1
The Note
Kaylin Lawrence foundthe note taped above her doorknob as she wrestled her keys off the clip in her messenger bag. She leaned her bicycle against the iron railings of her first-floor condo’s stoop and pulled the folded paper free. Despite knowing better, she stuck the note between her teeth to free up her hands and hoped her building’s super washed his before he wrote the note. Her super had stuck notes on her doors before—notice of temporary water shut-offs, a neighbor’s renovation project, or incoming noises of hammering and drywalling at all hours of the day. She carried her bike and bag through the door and dropped both in the foyer, took the note from her lips and tossed it on the counter. After taking a moment to wash her hands, she scratched her cat’s chin, and grabbed a can of Coke from the fridge. She’d tried switching to flavored seltzer water for a while, but old habits die hard, as do love handles. She had learned that after giving up on a 5 a.m. Zumba class to try and burn off the extra weight from late-night takeouts in medical school. The lack of extra sleep just wasn’t worth it, she thought. And there was no time to worry about what prospective boyfriends thought of her body, anyway. Who had time for boyfriends? Her job as a trauma surgeon in the ER kept her busy around the clock. Any day she managed to drag a comb through her thick, brown hair or sweep some mascara on her eyelashes in hopes of making her green eyes look less tired was a good day.
She popped the top of the can and sat at her counter, wondering if she should eat veggie or pepperoni pizza rolls for dinner, and if the weird stain on her scrubs from a patient’s seeping wound would wash out with color-safe bleach. She unfolded the note.
SOON, XOXO,it read. The penmanship was shaky, and the letters inked in alternating colors of black and red. It gave off a strong scent of cologne. The blonde model next door—Sabrina—had a parade of hot men in and out of her door, and one of her suiters probably misremembered which door was hers; they looked drunk most nights when she brought them home. Sometimes, Kaylin could hear them through their shared wall—shouting and moaning. It might have kept Kaylin up at night if she wasn’t completely dead on her feet after a long shift at Brooklyn United’s emergency ward. She didn’t begrudge Sabrina though, if anything, Kaylin was a little jealous. The only men she met at work were married construction workers who’d sent some sort of power tool through a fleshy part of their body or drug addicts and various levels of criminals with gunshot and stab wounds. There was never a nice lawyer or baker or travel agent; someone single with a steady job and useful skillset who could cuddle on the couch with her and her cat while watching anime movies or binging episodes of theClone Wars. The doctors and nurses she worked with, the male ones at least, were all married or in long-term relationships, not that she was attracted to any of them anyway. The most fun person in the whole hospital was Natalie Turner, her best friend and favorite nurse in the locked and guarded correctional care unit where most of Kaylin’s surgery patients came from.
Kaylin considered texting Natalie a picture of the note to joke about her secret admirer, but she knew Natalie wouldn’t believe it. Kaylin would be too obtuse for a secret admirer, if anyone wanted her attention, they’d have to come right out and say it. Not that anyone had ever done that before. It was her own fault she’d never had a real boyfriend; spending all of one’s times absorbed in medical school, residency, her cat, sewing elaborate outfits for cosplay at comic cons, and spending days off watchingThe Officedid not lend themselves to getting out there and catching someone’s eye. So, she slipped her shoes back on, walked outside to Sabrina’s door and knocked.
No answer.
Kaylin knocked harder, hoping she wasn’t disturbing Sabrina if she was trying to nap or—Kaylin stopped knocking—doing other things. Kaylin crumpled the note and went back to her apartment. Whoever tried to deliver the love note to Sabrina could find another means to contact her. She threw the note in the trash and opened a tin can of food for her cat, Codex, as it rubbed against her leg and purred. She could still smell antiseptic and the spilled chili sauce from her burrito at lunch and decided clean clothes and a shower would behoove her. She took a bottle of white wine out of the fridge and poured a glass, taking both it and the can of Coke with her upstairs to the bathroom. That was one benefit to not having a boyfriend—no one to judge her when she wanted white wine and Coke on the ledge of the tub as she bathed. She cued Rush on her phone as she turned on the water and kicked her dirty clothes in a corner. Her skin prickled, raising the hairs on the back of her neck, and she covered her breasts with her arm and tugged the pull cord of her window blinds tighter, wondering if a draft could kick in this early in the fall.
She shook her hair out in tempo with the drum. Everything was fine in her life as it was; she had a good job, a fuzzy cat, her own condo, and five different streaming services waiting for her to play whatever she wanted. She drank the wine and stepped under the water, kneading the soreness out of her shoulder and wishing she could reach her own back. Maybe for some things a boyfriend could be good for, she considered. Maybe.
2
It Gets Worse
Kaylin wokeup on the couch the next morning with her cat bunched over her legs. She’d hit snooze too many times on her phone and sprung up, scaring Codex. Swiftly, she grabbed a Pop-Tart from the open box on her counter and proceeded to sniffing the scrubs piled up on the floor to find a clean pair. She eyed her empty laundry basket—her dirty clothes in various clumps surrounding it—and determined to make more of an effort to keep her closet tidy. She bit into the Pop-Tart and wheeled her bike out the front door.
As she turned back to lock it, she found another folded paper taped over the keyhole. She ripped it off and unfolded it, finding a similar, longer version of yesterday’s note.
FOREVER—SOON—XOXO,it read. Kaylin rolled her eyes and made a gagging sound. Sabrina really needed better taste in men—like one who could write a coherent note that wasn’t steeped in vague and generic romantic musings.
“WRONG UNIT!” Kaylin shouted to the air as she balled the note up and shoved it into her jacket pocket. She mounted her bike and took off for the hospital, strawberry Pop-Tart crumbs still stuck to her lips.
* * *
Kaylin had just finishedmorning rounds with intensive care patients and wanted a snack when she stopped into the breakroom in the corrective care emergency wing. She debated the merits of a candy bar versus chips when Natalie knocked on the door.
“Kaylin.”
“Give me a sec,” she said, taking the lull in the conversation to punch in the number on the machine. A Snickers bar tumbled down. “What’s up?” she tore off the wrapper and bit into it.
“I thought you were on a sugar cleanse?”
“Oh,” she said. “Yeah. That was a lot harder to do than I expected.” She took another bite. “I need to ease into it slowly. Next month. For real.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not your nutritionist,” Natalie said, holding up her hands. “There’s something for you at the nurses’ station.”
“For me? Really?”
“Got your name on it.”
Kaylin scrunched her brow, wondering what could possibly be delivered to her here, when she saw a gaudy bouquet of at least two dozen roses crowding the nurses’ counter. A security guard—stationed on the unit to watch over drunk, high, and potentially violent patients—fanned the smell away from his nose and sneezed into a tissue.
“Something you’re not telling me?” Natalie plucked the card from the middle of the red mass and handed it to Kaylin.
“Not to my knowledge,” Kaylin said. She examined her own name printed on the white envelope, wondering if there was another Kaylin in the hospital.
Natalie checked the call board. “One of my rooms. I want details. All of them.” She waved at Kaylin before jogging down the hall to a patient’s room.
Kaylin opened the envelope and pulled out the card inside. The words swam in her head and she suddenly felt light with vertigo. Her heart beat faster as she flipped the card over, looking for a name. Nothing.
“You alright?” Another nurse asked while covering the receiver end of a telephone.
