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Mark Levy
Between heaven and earth

Dedicated to Kui

CHAPTER 1

SUMMER 1996

The little alarm clock on the light wood bedside table had just rung. It was half past six, and the room was filled with the golden glow that San Francisco unmistakably recognizes dawn.

The occupants of the apartment were asleep—Cali the dog at the foot of the bed on the large carpet, Lauren buried in the duvet on the large bed. Here, on the top floor of a Victorian house on Green Street, an amazing bliss hovered.

Loren's home consisted of a dining room, as is customary in America, combined with a kitchen, a bedroom, a living room and a spacious bathroom with a window. Light-colored parquet covered the floor everywhere, except for the bathroom, where it was stenciled with paint into black and white squares. The white walls were decorated with old drawings from antique dealers on Union Street, and the ceiling was lined with wood carvings, expertly crafted by a turn-of-the-century craftsman and tinted with Laurent's caramel paint.

Several jute rugs, sheathed with cord, outlined islands in the dining room and in the living room, by the fireplace. Opposite the hearth, a huge sofa, upholstered in a harsh linen, beckoned to get comfortable. The furniture was lost in the light of unusually beautiful lamps with pleated shades; Lauren has been picking them up one after the other for the last three years.

Lauren, accompanied by the hopeless looks of her colleagues, immediately began to distribute the applicants.

With a skill honed to virtuosity, she spent no more than a few minutes examining each patient, attached a tag, the color of which indicated the degree of seriousness of the situation, ordered the first tests and sent orderlies with a stretcher to the appropriate ward. The distribution of the sixteen men brought in between midnight and a quarter past one ended at exactly twelve-thirty, and the surgeons were able to begin operations at a quarter to one.

Lauren assisted Professor Fernstein on two successive surgeries and only went home after being ordered by a doctor to make it clear that when fatigue overwhelms vigilance, the health of patients could be in danger.

Leaving her "triumph" from the hospital parking lot, Lauren at a decent speed went home through the deserted streets. "I'm too tired and I'm driving too fast," she repeated every minute to fight sleep. However, one thought about returning to the department emergency care, but no longer backstage, but right on stage, not as a doctor, but as a patient, enough to keep himself awake.

She opened the automatic garage door and rolled her old lady inside. Passing along the corridor, she climbed the stairs, jumping over the steps, and with relief entered the apartment.

The hands of the mantel clock showed half past three. In the bedroom, Lauren threw her clothes on the floor. Nude, went to the bar to cook herbal tea. Displayed on the shelf glass bottles there were so many with different collections that they seemed to store herbal scents for every moment of the day.

Lauren put the cup on the table by the head of the head, wrapped herself in a blanket and instantly fell asleep. The day that ended was too, too long, and the one that was about to start required me to get up early. Lauren decided to take advantage of the fact that her two free days finally coincided with the weekend, and agreed to come to friends in Carmel. Justified by the accumulated fatigue, one could, of course, sleep longer, but Lauren did not want to give up an early rise for anything. She loved to greet the dawn on the ocean road that linked San Francisco to Monterrey Bay.

Still half asleep, Lauren found the alarm button and interrupted the ringing. She rubbed her eyes with clenched fists and first addressed Kali, who was lying on the carpet:

Don't look like that, I'm not here anymore.

“I'm leaving you for two days, my girl. Mom will pick you up at eleven o'clock. Move over, I'll get up and feed you.

Lauren straightened her legs, yawned with a long yawn, stretching her arms to the ceiling, and jumped up.

Running both hands through her hair, walked around the counter, opened the refrigerator, yawned again, got butter, jam, toast, a can of dog food, an opened package of Parma ham, a piece of gouda cheese, two cans of milk, a can of applesauce, two natural yogurts, cereal, half a grapefruit; the second half remained on the bottom shelf. Kali watched Lauren, nodding her head over and over again. Loren gave the dog terrible eyes and shouted:

- I am hungry!

As always, she began by preparing breakfast in a heavy clay bowl for her pet. Then she prepared breakfast for herself and, with a tray, settled down at the table. desk in the living room.

Lauren had only to turn her head a little to see Sossalito with its houses dotted on the hillsides, the Golden Gate Bridge, stretching out as a connecting line between the two sides of the bay, the fishing port of Tybourne, and directly below it, the roofs cascading down to the bay. She opened the window; the city was quiet. Only the languid horns of cargo ships sailing somewhere to the east mingled with the cries of seagulls and set the rhythm of the morning.

Lauren stretched again and with an appetite healthy person started a light giant breakfast.

The night before, she did not have dinner in the hospital, there was not enough time. Three times she tried to swallow a sandwich, but each attempt ended with the fact that the pager began to rattle, calling for the next emergency patient. When someone came across Lauren and spoke, she invariably replied: "I'm in a hurry."

