“Fitzroy! My office, now.”
Andrew jerked at the harsh bellow.
“Jesus, don’t go,” Terri muttered. “You might not come out alive.”
Damo and Sam laughed, but didn’t contradict her.
There was no way to avoid whatever confrontation Ron was spoiling for, so Andrew packed up his lunch gear and went to see what it was all about. A couple of guys had been fired while Andrew had been working with the crew, but there had been reasons. Ron could be a cranky arsehole, but he wasn’t, usually, unfair. Andrew ran over everything he’d done in the past couple of weeks and couldn’t find anything that should piss the manager off that badly.
The reason, however, became apparent the moment he stepped into the office.
“Hello again, Andrew.” Vaughn Sheridan smiled and extended his hand.
Oh shit. When had the architect shown up? “Sir.”
“Vaughn, please.”
Andrew just nodded and glanced at Ron. His crossed arms had gone from angry to incendiary, his face almost as red as those of them working out in the heat.
Vaughn, too, looked at Ron, then nodded to the door. “Let’s go for a walk, Andrew. We shouldn’t keep Ron from his work.”
Ron was his boss, so Andrew raised an eyebrow at him, silently asking his permission. Most of the man’s anger seemed directed at Vaughn and Andrew didn’t feel like changing that.
“Go,” Ron grunted and threw himself into his chair behind the desk. “Just don’t be too long. Need to get those trusses all up today. We’re ahead of schedule and should keep it that way.”
Vaughn just smiled like the bite in Ron’s tone was the sweetest thing ever, then gestured Andrew out ahead of him. They crossed the street and went up a side road towards the ocean. At the end of it was a small parking area—empty—and a walkway onto the sand. Vaughn stopped them at the top of the pathway. The water was rolling into the beach in waves of dark blue-green and little foamy wakes. White-yellow sand was smooth where the waves brushed across it, littered with ocean-borne debris where it was dry. An unmanned lifesaver tower sat further along. The beach was empty at this time of day.
“I never get tired of that view.” Vaughn stared out at the water, hand shading his eyes from the glare. He wore jeans and a pressed cotton shirt today, open at the neck, and for the first time, Andrew noted the wedding band on his left hand. “If I didn’t have so many commitments I’d be in the water every day.”
Unsure of this personal detour, Andrew just nodded.
“How about you, Andrew? Like the water?”
“Yeah, it’s good. We end up at the beach a couple of times a month.” Which wasn’t a lot for someone who lived two blocks back from the water, but until recently a week of work would leave Andrew so exhausted, weekends were for lying around home. Usually with the whole group or part thereof, though he preferred the weekends when Brian wasn’t working and it was just them and Archy watching movies or binging a show.
That apparently wasn’t good enough for Vaughn. He cocked a slightly disappointed eyebrow at him.
“We have friends that do the ski show at H2GO,” he found himself explaining. “We end up there a lot.” Jesus, not even Terri knew that.
“That must be fun.”
Andrew laughed. “Not after you’ve seen the same show three times in a couple of months.”
Vaughn chuckled. “I suppose.” Then he faced Andrew and got serious. “Look, I don’t want to put any sort of pressure on you, but I looked over your job application again last night, and chatted with the people you worked with while you were at Green Life. I really believe you have a real talent, Andrew, and I would love to be the one to help you develop it.”
It was Andrew’s turn to stare at the water for a while. Sunlight glinted off the tiny peaks in the waves, winking sparks of white in the endless blue. “Thanks.” His cheeks warmed with the praise and his own sense of shame.
“I just want to let you know if you ever change your mind, I’ll be only too happy to have you back at Green Life. I will actually have a graduate position opening up in the new year, and if you want it then I’m sure we can come to some agreement. And if that works out, I could have a permanent position ready for you when you’re fully qualified.”
Holy shit. Two years ago he’d been offered his dream job, and if it hadn’t been for the cancer, he would probably be a fully qualified architect working alongside one of his idols right now. To get that chance again was unbelievably amazing. Even though he now knew how easily his dreams could be taken away from him, he felt a spark of excitement at the prospect.
