Divorce is a Bitch

Ever have a moment where you wonder if you're sane? I mean, what exactly is the definition of sanity? I could vaguely recall someone famous saying that insanity is doing the same thing over and over, and expecting different results. I have those moments all the time. The quick flurry of squeaks on the linoleum made me look up from my report sheet covered in scribbles to see Danica streaking down the hallway. "What's your hurry?" I asked, jokingly.

"He THREW his cup at me! Threw it! I am NOT going back in there!" Her dark brown eyes were wide, and her chest was heaving from her run down the hallway. "What are you talking about? He was lying in the bed asleep ten minutes ago when I made rounds?" I knew exactly who she was talking about, and even though a part of me wanted to bust out laughing, something told me she wouldn't find it near as funny as I did. I folded up my scribble sheets and shoved them in my pocket as I started down the hallway to see what Mr. Crabby Pants was up to.

The door was wide open, and I could hear him yelling as I walked in. Elaine, the day nurse, was talking to him, trying to get him to realize where he was. Nursing lingo was 'reorienting'. A nice way of saying "Hey, crazy man, you're in the hospital, so stop being a pain in the butt!". He was sitting on the edge of the bed, trying to push himself up, without much success. It didn't take a rocket scientist to realize that he was bound and determined to get out of that bed.

Not only was Elaine in the room, but two more aides were in there as well, all ready to catch him if he started to fall. In the hospital, one of the worst things that can happen is for a patient to fall. That's usually when the family, especially the ones that are nonexistent up until that point, wants to holler 'lawsuit' because we weren't paying enough attention to their loved one. Then you can't get rid of them.

I took a few seconds to check him out. He was pale, and even his best effort to support his own weight was a complete failure. But he was breathing okay, albeit a bit heavy and I didn't foresee him laying down quietly any time soon.

"I gotta get outta here! Please, just help me get out." For as weak as he was, he still managed to holler loud enough. I spotted a wheelchair close by, and dragged it over behind Elaine. "Let's just put him in this and park him by the nurse's station. Maybe that will calm him down a bit."

It took the four of us about ten minutes to get him in the wheelchair. But once we parked him by the station, he seemed to calm down. He just sat there, looking at everybody. Before Elaine could even make it out the door, he was fast asleep. I smiled. Lots of times, old folks are just terrified of being left alone. As long as he was quiet and calm, he could spend the whole night in that chair. Didn't bother me one bit.

Janine was working with me tonight, and she had parked herself in a chair right next to Mr. Crabby Pants, just in case. "Tell you what, " I said as I started opening the med drawers, "You hang tight with my friend there for a while, and I'll take care of everyone else." She rolled her eyes at me, and nodded.

Getting the meds ready for 2100 rounds was the easy part. Check the charts, make sure the order hasn't been discontinued, double check the computer screen for time of admission, separate into little cups for my trek down the hall. This part was calming, because it was all facts. Just facts. No emotions, no interactions. Just me and my facts. This was my fifteen minutes of decompression where I could put aside whatever I had heard about my patients in report, and just think. Think about what was wrong with them, how these meds would affect them, what I needed to look for, if there were labs I needed to check before handing over the little cup of pills. Tonight, it took me less time than usual to get everything ready. I signed off on all of Mr. Crabby Pant's meds, and handed them to Janine. I had taken care of him last night, so I knew he could only swallow one at a time, which wouldn't be a bad thing, except I had six other patients to give meds to. One last check to make sure I had everything I needed, and off we go down the hall.

I'd learned the hard way that trying to do an initial assessment, then come back and pass meds was not conducive to making good time, so I had gotten into the habit of doing my initial assessment during med pass. It was kind of like double dipping, listening to the patient talk while I made mental notes on their status. Flush the saline lock, look to see if their IV fluids were almost out, how much time left on that antibiotic, was there a flush in the room, check for pedal pulses, look at pupil reaction, ask if they are having any pain. All things that had to be checked. I had a pretty good group tonight, with the exception of Mr. Crabby Pants currently parked at the nurse's station next to Janine. And even he wasn't that bad, just needed a little more attention than the rest. I finished my rounds, and headed back to the station. I knew from the last few months that if I could get the bulk of my charting done before I took a break for dinner, it would be a pretty good night.

What I didn't know was that Allen had been called in to cover part of the shift. Crap. I did my best to ignore him, averting my eyes from the way the sleeves of his scrub shirt clung to his biceps like a second skin. The dormant part of my dirty mind was busy stripping the scrubs off of him while the focused part of my mind was on my charts. My thought process was interrupted by a sheriff walking on to the floor. I'd gotten to know some of the cops in this area from the times I'd been floated down to ER, but this one wasn't someone I recognized. He was short, stocky, and had a belly that said he could down more beers in one sitting than the partner probably waiting in the squad car outside the front door.

He stopped to talk to Allen, and I kept one ear open, hoping we weren't getting a patient who was under watch. And if we did, I hope Allen got stuck with them. It would serve him right to have to deal with that headache all night. I didn't mind having cops around when my patient was a criminal, but it depended on the cop. Some of them were okay, and others were just jackasses in pants with a gun. So I was surprised when Allen turned his head and pointed me out to the cop, who proceeded in my direction belly first. Actually, waddled is more like it. I had a brief mental image of this guy trying to chase a crook through the streets, huffing and puffing. It was kind of funny.

"Annabelle Gray Houston?" he asked, eyeballing me. Shit. Fucker used my whole name. No one knew my whole name, and with good reason. It was embarrassing. I didn't have to answer, because he looked down at my badge, which read in plain lettering 'Annie Houston'. He threw a manila envelope on top of the charts I was working on, and said curtly "You've been served". The big bellied bastard gave me the courtesy of a self satisfied sneer before he turned and walked back towards the elevator. I had a hunch that I knew what this was. The envelope sat there on top of my charts, looking innocent, but I knew what it wasn't. I took a deep breath, trying to mentally prepare myself as I opened it.

But no amount of mental preparation would have gotten me ready for what I read. Jimmy had filed for divorce in Sweetwater County, where his parents lived. A county that was three hours away. According to the papers in my hand, a summary judgment of divorce had been granted to one James LeRoy Houston, and in the section under terms, I had been ordered to pay all of his attorney's fees, as well as repay him for putting me through school. According to the documentation provided to the court, Jimmy had taken out loans in both our names, supposedly for my tuition. There was another section marked notification, and apparently, that sack of shit had published his intent to divorce me six months ago in his parent's hometown. My lack of response allowed the judge to grant the divorce under his terms, which meant I didn't have a prayer. I skimmed the rest of the text, and when I got to the bottom, I think I felt my heart stop.

Because I now made more money per month than Jimmy had during my school years, the judge had ordered me to pay fifteen hundred dollars per month in alimony until such time as all of the loans had been paid back to Jimmy, with a lump sum of ten thousand dollars due immediately. Ten thousand dollars, the exact amount of the sign on bonus I had gotten when I started. The money I had refused to hand over to Jimmy because I wanted to save it to buy a house.

The school loans alone were over sixty five thousand dollars. The legal justification was spousal abandonment. Beneath the payment section was a list of property that had been split. I felt a hollow sickness build in my gut as I read the list. His SUV had been in his parent's name, while my Honda was in mine. I had traded my old car in shortly after we got married, and now it seemed I had ten days to deliver the vehicle and keys to his parent's house in Sweet Water, along with my engagement ring, and a list of other jewelry that had been given to me over the last few years. I scanned the list in astonishment. I would be allowed to keep my clothes, and 'tools of my trade', meaning my stethoscope and scrubs. All furniture and household items were now the sole property of James L. Houston. If the vehicle and the property were not delivered in 'a timely manner', criminal charges would be filed, and reported to the state Board of Nursing.

I knew what hyperventilation was, but I had never experienced it until now, and I could feel my chest pounding. My mind ran in a thousand different directions. The lump sum would wipe out my savings, and the monthly payments would leave me no more than a few hundred dollars a month to live on. I looked down at the name of the judge who had granted this ridiculousness, and saw that it was the Honorable Judge Ephraim T. Sully. His uncle. Fuck. I knew that Jimmy's parents, in fact, his whole family hated me, but even I couldn't fathom hating someone strongly enough to ruin their life this way. Uncle Ephraim knew the law better than Constance knew her way around the makeup aisle at Wal-Mart, so appealing this thing was already out of the question. There was no doubt in my mind that he would have made sure every 'I' was dotted, and every 'T' crossed before he filed this.

I looked up at Janine, who was still sitting next to my troublemaker patient, her eyes intently on me. I shoved the papers angrily back into the envelope. My hands were shaking, and I was so mad I couldn't even make myself focus enough to put them all back into the envelope neatly. My legs felt shaky as I stood up, holding the mangled envelope in my hands. I could feel the eyes of my coworkers follow me down the hall towards the exit.

I stepped outside into the cool night air, felt the wind lash at my face, laced with harsh rain that smelled of gasoline and disinfectant. Everything I had worked for, fought for, was now his. I wouldn't be able to stay in my apartment, because I couldn't afford it now. No car, no home, nothing. I had nothing. Did one bad decision merit this type of punishment? Because that's what this was. This was Jimmy's way of punishing me for not being what he wanted me to be, the little trophy wife who darned his socks and cooked him meals. I was back at square one. Alone, broke, and soon, homeless.