After swallowing most of the food, Lauren put the dishes in the sink and went to the bathroom.

She slid her fingers along the wooden slats of the blinds, causing them to turn, stepped over a white cotton shirt that had slipped to her feet, and stepped into the shower. Under a strong stream hot water Lauren woke up completely.

Stepping out of the shower, she wrapped a towel around her hips. She grimaced in front of the mirror, put on a little make-up; I pulled on jeans, a sweater, pulled off my jeans, put on a skirt, took off my skirt, and got back into my jeans. She took a tapestry bag out of the closet, threw in a few things, a travel bag, and felt almost ready for the weekend. She assessed the scale of the mess - clothes on the floor, scattered towels, dishes in the sink, an unmade bed - put on a determined look and declared loudly, referring to everything that was in the apartment:

- Everyone be silent, do not grumble! I'll be back tomorrow early and do the cleaning for the whole week!

Then she grabbed a pencil, a piece of paper and wrote a note, which she attached to the refrigerator door with a large frog-shaped magnet:

Thanks for the dog, the main thing is don't clean anything, I'll do it when I get back.

I'll pick you up for Cali on Sunday around 5 o'clock. I love you. Your favorite Doctor.

She put on her coat, stroked the dog affectionately on the head, kissed him on the forehead, and slammed the door behind her.

“I left, I left,” Lauren repeated, getting into the car. “I can’t believe it, it’s a real miracle, if only you were still wound up.” You can sneeze once for your own pleasure. I'll put syrup on your engine before I throw it in the landfill, replace you with a car stuffed with electronics, it won't have a starter or whims in the cold in the morning, you understand me well, I hope?

It must be assumed that the elderly four-wheeled Englishwoman was shocked by the arguments of the hostess, because the engine started working. The day promised to be wonderful.

CHAPTER 2

Lauren started off slowly so as not to wake her neighbors. Green Street - beautiful street, framed by trees and houses, here people knew each other, as in a village.

Over six intersections at Van Ness AO, one of the major arteries that traverse the city, Loren shifted to top speed.

In the pale light, filled with color tints every minute, a dazzling prospect of the city was gradually revealed. The car sped through the deserted streets. As if getting drunk, Lauren enjoyed every moment.

Sharp turn on Sutter Street. Noise and tinkling in the steering. Steep descent to Union Square. Six thirty minutes, music blaring from the speakers of the cassette recorder, Lauren is happy for the first time in for a long time. To hell with stress, hospital, duties. The weekend that belongs only to her begins, and not a minute should be lost.

Union Square is silent. The storefront lights have already been extinguished, and in some places tramps are still sleeping on the benches. The parking watchman is dozing in the booth. In a few hours, crowds of tourists and citizens will pour onto the sidewalks. They flock to the big shops around the square to shop. Trams will go one after another, a long line of cars will line up at the entrance to the underground parking lot, and in the square above it, street musicians will begin to exchange melodies for cents and dollars.

"Triumph" devours asphalt, the speed of the car is higher. The traffic lights are green. Lauren takes a quick look in her rearview mirror to better time the turn onto Polk Street, one of the four streets that run along the park. Lauren makes a turn in front of the giant facade of the Masiz store building. The perfect curve, the brakes squealing a little, the strange sound, the series of taps, everything happens very quickly, the taps merge together, mix, crumble into separate sounds.

Sudden crack! The dialogue between the road and the wheels goes astray. All ties are broken. The car moves sideways, it skids on the still wet pavement. Lauren's face contorts. Hands clutching the steering wheel, and the steering wheel becomes too docile, it is ready to spin endlessly in the emptiness that sucks up the rest of the day. The Triumph continues to slide, time seems to relax and suddenly stretch, as if in a long yawn. Lauren is dizzy, in fact, the visible world is spinning around at amazing speed. The machine thought it was a spinning top. The wheels hit the pavement abruptly, the hood, rising and clasping the fire hydrant, continues to reach for the sky. In a final effort, the car turns on its own axis and pushes out the mistress, who has suddenly become too heavy for a pirouette that defies the laws of gravity. Lauren's body, before hitting the front of a large store, soars into the air. The vast display case explodes, shattering into a carpet of shrapnel.

The glass sheet takes on the body of a young woman who rolls on the floor, then freezes, scattering her hair in a pile. broken glass. And the old "triumph" ends his run and career, rolling over on his back, half on the sidewalk. And here is the last whim of the old Englishwoman - steam escapes from her insides, and she emits a farewell sigh.

Lauren is motionless and serene. Linden's features are calm, breathing is slow and even. There is a shadow of a slight smile on slightly parted lips, eyes are closed; she seems to be sleeping. Long strands frame the face right hand on the stomach.