“As I said,” Vaughn hurried on, “no pressure. If that’s definitely not what you want anymore, fair. The offer stands but I can’t keep it open indefinitely. Preferably, I’d like an answer before December.”
Which gave him a couple of months to think about the incredibly tempting offer.
“I’ll think about it,” he said.
Vaughn’s smile was glorious and he patted Andrew’s shoulder. “Good. If, in the meantime, you have any questions at all, just ask. I’ll give you my work number, which I will only respond to in work hours.” He produced a business card from a pocket and slipped it into the top pocket on Andrew’s hi-viz shirt.
“Thank you,” Andrew said honestly. He really didn’t think he would take Vaughn up on his offer, but he genuinely appreciated the consideration from someone like him.
“My pleasure. I do, however, have one proviso.” The gleam in Vaughn’s eye took on a wicked edge.
A squirm of excitement and trepidation wormed through Andrew’s stomach. “What is it?”
“Well, as I said yesterday, I’m very impressed with your construction experience. I think it will add invaluable knowledge to anything you design in the future, and that’s something I want to foster. I’ve got some partial designs, older ones that clients didn’t like, and I thought we could look at them together and discuss your thoughts on them. A fresh set of eyes looking at them with a different perspective would help us both, I believe. What do you think?”
The excitement vanished, leaving just the trepidation. It had been a long time since Andrew had thought about any aspect of architecture. Chances were he would look like a complete idiot in front of Vaughn and the man would take back his offer. Which, if he couldn’t back up his opinions even now, would mean he didn’t deserve it in the first place. It would be an answer to that faint niggling concern about whether or not he should pursue architecture again.
“Sure. We can do that.”
Vaughn’s grin was like a sunrise and it made Andrew warm inside.
“Brilliant.” Slapping a hand on Andrew’s shoulder, Vaughn turned him around and started walking. “Right, let’s head back now that’s settled. My husband’s picking me up for our first wedding anniversary. He’s got this whole thing planned.” His tone was wry but he winked to take any sting out of it.
Vaughn didn’t hide his sexuality, which had been another reason Andrew had admired him. In those scant weeks he’d worked at Green Life, he’d seen Vaughn with another man, clearly a partner, several times. Their affection for each other had been open and unashamed. It had given Andrew hope.
“Congrats,” Andrew said.
“Thanks. I never thought I’d be the sort to marry, but it’s a miracle what the right person can make you do.”
Throat tight, Andrew resorted to nodding.
Sure enough, at the build site, a blue Toyota Prius was double parked out the front. A man leaned against it, scrolling through screens on his phone. He couldn’t have been any older than Andrew and probably at least a couple of years younger, with black hair, heavy dark brows, tanned skin, a narrow nose and full lips. The moment he saw Vaughn, he smiled so wide his cheeks almost squeezed his eyes shut. Vaughn made a soft, inarticulate noise in his throat and sped up until he was wrapping his arms around the younger man and kissing him.
Vaughn had to be at least twenty years older than this guy, but neither of
them seemed to give a shit about what anyone else might think. The kiss was nothing more than quick and fairly chaste, but that sort of PDA in front of a construction crew—even between a het couple—usually wasn’t advisable. And sure enough, there were a few frowns turned on the couple, including Ron’s, who stood in the door to the office, arms crossed, foot tapping.
The couple pulled apart and the young man nodded to Andrew before turning to get into the car.
“Thanks again, Andrew. I’m looking forward to our chats.” Vaughn wasted no more time sliding into the passenger seat and smiling at his hot husband.
As the Prius pulled out and left, Andrew reluctantly turned back to Ron.
“And?” his manager asked without preamble.
“We just talked about a few things.”
“Architect things?”
Andrew sighed. There was no point in trying to avoid this with Ron. He hadn’t missed the fact that Vaughn had said he would be back to talk to Andrew, multiple times, apparently.
“Yes. It won’t distract me from work, don’t worry.”