I leaned against the hard brick of the building, letting myself drop to the ground. I could feel the envelope still in my hand, but now it was like it weighed a thousand pounds. I flipped it over in my hands, thinking. And then my brain got tired of thinking, and the tear ducts took over. I folded my arms over my knees, and let the tears come.

I don't know how long I sat there, but eventually, I ran out of tears. I couldn't let him break me. I've started over before, and this would be no different. And there was one thing he couldn't take from me: I was a nurse.

Nurses spend their time helping others to heal, well this nurse was gonna heal herself. I would figure it out, somehow.

Allen

Either I was an idiot, or she was torturing me. Might be some of both. Yeah, maybe a whole lot of both. I'd waited at the top of the stairs the other night, thinking maybe I could help carry her groceries or something. Christ, all I wanted was for this woman to like me, but it seems like every time I open my mouth, I piss her off. Or she pissed me off. Take your pick. Always two ways with this chick. I had all kinds of crap running around in my head, how I would say it. And then, when she was right in front of me, I panicked and clammed up. Moron.

That was last night. Tonight, I watched from the safe distance beneath the hood of my truck as she was dragged along by a couple of people from work, Jamie and that chick friend of his. She was cute, but not my type. My eyes were glued to the honey blonde she was dragging behind her. God, she looked like a million bucks. And she wasn't one of those chicks that was so skinny you wondered if they would break in two under the strain of a decent hug. She had what my mom called 'meat'. The kind of meat that made me hungry for more than dinner. I couldn't take my eyes off of her as they walked across the parking lot. Jeans, tank shirt, and cowboy boots. My kind of girl. And all that curly blond hair spilling down her back didn't hurt either. Made a man think about getting his hands wrapped up in it. Unfortunately, the only thing my hands were currently wrapped up in was the oil in my truck. They rolled out in Jamie's Honda, pop music blaring from the open windows. Jamie seemed like a decent guy...maybe I could finagle an invite to wherever they were headed. Looked like party night to me.

I ran my hands through my hair, pushing it out of my face. It was nice to keep it loose when I wasn't at work, but then I looked down at my hands. "Agh, shit." It would take forever to get the oil and grease off of me enough to be presentable. Fuck it. I slammed the hood of my truck down, tossed the tools in the back, and headed up to my apartment.

A long, hot shower later, I was sitting in my living room, waiting for a return text from Jamie. I grabbed a Monster out of the fridge, and flipped through the stack of unopened mail on the counter. Hopefully, they weren't already too loaded to answer their phones. I felt wired already, and the Monster probably wasn't helping. I just about jumped out of my skin when my cell vibrated on the countertop. I snatched it up, skimming through Jamie's message. Yeah, they were out alright, some little place called the Reo. I grabbed my keys and headed out. I'm gonna at least talk to her tonight. Maybe she'll be different when she's not at work. Maybe not, maybe she'll still spit fire at me. But I was interested enough to find out.

It took me longer to find the place than I expected, and when I got there, the parking sucked. I found a place to jam my truck in towards the back of the lot, and headed for the door. Cover charge taken care of, I visually skimmed the crowd, looking for her. And there she was: dancing in the middle of the floor with Jamie and whats-her-face. She looked relaxed, kind of happy. I settled for a seat at the end of the bar, ordered a beer, and just let myself drink in the vision of her. She moved easily, her hips catching the beat with what looked like very little effort. Natural rhythm. That made me smile. I wondered what else she had natural rhythm at? This was nice, being able to watch her without that serious face she wore at work. So when the chemical blonde just walked up and threw the drink on her, my first thought was to slap the shit out of her for ruining my moment. I stood up, my body tensed, as Annie stood there, facing off with Miss Maybelline. Shit, I couldn't hear what they were saying. But I could see Jamie and… fuck! What is her name? Laura, that's it… taking Annie's arms from each side, trying to pull her away from the dance floor. I saw the limp dick dude behind Miss Maybelline laughing with her, and then the bitch had the balls to straight slap my dream girl. Fuck! Now every muscle in my body was tense, and I felt my own heartbeat speed up. I started moving towards the standoff, but before I could get close enough to make my presence known, I heard Annie yell "Hey Barbie!" and then she straight punched her! Dammit girl! This time, she let Laura and Jamie pull her away, while the other chick fell to the floor clutching her face. I looked back at Annie, and saw only a cool expression. Her cheek was tinged pink from the slap, but she stood her ground. The three of them made it out the door before I could get to them, the crowd gathering around the chick that hit the deck, and by the time I got through the crowd and out the door, all I could see were the taillights of Jamie's car pulling out of the lot. Shit! This sucked. But I gotta admit, that girl had a right hook that was a thing of beauty. I haven't seen that many chick fights, but they usually go for the scratching or hair pulling. This one was different. Nice, very nice.

 

I stood there for a few minutes, contemplating. This woman had me hooked, and it wasn't just the rockin' body she hid beneath her scrubs. I've had my share of hot women, and even though a few…okay, several, had managed to wheedle their way into my bed, there hadn't been any that managed to give me that tingle in the pit of my gut, the one that said there was more than raunchy sex in the future. There was something about her that pulled at me, and I couldn't quite put my finger on it. On a hunch, I headed back in to the bar. Lots of people were leaving after the fight, but I had a feeling, and when my gut says do something, I've learned to roll with it. I resumed my place at the bar, ordered another beer. It didn't take long to find Miss Maybelline, with a crowd of people around her and the schmuck she had been with on the dance floor. It wasn't five minutes before I realized my gut had paid off, as usual.

The bartender was an older woman, one who looked like she'd seen her share of bar fights, and by the expression on her face, this one was no surprise. "Hey handsome, you gonna nurse that beer all night?" she asked me, using a clean towel to wipe the bar in front of me. I studied her, the bleached blonde hair that showed dark roots, the heavy makeup and cheap jewelry. But she had kind eyes, and a motherish-type of way about her. "First time I been in here, a friend told me to check out the action," as I nodded toward the loser, "Not sure if that's what he meant."

She laughed, a nice laugh, the deep kind that goes all the way down. "I wouldn't worry about it," she said as she tapped off my beer, "Jimmy is a prick, always showing up in here with some floozy. This one was dumb enough to get in his wife's face."

I damn near choked on the beer as I tried to keep my voice calm. "His wife?"

She looked at me, tilting her head to the side the way women do when they know you aren't being entirely truthful. "Yah, Annie hasn't ever been in here, but I used to bartend at Sammy's, so I know her. She would come in every so often, have a few beers. Never one to get messed up, though, you know what I mean?" I could see that she was remembering, and being the chatty sort, felt the need to share.

"What about the husband?"

"Useless sack of shit, if you ask me. Annie's worth ten of him, and then some. He never deserved her, and why in the name of God she ever married him in the first place is beyond me." She dusted the smooth warm wood of the bar mindlessly, and I just let her continue. I've always had a way with people, or so I've been told, that makes them want to open up. Complete strangers have been known to tell me their life story with no more prodding than a simple greeting. Sometimes it was useful, like right now. I had the feeling that this woman, Sherry by the nametag on her shirt, would probably tell me just about anything I wanted to know about the lovely and mysterious Annie.

"Sounds like you're fond of her." I said, as I took another sip, reaching for a handful of nuts out of the bowel she put in front of me.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that I am. I knew her mom, way, way back in the day. We weren't best friends or anything, but we knew each other. Her mom was a real piece of work, let me tell you, but Annie's a good girl. Put herself through school, made it on her own. Why, you like the look of her?"

Sherry smiled at me, and I figured maybe a dash of truth wouldn't hurt. "I was about to go ask her to dance with me when the shit hit the fan. Didn't realize she was married." Another sip of beer, some more nuts. Kept my hands from showing the little twitch I get whenever something is bugging me.

"Well, technically she's not. Jimmy, that's the useless sack of shit over there, came in here a couple weeks ago bragging about how he finally got rid of the ball and chain. It's been bimbo city with him since. Not that he didn't do that before, but he's flaunting it more now. From what I can tell, it's all over but the paperwork. Maybe you should bring your handsome self back here sometime, see if you can catch her again." She smiled at me, leaning forward on the bar as if I was the only customer in the place.

I propped my elbows on the smooth wood, nudging the bowel out of the way. I put on my best dazzling smile and leaned in as well. "Maybe you could give me her number, and I promise you when I bring her back here, I'll show her a real good time". Flirting was fun, and easy if you knew which buttons to push.

Sherry's lashes fluttered a bit as she replied "Well how am I supposed to get you to come visit me again if you've got a hot date with you?"

"Sweetheart, you give me Annie's number, and I'll be your slave for life, scout's honor." Dazzling smile again. She straightened up from the bar, saying "Darling boy, I hate to say I don't have a phone number for her… but I tell you what: if I see her in here again, I'll let her know she had a gorgeous hunk of man checking her out. Deal?" She smiled at me, and tapped the side of my glass. "In the mean time, you tip back too many of these, and I'll have to put you on lockdown in the store room".

