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  “St. Croix Medical School,” I answered, looking timidly down at my hands.

  “What a coincidence! I’m heading there, too. I’m a first year medical-resident,” he exclaimed.

  I looked up and smiled in response. He was making me nervous, and I felt completely inadequate, trying to carry on a casual conversation with this charming man. My lack of response discouraged him, causing him to pull out a magazine to eliminate the awkward silence between us. Why was I created so differently from everyone else?

  * * * * * * * *

  I didn’t grow up like some of my friends, complete with both parents and money. My childhood wasn’t filled with happiness and laughter. My mom struggled to provide a roof over our heads and food to feed us as well as trying to maintain her sanity. We didn’t have certain necessities like medical insurance and had to visit a local free health clinic whenever we were sick. Thank god for them because my mother would’ve never been able to afford all the medications she needed for her diabetes. She was diagnosed in her mid-thirties by a compassionate, retired doctor, volunteering at one of the clinics. His kindness and generosity towards his patients like my mother was what inspired me to become a physician.

  My mother made many sacrifices for me to be where I’m at today, juggling between two jobs and going to school. She never spent a dime on herself and saved everything she made because she wanted to help me pay for college. I understood this, and pushed myself really hard through school, academics first and play last. I made sure her sacrifices weren’t made in vain, so I immersed myself in books rather than boys and parties. I was only popular when students needed answers for their homework, but I didn’t let it bother me. It made me feel smartly wanted if that’s even a real attribute.

  Fortunately for this bookworm, I had Emma and Isabella. Our friendship sprouted in first grade where we were all new to the school. Emma moved from Oklahoma and Isabella came to live with her mother and step-father after her parents divorced. I was transferred from another school into a gifted program. We didn’t live in the same neighborhood because Emi and Belle lived in beautiful homes, while I lived in a small one bedroom apartment with my mom. Their parents were always kind to me and my mother. They took turns keeping me at their homes while my mother took evening classes or worked. Thanks to their unconditional friendship and support, my mother earned a bachelor’s degree in nursing.

  Emi and Belle made sure they sprinkled bits of fun here and there into my life, so I wouldn’t be completely isolated in my academic bubble. They kept me youthful and were mainly responsible for my much improved appearance as I went through my awkward teenage years. I was forced to accept their hand-me-downs since I was and still am a complete failure with fashion and makeup.

  As I traced my fingers across my eyebrow, I felt tenderness there. Emi held me down while Belle plucked my unruly eyebrows last night. They tortured me by tweezing each hair one at a time until they were satisfied with the arch of my brow, whatever that meant. My eyes watered with each strategic pluck. I whined ‘ouch’ the entire time. Their laughter still lingered with me. “Lil, you have two perfect brows instead of one now,” they both chuckled.

  Being an only child was very lonely. I thanked God every day for giving me those two amazing girls who were practically like sisters to me. The primping from last night reminded me of my high school prom, in which they both had a major role as well. My mother understood why I was so hard on myself, and why I replaced my carefree childhood with academic pressures. She didn’t want to see me missed out on any more things, so she forced me to go to prom.

  * * * * * * * *

  I asked my biology lab partner, Hayden Carter. He was the geeky, nerdy kid that everyone ignored, but me. Hayden and I go way back to kindergarten. I was like a protective sister to him, always shielding him from the mean, popular kids. I felt comfortable around him. Hayden had light brown hair, clear blue eyes, no muscle tone, and was scrawny and tall. He was a bookworm like me and was by no means hot. But what he lacked in looks and confidence, he made up for with intelligence, sweetness, and consideration.

  Hayden’s father gave him his Audi SUV to drive me to prom. After my mother welcomed him in, he was on pins and needles, waiting for me. His eyes widened with excitement when he saw me walk into the living room. By his enthralled expression, I assumed he was impressed with my girlie transformation. His admiring, blue eyes never left me. Belle had done an incredible job with my makeover. My thick brown waves were loosely pinned up and my makeup was flawless. I could hardly recognize myself in the mirror. My mom worked countless hours on my one-of-a-kind prom dress. Emi had picked the design out of a bridal catalog, and my mom modified it to fit my personality. It was a one shoulder floor length dress made of shimmery pink material with hand sewn embellished crystals and sequins.