In the booth, the parking attendant screwed up his eyes. He saw everything. Then he will say: “Like in the movies, but everything here is real.” He jumps up, runs outside, comes to his senses and rushes back, frantically grabs the phone and dials 911. Calls for help, and help leaves.

Canteen at San Francisco Memorial Hospital a large room with a white tiled floor and yellow painted walls. Rectangular plastic tables are placed along the central aisle, at the end of which is a vending machine for drinks and vacuum-packed food.

Dr. Philip Stern was dozing, leaning his chest on one of the tables, a cup of cold coffee in his hands. A little way off, his partner was rocking back in his chair, staring into space. The pager rang in Dr. Philip Stern's pocket. He opened one eye and, grumbling, glanced at his watch; shift ended in fifteen minutes.

- Wow! What do you mean no luck! Frank, call the switchboard for me.

Frank picked up the phone hanging nearby, listened to the message, hung up and turned to Stern.

“Get up, this is for us, Union Square, code three, it looks like a serious matter ...

Two interns of the ambulance brigade headed for the service entrance, where a car was already waiting for them with the engine turned on and a flashing light. Two short siren signals marked the exit.

A quarter to seven. There was not a soul on Market Street, and the car moved at a decent speed through the early morning.

“It’s a mess, and by the way, it’s going to be a good day…”

- What are you dissatisfied with?

- The fact that I am exhausted and fall asleep, and good weather will pass by.

- Turn left, let's go under the brick.

Frank obeyed, and the ambulance moved up Polk Street towards Union Square.

- Come on, press, I see them.

When the interns moved in large area, they were struck by the skeleton of the old "triumph", clasping a fire hydrant.

“Wow, I didn’t miss,” Stern remarked, jumping out of the ambulance.

Two policemen were already there, and one of them led Philip to the remains of the display case.

- Where is he?

- There, this is a woman, and she is a doctor, apparently from the emergency room. Maybe you know her?

Stern, who was already kneeling in front of Lauren's body, yelled at his partner to run faster. Armed with scissors, he cut through jeans and a sweater, exposing the skin. On the slender left leg, a curvature was visible, surrounded by a large hematoma, which means a fracture. There were no other bruises at first glance.

- Give me suckers and an IV, she has a thready pulse and no pressure, breathing 48, a wound on her head, closed fracture left thigh with internal bleeding. Let's get two tires... Familiar? From ours?

“I saw her, an intern in the ER, working with Fernstein. The only one who is not afraid of him.

Philip did not react to the last remark. Frank attached seven suction cups with sensors from the monitor to the woman's chest, connected each of them with a wire. certain color with a portable electrocardiograph and connected the device. The screen immediately lit up.

- What's on the monitor? Philip asked.

No good, she's leaving. Blood pressure 80 over 60, pulse 140, cyanotic lips, I'm getting endotracheal tube number seven ready to intubate.

Dr. Stern had just inserted a catheter and handed a bottle of solution to the policeman.

Hold it up, I need both hands.

Switching for a second from police officer to his partner, he ordered five hundred milligrams of adrenaline to be injected into the perfusion tube and the defibrillator immediately ready. At the same time, Lauren's temperature began to drop sharply, and the signal from the electrocardiograph became uneven. A red heart blinked in the lower corner of the green screen, followed by a short, repetitive beep, a warning signal of imminent fibrillation.

- Well, beauty, hold on! Somewhere inside is bleeding. What is her belly like?

“Mild, maybe bleeding in the leg. Ready for intubation?

In less than a minute, Lauren was intubated, and an adapter was put on the breathing tube. Stern asked for a general reading, Frank replied that his breathing was stable, his blood pressure had dropped to 50. Before he could finish the sentence, instead of a short squeak, the device burst into a shrill whistle.

- Done, she's fibrillating, give 300 milliamps. Philip grabbed the electrodes by the handles and rubbed them against each other.

“It’s okay, there’s electricity,” Frank called out.

- Aside, I give an electric shock!

Under the action of the discharge, the body sharply arched its stomach to the sky and again flattened itself.

- No, it doesn't work.

- Discharge 300, again.

- Raise it to 360, come on.

- To the side!

The body twitched, arched, and fell again without movement.

“Give me another five milligrams of adrenaline and a 360 shock. Away!”

New discharge, new spasm.

Still fibrillation going on! We lose it, make a unit of lidocaine in perfa and another discharge.

To the side!

The body was thrown.

“We inject five hundred milligrams of beryllium, and immediately prepare a 380 shock!”

Another electric shock, Lauren's heart seemed to begin to respond to the drugs administered, a stable rhythm appeared, but only for a few moments: the whistling, which had broken off for a few seconds, resumed with renewed vigor.

- Cardiac arrest! Frank shouted.

Immediately, Philip frantically began to do chest compressions and artificial respiration.

