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.