  Hayden timidly slid an ivory colored cymbidium orchid corsage around my wrist, while his eyes remained locked on my face. “Wow, Lil, you’re really beautiful. I’ve…never…seen you look this pretty. Oh shit, I didn’t mean to say that. It’s just…I’ve never seen you with makeup and your hair styled before,” he nervously stumbled over his words.

  “Thanks, Hayden, you look quite dashing in your tux, too.” I gave him a reassuring smile. My mother picked up her camera to interrupt Hayden’s awkward moment and snapped at least a hundred pictures of us.

  “You kids better get going or you’ll be late for your prom.” She rushed us out the door to start our fun evening. I’ve never seen my mom smile so proudly.

  “Okay, don’t wait up for me,” I teasingly told my mother. She playfully shook her head at me and shooed me out the door.

  After about an hour, Hayden and I both agreed that prom was over-rated and ditched it. He drove me to an old, abandoned, drive-in movie parking lot instead. We sat quietly in the front seat for a while before he gathered enough courage to ask me if he could kiss me. I’ve never kissed anyone besides my mother on her cheek and was always secretly curious about it. I shyly nodded my head. He leaned into my lips and clumsily crashed his mouth into mine. It didn’t feel tingly like they make it seem in the movies. When he poked his tongue into my mouth, I wanted to pull away. Ew, it felt slimy and gross. I couldn’t believe people enjoyed this.

  We unsuccessfully made out to almost third base in the backseat of his father’s SUV. He laid on top of me and ground his pelvis against mine. We both were completely inexperienced and didn’t exactly know what to do. It wasn’t enjoyable for me at all. As soon as he exposed my breasts and cupped his hands around them, he came prematurely inside his tuxedo pants. We never made it to home base, thank god. It wasn’t often, but when I did picture my first time, it was usually with Mr. Happy Ending from one of my favorite romance movies.

  Hayden was horribly embarrassed and apologized repeatedly. I felt so awful for him and did my best to console his tattered emotions. We spent the rest of the evening gazing into an enormous bright moon on the hood of his SUV and shared our future plans post-graduation. It was actually nice to casually hang out with a guy friend. He drove me home around midnight. Right before I stepped out of his SUV, he apologized for the one hundred and fifty sixth time. I gave him a friendly peck on the cheek and thanked him for a fun evening. It was my first and last kiss with a boy.

  ____________________

  My emotions and thoughts were scattered every which way today, thinking about my friends, mom and then prom. I was a sentimental mess. This move away from home was tougher than I anticipated. My goal was flawed because I had failed to include the people closest to me in it. Now, they’re thousands of miles away from me, and I was sadly alone.

  As I shifted uneasily back and forth in my seat, questioning the choices I had made, I sensed the discreet pressure of eyes weighing on me. Richard’s subtle glances were making me uncomfortable. I had a strong urge to pull my sweatshirt hood over my head and hide. This was my downfall. I have a one-track mind with a single goal that doesn’t involve boyfriends or complicated relationships.
I’ve learned to live without them. I’m not saying that I’m completely unaffected by good-looking men like Richard. His features are definitely desirable. He’s lean with thick, wavy blond hair, and the deepest sapphire-blue eyes. His face is lightly dusted with facial hair, along his jawline and around his proportional smooth lips. His sexy smile could stimulate a heart attack at first sight. He made me tingle inside just like everyone else. The difference is I don’t allow myself to act on them.

  Richard attempted to lessen the awkwardness between us with a casual conversation. I courteously listened to him as he elaborated on where he’s from and how he became interested in medicine. He supposedly grew up in Manhattan, but went to a private boarding school in Essex, England for most of his childhood. This explained why he had a hint of Brit when he spoke. The accent was an added bonus to his hotness, especially for me because I’m fond of foreign accents. He had two younger siblings who were at the same private school in Essex. His father was chief director of cardiovascular surgery at Debakery’s Heart Healing Center, and his mother was an OBGYN who volunteered much of her time at a free health clinic.

