Wanna…?

On Mondays I skip lunch and after my hospital shift I stop at the local Chinese restaurant and get the buffet to go. I spend $8.00 including a large diet Coke, and get lots of chicken, shrimp and beef. In other words, for a dollar more than McDonald’s, I get a really good, nutritious meal.

It’s never crowded on Mondays, so I can get in and out quickly. It has become my routine, and the staff has come to expect my arrival. When I walk into the place, the pretty girl behind the register immediately recognizes me, and gives me a big smile. Over the months, her lovely smile has become a nice way to finish up my hectic Mondays.

“One a to goh?” she asks in stilted English. I nod, then go fill up my Styrofoam box with chicken on a stick, shrimp and some mysterious beef dish, and bring it back to the register. Then we perform a strange routine. I pay, she puts the box in a bag, sweeps back her long silky black hair with a porcelain hand, smiles, and invariably asks me, “Wanna fuck?”

The first time she said this I was totally surprised and amazed, and yes – kind of flattered, until she then held up a plastic fork and dropped it into the bag with another big grin. I had to smile back while thinking about the unintended, but delightful invitation she had extended. We have done this every Monday evening for almost a year, and yet she asks me every time.

Last Saturday afternoon I was doing my ER shift when a nurse asked me if I could suture a restaurant worker who had cut herself preparing food. I walked into the room and was surprised to see the same lovely girl from the Chinese restaurant, looking a little pale and anxious, with a hand wound that would require a few stitches. She looked puzzled when she saw me, like she recognized my face but couldn’t quite place me. The white lab coat does that to patients, makes me look different than when I’m in my civilian clothes of jeans and a button down shirt. I knew she couldn’t speak English but decided to introduce myself anyway.

“Hello, I’m Dr E___, let’s check out that cut.”

She answered in perfectly enunciated English with what seemed like a cultured British accent. “Thank you doctor, I just got a little careless helping out in the kitchen.”