"Yes ma'am." Country, and polite. Gets 'em every time. I saw the shift in her expression, and felt someone plop down on the barstool next to me. "What'll it be?" she said curtly.

I turned my head to see the sack of shit taking up perfectly good space next to me. He was average looking, wearing a cheap suit and bad aftershave. I turned up my nose at the stink. Phew, this guy smelled like a bad combination of a French whore and bathroom cologne. Despite the assault on my senses, I stayed put.

"Just gimme a beer, Sherry, and no shit." His voice was kind of nasal, and had a whiny edge to it. He raked a hand through his hair, and then finally noticed me sitting there. "Enjoy the show?" he sneered.

"Man, I'm just sitting here enjoying a nice cold beer after work, no need to get pissy." A part of me wanted him to get pissy, just so I would have a legitimate reason to knock the stupid off of him. I'd seen his type before, the kind of guy that pissed you off just by being in the same room. Arrogant, cocky little weasel. And when it came down to brass tax, weasels like him always ended up running with their tail between their legs.

"That dumb bitch. What the fuck was she thinking, coming in here like that? Stupid slut…" he muttered.

There was already a fire burning in the pit of my gut, and this jerk was just pouring fuel on it. I breathed in slowly, keeping my hands steady on my glass. Keep calm; don't let this asshole get to you. It was just weird, to be feeling so pissed off, over something that had nothing to do with me. Annie wasn't my wife, or even my girlfriend. Hell, we weren't even friends. So why did this prick irritate me so much? Why did I feel the urgent need to smash his face against the bar for talking trash about her?

Sherry brought him a glass, the foam still spilling over the edge of the rim, and dropped it in front of him, sloshing cold beer on the bar she had just cleaned. "Here," she said curtly, "That'll be four-fifty".

He threw a twenty on the bar, away from the wet spots, and took a long swig from the glass. He turned to me and said "You know, I don't get women. I mean, look at that stupid wife of mine. She bitches about me going to the bar, and the minute I drop her sorry ass, she shows up with some idiot friends of hers and purposely tries to ruin my night. Now Brandy is pissed at me, and I probably won't get any tonight. I mean, for fuck's sake, don't they know anything?"

"I guess it depends on the woman." I said, using every ounce of willpower I had to keep my voice smooth and cool.

He turned towards me, breathing the heavy stink of too much booze and bad hygiene in my direction way more than I cared for. "Seriously, man. I mean, you were here, right? Brandy didn't do anything to her, and she fucking goes apeshit. I mean, I thought all chicks did was slap at each other and pull hair. Maybe she's a fucking dyke, who knows? But let me tell you, real women don't hit like that."

This fucker could not be serious. Sherry caught my glance from a few feet away, and rolled her eyes. I guess she knew he was an idiot too. "So that was your wife, huh? The one that did the punching."

He gulped down half of the beer. "Soon to be ex-wife. Divorce will be final next month. Then I'm gonna marry Brandy."

What a complete idiot. Divorcing a gem like Annie for a piece of trailer trash like the one he was with here tonight.

And then I caught myself. A gem? Seriously? Man, what is wrong with me? I haven't even slept with the girl yet, and I'm calling her a gem? Ugh… at least it's only in my own head. I listened as he went on some more.

"I know it's wrong, but I've been seeing Brandy on the side for a long time. Ever since my bitch of a wife got wrapped up in school for some stupid job at the hospital and started ignoring me. I mean, I'm a man, you know? I got needs." I wondered if he was trying to convince me, or himself. I felt that fire in my gut stoke a little bit higher. Stupid job at the hospital? Fucker was talking about my job too, and that pissed me off even more.

"Sometimes its hard," I heard myself saying, "Balancing school and a relationship."

"Fuck no it's not hard!" he spat, slamming his now empty glass on the bar. "That school shit doesn't matter. I was her damn husband, so my needs should come before anything. It's a simple fucking equation, but she was too stupid to see what she had!" His face was flushed, and I could tell it was time to go, before the reins around my temper snapped, and I lost control of the urge to wipe the floor with this weasel. Secretly, I thought maybe she did see what she had, and decided she could do better.

I pulled out my wallet, and dropped a ten on the bar, nodding at Sherry. "Well, I gotta run, it was nice talking to you. Beer's on me. Take it easy."

And I left without a backward glance.

Chapter 4

After a solid twelve hours of sleep, I woke up in a tangle of sheets. There was no daylight to be found anywhere in my personal cave, and therefore, no way of telling what time it was. I forced myself to roll over and look at the clock that was now perched on top of a stepladder I had set by my bed after Jimmy had cleaned out the apartment. The soft blue light of the clock said it was eight fifteen. I flopped back into the mountain of pillows, closing my eyes again. What was there to get up for? I'm not sure how long I lay there, willing myself to go back to sleep, but at this point, there was no going back to sleep. I got up, brushed my teeth and hair, and threw on an old broken in pair of stonewash jeans, and a green t-shirt that said "Reading is Sexy". Since I was already up, and dressed, I figured I might as well go to the grocery store and pick up stuff to munch on for the next few days. The store was only two blocks over, so I walked.

It was nice outside, the breeze drifting across my face. Spring was in the air, but there was still a bit of a chill, so I was grateful that I had thought to grab a sweater. I shoved my hands in my pockets to keep them warm, walking slowly just to enjoy the walk. The grocery store wasn't that busy this time of night, and I knew that I only had about a half an hour to get what I needed before they closed. The soft whoosh of the electronic doors made me giggle every time I came in here, because it was like something off of one of those science fiction shows Jimmy used to watch. It's funny; I know that I'm supposed to be all hurt inside because of him leaving, but honestly all I felt was a sense of relief. I pondered as I walked through the aisles of the store why that was. Why is it that all I feel is a sense of peace? Though I didn't relish the empty apartment, and I certainly would miss sex, I didn't have that hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach. That thought rattled around in my head as I paid for my groceries and headed back out the doors. I glanced down at my watch: nine o'clock. Perfect. Got what I needed just before closing time.

I walked back to the apartment complex with a half smile, thinking that maybe it was time for me to figure out what exactly it was I wanted. I loved my job, that much I was sure of. But the rest was kind of a mystery. Speaking of mysteries, there was a good one waiting for me at the top of the stairs.

Allen. Leaning up against the rail, looking like a male model. He had on a pair of jeans that were stained with what looked like grease, and a black muscle shirt. The ponytail was loose, like it had been the first time I saw him. I didn't know whether to be mad, or ashamed. I had jumped to conclusions the other night. I knew that because as soon as I got home, I had looked it up. Nitro was used in certain cases, but only under specific circumstances. Circumstances like the one we had encountered the other night. I shifted the weight of the grocery bags in my arms as I headed up the stairs. He didn't move, just watched me.

"Hey." Oh crap, I sounded like a blubbering idiot.

He stared at me for a minute, as if he was studying me. "Hey."

And that was all that was said. He passed me by, and headed towards a black pickup truck. Shit. Now that I knew he lived in my complex, and worked on my floor, I was going to have to work a little harder to keep myself in check. I hate conflict, and I try to avoid it. I had the feeling that this man wasn't going to allow me to brush him aside, or sweep our little spat under the proverbial rug. I gave up trying to puzzle it out, and went into my apartment, dumping the grocery bags on the counter.

Since I hadn't bought much, it didn't take that long to put it away. I threw a frozen dinner into the microwave, and poured myself a glass of wine. The cheap stuff. I didn't know much about wines, but this one had a nice smooth flavor, and it had a pretty dark red color that looked good in the wine glass I had picked up at the dollar store. It was within my budget, so that made it even better. The ding of the microwave was timed to perfectly coincide with me walking back into the kitchen to retrieve my dinner after setting my cheap wine and trashy novel on the table next to my chair. I dived into the novel, not really paying attention to the time.

I must have dozed off, because I woke up with a crick in my neck, and the paperback laying in my lap. I stretched, yawning as I headed to my cave, where I stripped down to my birthday suit, and continued my long nap in a mangled mess of sheets and pillows.

I guess you could say I was in kind of a daze. I knew that time was passing, but I wasn't really keeping track of it. I was thoroughly engrossed in a fantasy world of lies, sex, and backstabbing drama when I heard the insistent beating on my front door. Who could that be? I glanced up at the clock on the wall as I dog-eared my page and set my book down on the table by my chair. The pounding came again before I could make it three steps across my living room. "Okay, okay, I'm coming already. "

I had no sooner opened the door when Laura breezed in, looking like she had just stepped out of a fashion magazine in skinny jeans and some kind of sparkly top thing. Around her neck was a chunky turquoise necklace with a cross hanging from it. "Hey girl! We decided you've been holed up in this apartment enough." She dropped her oversized tote bag on the floor next to my chair, picking up my book to look at the spine.

"We?" I asked.

"She meant me, of course." Jamie put his hand on the door I had already closed halfway, strolling in as Laura smiled. "You know she's just hateful sometimes." They both laughed. I looked closer at the both of them: they were dressed for a night on the town. Jamie was tall, sandy haired, and had that goofy cute thing going for him. For some unknown reason, I always thought he looked like he just got out of high school. He had a boyish face, but kind eyes. And he was a nice guy, so that helped.

