Did I wait until Jules left before I stepped out of the
shower like a coward? Possibly.
But Iโd rather be a coward than deal with the awkward morning after goodbye. Our arrangement was supposed to eliminate that awkwardness by setting clear boundaries and expectations, but of course, the weather had to fuck it all up on our first night.
If I ever made it to heaven, I was going to have a long, hard talk with God about timing.
I was still irritated with myself for letting Jules sleep over when I arrived at the hospital, but the chaos in the ER quickly wiped away any thoughts of my personal life.
Strokes. Knife wounds. Broken arms and legs and noses and everything in between. They flooded the emergency room in an unceasing, back-to-back wave, and the work week following Hyacinth was so insane I had zero time to agonize over my s*x pact with my little sisterโs best friend.
Jules and I did squeeze in a few quickies, none of which ended in a sleepover or cuddling, thank God. But for the most part, it was all work, all the time.
Most people would hate working such long hours, but I craved the stimulationโuntil I hit one of Those Days.
I had good days, bad days, and Those Daysโcapital T, capital Dโin the ER. The good days were when I walked
away knowing Iโd made the right interventions at the right time to save someoneโs life. The bad days ranged from patients trying to assault me to a mass casualty incident when only me, my attending physician, and a few nurses were on duty.
Then there were Those Days. They were few and far in between, but when they happened?
They were devastating.
The unending flatline of the monitor drilled into my skull and mixed with the roar in my ears as I stared down at my patientโs closed eyes and pale skin.
Tanya, seventeen years old. Sheโd been driving home when a drunk driver T-boned her car.
Iโd done all I could, but it wasnโt enough. She was dead.
One minute she was alive, the next she was gone. Just like that.
My breaths rushed out in ragged pants. After what felt like an eternity but was, in reality, a minute at most, I lifted my head to find Clara and the techs staring back at me, their expressions grim. A faint sheen shone in Claraโs eyes, and one of the techs audibly swallowed.
No one spoke.
โTime of death: 3:16 p.m.โ That was my voice, but it sounded strange, like it was coming from someone else.
After a moment of silence, I walked out. Down the hall, around the corner, and toward the designated relativesโ room where Tanyaโs parents waited.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Everything sounded mu๏ฌed except for the echo of my footsteps against the linoleum floors.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Iโd lost someone in the ER before. During my first year of residency, I treated a patient whoโd been shot in the chest during a random drive-by. Heโd succumbed to his injuries within minutes of arriving at the hospital.
There was nothing I couldโve done; heโd been too far gone. But that didnโt stop me from walking out of the trauma bay, into a bathroom, and throwing up.
Every doctor lost a patient eventually, and every death hit hard, but Tanyaโs socked me right in the gut.
Maybe it was because Iโd been so confident she would pull through. Or maybe it was because she barely had the chance to live life before death snatched it so cruelly from her.
Whatever it was, I couldnโt stop a destructive swarm of
what ifsย from crowding my brain.
What if Iโd made a different call during the treatment process? What if Iโd reached her earlier? What if I were a better doctor?
What if, what if, what if.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
My steps faltered for a second outside the relativesโ room before my hand closed around the doorknob and twisted. It was like I was watching a movie of myselfโI was here, but not really.
Tanyaโs parents jumped up when they saw me, their faces drawn tight with worry. A minute later, the worry exploded into horror.
โIโm sorryโฆdid everything we couldโฆโ
I kept talking, trying to sound sympathetic and professional, to sound anything but numb, but I barely heard my own words. I only heard the motherโs keening wail and the fatherโs angry shouts of denial, which collapsed into shuddering cries of grief as he gathered his wife into his arms.
Each sound drove a phantom spike through my chest until I was so littered with them I couldnโt breathe.
โMy baby. Not my baby,โ Tanyaโs mom sobbed. โSheโs here. Sheโs still here. Iย know she is.โ
โIโm so sorry,โ I repeated.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Not my footsteps, but the thundering of a broken heart.
I maintained my stoic mask until I ran out of useless words and left the family to their grief. I had a dozen other patients to treat, but I needed a minute, justย one minute, to myself.
I quickened my steps until I reached the nearest bathroom. The numbness spread from my chest to my limbs, but when I closed the door behind me, the soft click of the lock sliding into place unleashed a sharp sob that ripped through the air.
It took me several seconds to realize it came from me.
The pressure building behind my ribcage finally exploded, and I doubled over the sink, dry heaving until my ears rang and my throat was raw.
Tanyaโs lifeless body on the stretcher. Ava in the emergency room after she almost drowned. My momโs open, empty eyes after she overdosed on pills.
The memories ran together in a macabre stream.
I gagged again, but I hadnโt eaten since I started my shift eight hours ago and nothing came out.
By the time my dry heaves faded, sweat clung to my skin and my head pounded with tension.
I turned on the faucet and splashed my face with cold water before paper toweling off the moisture. The rough brown material scratched against my skin, and when I caught my reflection in the mirror, I saw a faint reddish mark from where Iโd rubbed it against my cheek.
Faint purple smudges beneath my eyes, sallow complexion, white lines of tension bracketing my mouth. I looked like hell.
God, I needed a strong drink. Or, better yet, a vacation with several strong drinks.
I set my jaw and tossed the crumpled paper towel into the trash. By the time I returned to the main floor, Iโd fixed my professional mask back in place.
I didnโt have the luxury of wallowing in grief or self-pity.
I had a job to do.
โHi there.โ I smiled at my next patient and held out my hand. โIโm Dr. Chenโฆโ
The rest of my shift passed without any major incidents, but I couldnโt shake my clammy skin or erratic heartbeat.
โAre you okay?โ Clara asked when I clocked out.
โYep.โ I avoided her sympathetic gaze. โSee you tomorrow.โ
I didnโt give her a chance to respond before I headed to the locker room. I usually showered at home, but I was desperate to wash the blood off. It stuck to my skin, thick and cloying, invisible to everyone except me.
I squeezed my eyes shut and stayed beneath the water until it ran cold and a deep chill settled into my bones. Normally, I couldnโt wait to leave the building after a shift, but right now, nothing sounded worse than being alone.
My friends were all working, and it was too early to go to a bar, which left me with one remaining option.
I toweled off, got dressed, and fished my phone out of my jeans pocket to text Jules only to find a message already waiting from her, sent twenty minutes ago.
Jules: You off work yet? Me: Just got out.
Me: Where are you?
It was Tuesday, so she wasnโt working at the clinic today.
Jules: SciLi, in the back.
Relief rattled my lungs. That was within walking distance.
Me: Donโt move. Be there in ๏ฌfteen