  His resume for eligible bachelor was perfect, and yet, I had only the tiniest inkling of attraction for this perfect man. My fear of derailing from my goal kept me devotedly on my path. I couldn’t allow myself to forget why I was there. As soon as Richard completed his condensed autobiography, he anxiously waited for me to reciprocate, but all I offered him was, “I’m also a first year medical-resident like you, and I’m from Indiana.” I saw defeat in his saddened blue eyes, but contributed nothing else to remedy it. I excused myself, turned my body to face the window and shut my tired, bloodshot eyes.

  Carson Bradley

  (Present)

  Owen is punctual as always. He texts my phone five minutes till nine to let me know that he’s downstairs, waiting in the limo. I loosen my necktie, grab my jacket off the leather sofa, swing it over my right arm, and finish off the rest of my scotch. I feel my phone vibrate again, and it’s a text message from Bianca.

  Looking forward to fucking my husband tomorrow night. It’ll be hot, baby! <3 Mrs. Bradley

  I cringe at the words husband and Mrs. Bradley. I had our prenuptial papers drawn up several months ago and remembered feeling nauseated after seeing those words then. I immediately delete the message and tuck my phone back into my pocket. I swear time always seem to move faster whenever I need it to stall or slow down. I’m just not ready to marry this woman. I slide into the limo and see Owen tapping on his iPad screen, he’s always busy working. “Good evening, Mr. Bradley,” he looks up and greets me.

  “Hello Owen, how are you?” I slur my words out. I must’ve drunk more than I realize.

  “Captain Franco is anxious to take off as soon as we can because the storm is slowly approaching our fly zone. He wants to avoid it as much as possible,” Owen advises me.

  “We’ll be fine,” I snip. I drop my dizzy head back on the leather headrest, close my eyes to balance my equilibrium and fall fast asleep.

  Violent turbulence snaps me out of my drunken sleep while forceful wind rattles the jet and everything inside it. I’ve passed through many storms before, but nothing this fierce. Panic overtakes me, and I start to believe this could be it for me. Owen calmly looks in my direction without any sign of fear in his eyes. “Captain Franco will get us through this,” he reassures me. I have every confidence in the Captain’s skills, but we’re dealing with Mother Nature’s wrath here, not a little rain storm. God, why did I drink so much? I want to hurl my guts out right about now.

  “Hang on tight and keep your seatbelts on! We’ll be making an emergency landing on water!” Captain Franco yells over the intercom.

  Fuck, this is it. We’ll either crash and die immediately or miraculously land and drown in deadly surging water. My life is in God’s hands, and it doesn’t look favorable for me.

  Lillian Ly

  (Six months prior to the Present)

  The pilot’s muffled voice announced, “We’ll be at the Henry E. Rholsen Airport in approximately twenty minutes. Attendants prepare for landing.” I couldn’t believe I was finally here after years of hoping and praying. It was now a reality for me.

  Saint Croix boasts many beautiful resorts with acres of breath-taking beaches and all the amenities of every vacationer’s dreams. Unfortunately for me, I won’t be one of those lucky vacationers soaking up the warm Caribbean sun and enjoying all the fine five-star dining. Instead, I’ll be studying and laboring many long hours at the local hospitals.

  I fought to pull out my heavy backpack from the overhead compartment. Richard saw me struggling, so he considerately offered me a hand and lowered it down effortlessly. He gestured for me to exit first. I smiled and slid in front of him. While we made our way for the exit, he insisted that I ride with him to the dorm. “Let me give you a lift. It’s not safe for a pretty, young lady to use local bus transportation in a foreign city. I have a car waiting for me.”

  “Are you sure? It’s very nice of you to offer since we hardly know each other,” I replied with relief. I was almost positive I’d be fine riding the local bus, but why chance it? It would be nice not to have to drag a suitcase on and off a bus.

  “It’s no big deal. We’re both heading to the same place, and besides, I’ll enjoy having some company for the long drive,” he reassured and smiled. Wow, it’s hard not to notice how adorable his smile is.