Without stopping trying to bring the woman back to life, he begged: “Don’t be an idiot, the weather is great today, come back, what have we done wrong to you ...” Then he ordered his partner to prepare a discharge. Frank tried to cool his ardor come on, they say, it's no use. But Stern did not back down; he yelled, demanding that Frank charge the defibrillator. The companion obeyed.

Once again, Philip commanded: "To the side!". The body arched again, but the line on the electrocardiogram remained straight. Philip began to massage again, beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. He realized that he was powerless, and he despaired of this.

Frank saw that Philip's behavior went beyond logic. Already a few minutes ago he should have stopped and recorded the time of death, but in spite of everything he continued to massage the heart.

- Another half milligram of adrenaline and raise the charge to 400.

- Leave it, Philip, it's pointless, she's dead. What are you doing…

"Shut up and do what they say!"

Frank shrugged, injected a new dose of the drug into the perfusion tube, charged the defibrillator. He set the threshold at 400 milliamps; Stern, without even saying "Away", sent a discharge. Under the influence of the current strength, the chest abruptly broke away from the ground. The line remained hopelessly straight. Philip did not even look at her, he already knew this even before the last time he applied the electric shock. Philip punched the woman's chest.

“Damn, damn!

Frank grabbed Philip by the shoulders and squeezed hard.

- Stop it, Philip, you've gone crazy, calm down! Record death, and fold. You're starting to give up, it's time for you to rest.

Philip was covered in sweat, his eyes wandered. Frank raised his voice, wrapped both hands around his friend's head, forcing him to focus his eyes.

He once again ordered Philip to calm down and, since there was no reaction, gave him a slap in the face. Philip obediently accepted the blow. Frank softened his tone: "Let's get in the car, buddy, pull yourself together."

Philip, kneeling and crouching, quietly said: "Seven ten minutes, she died." Then, turning to the policeman, who breathlessly still held the transfusion bottle, he said: "Take her away, it's over, there's nothing more we can do." Philip got up, put his hand on his partner's shoulder and led him to the ambulance. "Let's go, we're coming back."

They moved from their place, poking in different directions, as if they did not understand what they were doing. The policemen followed the doctors with their eyes, watched them climb into the car.

"Something's wrong with the doctors!" one of the policemen said.

The second looked at his colleague:

“Have you ever worked on a case where one of our guys got sacked?”

“Then you won’t understand what it’s like for them. Come on, help me, we lift it carefully and put it in the car.”

The ambulance had already rounded the corner when the police lifted Lauren's limp body, laid her on a stretcher and covered her with a blanket.

Several onlookers who had been delayed dispersed - there was nothing else to look at.

In the car, after a long silence, Frank spoke first:

What came over you, Philip?

She is not thirty, she is a doctor, she is too beautiful to die.

But that's exactly what she did! Well, beautiful, well, doctor! She could be ugly and work in a supermarket. This is fate, and nothing can be done about it, its hour has come ... Let's go back - go to sleep, try to put it all out of your head.

Two blocks behind them, the cops pulled into an intersection just as a taxi decided to skip a yellow light. The enraged policeman slammed on the brakes and turned on the siren, the taxi driver stopped and apologized. Because of the push, Lauren's body slid off the stretcher. I had to fix it. Both policemen got back, the younger one took Lauren by the ankles, the older one by the hands. His face froze as he looked at the young woman's breasts.

I'm telling you, breathe. Drive to the hospital!

- It's necessary! I immediately realized that the doctors are nuts.

- Shut up and drive. I don't understand anything, but they'll hear from me again.

The police car swirled past ambulance under the astonished glances of two interns - they were "their policemen." Philip wanted to turn on the siren and follow him, but his partner began to object, he was completely exhausted.

- Why are they so rushed? Philip asked.

“How do I know,” Frank replied, “maybe it’s not the same. All in one face.

Ten minutes later, the doctors parked next to the police car, the doors of which were still open. Philip got out of the car and went to the IIOKOTI emergency room. Speeding up his pace, before reaching the reception desk and without even saying hello, he turned to the duty officer:

What room is she in?

Who, Dr. Stern? the nurse asked.

“A young woman who has just entered.

- In the third block, Fershtein went to her.

She seems to be from his team.

A policeman came up behind him and clapped Philip on the shoulder.

– What do you think?

- Sorry?

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, but at least a hundred times I'm sorry! What's the point! How could he claim the woman was dead when she was breathing in the police car? “Are you aware that if it weren’t for me, she would have been stuffed alive in the refrigerator?” Nothing, he will not leave this matter like that!

At that moment, Dr. Fernstein came out of the block and, pretending not to pay the slightest attention to the policeman, turned to Philip:

“Stern, how many doses of adrenaline did you give her?”

“Four times five milligrams,” the intern replied.