That wasn't what had me curious, as the two of them were best friends. You get one, the other isn't far behind. I envied that more at this moment than I had since meeting them, so it was no surprise that they were headed out.

"What are you guys up to?" There I stood, in my bare feet, a pair of lounge pants that had seen better days, and a t-shirt so thin I was amazed every time it survived another round in the washing machine. I saw the knowing glances as they looked around my empty apartment, with its one chair in the corner of the living room and the small table with its stack of books.

Laura broke into a huge smile. "You, my dear, are going out. O-U-T, out. It's time you had some fun!"

A dozen things ran through my head all at once. Like the fact that I didn't own anything other than a few pairs of jeans and a closetful of scrubs. The fact that my car was probably running on fumes, and since I was paying the rent by myself now, I had to be extra careful with my paycheck. The fact that I couldn't believe that these two people, who barely knew me, cared more about my well being than anyone else.

"I don't have anything to wear, and I'm broke anyways, so why don't you guys just go and have a good time-" Jamie held his hand up to stop my diatribe. "Nope, you are going out with us tonight, end of story. And it's on us, so don't worry about that."

"And I've got you covered on clothes", Laura said, pointing her toe towards the bag she had dropped by my chair. "Come on, let's get you ready!" She took my arm, and half dragged me towards my bedroom.

Jamie just grinned like an idiot, and plopped himself down in my chair.

Two hours later, Laura had finally finished the extreme makeover routine, and I was now dressed in a pair of my favorite jeans that she had snazzed up with a black studded belt, a skinny tank with a rhinestone cross on it, some big silver hoop earrings, and a full complement of warpaint. My hair hung long down my back, and she had put some stuff in there that made it really soft. It smelled good, too.

"Wow! You look great!" Jamie looked me up and down, but not in a gross way. "Oh, no, those shoes have got to go." I looked down at my feet. I had on my cowboy boots. I thought they looked okay, but apparently Jamie and Laura thought otherwise. She looked over at him with that face someone makes when you serve them really gross food. "Do we have time to make a pit stop?" she asked him. I looked back and forth between the two of them, kind of confused. "What's wrong with my boots?" I asked.

He rolled his eyes at her, "Uh, for those? We'll make time." I gave up, grabbed my purse, and followed them out the door.

The club wasn't as bad as I thought it would be, not too crowded, not too flashy. We had stopped at a shoe store on the way, and I was now the proud owner of what Laura called "kitten heels", along with a "clutch" to match. Laura had bought them despite my arguments, brushing it off with a wave of her hand. "No big deal," she had said, "call it a birthday gift". Right, my birthday was four months ago.

We sat at a high round table along the edge of the dance floor, and I felt nervous. This was totally out of my element, and I had no previous experience to go off of. There were people gyrating to pop music, some clustered around a bank of pool tables on the other side, and a whole lot more just milling around. "So now what?" I asked them, hoping that there was some point to this adventure other than just having an excuse for Laura to shop.

Jamie smiled, "Now, we drink!" He got up, and walked over to the bar. I could see him talking to the bartender, and they were laughing about something. Hopefully, it wasn't me sitting here feeling like a fool. Laura's foot was tapping to the beat of the music. She seemed perfectly at home in this place. When Jamie returned, he had three glasses balanced precariously in his hands. "Thank you darlin'" Laura said as he slid her glass across the table to her, and another in front of me. "What's this?" I asked.

They grinned at each other again, that secretive grin that they did, as if they each knew what the other was thinking, and I wasn't going to be let in on the joke. "Just drink it," Jamie said, "Trust me."

I took a little from the straw that was coming out of the curvy glass. It was kind of fruity, and had a hint of coconut and pineapple to it. "Hey, that's pretty good. What is it?"

Three of those little fruity drink things later, I was feeling pretty good. Not nervous anymore, and before I could stop myself, I was on the dance floor, with Laura right next to me. I'd forgotten how much fun dancing was! I shifted back and forth from one foot to the other, trying to mimic the moves Laura was making. Jamie was on the other side of me, totally caught up in the music. I didn't feel drunk, but I knew that I felt really good, so it was a surprise when I felt the cold splash of liquid on my shirt. I looked up, and there was Jimmy, with a card carrying member of the Barbie Brigade. She had thrown her drink at me, and was now laughing. What the hell? Laura grabbed my arm on one side, Jamie the other. I stared at Jimmy, who was laughing along with the blonde bimbette who was holding her empty drink glass not three feet away from me. She stepped forward on those stilettos until she was right in my face, her overly made up eyes boring into mine. From this distance, I could smell the cheap perfume, see the layers of lipstick on her pouty mouth as she spat at me, "You should've stayed at home with your books, bitch." I heard Laura whispering in my ear, "Come on, Annie, let's go, let's just go." I felt her pulling me backwards with Jamie's help, and then it happened. The bimbo took another step forward, and slapped me. I felt the two pairs of hands that had been holding my arms disappear, and there was a sharp stinging sensation where her manicured hand had made contact with my cheek.

I could see myself in slow motion, as if someone had hit a button on my vision. I'd never been one of those girls that slapped and scratched when backed into a corner. I raised my head to look at her, and all I felt was fury. Cold fury that roared in my chest like a dormant lion that's been awoken. The beat of the music seemed in time with my heart, pounding like a drum. I didn't even feel my fingers as they balled into a fist. The bimbo laughed haughtily, and turned back towards Jimmy, tossing her long blonde hair over her shoulder. The two steps toward the two of them felt like a mile, as all that fury came to the surface.

"Hey Barbie!" She turned at just the moment that my arm arced towards her face. My fist hit her square in the cheekbone, and she fell to Jimmy's feet. I felt Laura and Jamie grab my arms again, but this time I let them drag me away, my hands still balled up. I felt ready to take on the world.

The lion in my chest purred in contentment as Laura and Jamie pushed me into the backseat of the car. I leaned my head back against the seat, put my hand against my cheek, and stared out the window at the stars. I've never been a fan of violence, but I had to admit, this felt good.

I closed my eyes, and wondered what would tomorrow bring me.

Chapter 3

Tact. The ability to tell a man to go to hell, and make him feel happy to be on his way. Well, what I lacked in tact, I made up for in sarcasm and wit. Maybe those weren't major conversational pieces, but in my book, brains overruled beauty any day of the week, and twice on Sunday. I have never understood why a man will take a woman who looks like a piece of candy over one that can hold a conversation. Sure, the candy is nice to look at, and it probably tastes pretty good too, but what do you do when it's gone? Even the most beautiful woman in the world will fade. Her hair will change color, texture. Her body will change, skin lighten or darken. Looks fade, but a conversationalist is always a good bet. Brains don't fade like looks do. And if you counted on your brain, you were a lot more likely to be respected.

Respect was important to me. And right this very second, I had very little of it for myself. I'd run away, afraid to be rejected. On one hand, this was nothing new. Men had always looked at me kind of funny. Not funny as in "I want to be with you" funny, but funny like "Is this chick for real?" funny. I'm not delicate, politically correct, or polished. I looked in the tiny mirror in the staff bathroom, evaluating what I saw. A decent face, no makeup to speak of. I had pretty good skin though, so I could get away with it. My eyes were probably my best feature, they were green, and clear. My hair was a dark blonde, currently pulled back in the traditional ponytail. It looked sort of nice when I left it down, but that wasn't very often. I straightened up my scrub top, wishing for once that work clothes didn't have to be so...drab. Even the bright teal color of it didn't lift my mood. Screw it, I thought. And screw him. He could have his Barbie doll if he wanted. In ten years, or fifteen, when she looked like one of the little old ladies from the nursing home, maybe he would wish that he had opted for someone with more... substance. Yeah, that's it. I've got substance.

So me and my substance strolled out of that bathroom like we didn't have a care in the world. Laura caught me at the desk, saying "356 is gone. They came to get her about 20 minutes ago, but you were at lunch, so I went ahead and took care of it."

"Thanks, I appreciate it. I need to check and see what time the lab tech is supposed to come up. One of my people is pre-op, and I want to make sure that there's no hitch like last time". The last time one of my patients was headed for Dr. Rider's OR, the labs didn't get drawn until late. Which made him late. Which made him irritable. Which made me a target. I'm not a girl who makes the same mistake twice.

I was so focused on checking my facts that I didn't hear the particular squeak his sneakers made on the linoleum. "Hey, Annie, where'd you go? I looked up and you were gone."

I turned to face the voice. "I didn't want to interrupt your reunion, so I just headed back up here to get some work done. " I would have to remember that sequence of squeaks. He had a certain type of walk, not a strut, but a stride that was unique.

"Okay, well maybe we can catch some breakfast after work?" I turned and looked directly into his eyes.

"I'm married".

If he felt anything, his face didn't betray it. He simply shrugged, and walked away. Laura watched with unhidden curiosity. "What's the matter with you? A gorgeous guy just asked you out, and you say you're married? What gives? Spill... immediately."

Laura knew about Jimmy, his leaving, his being a crappy husband, the whole nine yards. She was the closest thing I had to a girlfriend, and I had spilled. "It's nothing... I just don't want my life to get any more complicated right now." That was a total lie, and I knew it. Okay, maybe not a total lie...he was gorgeous. But I saw the way his eyes lit up when he saw Susan, and I knew that no man would ever look at me like that. It was just the way it was.