“It better not. You’re employed by McGregor Construction, not him.”
“I know.”
Ron scowled, though it was in the direction of the now vanished architect. “Get back to work.”
Andrew gratefully got.
Brian stared at the printout and frowned. He’d bought a second coffee that morning at the Coffee Box and it had gone down a lot smoother than the instant at home, but still he couldn’t seem to wrangle his head into action and make sense of the mess he was seeing. The lists of words, abbreviations and numbers were all very legible. That part of it was fine. He hadn’t lost his ability to read at least. Any medical understanding of it all, however, seemed to have evaporated overnight.
Operating on only four hours of sleep hadn’t bothered him like this in the past. He’d done his entire surgical rotation on barely five hours a night. This should be nothing. And yet he couldn’t quite wrap his head around these results.
“So, what do you think?” The light Irish accent broke into his frustration.
“There’s liver damage.” Which was about as obvious as the sun in the sky on a cloudless day in the middle of summer and Brian hated he resorted to something that basic just to answer.
Beside him, Dr. Michael O’Grady chuckled and leaned back in his chair. He ran his hands over the short stubble on the top of his head and laced his fingers together at the back of his neck. The short-sleeved T-shirt showed off his toned arms and the hint of a tattoo on his left biceps. “That’s what the results show, yeah, but that’s not the whole picture.”
“It would explain the abdominal pain that’s brought her in.”
Michael shrugged. “In part. So what’s causing the elevated LFTs?”
That’s what Brian couldn’t work out. There were any number of reasons for the raised liver functions. He could list them off no worries but working out which it was in this case was making his guts twist anxiously. Their patient was lying on a bed in a bay just across from their desk. After an initial consult, examination, and blood collection, she’d been given morphine for the pain and was now resting much more comfortably than she had been when she came in complaining of abdominal pain, cramps, lethargy, vomiting and diarrhoea.
This was exactly what Brian had been convinced would happen. He’d finally gotten to his preferred rotation and he wasn’t cut out for it. This woman needed some sort of answer while she was under their care, and they had to work out enough of the puzzle to know if she needed to be admitted or could safely go home. And Brian was stalled at the first hurdle. They had a couple of pages of blood test results, which told him only what he’d already deduced. She had liver damage. It wasn’t mild but it wasn’t scary bad either, which dumped it right in the fucking middle of “it could be absolutely anything” territory.
“Hey,” Michael said softly. He dropped his arms and sat forward, leaning on the desk next to Brian. “Don’t panic.”
Brian twitched. “I’m not panicking.”
“Sure you’re not. You only look like it’s a life and death situation if you don’t make a diagnosis in the next minute. Trust me, it’s not. She walked in here, sat in triage for two hours and tore strips off the poor collector taking her blood. She’s not kicking off this mortal coil too soon.”
The words eased some of Brian’s tension, but not enough to let him relax entirely. “Okay, but we have to do something soon. Triage is full.”
“Triage is always full. Don’t worry about that right now.” He pointed discreetly across the way. “That’s where your focus should be. You got the path results, you know there’s something hepatic going on, which gels with her complaint of abdo pain. What’s your next step?”
To hyperventilate and pass out? This was all Andrew’s fault. If he hadn’t opened his big mouth on Monday, if he hadn’t continued to be confusing last night and this morning, Brian was sure he would be able to concentrate enough to deal with this now. Instead he was looking more and more like a complete moron in front of this doctor whose respect he wanted. He wanted to be able to help the patient but instead all he could think about was how Andrew wasn’t actually trying to talk to him.
“I don’t know,” he finally muttered. “Maybe I should talk to the patient again?”
Michael smiled. “Bingo.” He stood and waved Brian after him. “Come on, then.”