The professor began to scold him, stating that such behavior indicated excessive therapeutic zeal, and then, turning to the policeman, explained that Lauren was dead long before Dr. Stern announced her death.

The medical team's mistake, Fernstein said, was that they were too stubborn in attending to this patient's heart at the expense of other health insurance users. According to him, the injected fluid accumulated in the pericardial area: “When you braked sharply, the fluid entered the heart, which reacted at a purely chemical level and began to beat.” Alas, this does not change anything in the victim's cerebral demise. As for the heart, as soon as the liquid is absorbed, it will stop, "if it has not already happened." He invited the policeman to apologize to Dr. Stern for his completely inappropriate nervousness and invited the latter to come to his office before leaving.

The policeman turned to Philip and muttered; “I see that they don’t hand over their own here either ...” Then he turned around and left. Although the doors of the emergency room immediately closed behind the policeman, he could be heard slamming the doors of his car.

Stern remained standing, bracing both hands on the receptionist desk and narrowing his eyes at the nurse on duty. "What finally happens?" She shrugged her shoulders and reminded that Fernstein was waiting for Philip.

Stern knocked on Lauren's boss's door. Fernstein invited him in. Standing at the desk with his back to the newcomer and looking out the window, the professor was obviously waiting for Stern to speak. And Philip began to speak. He admitted that he did not understand anything from Fernstein's explanations. He cut off Stern dryly:

- Listen to me well, colleague .. I told this officer the easiest way to confuse his head so that he would not write a report and ruin your career. What you have done is unacceptable for a person with your experience. We must be able to put up with death when it is inevitable. We are not gods and are not responsible for fate. This woman died before you arrived, and stubbornness could cost you dearly.

“But how do you explain the fact that she began to breathe?

“I don’t explain, and I shouldn’t. We don't know everything. She's dead, Dr. Stern. Another thing is that you do not like it. But she left. I don't care that her lungs are working and that her heart is beating on its own. The main thing is the electroencephalogram is direct. Cerebral death is irreversible. We'll wait for the rest to follow and send her down to the morgue. Dot.

“But you can’t do that, look at the facts!”

Fernstein's irritation manifested itself in a tilt of his head and a rise in tone. He won't let anyone teach him. Does Stern know the cost of a day in intensive care? Or does Stern believe that the hospital will allocate one bed to keep the "vegetable" in a state of artificial life? He urges the intern to grow up. He refuses to put his loved ones in front of the need to spend week after week at the head of an immobile, mindless being, whose life is supported solely by apparatuses. He refuses to take responsibility for this kind of decision just to satisfy the vanity of one doctor.

Stern was ordered to take a shower and disappear from sight. The intern did not move, he remained standing in front of the professor, repeating his arguments over and over again. When he made the declaration of death, his patient's heart and respiratory activity had been absent for ten minutes. Her heart and lungs stopped functioning. Yes, he persisted, because for the first time in his medical practice he felt that this woman did not intend to die. Philip saw in the depths of her open eyes that she was struggling and trying to swim out. Then he began to fight with her, even if it went beyond the usual limits, and ten minutes later, contrary to all logic, contrary to everything he had been taught, his heart began to beat again, his lungs began to inhale and exhale air.

“You are right,” continued Philip, “we are doctors, and we do not know everything. This woman is also a doctor. He begged Fernstein to give her a chance. There are cases when people came back to life after six months of a coma, although no one understood anything. No one has ever been able to do what she did, no matter how much it costs to keep her in the hospital. "Don't let her go, she doesn't want to, and she told us that."

The professor paused before answering:

- Dr. Stern, Lauren was one of my students, she had a difficult character, but she also had a real talent, I respected her very much and had high hopes for her career, as well as for yours; the conversation is over.

Stern left the office without closing the door. Frank was waiting for him in the hallway.

- What are you doing here?

- What's wrong with your head, Philip, do you know who you spoke to in that tone?

- So what?

“The guy you were talking to is a professor, he knew this woman, he worked with her for fifteen months, he saved more lives than you might be able to save in your entire medical career. You must learn to control yourself. Honestly, sometimes you go crazy.

“Get off me, Frank, I’ve already received my portion of moralizing.

Mark Levy's novel "Between Heaven and Earth" is able to inspire and give great faith in the power of love. It is very romantic and sensual, you completely immerse yourself in it, worrying about the main characters. At the same time, the theme of life and death, the right to choose, the chance to save life is raised here. And all this will make you think. The book was liked by readers and caused a lot of positive feedback, the novel was filmed, which aroused even greater interest in it.

Finding your love is not easy, some people can't do it all their lives. But what if you do find love and you don't get a chance to experience its joys? Lauren is a young intern who loves her profession very much. One day, an accident occurs to her, after which she cannot recover. Doctors believe that the girl died, but then her body shows signs of life. Lauren is in a deep coma.