"Look, I don't even have divorce papers yet, so I for sure don't need to be out gallivanting with some hot new nurse just because he asked. There are plenty of pop-tarts around here that would be thrilled to go to breakfast with him." I tried to keep the bitterness out of my voice, but I'm not so sure that I succeeded. The call light console lit up, interrupting whatever life lecture I was about to get.

Laura mashed on the button with one hand, her eyes still glued to me. "Can I help you?" Her voice came out sweet, even though I knew she was shooting visual daggers at me. The garbled voice came over the speaker "Ummm... yeah... I think I pulled this thing out..." She looked down at the console. "Crap, its 341. Wanna give me a hand?"

"What did he pull out this time?" I asked as I followed her down the hallway.

"I'm not sure I even want to know," she replied as we approached the door. Inside the room were about 10 people in various states of sleep. We stepped carefully around hanging limbs and treacherous piles of blankets and suitcases to get to the bed on the far side of the room. The bed was covered in blood. The frail old man in the bed had it all over his gown, the blanket, the sheets, and most of the pillows. Laura looked at him, and I could tell by her expression this was not the first time this particular patient had experienced this particular problem. Whatever frustration she might have been feeling was well masked, because I couldn't detect anything but honey in her voice when she spoke to him as she assessed his IV site.

"Mr. Jenkins, you pulled your IV out again. " I went around the other side of the bed to turn his IV pump off, and inspect the tubing. It was dated today, so it was good. She unhooked the tubing from the cathlon port, and looping it back into itself, clipped it in place and handed it to me to hang it back on the pole.

He was one of those cute little old men, no teeth, a few wisps of hair clinging to his practically translucent scalp, thin as a rail, and sweet as they came. "I'm awful sorry. I was being careful. Will you have to put a new one in?" For an elderly patient, he was pretty 'with it'. His faded blue eyes looked into Laura's dark brown ones, and I could see on his face that he was hoping the answer was 'No'.

"I'm sorry Mr. Jenkins, but we have to put a new one in. I'm gonna go get some supplies, and I'll be right back. Once we get your new IV started, we'll change your gown and your bed, okay?"

"Okay". I felt sorry for him. The look on his face... it was just so sad. On the way to the supply room, I asked "Is he a really hard stick?"

Laura rolled her eyes. "Are you kidding me? It took five sticks to get the one he had going. And it was a good one, too. Crap." She started gathering up supplies, and I saw her put four cathlons into her pocket. I grabbed a few myself, just for backup. "I'm gonna grab a hot towel, see if that helps. You want me to grab anything else?"

Laura ticked off a mental list of the stuff she had in her hands, and shook her head. "No, I'm hoping we can get one going, but if not...." she let her voice trail off. If not, we would have to call the house supervisor. No one really wanted to do that unless they had to.

"Okay," I heard myself saying, "you go look and see what you can find, and I'll be down there in a minute with the towel." She nodded, and headed out of the supply room. I grabbed a bath towel from the shelf, and placed it under hot water. There were lots of tricks to starting IV's, some good, and some not so good. The towel trick was one I learned from an older LVN who I used to work with. She said that the moist heat from the towel helped dilate the blood vessels. I'd had some success with it, and so I hummed a little tune to myself as I wrung out the towel and plopped it in the microwave. When the little ding went off, I checked the temperature. Perfect: not so hot to burn his paper thin skin, and not too cool as to not do the job. I wrapped the moist towel in a dry one, and headed down to the room.

What I saw when I walked in was not what I was expecting: There was Crystal, the aide, changing the sheets, while the patient sat in a chair next to his bed. Laura was standing there, smiling at Mrs. Jenkins, and there he was: the big slice of sexy pie himself, hooking up the tubing to a spanking new IV.

"Did I miss something?" I asked, desperately trying to keep the venom in check. I looked at Laura first, and she just smiled. "He got it."

Allen smiled that crooked grin of his at me and winked. The bastard winked at me! I turned around in disgust, dumping the hot towel in the laundry cart as I went. By the time I got back to the nurse's station, he was right behind me. "Did I do something wrong? The guy needed an IV, he got an IV."

He had a point, and I was trying to think of a reason for my being pissy. There wasn't one. "How did you do it? Laura said it took five sticks to get the last one in him." There, he shouldn't be able to take that as being too bitchy.

He smiled, this time it was all confidence. "A dab of nitro paste, the veins pop right up. Slide the cathlon in, flush, and you're in business. Neat little trick I learned from a cardiologist last year." He leaned on the counter, looking all lazy and laid back, while I tried to keep my eyes from bugging out of my head.

"Are you fucking crazy? You don't just go around slapping nitro paste on people! You could have tanked his blood pressure, and then we'd be running a code instead of just trying to get an IV! What the hell is wrong with you?" My blood pressure was up, and I could feel my own pulse throbbing.

"Now hold on a minute-" he held a hand up to stop my tirade.

"No, you hold on a minute! What you did was dangerous and uncalled for. Ugh, I can't even talk to you right now." I started to stomp off in a dignified fashion, but he grabbed my arm and pulled me entirely too close to him.

"No, you will listen. He has a heart condition, so the nitro paste was already ordered for him. And I used a miniscule amount. Now, maybe you don't care, but that poor man didn't deserve to be stuck a dozen times just to keep fluids going! Maybe you should think about that before you go off on a tangent about what I did or didn't do." His eyes were no longer twinkling as they had been earlier. Now they were pools of molten brown fire. I could feel the heat from his breath on my face, and oh my lord, I've never been so tempted to jump a man's bones as I was right that second.

And then I came crashing back to reality. This was not my man, not one that I could jump in any way, shape or form. "Why don't you think about taking your hands off of me before I slap the stupid off of you". He looked down at where his hand had a hold of my arm, as if he just realized that it was there. Quickly, he released me.

"Sell your righteousness somewhere else, sister, we're all full up here".

Watching him walk away was hard, but not as hard as what came next.

Laura had been watching our little exchange. She looked at me, and I saw disappointment in her face.

"Annie, I know that you are strong minded, and there's not a doubt in my mind that you are passionate about your patients. But you can't go around accusing people before you know what the situation is. Do you really think that if I believed for one second that he was gonna hurt my patient, I would have let him do it?"

I hung my head. She was right. I trusted her judgment implicitly, because she had more experience and knowledge than me. It took a minute, but I found my voice, and managed to get the words out without crying. "I'm sorry, Laura, truly. Sometimes my temper gets the best of me."

She gave me a quick hug. "I know. Look, you're worn out, this is your fourth night in a row, and with everything going on, you need some rest. Go home, curl up with a good book and a glass of wine, and recharge. Go do something you enjoy, and forget about this place for a while."

I looked up at her. She was telling me to go home. Home? What did that mean? For her, I knew that it meant her daughter, her friends, a house she'd worked for herself. For me, it meant an empty apartment, and an empty bed. An empty life.

"But there's still 2 hours left in the shift, and I've got-"

She held up a single finger to silence me. "You've got to go home, and get some rest. That's final. I'll take your patients for the rest of the morning. Go home! I mean it."

I saw the look in her eyes, and I knew that if I didn't go, if I forced her hand, she would call the house supervisor, who would probably take one look at me before agreeing with her. I shuffled to the break room, snatching my bag and coat out of the locker before slamming it shut.

The walk to my car seemed longer than usual. I had three days off, unless I got called in. But something told me that I would not get called in this time. Laura would make sure that I was not, even if she had to cover the shifts herself. Because she was my friend. It took me all of fifteen minutes to reach my apartment in the practically non-existent traffic at this time of the morning. I parked my car in one of the end spaces in the lot. Usually by the time I got home from work, other people were gone. Not so today.

I had to push the front door open with my hip, because when it rained, the doorjamb stuck. On the third try, the door flung open, and the bright rays of sunlight hit the living room. Or, what passed as a living room. A big space with nothing but my chair, and a stack of library books. A big, stupid, empty space. I slammed the door shut, not caring if it got stuck again. I slumped down in my chair, and cried. What was I doing? Losing my temper, shouting at work, getting fired up over a man that couldn't be bothered to give me the time of day? I cried, and cried some more, until finally I ran out of tears. I carried my tired body and sore eyes to my room, thankful that the dark curtains would block out the sunlight. I fell onto my bed, and slept.

Just slept.

Chapter 2

Sleep. It continued to elude me. I stared at the ceiling, wondering how I had gotten myself into this mess. True to his word, Jimmy had cleaned out his side of the closet in our small apartment. He took most of the furniture, and half of the kitchenware, along with most of the towels and sheets. I sighed, and got up from the lumpy mattress where I had spent many exhausted nights during nursing school. It hadn't mattered much then whether my bed was comfortable or not because I was so tired I didn't care.

The morning had dawned bright, and it promised to be a sunny day. The blackout curtains in my bedroom had given me an illusion of midnight in that cramped space, and I waited for my eyes to adjust to the light streaming in from the windows. The apartment actually looked much bigger with all of his stuff gone, and I looked around, thinking of what I would do with the space now. He'd left my easy chair, so that was something, I guess. I flopped down into it, closing my eyes and praying that my mind would just shut itself off, letting my body get some much needed rest. I had just started to relax when a sharp rap on the door flung me smack back into reality. Groaning, I got up to see who would be brave enough to wake the dragon known as me at this time of day.