Relief didn’t quite put out the sparks of shame, but Brian managed to follow Michael instead of running in the other direction. Around them, the rest of the busy A&E department hummed with quiet voices, soft-soled shoes on the hard floor, the rattle of a curtain being drawn or pushed back, and that one trolley with the wonky wheel that clunked each time it went around. Any noise that wasn’t one of those things strummed across Brian’s nerves and he had to actively hold himself back from reacting to each and every unusual sound. He’d been like this on every other rotation but knowing he would eventually settle down didn’t help him in these early weeks.
Michael slipped into their patient’s bay, holding the curtain back for Brian. “How are you feeling now, Eunice? That morphine doing its job?”
The woman propped up in the bed nodded, her lips twitching like she was trying to resist a smile as she gazed at the handsome doctor. “The pain’s gone down a bit. I can still feel it though.”
“As long it’s a bit better.” Michael motioned to Brian. “You remember my padawan, Brian?”
Eunice was fifty-two, old enough to probably be more of a fan of the first Star Wars trilogy and detest the others, but she nodded and smiled at Michael. “Does that make you Ewan McGregor?”
“More like Liam Neeson. Brian’s looked over your results and has some questions for you, if you don’t mind.”
Brian threw him a dirty glare. What was he supposed to ask her? Hadn’t they already decided he didn’t know anything?
“I suppose. You’ll be here, won’t you?” Eunice asked Michael.
“Wouldn’t be anywhere else. Brian.” He stepped back.
Swallowing the urge to yell incoherently and run out of the department, Brian reminded himself that this was what eight years of study was for. To be here, talking to a patient and helping them get better. It was what he’d wanted since he’d been a kid and pretended to fix broken bones on his toys.
“Eunice, we got the results back from your blood tests. They show you have some liver damage. Nothing too bad and nothing you can’t recover from.” From the corner of his eye he saw Michael dip his chin slightly. Good start at least. “This is likely the cause of your abdominal pain, so we need to figure out what’s causing it. Have you ever had any liver problems before?”
Lips pursing, she shook her head. “Never.”
“Okay. Just to be clear, you’ve never had any form of hepatitis?”
“Of course not.” She sniffed and looked at Michael, frowning, as if blaming him for Brian’s presumptions.
“Just routine questions,” Mich
ael assured her.
“Have you overindulged in alcoholic drinks lately?” Brian continued.
Eunice’s lips got even tighter. “No.”
Trying to not be discouraged by her souring mood, Brian asked, “What about pain relief? Have you been taking any analgesics for anything lately?”
She shook her head sharply, then stopped and glanced at Michael almost guiltily. “Well, I have had a terrible headache for the past couple of days. I’ve been taking Panadol for that.”
Michael merely nodded but Brian felt a spark at those words. “About how much would you have taken each day do you think?”
“No more than the recommended dosage.”
“So, no more than two, four hours apart? Less than eight in a day?”
“Of course.”
“And did it help with the headache?”
“Not noticeably.”
Brian fought back a smile. “You still have the headache?”
“Well, yes, but it doesn’t seem that important now.”
“Any pain is important, Eunice. How about your vision? Is it blurring at all?”
Eunice shook her head to some of the questions Brian asked and nodded for a couple. When he’d run out of symptoms, Brian finished with, “I think we’ve got enough to go on for now. Let us or one of the nurses know if you need anything.”
Eunice’s lips relaxed a little bit. “A drink would be nice.”
“No worries. We’ll have something brought in for you.”
“We’ll be back,” Michael told her as they left her bay. “Good work. What’s the picture now?”
“She’s OD’ed on acetaminophen.”
“Probably. Let’s test for it. Anything else?”
“The headache. She doesn’t appear to be suffering a TIA, but we should add an ESR to rule it out anyway and schedule her for an MRI.”
Michael clapped him on the shoulder. “Perfect. Anything else? Think about why you’re suspecting an OD.”
Oh crap. What had he missed this time?
They sat back down at the desk and Brian ran over the information she’d given them, and more importantly, how she’d given it. He was questioning her dosage of Panadol because she’d been a bit cagey by saying she hadn’t exceeded the daily recommended dose. Most people would say four or six pills in a day. She hadn’t specified like that. It hit him then.
The New Normal Page 5