One evening, a young guy Arthur returns home and sees a pretty girl in his apartment. Who is she and how did she get here? And the girl is sure that she has full right to be here. After a while, it becomes clear to Arthur that his strange guest is a ghost that, for some unknown reason, only he can see. Gradually they learn more and more about each other. Between young people there is a mutual attraction, but can Arthur help Lauren return to life?

On our site you can download the book "Between Heaven and Earth" by Mark Levy for free and without registration in fb2, rtf, epub, pdf, txt format, read a book online or buy a book in an online store.

Today, Marc Levy is one of the most popular French writers, his books have been translated into more than 30 languages ​​and sold in huge numbers. His very first novel "Between Heaven and Earth" struck with an extraordinary plot and the power of feelings that can work wonders. One late evening, a beautiful unfamiliar girl appears in the apartment of a lonely architect, who turns out to be ... a ghost, and only he can help her. But even he would be powerless before death, if not for love.

The film rights to the novel have been acquired by Steven Spielberg. The film was directed by one of the most fashionable and popular directors in Hollywood, Mark Waters (Mean Girls, Freaky Friday). Starring Reese Witherspoon ("Legally Blonde", "Highway", "Style"). Now Russian viewers can also see this film.

Dedicated to Kui

SUMMER 1996

The little alarm clock on the light wood bedside table had just rung. It was half past six, and the room was filled with the golden glow that San Francisco unmistakably recognizes dawn.

The inhabitants of the apartment were asleep - Kali the dog at the foot of the bed on a large carpet, Lauren - buried in a duvet on a large bed. Here, on the top floor of a Victorian house on Green Street, an amazing bliss hovered.

Loren's home consisted of a dining room, as is customary in America, combined with a kitchen, a bedroom, a living room and a spacious bathroom with a window. Light-coloured parquet covered the floor everywhere, except for the bathroom, where it was stenciled with paint into black and white squares. The white walls were decorated with old drawings from antique dealers on Union Street, and the ceiling was lined with wood carvings, expertly crafted by a turn-of-the-century craftsman and tinted with Laurent's caramel paint.

Several jute rugs, sheathed with cord, outlined islands in the dining room and in the living room, by the fireplace. Opposite the hearth - a huge sofa, upholstered in a harsh linen, beckoned to get comfortable. The furniture was lost in the light of unusually beautiful lamps with pleated shades; Lauren has been picking them up one after the other for the last three years.

Lauren, accompanied by the hopeless looks of her colleagues, immediately began to distribute the applicants.

With a skill honed to virtuosity, she spent no more than a few minutes examining each patient, attached a tag, the color of which indicated the degree of seriousness of the situation, ordered the first tests and sent orderlies with a stretcher to the appropriate ward. The distribution of the sixteen men brought in between midnight and a quarter past one ended at exactly twelve-thirty, and the surgeons were able to begin operations at a quarter to one.

Lauren assisted Professor Fernstein on two successive surgeries and only went home after being ordered by a doctor to make it clear that when fatigue overwhelms vigilance, the health of patients could be in danger.

Leaving her "triumph" from the hospital parking lot, Lauren at a decent speed went home through the deserted streets. "I'm too tired and I'm driving too fast," she repeated every minute to fight sleep. However, the mere thought of returning to the emergency room, but not backstage, but right on stage, not as a doctor, but as a patient, was enough to keep himself awake.

She opened the automatic garage door and rolled her old lady inside. Passing along the corridor, she climbed the stairs, jumping over the steps, and with relief entered the apartment.

The hands of the mantel clock showed half past three. In the bedroom, Lauren threw her clothes on the floor. Naked, she went to the bar to make herbal tea. There were so many glass bottles with different collections on the shelf that they seemed to store herbal scents for every moment of the day.

Lauren put the cup on the table by the head of the head, wrapped herself in a blanket and instantly fell asleep. The day that ended was too, too long, and the one that was about to start required me to get up early. Lauren decided to take advantage of the fact that her two free days finally coincided with the weekend, and agreed to come to friends in Carmel. Justified by the accumulated fatigue, one could, of course, sleep longer, but Lauren did not want to give up an early rise for anything. She loved to greet the dawn on the ocean road that linked San Francisco to Monterrey Bay.

Still half asleep, Lauren found the alarm button and interrupted the ringing. She rubbed her eyes with clenched fists and first addressed Kali, who was lying on the carpet:

Don't look like that, I'm not here anymore.

I'm leaving you for two days, my girl. Mom will pick you up at eleven o'clock. Move over, I'll get up and feed you.

Lauren straightened her legs, yawned with a long yawn, stretching her arms to the ceiling, and jumped up.