He stood barefoot in my doorway, wearing faded jeans and a white tank shirt. His face was angular, but set with wide brown eyes that peered directly into my own green ones. His hair was long, a sort of chestnut color, with streaks of honey showing in the loose ponytail he'd pulled it back into. He was holding a basket of what looked like work clothes, and I could smell mechanical oil and sweat. Manly sweat. The kind of sweat men like Jimmy could never make. I tried to pull my eyes back up to his while the scent pummeled my senses. But I got distracted by his mouth halfway up his face. He smiled, and I noticed that one of his teeth was crooked. But those lips... "Can I help you with something?" I asked, annoyed at the girlish tone my voice had taken.

"Hi, I'm Allen. Just moved in a few doors down. I was wondering if you could point me towards the Laundromat?"

I paused for a second before answering. "Down the stairs, third door on the right. 34B usually does their wash about this time, so when you hit the smell of bleach, you'll know you're in the right spot."

"Thanks," he said as he shifted the weight of the basket. I saw the corner of a beaten paperback tucked in the side as he walked away from my door. He was headed for the stairs at the end of the hall, and I gotta tell you, the view from the back was just as excellent as the front. I closed my door, turning the lock back into place....and let out a long slow breath. Maybe sleep would come to me after all. Sleep, and sweet dreams.

 

I arrived early, as usual, checking the assignment board to see where I would be tonight. I wasn't being floated, so that was good news. I shoved my tote and jacket into the skinny little locker, mashing the corners of my bag to make it fit. I was gonna have to downsize that thing sooner or later. I grabbed my stethoscope and scissors from the top shelf, shoving the scissors in my pocket along with the five or six pens that usually had a safe home there. Tonight I was taking report from Jason. He was new, like me, although I really got the feeling that he was 'getting it' faster than I was. He'd graduated a semester ahead of me, so he'd been around a bit longer. Just a bit. I still have times when I feel like I'm drowning, and he just looks so confident. Maybe it's a guy thing? Who knows... but I knew that he was happily married with a couple of kids. Maybe things like that make a guy self assured.

Tonight I only had five patients, one of whom was scheduled to be discharged as soon as I could get the paperwork done. Cool. Easy night. Wait... hold that thought... because the minute I acknowledge the thought, it becomes chaos. On our floor, the 'Q' word (quiet) was absolutely forbidden. Because once uttered, it was as if the gods of stupidity rained down on the community, and patients started showing up in droves. Don't say it, don't even think it.

So I made my rounds, introduced myself to my patients, and went to check my charts. I was knee deep in the second one when I heard a vaguely familiar voice.

"Hi, do you know-" he stopped when he recognized me. "Hey! I didn't know you worked here." He was leaning on the counter, with a look that seemed to say I was the only person on the planet right that second. The hair that had been loosely pulled back this morning was now pulled tightly into the sexiest ponytail I had ever seen. See? This is why I never should have thought it would be an easy night. I tried to unscramble my brains long enough to make a reply, when Laura walked up.

"Hey, are you the new guy?" she asked brightly. He twisted his torso towards her, still leaning on the counter, and my heart did a little leap when I saw the thick ropes of muscle on his arms. Oh my god... I didn't know they made men who looked like that anymore. I'd been out of the dating scene for so long it wasn't even funny.

"Hi," he said, sticking out his hand, "I'm Allen. This is my first night, and I'm supposed to be looking for someone named Laura."

My friend smiled, then tossed me a glance before addressing him again. "I'm Laura, and this is Annie" she said, nodding her curly head in my direction. "Yeah, we met earlier. Same apartment complex and all" . She used the moment he glanced back over at me to raise her eyebrows just a bit.

"He was looking for the laundry room." I felt like a complete idiot the minute the words were out of my mouth. He flashed that crooked grin at me, and I thanked my lucky stars I was already sitting down, because my knees were apparently now made of jelly instead of bone, muscle, and ligament.

Laura took his arm, and said "Let me show you around the unit." She flashed a look at me, the kind that said "What are you thinking?" as they walked off.

Snap out of it! yelled the voice in my head. The rational one that kept me from doing stupid stuff. You aren't even divorced yet, and you're acting like some hormone struck teenager on prom night. Ughh. I hated chicks who did stupid things around a man just because he was good looking. He was probably a pompous jerk anyways. Never met a good looking guy who wasn't. And yet, the other voice in my head whispered a painful reminder: look what the safe route got you last time. An image of Jimmy flashed in my head. Yuck. I shook my head and focused back on the charts in front of me.

 

I didn't see him again for a few hours. All my meds were caught up, initial assessments done and charted, I'd finished the discharge paperwork for my patient who was leaving, and was on the phone arranging her ride back to the nursing home. As I hung up the phone, I felt a very odd sensation, like little fingers dancing across the back of my neck. I turned around, and there he was. Lounging in the chair like he'd been here for years instead of hours. "Anything I can help you with?". His voice had a slow drawl to it, husky, and very male. His chocolate brown eyes had a sort of twinkle to them, like there was some private joke he was rolling around in his mind that was too good to share.

"I'm fine, thanks. Don' t you have patients of your own to worry about?" Now that I'd had a chance to think about it, he had to be agency. I'd never seen him before, even when I had been orienting on days. I would remember that face... and that hair. The feral part of me wanted to drag him across the desk by that ponytail and plant one smack on him... just to see what he would do. My mind was pulled out of the gutter instantly when the twinkling became dark. "Never mind then". He swung his feet off the low desk and disappeared around the corner. He brushed past Laura on her way back to the nurse's station. She had a confused look on her face, and said "What's up with him?"

"I don't know. Maybe the agency isn't paying him enough". That was a mean thing to say, and I knew it the minute it slipped out.

"He's not agency. He's orienting with us. New grad, just like you. Seems nice enough. You guys probably have a lot in common. He worked as a tech through school, same as you did."

Hmmm. There was some food for thought. "Where's his badge, then?"

"HR was closed by the time he got in. He's got to go back in the morning and pick it up." She had a funny look on her face while she was staring at me. I shifted some papers on the desk, looking at them instead of her so she couldn't see the flush I felt coming into my cheeks. I was being a bitch, and I knew it, but I didn't know why.

"I'm gonna go ahead and grab something to eat, the nursing home driver will be here in the next hour or so to pick up Mrs. Brown, will you let me know when they show up?" I didn't look up at her, afraid that she would see my expression. Laura is an exceptionally observant person, so trying to hide something from her was three shades of useless. I used the opportunity to escape to the break room to grab some cash. Maybe I'd get lucky and the cafeteria would be serving a nice big bowl of 'Niceness', and I could stop feeling so guilty. I'm not a mean spirited person by nature, but this was crazy, on so many different levels. I've never met a man that made me... what's the term? Hot and bothered? Well, I was definitely bothered... but as to the why, I had no earthly idea.

I could feel Laura's eyes watching me as I walked away from the station, my steps carrying me towards the stairs. I needed to burn off some energy, and three flights of stairs felt like it might just do the trick.

The cafeteria wasn't crowded, since they really only served the night shift. I waved to a couple of people I knew, and looked to see what was on the menu. No big bowl of 'Niceness', but there were some very edible looking burritos. "I'll take one of those" I said to the grill cook. She looked tired, and didn't say anything, just handed me the Styrofoam plate and went to wait on the next person. I poured myself a glass of tea to go with my burrito, paid for my meal, and went towards the dining room. Only three steps in, and there he was. A big slice of sexy pie, sitting in the corner by himself, looking like a poster boy for male nurses in his khaki scrubs. He had a fork in one hand, the newspaper in the other.

I sucked in a big deep breath, and headed his direction. "I'm sorry." There, I'd said it. Blurted it out at him was more like it, but hey it was totally verbal, right? "I didn't mean to snap at you before. I'm a little cranky at the beginning of a shift, and..."

He laid the newspaper down next to the cheap plastic tray, and gestured with the now empty hand towards the seat across from him. As I took my seat, I couldn't help but notice he was staring at me. Not the way most men stare at a woman, but rather like a connoisseur admiring a piece of art. I felt my stomach do little flips.

"How about we start over?" Oh god, that voice... rough and smooth all at the same time. My brain was all ajumble again, but I heard myself saying "I'm Annie. Nice to meet you". He held out his hand to shake mine, and all I could do was stare at it. He had man hands. Real man hands. The kind that looked like they belonged to a man who worked for a living. I studied them, completely absorbed in the long fingers, the roughened palm. I could see calluses on the heels of it, and I had an aromatic memory of his laundry basket from that morning, the smell of oil and sweat. It made my mouth water, just a little bit.

"I've washed them, I promise. Recently, too". I realized that I had been staring, and reached up to shake the proffered symbol of goodwill. "I'm sorry, sometimes I just have moments where my favorite color is clear."

