer seemed so biting, and our laughter filled the space between them like warmth. As we stood together, looking at the shimmering lights of the city, Emilee turned to me and said, “You know, I think we’ll be okay. Both of us.”

I smiled back at her, “Yeah. I think we will.”

As the evening settled into night, the city of Paris, with its hidden secrets and its promise of new beginnings, held us in its quiet, eternal embrace.

Emilee took a step closer to me, her presence suddenly overwhelming in a way that sent a flutter of nerves through me. “I think we needed to let go. Of everything. Of the past, of our exes… and maybe, of each other.” My breath caught in my throat. For a moment, neither of us spoke. The city felt silent, the lights of Paris dimming around us, leaving only the two of us in the dark.

And then, before I could say anything, Emilee closed the gap between us, her hands gently cupping mt face. There was a moment — just a breath — where everything paused.  The kiss was tentative at first, hesitant, but then it deepened, as if both of us were saying what we hadn’t been able to say in words. It was electric, a spark igniting between them, and suddenly, I wasn’t thinking about Chris or Justin, or my past at all. It was just Paris, just us.

When we finally pulled apart, we both laughed softly, breathless.

“Well, I didn’t see that coming,” I whispered.

Emilee’s eyes sparkled, her smile playful but full of meaning. “Neither did I. But sometimes Paris has a way of surprising you.”

I laughed, the sound light and free. “I think this is exactly what I needed.”

And with that, we continued our walk along the Seine, the city of light and love stretching out before them, full of endless possibilities. The past, the heartbreak– it all felt like it was behind them now. In this city, with the soft glow of the lights around them, anything felt possible.

I don’t think I even told Chris what I had intended to tell him. After yet another on-call night fueled with sex and cocaine, I began to think this might be a little too regular occurrence when Chris hit me with the ‘well, you should see what I do when you aren’t here.’ and to be honest, I don’t know if I want to know what Chris does when I’m away.. While, I’m never one to deliver ultimatums, I did this time “stop the drugs or stop me”. Chris said all the right things about how he was going to quit. Where I was merely *enjoying* the drugs, he crossed over into dependence and addiction. And I couldn’t get my medical license revoked before I got one.

I had intended to tell Chris that I was going to Europe before I started classes. I needed a medical break before essentially giving my next 7 years of life over to medicine,  but we fought, and I left, and I never told Chris that I was headed to Scotland.

New Year’s Eve in Edinburgh

The conversation with Chris did not go as planned.

Perhaps neither of us were in the right frame of mind for such. After all, we were in a phase. Kinda hard to describe phase, but suffice to say all the partying I didn’t do as a rebellious teenager, Chris and I were doing now. Drug fueled debauchery and then it’s off to save the tiny humans. Even I can’t suspend disbelief long enough to believe that this is now my life.

Call rooms aren’t just for sleeping. Or adrenaline fueled sex. The amount of coke I’ve consumed in the call room isn’t none. And my own twisted thoughts say –well, if you’re going to overdose on drugs, at least you’re in a hospital. It’s far more comfortable than the street. If that’s not mental, then what is?

AND it was one of those days where I [probably we, but definitely I] had had too much cocaine, too much adrenaline fueled sex, and not enough vodka when I told Chris that I was accepted to medical school and I had accepted my acceptance.

“Why are you telling me this now? How long have you known? When did you even apply? Fuck, Liza…I don’t even know you any more”

“Whose fault is that? You are the one who has been missing in action while hiding in plain sight since your sister died. And I get it, you two were close. She was part of you and now that’s gone. I don’t know how else to help you grieve. And I’m almost positive that you’re doing a lot more of this than you let on.”

“You haven no idea. You have no one. Not a sibling and especially not a twin. You can’t imagine. And fuck you. I still go to work and take care of patients so who the fuck cares what I do in my off time.”