Running both hands through her hair, she walked around the counter, opened the refrigerator, yawned again, got butter, jam, toast, a can of dog food, an opened package of Parma ham, a piece of gouda cheese, two cans of milk, a can of applesauce, two natural yogurts , cereal, half a grapefruit; the second half remained on the bottom shelf. Kali watched Lauren, nodding her head over and over again. Loren gave the dog terrible eyes and shouted:

I am hungry!

As always, she began by preparing breakfast in a heavy clay bowl for her pet. Then she prepared breakfast for herself and sat down at the writing table in the living room with a tray.

Lauren had to turn her head a little to see Sossalito with its houses scattered on the slopes of the hills, the Golden Gate Bridge, which stretched out as a connecting line between the two sides of the bay, the fishing port of Tybourne, and directly below it - the roofs that ran down to the bay in ledges. She opened the window; the city was quiet. Only the languid horns of cargo ships sailing somewhere to the east mingled with the cries of seagulls and set the rhythm of the morning.

Lauren stretched again and, with the appetite of a healthy person, began a light giant breakfast.

The night before, she did not have dinner in the hospital, there was not enough time. Three times she tried to swallow a sandwich, but each attempt ended with the fact that the pager began to rattle, calling for the next emergency patient. When someone came across Lauren and spoke, she invariably replied: "I'm in a hurry."

After swallowing most of the food, Lauren put the dishes in the sink and went to the bathroom.

She slid her fingers along the wooden slats of the blinds, causing them to turn, stepped over a white cotton shirt that had slipped to her feet, and stepped into the shower. Under a strong jet of hot water, Lauren woke up completely.

Stepping out of the shower, she wrapped a towel around her hips. She grimaced in front of the mirror, put on a little make-up; I pulled on jeans, a sweater, pulled off my jeans, put on a skirt, took off my skirt, and got back into my jeans. She took a tapestry bag out of the closet, threw in a few things, a travel bag, and felt almost ready for the weekend. She assessed the scale of the mess - clothes on the floor, scattered towels, dishes in the sink, an unmade bed - put on a resolute air and declared loudly, referring to everything that was in the apartment:

Everyone be quiet, do not grumble! I'll be back tomorrow early and do the cleaning for the whole week!

Then she grabbed a pencil, a piece of paper and wrote a note, which she attached to the refrigerator door with a large frog-shaped magnet:

Thanks for the dog, the main thing is don't clean anything, I'll do it when I get back.

I'll pick you up for Cali on Sunday around 5 o'clock. I love you. Your favorite Doctor.

She put on her coat, stroked the dog affectionately on the head, kissed him on the forehead, and slammed the door behind her.

She left, she left, - Lauren repeated, getting into the car. - I can’t believe it, it’s a real miracle, if only you were still wound up. You can sneeze once for your own pleasure. I'll put syrup on your engine before I throw it in the landfill, replace you with a car stuffed with electronics, it won't have a starter or whims in the cold in the morning, you understand me well, I hope?

It must be assumed that the elderly four-wheeled Englishwoman was shocked by the arguments of the hostess, because the engine started working. The day promised to be wonderful.

The little alarm clock on the light wood bedside table had just rung. It was half past six, and the room was filled with the golden glow that San Francisco unmistakably recognizes dawn.

The occupants of the apartment were asleep—Cali the dog at the foot of the bed on the large carpet, Lauren buried in the duvet on the large bed. Here, on the top floor of a Victorian house in Green Street, there was an amazing bliss.

Loren's home consisted of a dining room, as is customary in America, combined with a kitchen, a bedroom, a living room and a spacious bathroom with a window. Light parquet covered the floor everywhere, except for the bathroom, where it was stenciled with paint into black and white squares. The white walls were decorated with old drawings from antique dealers in Union Street, and the ceiling was lined with wood carvings, expertly crafted by a turn-of-the-century craftsman and tinted with Laurent's caramel paint.

Several jute rugs, sheathed with cord, outlined islands in the dining room and in the living room, by the fireplace. Opposite the hearth, a huge sofa, upholstered in a harsh linen, beckoned to get comfortable. The furniture was lost in the light of unusually beautiful lamps with pleated shades; Lauren has been picking them up one after the other for the last three years.

Lauren, an intern at San Francisco Memorial Hospital, had to stay much longer than the usual twenty-four-hour shift as the victims of the massive fire began to arrive. The first ambulances arrived at the emergency room just ten minutes before the end of work, and Lauren, accompanied by hopeless looks from her colleagues, immediately began to sort out those who arrived.

With a skill honed to virtuosity, she spent no more than a few minutes examining each patient, attached a tag, the color of which indicated the severity of the situation, ordered the first tests and sent orderlies with a stretcher to the appropriate ward. The distribution of the sixteen men brought in between midnight and a quarter past one ended at exactly twelve-thirty, and the surgeons were able to begin operations at a quarter to one.