He laughed, and I knew right then that this was the man for me. He had a deep, throaty laugh, the kind that made a woman glad to be in his company. My stomach did a few more flips. "That's a good one," he said, still laughing. I wasn't good at this, had never been good at this. You know those girls in high school, the ones that always had the trendiest outfits, the perfect hair? The Barbie Brigade. Every boy in school wanted to get in her pants, and every girl wanted to be wearing her pants? That was not me. I was the invisible brain that spent homecoming night doing a paper that wasn't due for three weeks. This guy struck me as the one who nailed the head of the cheerleading squad, and lived to tell the tale.

"What school did you go to?" he asked, his long fingers pulling a piece of the burrito apart. I could watch those fingers for hours.... I wonder what else they could twirl around like that... Stop it! I could hear my inner voices warring. This was so unlike me.."Northwestern" I heard myself say.

"Cool. I went to State. Almost went to Northwestern, but it was too much driving for clinicals. You been here long?" Looking up close, I saw now that his eyes weren't really chocolate. Brown, yes, but lighter. Not quite hazel... almost like chocolate glass. I could get lost in them.

"A few months. What brought you here?" I was being nosy, and I didn't care. I wanted as much information about this man as I could get. It wasn't just that he was gorgeous... or that he had man hands. Okay, maybe that was a big part of it, but there was something about him that pulled at me. Something I couldn't put my finger on. Something that demanded my full and undivided attention.

My nose caught a whiff of expensive perfume before he had a chance to answer. "Allen? Is that you? Oh my god, I'm so glad to see you!" It was Susan, from the maternity ward. She started here about the same time I did, but that was where the similarities ended. Susan was classic Barbie Brigade, all blonde hair and big blue eyes. She had those pouty lips too, the kind lots of women paid big bucks for. Killer body, perfectly tanned. She probably spent more on her perfume than I did on a month's worth of groceries. He stood up to embrace her, holding on to her as if they were mated for life. "Hey, how are you? I haven't seen you since graduation. What have you been doing with yourself?"

I could see where this was going. Super hot guy, head cheerleader type... no room for me. I stood quietly, and made my exit, dumping my tray on the conveyor belt. I didn't have an appetite anymore. Story of my life, blown off for the gorgeous bimbo. No, that's not entirely right. Susan was sweet, but her sweetness had the vibe of coming from someone who knew she was better than you. Not in your face type, but the kind that came out of sincerity. I'm not really sure which was worse.

What I did know is, whatever interest I had in this man had to be kept to myself. Now the question was, how the hell was I supposed to work with him?

 

The shift started off like any other: taking report from the day shift nurses, keeping an eye out for the evening lab results coming off the printer, watching as family members left for the day, or traded shifts with other members. At this time of day, the manager was already gone. Deena left at five o'clock on the dot, every afternoon. I guess she figured she worked her share of twelve hour shifts over the years, and dealt with plenty of crap during the day to justify it. But what do I know… I'm just a lowly new grad night shift nurse, trying to get by.

A soon to be single night shift nurse. Jimmy had waited until I had my hand on the door handle to leave for work tonight to drop the bomb: he wanted a divorce. Lovely way to start the day, huh? I guess that's what I get for wanting an education. I guess you could say I knew it was coming, and in some way, it was more of a relief than anything else. Jimmy wasn't a bad guy, we just didn't want the same things anymore. A straight 8 hour day Monday through Friday sounds good, but I wanted something more: I wanted to help people, to know I made a difference. We'd argued bitterly these last few months. He thought that once I graduated and got my license, I would get a job in a doctor's office. No weekends, no holidays, no stress. I'd fired back with "Well what's the use of having a job you hate?". Being as he worked exactly that type of job, I'm pretty sure it's safe to say he took personal offense to that. In fact, he probably would have thrown a party and celebrated if I was the type of woman who would just stay home and take care of him. But that's not me, and it never has been. Sometimes I wondered what we had ever had in common.

Jimmy was the type of person who wanted to go to the same bar every weekend and drink the same beer with the same friends he' d had since high school. I would rather curl up in my easy chair with a good book and a glass of wine. He's into slapstick comedy, and I'm more of a George Carlin type of girl. He thought women were meant to be stick thin and perfectly made up all the time in heels and pearls. I'm a big fan of denim and cotton, barefoot all the way. Except of course, for my spiffy nursing shoes, which were currently carrying me down the hallway of Memorial Hospital where I worked.

So here I am with seven patients, just for me. Great, just great. I just got off of orientation, and I've got a full patient load. My preceptor believes I'm ready, but am I really? I guess you could say today was one of those days I just wasn't sure.

I checked my notes one more time as Kathy got up from the table in the small break room where shift turnover usually takes place. "You need anything else?" she asked me. Kathy was an okay person, I guess, but I didn't know much about her. "Nah, I'm good. You back in the morning?" I asked her.

"Nope, I'm off for three whole days" she said, smiling. Yeah, I should be so lucky. I haven't had three days off in a row since I started here. "Okay," I said, glancing at my notes again, "drive safe." She grabbed her purse and jacket off the chair next to her, sticking another piece of gum in her mouth as she went. I hate when people chew gum on the job. Just a pet peeve, I guess. Doesn't seem very sanitary, or professional to walk into a patient's room snapping gum and blowing bubbles.

With my stethoscope around my neck, pen clipped to the front of my shirt, and notes in hand, I dragged myself up from the table and went to go introduce myself to my patients. The first one was an LOLFF. That's "little old lady, frequent flyer" for you non-nursing type people. I braced myself. "Good evening Mrs. Brown. I'm Annie, and I'll be your nurse for this evening." I can be sweet when I want to, as long as I get to be bitchy in my head.

"Oh darlin', I'm so glad you're here. Could you get me some ice water and another blanket? I swear they're trying to give me the flu while I'm here. And tell that little aide girlie that my potty needs to be cleaned out. Oh, and on your way back, could you get me a snack too? That mush they called dinner near made me sick." Mrs. Brown lived in a nursing home not too far from the hospital, and she would 'fall', or have a 'change in mental status' when she felt like she needed a vacation. Nice lady, but what I politely referred to as 'needy'. The other nurses just called her a crafty old bat. Secretly, I agreed, but it didn't do me any good to advertise that. Some things just don't need to be said out loud.

Mrs. Brown pushed herself up in the bed, and dutifully let me listen to her lungs and belly, wiggled her toes for me, and made sure to let me know once more how cold it was in her room, and could I please also get her another pair of socks? "You know darlin', the ones with the little slippy things on the bottom so you don't fall? I don't want to fall again, you know it just scares me to death. They ought to do something about these floors in the hospital. Why can't they put some nice carpet in so I don't fall?"

She went on for a few more minutes while I finished my assessments. I noted my findings on the sheet in my pocket, as well as scribbled what she wanted in the margin. She smiled at me, and I told her "Okay, I'll be back in a little bit, I have to go make my rounds".

It went on like that through the remainder of my patients. Always something they needed. And I dutifully nodded my head, smiled, and made a note of it. The fourth room I entered was so packed with people I almost couldn't get to the bed. Sometimes families like to camp out in the patient's room, and for the most part I don't mind, it's only when they start thinking that my only function is to bring them coffee and blankets that I get irritated. Not that I say that, of course.

I stepped carefully around the feet dangling from the end of the chair to get to Mr. Sims. He was new to me, so I took extra care to check him out from head to toe. He didn't speak, but put a finger to his lips, and then pointed towards the dangling feet. I nodded, and covered him back up. Note to self: check back on him in an hour or so.

 

Seven hours later, it hadn't gotten any better, but it hadn't gotten any worse. Three of my patients had dementia, one of whom insisted I was his wife and demanded to know why I wasn't in the bed with him, two were pre-op for the next morning, one wanted IV pain medicine every fifteen minutes, one had about five people camped out in his room, and apparently none of them believed in sleeping at night. I dropped my stack of charts on the desk, determined to get my charting done before five in the morning this time. It was not to be.

My body must have reacted to the static in the overhead announcement system, because I could feel my feet responding to the first strains of "CODE BLUE, ROOM 356, CODE BLUE, ROOM 356. ANY DOCTOR IN THE HOUSE TO ROOM 356 STAT". Not my patient, but I was the closest nurse to the room, so I sprinted down the hall and into the room.

The patient was a middle aged man with a barrel chest and a blue face that was pushing 350 pounds if he was an ounce. The terrified aide stood there with her mouth slack open, just staring at him. I could hear myself screaming at her without knowing exactly what it was I said… I know it was something to the effect of "Get the hell out of the way!".

I jumped onto the bed, locking my hands into position on his chest, pushing up and down in that weird death rhythm that only a person who has performed CPR correctly would understand. I heard the rush of tennis shoes squeaking on the worn linoleum behind me, blended with the wheels of the crash cart screaming, saw the dark curly hair of my friend as she slapped an Ambu bag over his face, her long dark fingers squeezing the bag to push oxygen into his lungs. I got lost in the count, lost in the rhythm of up and down…stop for two breaths, up and down, up and down. After the fifth set, stronger hands replaced mine, and I used that moment to take stock of the situation. I wasn't running this code, and that was fine. I was perfectly content to just do my part. I counted along with Tony, the burly ICU nurse who had taken over for me just a second ago, waiting for my turn to come again. Dimly, I could hear voices shouting over me, and I took a quick glance around the room. It never ceased to amaze me how many people could fit into one of these dinky little rooms. "Switch!" It was my turn again. Up, down, up down, up down, up down. Same rhythm, over and over. Stop for two breaths, then up down again. I heard an excited voice holler "He's back!". I stopped mashing on this poor guys' chest long enough to look up at the monitor on the crash cart, its creepy green line marching across the yellowed screen like a pissed off Grim Reaper. I looked down at the patient. "Sorry buddy, you don't get to die tonight" I whispered, and hopped down off the bed. Tony followed me out of the room into the hallway while the rest of them stayed in the room.