“But you’re not exactly off when we’re getting high in the call room bathroom. And then fucking for hours. And I can’t exactly reach you when you’re off. And you know what, I don’t do any of this when I’m back home. Only when I’m with you. So maybe that’s the answer. I can’t help you. You can’t help yourself. So when you evidently overdose, I hope it’s where someone finds you in time, because I am done. With all of this.”

My head was swirling with rage. And adrenaline; And too much cocaine. It didn’t help that the hospital hallway lights were motion-detected,, and that every step caused another light to turn on. Then off.. Then on again. My only saving grace is that the call room is near medical offices and medical offices are generally deserted at 1am so no one saw me leave.

“Liza, wait.” Chris followed me to the parking lot.

“What the fuck do you want? I came here to share my good news, and not only did you try to rain on my parade, you tried to cancel it all together.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do”

“You need to get yourself together. Or you’re going to lose a lot more than me. I can’t be around this. Or you when you’re like this. Call me when you figure things out.”

I got into my car and pulled away. In the distance I could see the purple electrical storm dimly lighting up the dark night sky.

”

I woke up, choking for air, strangling even. When I opened my eyes, all I she saw were the pale, green stars on the ceiling and walls. It reminded my of my childhood bedroom. Where am I? I thought. Certainly not in my childhood bedroom I answered myself.

I looked around, my eyes trying to focus, but the blinding headache prevented any kind of focus. Everything looked hazy–like my eyes had a film over them. I briefly wondered if it was worth it to get out of bed and look for ibuprofen. I decided it was. And also water. My throat felt as if I hadn’t had any water in years.

Naked, I  climbed out of bed and went towards the bathroom. Where was I? Everything looked vaguely familiar, yet not. I shielded my eyes from the morning sun daring to enter through a gap in the curtains. Where the fuck was I? And what the fuck happened that I can’t remember anything.

There was a lump in the bed. Oh, there’s someone else here too. Maybe they know what happened.

I made my way to the bathroom. I was definitely not in. my house. There was no ibuprofen where there should be ibuprofen. But I did find a bottle of oxycodone. HMMM, I’ve never taken oxy before, I thought to myself. Maybe it will help, I thought. I struggled with the orange prescription vial but managed to open the child-resistant top after a momentary struggle.

Still naked, I made my way to the kitchen. I swallowed the pill and chased it with a mouthful of wine from a bottle that I don’t remember having last night. What the actual fuck happened last night? I thought again. I looked around the kitchen and it was a mess. 6 empty wine bottles lay strewn around. An empty bottle of vodka lay sideways, mocking me, or at least I thought it was. There was a small bowl of pills, another small bowl of herbs, and some powdery residue in various places in the kitchen. For the umpteenth time, I wondered what the actual fuck happened last night. Oh, and where was I?

Suddenly conscious that I was still naked, I made my way back to the bedroom, looking for clues in each direction. My clothes were everywhere–down the hall, in the bed, on the floor. I gathered them up and attempted to put myself together. I remembered that my throat was still parched. After putting on clothes, I went back to the kitchen and filled up a somewhat dirty but the cleanest cup I could find with water.

Twenty minutes later, the warm, lightheaded feeling with a twinge of nausea arrived. The narcotic wave.

I pulled the covers back and discovered Chris was the naked figure in the bed, Well, I guess that’s good, I thought to myself. At least if I’m going to drown in debauchery, it’s with my boyfriend. I walked back through the house trying to figure out where I was. Through process of elimination I realized I wasn’t in my apartment or Chris’s house. I still had no idea where I was or how I got there.

I tapped Chris on the shoulder and he grumbled “oh my fucking god, what!”

“Chris, where are we? What happened last night?”

“You don’t remember? Oh my god, you were amazing”

I stopped asking questions as I’m not sure I wanted to know anymore. I could piece together that there was sex involved. And drugs. And alcohol. I don’t even think I want to know anything more.

I focused on the pale green stars, the kind that would glow in the dark if it were dark.

“Chris, I was accepted to medical school, and I’ve decided that I’m going to do it”