Lauren assisted Professor Fernstein on two successive surgeries and only went home after being ordered by a doctor to make it clear that when fatigue overwhelms vigilance, the health of patients could be in danger.

Leaving her "triumph" from the hospital parking lot, Lauren at a decent speed went through the deserted streets home. "I'm too tired and I'm driving too fast," she repeated every minute to fight sleep. However, the mere thought of returning to the emergency room, but not backstage, but right on stage, not as a doctor, but as a patient, was enough to keep himself awake.

She opened the automatic garage door and rolled her old lady inside. Passing along the corridor, she climbed the stairs, jumping over the steps, and with relief entered the apartment.

The hands of the mantel clock showed half past three. In the bedroom, Lauren threw her clothes on the floor. Nude, went to the bar to make herbal tea. There were so many glass bottles with different collections on the shelf that they seemed to store herbal scents for every moment of the day.

Lauren put the cup on the table by the head of the head, wrapped herself in a blanket and instantly fell asleep. The day that ended was too, too long, and the one that was about to start required me to get up early. Lauren decided to take advantage of the fact that her two free days finally coincided with the weekend, and agreed to come to friends in Carmel. Justified by the accumulated fatigue, one could, of course, sleep longer, but Lauren did not want to give up an early rise for anything. She loved to greet the dawn on the ocean road that linked San Francisco to Monterrey Bay.

Still half asleep, Lauren found the alarm button and interrupted the ringing. She rubbed her eyes with her clenched fists and first spoke to Kali, who was lying on the carpet:

Don't look like that, I'm not here anymore.

“I'm leaving you for two days, my girl. Mom will pick you up at eleven o'clock. Move over, I'll get up and feed you.

Lauren straightened her legs, yawned with a long yawn, stretching her arms to the ceiling, and jumped up.

Running both hands through her hair, she walked around the counter, opened the refrigerator, yawned again, got butter, jam, toast, a can of dog food, an opened package of Parma ham, a piece of gouda cheese, two cans of milk, a can of applesauce, two natural yogurts , cereal, half a grapefruit; the second half remained on the bottom shelf. Kali watched Lauren, nodding her head over and over again. Loren gave the dog terrible eyes and shouted:

- I am hungry!

As always, she began by preparing breakfast in a heavy clay bowl for her pet. Then she prepared breakfast for herself and sat down at the writing table in the living room with a tray.

Lauren had only to turn her head a little to see Sossalito with its houses dotted on the hillsides, the Golden Gate Bridge, stretching out as a connecting line between the two sides of the bay, the fishing port of Tybourne, and directly below it, the roofs cascading down to the bay. She opened the window; the city was quiet. Only the languid horns of cargo ships sailing somewhere to the east mingled with the cries of seagulls and set the rhythm of the morning.

Lauren stretched again and, with the appetite of a healthy person, began a light giant breakfast.

The night before, she did not have dinner in the hospital, there was not enough time. Three times she tried to swallow a sandwich, but each attempt ended with the fact that the pager began to rattle, calling for the next emergency patient. When someone came across Lauren and spoke, she invariably replied: "I'm in a hurry."

After swallowing most of the food, Lauren put the dishes in the sink and went to the bathroom.

She slid her fingers along the wooden slats of the blinds, causing them to turn, stepped over a white cotton shirt that had slipped to her feet, and stepped into the shower. Under a strong jet of hot water, Lauren woke up completely.

Stepping out of the shower, she wrapped a towel around her hips. She grimaced in front of the mirror, put on a little make-up; I pulled on jeans, a sweater, pulled off my jeans, put on a skirt, took off my skirt, and got back into my jeans. She took a tapestry bag out of the closet, threw in a few things, a travel bag, and felt almost ready for the weekend. She assessed the scale of the mess - clothes on the floor, scattered towels, dishes in the sink, an unmade bed - put on a determined look and declared loudly, referring to everything that was in the apartment:

- Everyone be silent, do not grumble! I'll be back early tomorrow and clean up for the whole week!

Then she grabbed a pencil, a piece of paper and wrote a note, which she attached to the refrigerator door with a large frog-shaped magnet:

Mother!

Thank you for the dog, the main thing is don't clean anything, I'll do everything when I get back.

I'll pick you up for Cali on Sunday around 5 o'clock. I love you. Your favorite Doctor.

She put on her coat, stroked the dog affectionately on the head, kissed him on the forehead, and slammed the door behind her.

“I left, I left,” Lauren repeated, getting into the car. - I can’t believe it, a real miracle, if only you were still wound up. You can sneeze once for your own pleasure. I'll flood your engine with syrup before I throw it in the landfill, replace you with a car stuffed with electronics, it won't have a starter or whims in the cold in the morning, you understand me well, I hope?