"You okay?" he asked me, touching my shoulder. Tony was a nice guy, great nurse, good friend.

"Yeah, I'm good. Just a little tired, that's all". Tony gave me that look, the one that said "I know you're lying, but I'm not gonna give you shit about it right now". My kinda guy. My third code in less than as many weeks. He knew, and understood. I wondered if I ever would. I dimly recall saying something about there rarely being codes called on this floor a few weeks back. Note to self: you aren't a student anymore. Stop wishing crap would happen just so you can get experience, because you just might get it, and maybe its not everything its cracked up to be.

"Hey, you call me if you need anything, 'kay?" He let his beefy hand drop from my shoulder, and headed back up the ramp towards ICU. Yeah, back to the patients, the ones that weren't trying to die on my watch. Laura came out next, and she looked at me with caring eyes. "Hey," she said, "at least it wasn't your patient this time." She had been there for me when it was my patient that coded. There's something strange that happens between nurses when you're trying to save someone's life. I hadn't put my finger on it yet, but hopefully it will dawn on me eventually.

I let out a dry little chuckle. "Yeah, not mine this time". I trudged back towards the nursing station. Back to business as usual.

By 6:30 am, I had somehow managed to carve out two hours of time to get my charts caught up. I looked at the schedule to see who was coming in. If it was Janine, I would hang all new bags of IV fluids in the rooms, and do the morning blood sugars. If it was Constance, I wouldn't. Call me bitchy, but it's one of those nursing things they don't tell you about in school: the nurse you are relieving is helpful to you in direct relation to how nice you are to them. It's a solid ratio, an absolute formula that cannot be messed with. Constance tended to complain about everything, and it was a pretty well known fact that she would throw you under the bus as soon as look at you, so I guess you could say I no longer went out of my way to make sure the beginning of her shift was peaceful. Janine, on the other hand, was an angel in scrubs. She had helped me out a lot in those first few months, so getting the extra stuff done before she came in was no big deal, because I knew she would return the favor. The black and white print of the schedule jumped out at me as I squinted my eyes against the stark fluorescent light bouncing off the white paper hanging on the wall: Constance. Screw it.

Dr. Mack chose that moment to walk in. "Well, well, well, if it isn't my favorite nurse" he sing-songed. "Will this be my lucky day? Will you finally agree to go out with me?".

"Ha ha" I said dryly, "when I get a corner office and a straight 9-5 making millions sipping margaritas and playing solitaire online all day". He shot me a crooked grin, and snagged three of my charts. "Shot me down again" he laughed, as he flipped the first one open, "break my heart, and never give me a chance".

Dr. Mack was what most of the nurses called our "Memorial McDreamy". He was good looking enough, I guess, if you went for lotiony hands and no muscles. Personally, I've always had a thing about a man's hands. If they didn't look like he worked for a living, I wasn't interested. He had a decent enough face, all Ivy League looking, and dressed like he thought GQ would show up at any minute to take his friggin picture. But he was a good doctor, and we bantered like this often.

I started to fire back a snazzy quip about his tasseled loafers, when Constance chose to make her appearance.

"Well, good morning Doctor" she said sweetly, all syrup and honey, emphasizing the 'doctor' bit, batting her fake lashes at him. "Aren't we just dashing this morning?"

I rolled my eyes in disgust as Dr. Mack obligingly eyeballed the cleavage currently attempting to escape from her low cut scrub top, and I wondered if that chick owned even one piece of clothing that wasn't three sizes too small.

"Good morning, Constance. Do you have any of my patients today?" he asked, quickly turning back to the chart in front of him. She looked a bit disappointed, and then shot a dirty look at me. "I think I'm taking Annie's patients this morning" she replied, giving me a cool eye. I stuck my tongue out at her, but didn't manage to yank it back before Deena slid around the corner. Her quick eyes missed nothing, and she tilted her head as she looked at me, kind of like the look my mom used to give me when she caught me doing something I probably shouldn't be, but didn't want to call my dad's attention to it.

"Constance", she said, "we are going to have a group of students here in just a bit, can you take a couple of them?". I groaned inwardly. The only thing Constance could teach those poor nursing students is how to bag a doctor in the break room and not get caught. No, wait, that's evil. I shouldn't say things like that. She was plenty smart enough, but she came from family money, and her main goal in life was to marry a doctor and spend her days spending his money. Color me confused, but I doubted that any of the doctors here at the county hospital were rolling in the kind of dough she wanted to have dibs on. Whatever, to each their own I guess.

"Of course Deena, whatever you need." She made sure to let her fingertips brush along Dr. Mack's shoulders as she passed by him on her way to the break room. He flinched just a bit, but didn't look up. I wondered how many times he had sampled from that particular buffet. Just thinking about it made me want to gag. Probably enough to avoid seconds.

Deena watched her sashay into the break room, then turned her hawk eyes to me. "Annie, can I see you in my office after you give report?"

I didn't say anything, just a curt nod. Thankfully, Deena was the kind of boss that wouldn't ask questions in front of everyone else. I signed my name with a practical flourish to the last set of orders, and dumped my charts on the unit clerk's desk. Cindy was a sweet girl, and I liked working with her. More than once, I had tried to talk her into working nights with me, but her husband didn't want her out that late at night. At least she had a husband who cared. Mine was probably busy getting busy with whatever little bleach blonde tramp he had picked up at the bar while I was here working my ass off. I shoved that thought out of my mind as I headed towards the break room.

Constance wasted no time. She had perched herself on the end of the long table, one hand holding a silver compact while the other applied lipstick the way most of us put barrier cream on an old man's butt: thick and heavy. I sighed, and flopped myself down in the rickety chair, remembering to lean to one side and avoid the chair tipping over on the side where it was missing a wheel. It's a real bitch to look pissy when you are sitting in a three wheeled chair that is supposed to have four. Since I knew she had no intention of taking notes, I fire shot report to her. She just kept on with her war paint, as if she weren't wearing ten pounds of that crap already. Just as I was getting up, she spoke. "So what did Dr. Mack want this morning? He's usually not here until around ten." Figures that would be the one thing she would ask about. I sighed. "I don't know, he got here just before you did".

She smiled, and then bared her teeth to check for lipstick. "He must have wanted to see me first thing in the morning. A little glimpse of happiness to set the mood for his day". This chick was something else.

"Yeah," I said, "that's it. Because how could any human being with a penis resist a Barbie Doll wannabe in scrubs?" I rolled my eyes as I walked out, but I had to grin when I heard her hiss behind me. I'd probably pay for my comment later, but sometimes I just can't help myself.

Deena's office was a study of the woman herself. You can tell a lot about a boss by the way they keep their office. Deena's was the way I imagined Bill Gates's office probably looked: cool and efficient. The walls were beige, with only her diplomas in neat dark wood frames. Her desk was pristine, not a speck of dust anywhere. Since our housekeeping staff was sometimes hit and miss, I knew she probably kept a feather duster in a drawer somewhere. "You wanted to see me?" I asked, as I poked my head in through the doorframe.

The woman herself could have been a poster child for professionalism. Her scrubs were beyond clean, always crisp like they just came off the ironing board, white shoes with nary a speck on them. Not a spot of makeup either, and her hair was a neat bun. With her personality, the stray hairs were probably afraid to come loose. Either that or she used an ass ton of hairspray. I glanced down at my scrubs. They looked like I had slept in them, and my tennis shoes had definetly seen better days. She looked up at me over her glasses, a pair of those half rim affairs that always made her look sort of teacher-ish. I wondered if she knew we called her "The Professor". Probably. That woman knows every damn thing.

"I'm thinking of putting you on days. We could use the extra help. I know it would mean a pay cut, but I could move you over to ICU." She let me chew on that for a minute. Being on night shift had been really good for me. Days was organized chaos. ICU was where I wanted to be. "I'll let you think about it for a while", she said, and turned back to her desk. Hmphh.. some discussion.

My feet were screaming as I shuffled to my locker, pulling out the oversized tote bag my kid sister called 'the suitcase', and my jacket. At home, an empty bed awaited me. Jimmy had left a text message on my phone saying he would be gone by the time I got home. Nice, real nice. I ignored the message for now, shoving the phone into my pocket.

It was raining when I stepped out of the sliding doors. The black and gray storm clouds seemed to reflect my mood as I got soaking wet into my car. I leaned my head back and just closed my eyes for a minute, listening as fat drops of heavy rain crash landed onto the roof of my ten year old Honda. I sighed heavily, and jammed my foot down on the clutch, cranking the car over and dropping it into gear.

Nursing school did not prepare me for this.