  The minute we stepped outside the confines of the cool aircraft, the heat and humidity unexpectedly assaulted my body. Sweat droplets steadily formed and increased in number as I wiped them off with my sleeves. I quickly peeled away my sweatshirt, hoping it might lower my body temperature, but it’s pointless. This heat was nothing like I’ve experienced back home. It’d take some adjusting to embrace this new tropical climate.

  We single filed through the agonizing customs line with our paperwork and passports. I looked around and saw tons of eager vacationers in their flip flops and shorts ready to take in this tropical paradise. The heat was unbearable, making the wait seem so much longer. After half an hour or more, we both made it through the St. Croix entrance and security. Richard and I gathered our luggage and trudged outside.

  “There he is,” Richard pointed out. I see a man dressed in a dark navy suit with ‘Stevens’ written on a sign. Richard waved his hand for the man to acknowledge us. Thank god he spotted him quickly. We gladly made our way towards his driver as I continued to dab new perspiration off my forehead; my crimson and white Indiana University sweatshirt now served a different purpose. Richard considerately offered to take my backpack and suitcase for me, but I declined. I’m very independent and not too keen on being catered to.

  “Hello, Mr. Stevens. Welcome to St. Croix. I’m Benton,” he politely greeted Richard and offered him a welcoming handshake.

  “Thank you for your promptness, Benton,” Richard replied and then gestured to our belongings. Our larger suitcases were taken to another vehicle by his helper while Benton guided us to a gleaming, silver BMW Z5 and bestowed Richard a key fob for his new ride. The sight of his expensive sports car altered my mood instantly. I blamed greed and money for my mom’s unhappiness and indirectly mine. I also hated the way some of the wealthy kids acted at my school. They snubbed people like me who didn’t have much money and excluded me from their cliques.

  “All is handled by your parents. Enjoy this fabulous car, Mr. Stevens.”

  “Thank you, Benton,” Richard replied and then sauntered around to the passenger side to open and close the door for me. What a considerate gentleman, I noted. He started the engine, and I welcomed the refreshing cool air as it blew life back into my body. “Seatbelts,” he reminded me and activated the GPS with his deep, sexy, British-accented voice. We would be there in about fifty-five minutes according to the navigation calculation.

  Richard’s eyes remained cautiously focused on the dangerously winding road, and would occasionally sneak a glance here and there over at me. I
pretended not to notice. I wasn’t sure how I felt about him yet. He seemed genuinely nice and respectful. And why would it matter how you feel about him? I asked myself. I was just bumming a ride from him and then we’d part our ways when we reached our destination.

  I decided to focus my attention outside to the scenic views of aqua blue water and pristine, white sandy beaches instead. As I looked out further into the distant horizon, I saw beautiful yachts and several cruise ships. The land was painted with lush tropical green plants full of vibrant pink and red floral blooms. I lowered the window on my side for a brief minute to inhale the scent of sea water. It smelled better than I imagined, so raw and organic. This kind of luxury was novel to me. I came from a modest family that had no opportunities for vacations to beautiful paradises like this.

  The breathtaking ocean views gradually washed away as we drove deeper into an impoverished and underprivileged part of the island. Dry desert and cactus plants replaced lush vegetation land. I was stunned. The homes were plain, and the people were modestly dressed. I saw children running around in the streets in tattered sandals with farm animals. They seemed content, even with so little. People migrated to our car with handmade trinkets and fruits, pleading for us to buy from them as soon as Richard stopped the car. I felt even more humble and blessed to have what I have after witnessing this. Richard bought a handful of dainty bracelets with shiny pink stones from many of the street vendors and gave several small bills to the surrounding children. I had misjudged him altogether. He’s generous and tenderhearted, not typical of his kind. I stowed my tough outer shell and shared a vulnerable side of me with him. “When I was younger, I met a very compassionate doctor who took care of my mother at a free health clinic. His generosity inspired me to want to become a doctor. He and I both believe that everyone deserves to be healthy whether they can afford it or not,” I disclosed to Richard while staring at the sweet little faces gathered around us.