Impuls

– You like water," Emily says, barely audible, just to say something.

– Yes," Clark nods unexpectedly. – It's calming and thought-provoking. It was Harmon who taught me how to hear the water, disco

– Do you know him well? – Emily's getting close. – Dr. Harmon.

Clark puts his hand forward and makes a wiggling motion with his palm:

– Well, that's it. I wish I could do better, of course, but he doesn't have time for all that. Too many women in his life," she hums.

– I like him," Emily smiles. – The only one who supported me when I got back.

– Oh, my God," Clark slams his pockets and pulls out a pack of cigarettes, "you still had to be supported? Are you sure you're not mistaken for a profession?

The nurse snorts resentfully.

– James wasn't always like this," Clark continues, clutching the cigarette in his teeth. – Damn, where did I put it…

– I have a lighter. – Emily pulls an orange plastic rectangle out of the bottom of her backpack. – Here you go. I always carry it with me in case it comes in handy.

– Oh my god! – Clark clicks the wheel. – It's the best thing in your backpack. Can I borrow it?

– If you tell me about Harmon. – Emily gives the neurosurgeon a sly look.

– I'm not the perso

– You know more than they do, I'm sure of it! – Emilie implores, setting her backpack on her sneakers and swaying slightly. – Besides, you need a lighter too badly not to take me up on my offer!

– Okay, okay," Clark surrenders. – Just don't tell Harmon I sold him out for cigarettes, he won't get over it. – She takes a deep puff. – And honestly, I don't know what you want to hear. We used to live on the same floor: me and Charlie and James and his parents. I didn't talk to him much, even though we went to the same place – only Harmon, even though he's older than me, got in much later. He used to be a paramedic, but then he decided to train as an anesthesiologist and resuscitator. He and Charlie had been friends-he'd told me, in fact, that James's father had gone crazy, but it had passed me by, to tell you the truth. But I know James wasn't like that. He was…" Clark just let out a puff of smoke now. "He was kind, open, honest, helpful. He often drove my brother and me to school – he had an old pickup truck that he still drives. And then one day," another puff, "they just disappeared. His whole family. You know, Johnson, people don't just disappear, and so here – Charlie raised the alarm, caused a panic, and eventually they found Harmon – well, found him, almost out of a noose. Turns out they'd gone out of town, to the lake, as a family. They made a fire, and the father was overwhelmed – he took a burning stick and shoved it in his son's face. And while he was trying to put out the flames, he set his mother on fire. The mother wasn't saved, the father was locked up in the hospital, and Harmon almost went crazy himself after that. I know Charlie had just started practice, and James was his first patient. They'd spend 24 hours together, and then somehow, just like that. – and then somehow, just like that, things got better. – Clark shakes off the ashes. – Then I lost him again and met him in the hospital – he was an intern, and then he climbed up to resident very quickly. When he finishes his residency, he will join us as an intensive care specialist.

– Yeah," Emily exhales. – Charlie is a hero. Saves lives, fixes lives. Like an angel.

Clark twitches so hard that the cigarette falls out of her hands into the water.

– Yeah," she says, huffily. – Like an angel.

And then she turns around, leaning her back against the parapet:

– You know, Johnson, Charlie was right: to you, a doctor is a robe and a car; an angel is a life-saver and a fixer of fortunes. Strange notions you have, Johnson, broken and twisted. Success is not the mark of a professional.

Emily loses count of how many times today her cheeks have burned with shame.

– I… I just…

Clark pulls out another cigarette.

– I just always thought that if you did a good job, you got a lot of money," Emily explains on an exhale. – But when I met you, I realized that I wasn't… I mean… I mean, I was wrong. I just kept…

– Dramatizing," Clark helpfully suggests.

– Yeah, I guess so. – Emily shifts from foot to foot. – You know, it's just so hard to walk," she admits. – It's only been two days since I've been back, and it makes me want to break in half. It feels like I'll never get anywhere," she adds in a whisper.

– Drama again," Clark croaks. – You don't get anywhere by standing still. And you're stuck in your snotty, self-pitying self again. How do you even do that? I guess it's hard as hell to lie on the couch, hoping the world will understand you. The world, Johnson, will never understand anybody. It can't understand at all.

– Don't tell me you've never felt sorry for yourself," Emily mutters.

– Do you think I've ever had time for that? – Clark grins sadly. – There was a brother standing behind me the whole time that I had to have my back.

– Did you have your brother's back in the office yesterday, too?

Emily realizes too late what a silly thing she just said, the words crumbling like broken glass at her feet.

– Oh, Johnson, your nobility is as deceitful as you are. – Clark is covered in ice in a second. – In fact, it's the only thing I've ever…

Before she can finish, Emily covers her mouth with her palm, pressing her hand down as hard as she can, getting ready to grab onto Clark at any moment.

Just to hold her.

Not let her get away.

And the water beneath the bridges is black over blue, and the sky seems colder than before; and it becomes so scary that another second and the moment will be lost, another done-said foolishness will break everything.

A wave of frost runs down my back, leaving chunks of ice on my skin, growing into my spine.

Emily looks into Clark's eyes – gold and platinum – and shakes her head, silently whispering incoherent ramblings with her lips alone, turned into one continuous "ne'er-do-well."

She's scared – and that fear is coursing through her veins, making her heart pound so loudly that it can probably be heard from hundreds of miles away, standing under the bridge, hidden from prying eyes.

Clark was warm, almost hot; Emily had forgotten that she'd looked sick this morning, and now she was standing in the wind, though hidden from the icy gusts, in her bloody long coat, which didn't look reliable at all.